frown deepened and a flush swept up his face. “A month?” He moved away from the counter and paced away from her. “When were you going to tell me?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t intend not to tell you. I just didn’t know how to bring it up. You’re so busy—”
“That’s no excuse.”
“I know that.”
The stiff way he held himself told her she’d hit a nerve. They’d never kept secrets before—before last fall when the whole world had fallen apart.
“There’s more,” Julia said softly, staring out the window instead of at Linc’s bare chest. She wished he owned a robe. Maybe she’d get him one for Christmas. Why was she thinking about that now? She knew she was avoiding this, avoiding talking to him. She didn’t want to discuss the hurt that had never gone away.
“Oh, this should be good.”
His sarcasm irritated her. He’d been sarcastic a lot lately. “Stop it.” She stepped farther away from him. “I don’t want to argue again. I know I should have told you sooner and I’m sorry about that, but what’s done is done,” she said, throwing his favorite phrase back at him. “I don’t know how much longer I’ll have this job.” Her voice broke, but she refused to give in to her emotions. Not now.
“What does that mean?” At least the sarcasm was gone.
She swallowed hard. “Yesterday I…I received a letter of reprimand from the school board. They…they are reviewing my contract at tonight’s meeting.” This time there was no hiding the hurt in her voice. She didn’t want his pity. She just wanted him to listen for a change.
“Why?” He drew the word out.
“I tried to convince one of the boys not to quit school to work in the mine. He was only a few months away from graduating.” Her voice was soft. “His father went to the school board—but not before reaming me out, of course.”
“Oh, great. Are you crazy? That mine is the lifeblood of this town. Every person here depends on it.” Linc ran a hand through his hair and walked over to the coffeemaker. He poured himself a cup and took his time taking that first sip.
“I know that.”
He closed his eyes as if to savor his coffee, or to ignore her. “So you’re trying to go up against the mine management. It was Ryan Sinclair, wasn’t it?”
“You heard about it?”
“Half the town heard Jack Sinclair running off at the mouth. I didn’t know he was talking about you. Ryan’s working up at the mine now. I gather your little talk didn’t convince him.”
“No.” She winced. She’d always found it hard to admit her failures.
The kitchen fell silent, heavy with unsaid words as they both nursed cooling cups of coffee.
WHO WAS THIS WOMAN standing in his kitchen? Linc couldn’t help but stare at Julia.
She’d been edgy lately and he’d known something was wrong. But he’d learned years ago not to push her. Right now she looked a mess—a just-waking-up-in-the-morning mess—but still a mess. Her hair was mussed and her robe hung open to show the shorts and T-shirt she’d slept in. He let his gaze linger on her curves…wishing…
When the hell had they grown so far apart that he couldn’t even touch his wife when he wanted to?
Like now.
“You could—” She stepped toward him. “Could you put something about how it’s not safe for kids to work in the mines in your report?”
He stared at her, incredulous. “No.”
“Why not?”
His anger surprised him. She’d always had her causes and another thing he’d learned was to take cover when she started talking about one of them. Why couldn’t they have a conversation anymore without one of them getting angry? He forced himself to focus, to tamp down his reaction. “For one, I’m not willing to risk my career for someone else’s problem. And this isn’t your business. One of us has to keep working and feed us.”
“And two?” she bit out.
“I don’t agree with you. Ryan is old enough to make his own decisions.
“He’s only seventeen.”
“When I was seventeen, I was on my own. At least he has parents to turn to, which he did.”
“They don’t understand—”
“No, Julia. You don’t understand. Ever since…since…last fall…” His voice wavered, but he quickly caught himself. “You want to fix everyone else’s life. Take care of every lost soul that crosses your path.” He stepped closer to her, lowering his voice, hoping to ease the tension between them. “Maybe you should focus on your own problems and your own life for a change.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Whoever told you life was fair? It sure as hell wasn’t me.”
He closed his eyes for an instant trying to clear his mind. His life had never been even close to fair. But what bothered him most was the fact she’d kept all of this—her new job and this crisis—a secret from him. They’d never had secrets.
When he’d first heard Jack, he realized now, some part of his brain had thought it sounded like Julia. But he’d dismissed it because he’d thought she was still teaching at the elementary school. Now he wasn’t as shocked as he should be. “Julia, don’t do this.”
“Don’t do what?” She actually sounded surprised.
“This. It’s not your battle.”
“I disagree.” She stomped across the kitchen and stared out the back window.
The distance between them was too great. He had to find a way across it. “Tell me why you left the elementary school.” He did not want to start this conversation, but it now seemed inevitable.
“I couldn’t do it. Because…it…it just wasn’t for me.” She fidgeted with the belt of her robe.
Linc hated seeing the forlorn look on her face. He ached to pick her up, carry her away and fix it all. He also knew she’d resist that and probably deck him in the process. “I can be there tonight.”
She looked up, and he thought she was going to smile. He held his breath, waiting. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d truly smiled.
“But I’m not promising anything else.” He couldn’t do more than that.
She nodded and turned away again.
Linc went back upstairs, back to bed for a couple hours. He wished she’d join him, but he knew better. She’d have to call in sick to work and she took her commitments seriously—too seriously sometimes.
The
