Salvation in the Rancher's Arms(82)
Would she feel the same way?
She sniffed, then nodded, though the sadness in her eyes told him she wasn’t ready to fully believe him.
“Rachel, I need to talk to you about something,” he said, letting the words out before he talked himself out of it yet again, delaying the inevitable. “It’s important.”
“Okay.” She pulled out of his arms and walked into the house. Caleb paused a moment and prayed this would not be the end. But likely God had given up on him a long time ago and he was just wasting his breath.
Inside the house, the inviting aroma of baked apples filled the kitchen. Pies lined the window sill, waiting for the evening’s meal. He wondered if he’d still be here by the time the dinner bell was rung.
He walked over to the arched door that led to the newly built section. The work was done, the room ready for use after a good cleaning to remove the dust and clear out the debris.
“Where’s Ethan?” she asked. The cot he now slept in had been made in a haphazard fashion, the quilt hauled up over twisted blankets and George the bunny perched on top of the pillow as if it were a throne.
“Foster took him to deliver lunch to Everett and Stump.”
For once, Caleb was glad not to have the boy around. He didn’t want Ethan to hear the confession he needed to make. He wasn’t sure he could handle the devastation in the young boy’s eyes after he’d spent weeks treating Caleb like a hero. It was bad enough that he had to witness the change it would make in Rachel.
It was strange how it took him a lifetime to find a place that felt like home, and now his own past and the things he’d done conspired to take it away. Part of him wanted to keep living a lie. But he knew it would never work. The truth would fester inside of him, eventually poisoning everything good between them.
She deserved to know the truth, to make her decision to marry him with all the facts at her disposal. She hadn’t known what she was getting into when she married Robert, and she’d paid the price. He wouldn’t put her through that again.
“What did you need to talk about?”
Caleb turned around to face her. How did he tell her? Where did he begin?
“My name is Caleb Beckett.”
Her brow puckered as she tried to make sense of what he was telling her. “I know.”
“But until I came here, until I met you, I hadn’t used that name for a long time. So long I can’t even remember.” Rachel had brought it back, brought him back to be the man he’d wanted to be before life and circumstance and his grandfather had changed the path he walked.
“I don’t understand. What name did you use?”
“Sinjin Drake.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Rachel’s body went rigid as Caleb’s words took hold. “What? No.”
“I can explain, if you’ll let me. I—”
She shook her head. “You’re Sinjin Drake?”
“I used to be.”
Pain, raw and ugly, glistening in her dark eyes. He wished now he had told her the whole story when he’d first met her. At the time, he thought he was doing her a service, given all she had to bear, but at least then she would have had the luxury of hating him from the start. She wouldn’t have fallen in love with him, and he wouldn’t have had the possibility of a future with a good woman he loved dangled in front of him before being snatched away. He’d been a fool to think he could outrun his past. To think it wouldn’t be waiting for him at every turn.
“You lied to me?”
He didn’t try to deflect her question. What defense did he have to offer? He motioned toward the table, reaching out for her. “Sit down.”
Rachel stepped away from him, her hands clenched at her sides so tightly he could see the white ridges of her knuckles.
“Don’t touch me.”
Caleb let his hand fall away, the chasm in his heart deepening. He recognized the revulsion in her gaze. He had been down this road before. At the time, he thought he couldn’t hurt worse. He had been wrong. Losing Marianne was nothing compared to the agony he experienced now.
“Rachel, please, sit. This isn’t going to be a short story.”
She hesitated then gave a short nod, keeping enough room between them so he couldn’t touch her. With deliberate movements, she lowered herself into a chair at the table. Caleb pulled out another and sat in front of her.
“Sinjin is my middle name. My grandfather gave it to me to remind me of where I came from. That I was borne out of sin and was no better than that. It’s the name he called me. When I left my grandfather I took the name he’d given me. I was determined to live up to his low opinion. I was young and angry and didn’t care much whether I lived or died.”