He nodded.
“Right or wrong, there’s been something between us since the moment we first saw each other at the Hammonds’ party. If I hadn’t seen you, I wouldn’t have gone to the garden and met Ben. Yet, if Ben hadn’t been in the garden that night, you and I would never have spoken. We were so different from each other—experience, education, life—we would never have crossed the gulf between us. We wouldn’t even have thought to try.”
“You know I did my best to make Ben happy. To be the wife he deserved. I hope I….” She shook it off. “And I know you were the best friend to him you could be. He loved us both.”
Luke interrupted. “Maybe you’re right about that gulf, but we’re both here now, reaching out to each other. We belong together. You can’t deny it any more than I can hide my feelings. Marry me now, Juli. I’ll be here with you. You’ll be safe and I’ll help you and we’ll bring this child into the world together.”
She shook her head and tears began to gather. She smiled gently. “I don’t just owe Ben, I want to owe Ben. I want to be Mrs. Ben Bradshaw when this child is born. This baby will never know his father, but the names on the birth certificate will be Benjamin and Julianne Bradshaw.”
She raised her hands. “Stay where you are. If you touch me, I won’t be able to say this.”
“So, what stands between us now? You can say you know what you want, but I think it’s not so simple for you, either.”
“Luke, I never had a close relationship with anyone until Ben and one thing I learned from him is that love needs a foundation of friendship. Let’s work on the friendship part now. Honestly, Luke. If you were ready to love me, I wouldn’t still be waiting to hear you say the words.”
The animation left his face. Juli plunged onward. Might as well get it all out now since they were already hurting.
“There’s something else, too. It might make a difference to you. When I met Ben he said he was a man of faith. I didn’t understand what he meant, but I’m learning. One thing I know, I’m not strong enough to stay the course without support.” Juli tried to keep her voice steady. “Ben told me you’d been very involved in the church before your divorce.”
She clasped her hands together. “Luke, please don’t hold it against me that I need you to be on the journey with me. I was proud of my self-reliance. I never looked beyond myself and my immediate needs. Now I have dreams and hope, I want to grow them in a positive way, and I want the same for my child. I don’t want to slip back into thinking I can handle everything without His help, nor that I have to handle it all myself. Please think about whether this is something you could do with me.”
Luke’s expression was unreadable.
“Think about it, Luke. We can talk more later. We have time.”
He looked down at his hands.
“For now, be my friend.” She felt strong. No wise-cracking. No pretending she didn’t care. Not giving in to impulse, either, despite temptation, and even though she could still feel the warmth on her flesh where his hands and lips had traveled.
Was she stronger now?
She trusted Luke. But she had to remember to temper that trust, and her expectations, with reality. It was wrong to expect more than he could give—or to hold it against him when he disappointed her. Maybe over time….
She might not control her fate, but she could take responsibility for her choices.
But if all that was true, why did grief wash back over her as if she was about to lose someone dear to her yet again.
Luke stared past her and Juli waited.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Luke wanted to tell her he cared for her so deeply he’d hired Pat to watch over her and the baby. He wanted to get off of the sofa, put his arms around her and tell her she’d be safe with him and she could depend upon him.
What was it about that one word? Love. He felt it, he could certainly say it. He opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again because now there was this other thing.
This faith thing.
He’d been bitter about the divorce. In his anger he’d drawn away from almost everything in his prior life connected to Helen and his marriage, including the church.
Looking back, what had seemed stoic now felt like a puppy crawling into a dark corner to lick its wounds. But the hurt and bitterness were long gone. In the years since, he’d become accustomed to living a different way. Was it so different? He was still a moral man. With flaws, of course. In his heart, though, there was a hardness that never went away and when he considered returning to church, he felt the urge to dig in his heels. To refuse.