Page 56 of Riding the Edge

Chapter Sixteen

Absentmindedly, I stare across the dimly lit chapel, at the figure nailed to the cross and wonder why anyone believes in God. After my call with Jack, I was quick to rely on the faith I gave up on and so, with my grandmother’s rosary beads in my back pocket, I made my way to the chapel to pray for my son. The plan was to ask my Heavenly Father to forgive me of my sins and guide my son through his mistakes. I should’ve known he wouldn’t go easy on me. I should’ve realized the best laid plans always fail. Every sinner has their day of judgment and apparently, today was my day in the Lord’s court.

Running my hand down Maria’s arm, I glance down at her, memorizing her soft features. Thankfully, she stopped crying a little while ago. There are few things in this world that I can’t bear to stand, and a woman’s tears is one of them. I used to think God had kept that in mind when he gave me three sons instead of a daughter. I was no match for a crying woman yet, Maria’s tears didn’t scare me. If anything, they compelled me to do right by her, to give what I knew very few had given her. I held her and let her be. I took her tears and gave her my shoulder while silently vowing to give her my ear when and if she felt like sharing.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, lifting her head from my chest.

“Got nothing to be sorry for, Lady,” I reply, brushing my knuckles over her cheek. Lifting a hand, her fingers close around my wrist and for the briefest moment, she closes her eyes. I try not to read too much into it or allow myself to wonder falsely if I can help her through this. Going by experience, I’m the last man any woman wants in her life during the trying times.

“It’s just a lot, you know?”

Dropping her hand, she pulls away and turns her head. Keeping her eyes pinned to the cross, she draws in a deep breath. “I’m not telling anyone so if you could keep this between us, I’d appreciate that.”

Stretching my arms over the back of the pew, I stare at her in bewilderment.

“Your kids don’t know you had a biopsy?”

“No, they don’t.”

Snapping her gaze back to me, she gives me the same look she did when she told me to take off my boots, making it clear there is no room for argument.

“There is no sense in worrying them when it might be nothing,” she continues. “The earliest the pathology report will be available is Monday. After that, I’ll decide whether I need to tell them or not.”

Biting the inside of my cheek, I ignore the objection resting on my tongue and weigh my options. I’m not an expert on parenthood, far from it, but, knowing Lauren and Anthony, I think they would want to be made aware of the situation. Yeah, they’ll be devastated by the possibility but after the shock subsides, I think they’d want to be there for their mother.

On the other hand, Maria is going to do what Maria wants and damn anyone who stands in her way. If I took anything from the conversation we shared last night, it’s that she isn’t a woman who leans on others. She stands alone in a storm and if I hadn’t walked into this chapel, I would be in the dark just like her children.

My eyes dart to the cross and I can’t help but wonder if finding her in here was more than a simple coincidence. Maybe he does exist. Maybe he speaks to us in ways we don’t understand.

Turning my attention back to her, I watch her rise to her feet.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ve taken up enough of your time and I should be getting home. The local anesthesia is starting to wear off and I should be taking it easy.”

“I’ll take you home.”

“No, I have my car here.”

“Lady, I wasn’t asking,” I say, pushing myself off the pew. Standing before her, I watch her lift her chin and stare up at me. The vast change in our height leaves me confused and I divert my eyes to the sensible flats covering her feet, needing validation as to why she suddenly seems fragile in my eyes.

“I appreciate that—”

“I’m taking you home, Maria and I’ll come back later for your car.”

“I swear I’m fine,” she starts to argue.

Placing a finger to her lips, I silence her.

“I know you’re fine,” I tell her. “But you can’t give me what you gave me and expect me to turn my cheek, Lady. I’m not wired like that just like you’re not wired to depend on anyone. Now, I know you’re used to doing things on your own and I respect that but, I’m here. Here, to hold you when you when you’re crying in a chapel. Here, to listen if you want to talk and here, whether you like it or not, I’m here to drive you home. There ain’t much I’m good at, but the ones who need me, always got me and you, Lady, you got me for as long as you need me.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“You…” she whispers, swallowing. “Why now?”

Understanding the question, I bend my head and brush my lips gently over hers.

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