Country Brides (10 page)

“Now hurry up, you two. Dinner's nearly ready,” Kate said with a laugh. “Rorie 's been cooking her heart out all afternoon.”

Both men disappeared and Rorie set out the fresh green salad she'd made earlier, along with the seven-grain dinner rolls she'd warmed in the oven.

Once everyone was seated at the table and waiting, Rorie ceremonially carried in the platter of fettuccine, thick with seafood. She'd spent at least ten minutes arranging it to look as attractive as possible.

“Whatever it is smells good,” Skip called out as she entered the dining room. “I 'm so hungry I could eat a horse.”

“Funny, Skip, very funny,” Kate said.

Rorie set the serving dish in the middle of the table and stepped back, anticipating their praise.

Skip raised himself halfway out of his seat as he glared at her masterpiece. “That 's it?” His voice was filled with disappointment.

Rorie blinked, uncertain how she should respond.

“You've been cooking all afternoon and you mean to tell me that's everything?”

“It's seafood fettuccine,” she explained.

“It just looks like a bunch of noodles to me.”

“I
'
ll have another piece of lemon pie,” Skip said, eagerly extending his plate.

“If you're still hungry, Skip,” Clay remarked casually, “there are a few dinner rolls left.”

Skip's gaze darted to the small wicker basket and he wrinkled his nose. “No, thanks. Too many seeds in those things. I got one caught in my tooth earlier and spent five minutes trying to suck it out.”

Rorie did her best to smile.

Skip must have noticed how miserable she was because he added, “The salad was real good though. What kind of dressing was that?”

“Vinaigrette.”

“Really? It tasted fruity.”

“It was raspberry flavored.”

Skip's eyes widened. “I 've never heard of that kind of vinegar. Did you buy it here in Nightingale?”

“Not exactly. I got the ingredients while Kate and I were out the other day and mixed it up last night.”

“
That
tasted real good.” Which was Skip's less-than-subtle method of telling her nothing else had. He'd barely touched the main course. Clay had made a show of asking for seconds, but Rorie was all too aware that his display of enthusiasm had been an effort to salve her injured ego.

Rorie wasn't fooled—no one had enjoyed her special dinner. Even old Blue had turned his nose up at it when she'd offered him a taste of the leftovers.

Clay and Skip did hard physical work; they didn't sit in an office all day like Dan and the other men she knew. She should have realized that Clay and his brother required a more substantial meal than noodles swimming in a creamy sauce. Rorie wished she'd discussed her menu with either Mary or Kate. A tiny voice inside her suggested that Kate might have said something to warn her…

“Anyone else for more pie?” Kate was asking.

Clay nodded and cast a guilty glance in Rorie's direction. “I could go for a second piece myself.”

“The pie was delicious,” Rorie told Kate, meaning it. She was willing to admit Kate's dessert had been the highlight of the meal.

“Kate's one of the best cooks in the entire country,” Skip announced, licking the back of his fork. “Her lemon pie won a blue ribbon at the county fair last year.” He leaned forward, planting his elbows on the table. “She 's got a barbecue sauce so tangy and good that when she cooks up spareribs I just can't stop eating 'em.” His face fell as though he was thinking about those ribs now and would have gladly traded all of Rorie's fancy city food for a plateful.

“I'd like the fettuccine recipe if you'd give it to me,” Kate told Rorie, obviously attempting to change the subject and spare Rorie's feelings. Perhaps she felt a little guilty, too, for not giving her any helpful suggestions.

Skip stared at Kate as if she'd volunteered to muck out the stalls.

“I'll write it down before I leave.”

“Since Rorie and Kate put so much time and effort into the meal, I think Skip and I could be convinced to do our part and wash the dishes.”

“We could?” Skip protested.

“It's the least we can do,” Clay returned flatly, frowning at his younger brother.

Rorie was all too aware of Clay's ploy. He wanted to get into the kitchen so they could find something else to eat without being conspicuous about it. Something plain and basic, no doubt, like roast-beef sandwiches.

“Listen, you guys,” Rorie said brightly. “I 'm sorry about dinner. I can see everyone's still hungry. You're all going out of your way to reassure me, but it isn't necessary.”

“I don't know what you're talking about, Rorie. Dinner was excellent,” Clay said, patting his stomach.

Rorie nearly laughed out loud. “Why don't we call for a pizza?” she said, pleased with her solution. “I bungled dinner, so that's the least I can do to make it up to you.”

Three faces stared at her blankly.

“Rorie,” Clay said gently. “The closest pizza parlour is thirty miles from here.”

“Oh.”

Undeterred, Skip leaped to his feet. “No problem…You phone in the order and I'll go get it.”

Empty pizza boxes littered the living-room floor, along with several abandoned soft-drink cans.

Skip lay on his back staring up at the ceiling. “Anyone for a little music?” he asked lazily.

“Sure.” Kate got to her feet and sat down at the piano. As her nimble fingers ran over the keyboard, the rich sounds echoed against the walls. “Some Lee Greenwood?”

“All
right,
” Skip called out with a yell, punching his fist into the air. He thrust two fingers in his mouth and gave a shrill whistle.

“Who?” Rorie asked once the commotion had died down.

“He's a country singer,” Clay explained. Blue ambled to his side, settling down at his feet. Clay gently stroked his back.

“I guess I haven't heard of him,” Rorie murmured.

Once more she discovered three pairs of eyes studying her curiously.

“What about Johnny Cash?” Kate suggested next. “You probably know who he is.”

“Oh, sure.” Rorie looped her arms over her bent knees and lowered her voice to a gravelly pitch. “I hear that train a comin'.”

Skip let loose with another whistle and Rorie laughed at his boisterous antics. Clay left the room; he returned a moment later with a guitar, then seated himself on the floor again, beside Blue. Skip crawled across the braided rug in the center of the room and retrieved a harmonica from the mantel. Soon Kate and the two men were making their own brand of music—country songs, from the traditional to the more recent. Rorie didn't know a single one, but she clapped her hands and tapped her foot to the lively beat.

“Sing for Rorie,” Skip shouted to Clay and Kate. “Let's show her what she's been missing.”

Clay's rich baritone joined Kate's lilting soprano, and Rorie's hands and feet stopped moving. Her eyes darted from one to the other in open-mouthed wonder at the beautiful harmony of their two voices, male and female. It was as though they'd been singing together all their lives. She realized they probably had.

When they finished, Rorie blinked back tears, too dumbfounded for a moment to speak. “That was wonderful,” she told them and her voice caught with emotion.

“Kate and Clay sing duets at church all the time,” Skip explained. “They 're good, aren't they?”

Rorie nodded, gazing at the two of them. Clay and Kate were right for each other—they belonged together, and once she was gone they would blend their lives as beautifully as they had their voices. Rorie happened to catch Kate's eye. The other woman slipped her arms around Clay's waist and rested her head against his shoulder, laying claim to this man and silently letting Rorie know it. Rorie couldn't blame Kate. In like circumstances she would have done the same.

“Do you sing, Rorie?” Kate asked, leaving Clay and sliding onto the piano bench.

“A little, and I play some piano.” Actually her own singing voice wasn't half bad. She'd participated in several singing groups while she was in high school and had taken five years of piano lessons.

“Please sing something for us.” Rorie recognized a hint of challenge in the words.

“Okay.” She replaced Kate at the piano seat and started out with a little satirical ditty she remembered from her college days. Skip hooted as she knew he would at the clever words, and all three rewarded her with a round of applause.

“Play some more,” Kate encouraged. “It 's nice to have someone else do the playing for a change.” She sat next to Clay on the floor, once again resting her head against his shoulder. If it hadn't been for the guitar in his hands, Rorie knew he would've placed his arm around her and drawn her even closer. It would have been the natural thing to do.

“I don't know the songs you usually sing, though.” Rorie was more than a little reluctant now. She'd never heard of this Greenwood person they seemed to like so well.

“Play what you know,” Kate said, “and we'll join in.”

After a few seconds' thought, Rorie nodded. “This is a song by Billy Joel. I'm sure you've heard of him—his songs are more rock than country, but I think you'll recognize the music.” Rorie was only a few measures into the ballad before she realized that Kate, Clay and Skip had never heard this song.

She stopped playing. “What about Whitney Houston?”

Skip repeated the name a couple of times before his eyes lit up with recognition. “Hasn't she done Coke commercials?”

“Right,” Rorie said, laughing. “She 's had several big hits.”

Kate slowly shook her head. “Sorry, I don't think I can remember the words to her songs.”

“Barbra Streisand?”

“I thought she was an actress,” Skip said with a puzzled frown. “You mean she sings, too?”

Reluctantly Rorie rose from the piano seat. “Kate, you'll have to take over. It seems you three are a whole lot country and I'm a little bit rock and roll.”

“We'll make you into a country girl yet!” Skip insisted, sliding the harmonica across his mouth with an ease Rorie envied.

Clay glanced at his watch. “We aren't going to be able to convert Rorie within the next twelve hours.”

A gloom settled over them as Kate took Rorie's place at the piano.

“Are you sure we can't talk you into staying a few extra days?” Skip asked. “We 're just getting to know each other.”

Rorie shook her head, more determined than ever to leave as soon as she could.

“It would be a shame for you to miss the county fair next weekend. Maybe you could stop here on your way back through Oregon, after your trip to Canada,” Kate added. “Clay and I are singing, and we're scheduled for the square dance competition, too.”

“Yeah,” Skip cried. “And we've got pig races planned again this year.”

“Pig races?” Rorie echoed faintly.

“I know it sounds silly, but it's really fun. We take the ten fastest pigs in the area and let them race toward a bowl of Oreos. No joke—cookies! Everyone bets on who'll win and we all have a lot of fun.” Skip's eyes shone with eagerness. “Please think about it, anyway, Rorie.”

“Mary's entering her apple pie again,” Clay put in. “She's been after that blue ribbon for six years.”

A hundred reasons to fade out of their lives flew across Rorie's mind like particles of dust in the wind. And yet the offer was tempting. She tried, unsuccessfully, to read Clay's eyes, her own filled with a silent appeal. This was a decision she needed help making. But Clay wasn't helping. The thought of never seeing him again was like pouring salt onto an open wound; still, it was a reality she'd have to face sooner or later.

So Rorie volunteered the only excuse she could come up with at the moment. “I don't have the time. I'm sorry, but I'd be cutting it too close to get back to San Francisco for work Monday morning.”

“Not if you canceled part of your trip to Canada and came back on Friday,” Skip pointed out. “You didn't think you'd have a good time at the square dance, either, but you did, remember?”

It wasn't a matter of having a good time. So much more was involved…though the pig races actually sounded like fun. The very idea of such an activity would have astounded her only a week before, Rorie reflected. She could just imagine what Dan would say.

“Rorie?” Skip pressed. “What do you think?”

“I…I don't know.”

“The county fair is about as good as it gets around Nightingale.”

“I don't want to impose on your hospitality again.” Clay still wasn't giving her any help with this decision.

“But having you stay with us isn't a problem,” Skip insisted. “As long as you promise to stay out of the kitchen, you're welcome to stick around all summer. Isn't that right, Clay?”

His hesitation was so slight that Rorie doubted anyone else had noticed it. “Naturally Rorie's welcome to visit us any time she wants.”

“If staying with these two drives you crazy,” Kate inserted, “you could stay at my house. In fact, I'd love it if you did.”

Rorie dropped her gaze, fearing what she might see in Clay's eyes. She sensed his indecision as she struggled with her own. She had to leave. Yet she wanted to stay….

“I think I should take the rest of my vacation in Victoria,” she finally told them.

“I know you're worried about getting back in time for work, but Skip's right. If you left Victoria one day early, then you could be here for the fair,” Kate suggested again, but her offer didn't sound as sincere as it had earlier.

“Rorie said she doesn't have the time,” Clay said after an awkward silence. “I think we should respect her decision.”

“You sound as if you don't want her to come back,” Skip accused.