Page 7 of Beside the Rolling Waves
Who was it that said there was a fine line between love and hate?
It seemed like Becky’s love for him had turned into hate. And since she didn’t know all the details, she had a right to feel that way. Even if she did know the details, she had a right to feel however she wanted to. Of course, a person of character did not act on the way they felt but on what they knew to be right.
“Becky, we’re going to have to get along, just because we’re going to have Rita’s babies together. Unless you told her you wouldn’t do it because it was with me?”
“No. She conned me into telling her that I would do anything for her, all she had to do was ask. I said that before I realized she was going to ask me to do something with you. Otherwise, the answer would have been a resounding no and probably a heck no.”
The Becky he knew growing up might have put some profanity in there. But as they went through their teenage years, Becky had seemed to develop a closer and closer relationship with the Lord, while Rodney had drifted away. That was partly due to his parents. His father had cheated. He flinched when he thought about the murder-suicide and losing both of his parents. Even though they had not been great parents, he had struggled for a while. Of course. But Becky had always been there to anchor him, to ground him, to remind him of what was right and good and beautiful in the world.
He had some help from the folks in Strawberry Sands as well, and Matt had helped him get into horses. That, along with Becky, and her pointing him constantly to the Lord, had pulledhim out of what had been almost sure to be a downward spiral that ended in tragedy.
Then, because he dealt with Cord Stryker in Sweet Water, North Dakota, a billionaire who lived there, Ford Hansen, had taken him under his wing and taught him about business.
But he’d grown too big too fast, because he’d been in a hurry to get rich and get back to Becky, and he’d lost it all five years ago, declaring bankruptcy.
Ford Hansen could have saved him, but as Ford explained later, he wouldn’t have learned the lessons he needed to rebuild faster and better than he had before.
He appreciated what Ford had done, truly did, but…he’d been so ashamed that he hadn’t been successful the first time out of the gate that he had stopped talking to Becky, who had continued to keep up a correspondence with him throughout all the time he’d been under Ford’s tutelage.
It was his fault that he was standing here now with her spitting-nails mad and him having absolutely no idea of how to handle it. Becky had never been furious at him. She’d been angry plenty of times but never to the point he couldn’t talk to her.
Becky was still storming in and out of the stall, cleaning with an intensity that he doubted she’d shown in years. He dared any poop to try to elude her.
Silently of course.
“All right. I can see you’re busy. When will you have time to talk?”
“I don’t see that we have anything to talk about,” she said. And to his surprise, he was pretty sure she meant it.
“We’re supposedly raising your sister’s twins together. At least until she gets whatever it is figured out that she needs to figure it out.”
“She has cancer, Rodney.” Becky stopped long enough to spit those words at him, then narrowed her gaze as he felt his mouth open and his eyes widen.
Becky was losing her sister. No wonder she was acting the way she was. She probably didn’t know how to handle her grief and sadness and fear. So it was all coming out as anger.
He could understand that. He struggled for a long time with anger of his own. Becky had been instrumental in helping him. She pointed him to Jesus, which was what he needed. She never made it about herself. She had always been humble. It was one of the things that he loved about her. Feisty, gritty, determined—i.e., stubborn—but never proud. Ever.
He walked toward her, choosing to stand in front of her so she had no choice but to stop as he put one hand on the wall and one hand on his hip.
“Get outta my way,” she said. Not meeting his eyes.
“I’m sorry to hear that your sister has cancer. She either didn’t know or didn’t tell me last night on purpose. She let me think it was just going to be for a little while.”
Becky sighed, a put-out sound that let him know that she was listening but not willingly. And he needed to hurry up.
“Regardless, that makes it even more imperative that you and I talk. When will it work for you?”
“Maybe Wednesday. Sometime in the afternoon.”
Her words were clipped, her body turned slightly away from him, and her tone saying that she didn’t care what he wanted.
“Wednesday?” he repeated, unable to believe that she didn’t have a single moment until then.
“I can meet you at the diner in Blueberry Beach. I have to go down for groceries and pick up some feed anyway.”
“All right. I’ll drive.”
“No. I can meet you there.” She met his gaze headlong, in a challenge.
