Page 25 of Out of Time (Undaunted Courage #3)

FOURTEEN

HE’D OVERSTEPPED.

Brad could see it in Cara’s sudden, subtle withdrawal. In the creases on her brow. In the lower lip caught between her teeth as she traced an irregular grain in the wooden tabletop with a finger that wasn’t quite steady.

He was rushing her, and this wasn’t a woman who’d tolerate being rushed. Every instinct in his body told him that.

The strangest part of all this?

He’d never had any intention of rushing her. Or himself. His plan had been to let her know he was interested but keep it low key. For his sake as well as hers while he tried to come to grips with the notion of a new romantic relationship.

“Hey.” He touched the back of her hand, waiting until he had her attention to continue. “I’m sorry if I came on too strong.”

She studied him for a moment. “Sorry for yourself, or for me?”

A direct question, in keeping with her admission that she tended to be blunt. And it deserved an honest answer.

“Let me clarify. I’m sorry if I spooked you by being too candid about my feelings.

In terms of myself, I’m more surprised than sorry.

I never planned to get involved with another woman, and I’m still feeling my way.

I intended to be more discreet while I sorted through this unexpected change in plans, but when I’m with you, my mouth has a mind of its own.

It says stuff I normally would keep closer to the vest.”

“Is that bad?”

“You tell me.”

Several beats passed as she considered him.

“I guess not. It’s just that...” She knitted her fingers together on the table. “Much as I appreciate your implication that I might be someone you wouldn’t give up on, my physical idiosyncrasies probably aren’t the only reason the men I’ve dated bailed.”

Was she opening a door to sharing more confidences?

Only one way to find out.

“Does this relate to the not-pretty story you referenced the day I told you about Elizabeth and Jonathan?”

After a moment, she gave a slow nod. “It’s from my early childhood.”

“How early?”

“As far back as I can remember.” She swallowed.

“I don’t talk much about those years. No one but my adoptive parents ever knew all the details.

I’ve tried hard not to let what happened to me as a child affect my adult life, but the truth is, I have lingering trust issues.

It could be my fault the guys I’ve dated lost interest. It’s possible I was sending subliminal back-off messages. ”

“I haven’t picked up many of those.”

“You may be the rare exception.” After giving him a tiny smile, she grew more serious again. “But my trust issues could rear their ugly head at some point. It’s happened with other men.”

She had trust issues with men, specifically?

He wasn’t liking the sound of that.

Trying hard to maintain a calm tone despite the sudden tension thrumming through him, he kept his question as general as possible. “What’s the source of the trust issues?”

“Not what you’re thinking. No one ever physically abused me.”

Thank God for that.

Yet something very traumatic had happened if it had left her cautious around men after all these years.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

“The truth? No. I’d rather not think about it ever again.”

“Then don’t. I won’t push you.” Even if he was tempted to. “I understand how hard it can be to talk about painful experiences.”

“But you told me about yours.”

“It felt right to share them with you.” He left it at that. If she decided to trust him with her story, that choice had to come from within. And if she opted not to tell him today, that didn’t mean someday in the future she wouldn’t—

“Do you have a few more minutes?”

Apparently today was the day after all.

The knot in his stomach began to unwind.

“Yes.”

“Okay. I’ll try to give you the short version.

” She focused on her linked fingers. “When I was three and a half, I got the measles. That led to ear infections, which resulted in severe hearing loss. Deafness can be a complication in up to 10 percent of measles cases, and I was in that unlucky percentage. My verbal development had been normal up to that stage, but after the hearing loss my speech suffered and my father ... he started making fun of me.”

Though her tone was dispassionate, the hurt in her eyes was almost palatable.

Brad’s gut clenched.

How could a father belittle a vulnerable child who’d been thrust into a sound-deprived world and was floundering to cope?

No wonder she didn’t trust men, if the man who was supposed to love and support her had mocked her instead.

Brad reached over and stroked a finger down the back of her hand.

She lifted her chin, irises shimmering. “It shouldn’t hurt this much anymore. I shouldn’t let it hurt.”

“It’s not easy to erase hurts.” As he knew too well. “Where was your mom during all of this?”

“Doing her best to shield me from his ridicule, as far as I can remember, but she worked long hours during the day as a waitress and wasn’t around much.

My father was a shelf stocker at night in a warehouse.

He was gone while I was sleeping. I’ve often thought how different it might have been if their jobs had been reversed.

” She sighed. “But it didn’t matter in the long run.

Mom died when I was five, and after that there was no one to protect me. I finally stopped speaking altogether.”

“And no one in your world noticed this? What about the person who took care of you while your father was at work?”

“He put me to bed before he left for his shift, and I stayed there until he got home. A neighbor’s daughter slept at the house while he was gone for the first year. I never interacted with her.”

“What about after that?”

“I was by myself.”

A wave of shock ricocheted through him. “You mean he left a six-year-old alone all night?”

“Yes, but it was okay. I was happier when he wasn’t there, and I’d learned to be self-sufficient.”

Anger bubbled up inside him.

That was a lesson no six-year-old should ever have to learn.

“How did you end up in the foster system?”

“My father had always been a drinker, but after my mother died, he hit the bottle harder. He was killed in a DUI when I was six and a half. I didn’t have any relatives—or none who wanted to take me—so I entered the foster system.

Several months later, Mom and Dad took me in, God bless them.

” She blinked, as if to clear her vision. “Do you have good parents, Brad?”

“The best.”

“Then you know about the power of that kind of love.” She glanced at his hand atop hers.

“I wouldn’t have blamed them if they’d given up on me in those first months.

They were already caring for two foster children from troubled backgrounds—my sister and brother, Bri and Jack—and taking on a child who didn’t communicate had to have been a huge leap. ”

“I assume they called in pros to help?”

“Yes. They arranged for therapists to work with me on speech, since I wasn’t verbal at all.

They also got me a cochlear implant in one ear and a hearing aid for the ear that had a tiny bit of hearing.

I went through months of auditory rehab after the implant, learning how to hear in a new way.

Mom and Dad worked with me hours on end too.

The second cochlear implant didn’t come until later, after the hearing in that ear failed too.

But the whole process was a slow slog until Mom came up with the idea of enrolling me in ballet lessons. ”

“I’m surprised she thought of that. It seems like a stretch for someone with hearing issues.”

Cara’s lips flexed. “Mom was all about thinking outside the box, especially where her kids were concerned. And she and Dad didn’t want any limits imposed on us—by society or by ourselves.”

“An admirable attitude. But she definitely pushed the boundaries with ballet.”

“Tell me about it. In the end, though, it proved to be an inspired idea. I could pick up the musical beats far better than I could hear voices, and ballet opened a whole new world to me. I discovered I could express all the feelings I’d been bottling up inside through movement and music.

It was freeing and an absolute breakthrough.

It became my lifeline. In some ways, it still is.

My Saturday morning lessons are sacrosanct. ”

“And you dance in between too.”

“Every day—but usually not for an audience.” She flashed him a smile.

“Anyway, ballet was the turning point. I began to speak more and to open up to people who’d earned my trust. All thanks to Mom and Dad.

If it wasn’t for them, I don’t know where I’d be.

Certainly not a professor of historical anthropology who gets up in front of large groups and lectures about the forces that shape people and cultures. ”

As Cara concluded, one word strobed through Brad’s mind.

Amazing.

There was no other way to describe this woman, who’d turned out so grounded despite all the bad things that had happened to her.

“To borrow your earlier comment to me, I’m impressed. Not only by all your accomplishments, but by your resilience.”

“I had excellent role models in Bri and Jack. The three of us formed an incredible bond. Stronger than the one shared by many siblings related by blood. Again, thanks to Mom and Dad.” She exhaled. “So now you know my history—and why I come with challenges.”

He left his hand over hers and locked onto her gaze. “I’m not afraid of challenges.”

Hope kindled in her eyes, warring with caution. “I don’t want to get hurt, Brad.”

“Neither do I.” That was the truth. He’d had enough heartache and loss to last two lifetimes. “So why don’t we take it slow and easy, see what develops? Play it safe?”

“I’m not certain safe is part of the equation in any rela tionship.” She took a deep breath. “But I’m willing to take a chance with you.”

Pressure built in his throat. “Thank you.”

“Thank you . For your interest and your honesty.” She eased her hand free and checked her watch. “I suppose we should call it a night.”