her head again. “I bent, and I bent, and I bent, because I wanted him to be happy. I wanted his parents to be happy. I wanted my parents to think I was happy. I didn’t want to admit I’d made such an egregious mistake. In the end, though, I had to stand up for myself and demand something better than he could ever give me.”
Hunter’s fingers tightened until she started to pull away. He loosened his grip but held onto her hands. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “He hit you?”
Molly looked up and into his eyes, hers wide and afraid. She nodded, just once.
Hunter released her hands then, dropped to kneeling, and gathered her close to his heart. “I will never do that, Mols.”
“I know that.” She wrapped her arms around his torso and held him tight. “I will not allow myself to be in that position again. I will not do something that will make me terribly unhappy just to make someone else happy. I certainly do not care what anyone else thinks of me or my relationships.”
“Good for you,” he whispered. “I wish I had half your strength.”
Molly pulled back and took his face in her hands. “I just want you to be happy, Hunt. I know I can’t do that—only you can—but I know a man’s job plays a huge part in his happiness. Mine does, at least. I just don’t think you’ll be happy as CEO, and I don’t want you to do something that will make you terribly unhappy just to make someone else happy.”
Hunter leaned into her touch. “You do make me happy.”
“But not at my expense,” she said. “I don’t have to do something that makes me miserable to make you happy.”
Hunter cocked his head slightly. “True.”
“You can do what you’d like, obviously,” she said. “Sometimes an outside perspective is nice to have, though.”
“Also true,” Hunter said. His knees ached, and he stood. “I can’t kneel like that. This carpet is like cement.”
Molly grinned, and when he extended his hand to her, she put hers in it and stood too.
“Let’s finish the books, sweetheart,” he said. “Then Uncle Wes and I are going to do our best to find out what the other Hammonds are up to. Maybe it won’t have to be me.”
Molly nodded, and Hunter continued to move thin volumes from the old bookcase to the new one. His thoughts circled around and around one thing—the strength of character in Molly Benson.
He wanted to be like her; he wanted to stand up and say, “No, I don’t want to be the CEO. I can’t do what will make me unhappy just because my last name is Hammond.”
He simply didn’t know how.
As Molly plunked down the last stack of books, Hunter asked, “Would you pray for me, Molly?”
She faced him, those pretty eyes wide. “Right now?”
He nodded, his voice too tight to speak.
“All right.” She cleared her throat. “You’re much better at this than I am, though. So no judging.” She flashed him a nervous smile.
“No judging,” Hunter said, his voice like a croak.
She took his hands in hers and dropped her head. “Dear Lord,” she whispered. “Hunter Hammond is a good man, with a very good head on his shoulders. He wants to do what is right for his family, his farm, and himself. He simply needs Thy light to show him the path he should take. If possible, please send that light into his life and mind. Help me to support him in whatever decision he makes, and….” She stalled, and the silence went on so long that Hunter cracked his eyes to see what was going on.
She looked up at him, her eyes glassy. “Help us to recognize the difference between compromise and sacrifice, and help us to accept Thy will.” She took a breath, and when she said, “Amen,” he said it with her.
“Thank you,” he said, though he didn’t feel any new light in his mind. He did want to do what was right, and he had lived according to that in the hopes that he’d make his father proud of him. In the process, he’d made himself proud of what he’d accomplished, and he wanted to hold on to that feeling.
“I should go,” he said. “Uncle Wes is waiting for me.”
“Sure,” she said. “Go. Thank you so much for the help with the bookcase. Tell Wes thank you too.”
Hunter smiled at her, unsure of this new energy between them. Was it good? Bad? Just different?