The Welcoming

nearly laughed. “Do you know how it feels to know that for two years,
two years
, people I thought I knew were using me? I always thought I was such a good judge of character.” Now she did laugh. She walked to the window. “They made a fool out of me week after week. I’m not sure I’ll ever get over it. But that’s nothing.” She turned, wrapping her fingers around the windowsill. “That’s nothing compared to what I feel when I think of how I let myself believe you were in love with me.”
    “If it was a lie, why am I here now, telling you that I do?”
    “I don’t know.” Suddenly weary, she dragged her hair away from her face. “And it doesn’t seem to matter. I’m wrung dry, Roman. For a while today I was sure he was going to kill me.”
    “Oh, Charity.” He gathered her close, and when she didn’t resist he buried his face in her hair.
    “I thought he would kill me,” she repeated, her arms held rigidly at her sides. “And I didn’t want to die. In fact, nothing was quite so important to me as staying alive. When my mother fell in love and that love was betrayed, she gave up. I’ve never been much like her.” She stepped stiffly out of his hold. “Maybe I’m gullible, but I’ve neyer been weak. I intend to pick up where I left off, before all of this. I’m going to keep the inn running. No matter what it takes, I’m going to erase you and these last weeks from my life.”
    “No.” Furious, he took her face in his hands. “You won’t, because you know I love you. And you made me a promise, Charity. No matter what happened, you wouldn’t stop loving me.”
    “I made that promise to a man who doesn’t exist.” It hurt. She could feel the pain rip through her from one end to the other. “And I don’t love the man who does.” She took a small but significant step backward. “Leave me alone.”
    When he didn’t move, she walked into the bedroom and flipped the lock.
    ***
    Mae was busily sweeping up glass in the kitchen. For the first time in over twenty years the inn was closed. She figured it would open again soon enough, but for now she was content that her girl was safe upstairs in bed and the coffee-guzzling police were on their way out.
    When Roman came in, she rested her arms on her broom. Mae had rocked Charity for nearly an hour while she’d cried over him. She’d been prepared to be cold and dismissive. It only took one look to change her mind.
    “You look worn out.”
    “I . . .” Feeling lost, he glanced around the room. “I wanted to ask how she was before I left.”
    “She’s miserable.” She nodded, content with the anguish she saw in his eyes. “And stubborn. You got a few cuts.”
    Automatically he lifted a hand to rub at the nick on his temple. “Will you give her this number?” He dropped a card on the table. “She can reach me there if— She can reach me there.”
    “Sit down. Let me clean you up.”
    “No, it’s all right.”
    “I said sit down.” She went to a cupboard for a bottle of antiseptic. “She’s had a bad shock.”
    He had a sudden mental image of Block holding the knife to her throat. “I know.”
    “She bounces back pretty quick from most things. She loves you.”
    Roman winced a little as she dabbed on the antiseptic, but not from the sting. “Did.”
    “Does,” Mae said flatly. “She just doesn’t want to right now. You been an agent for long?”
    “Too long.”
    “Are you going to make sure that slimy worm Roger Block’s put away?”
    Roman’s hands curled into fists. “Yes.”
    “Are you in love with Charity?”
    He relaxed his hands. “Yes.”
    “I believe you, so I’m going to give you some advice.” Puffing a bit, she sat down next to him. “She’s hurt, real bad. Charity’s the kind who likes to fix things herself. Give her a little time.” She picked up the card and slipped it into her apron pocket. “I’ll just hold on to this for now.”
    ***
    She was feeling stronger. And not just physically, Charity decided as she jogged along behind Ludwig. In every way. The sweaty dreams that had woken her night after night were fading. It wasn’t nearly as difficult to talk, or to smile, or to pretend that she was in control again. She had promised herself she would put her life back together, and she was doing it.
    She rarely thought of Roman. On a sigh, she relented. She would never get strong again if she began to lie to herself.
    She
always
thought of Roman. It was difficult not to, and it