Country Brides (28 page)

“Well, the story involves Star Bright and the night we delivered Nightsong, and it's told from the foal's point of view,” Rorie said.

“I know I'm her husband,” Clay broke in, “but I read it, and I don't mind telling you, the book's gripping. Any editor worth her salt would snap it up in a minute.”

“Oh, Clay, honestly!”

“When will you know if it's sold?” Kate asked. “I don't think Nightingale's ever had an author living here before. Dad could convince the town council to commission a sign. You might even become a tourist attraction. Who knows where this could go?”

They all laughed, but Rorie cautioned, “It could be months before I hear, so don't go having your father commission any signs.”

“You should've seen her after she got the call,” Clay said, his eyes twinkling with merriment. “I didn't know what to think. Rorie came running out of the house and started shrieking and jumping up and down.”

“So I was a little excited.”

Playfully Clay rolled his eyes. “A little! That's got to be the understatement of the year.”

“I'd behave the same way,” Kate said. “And you seem pretty thrilled about all this yourself, Clay Franklin.”

Clay admitted it, and then the discussion turned to the awards Clay had accumulated in several national horse shows in the past year.

A few minutes later, Mary announced that dinner was ready and they moved into the dining room. The meal was lively, and conversation flowed easily around the table.

Kate had been dreading this dinner from the moment Rorie had issued the invitation. Now she was pleasantly surprised by how enjoyable the evening had become. She'd been convinced that seeing Clay and Rorie's happiness would deepen her own pain. It hadn't happened. She'd expected to spend this evening nursing her wounds behind a brave front. Instead she felt giddy with a sense of release.

She
had
loved Clay, loved him with a youthful innocence. But she didn't feel the same way toward him now. Clay belonged to Rorie and Rorie to him. The tender relationship Kate had once shared with him was part of the past. He would always be a special person in her life, but those old feelings, that adulation she'd felt for him, were relegated to her adolescent fantasies.

Kate Logan was a woman now.

She wasn't sure exactly when the transformation had taken place, but it had. She'd struggled with it, fought the metamorphosis, because change, as always, was both painful and difficult. Kate realized for the first time that all the pain, all the uncertainty, had not been for nothing.

“Kate?” Luke called, as he let himself into the kitchen. “You around?”

“Here.” She was at the back of the house, packing away the library of books her father kept in his den. Every night she did a little more to get the main house ready for Luke to move in and her to move out.

She straightened and tucked in a few wisps of hair that had escaped the red bandana. She wore blue jeans and an old gray sweatshirt and no doubt looked terrible. Despite that, she was pleased to see Luke, eager to talk to him. She was wiping her dusty palms on her jeans when he walked in.

“What are you doing?” He stood just inside the door, a frown creasing his forehead.

“What does it look like?” she said. “I 'm packing.”

He hesitated, then said, “I told you, I want you to live here, at least to the end of the school year. I thought you understood that.”

“I do, Luke. It's just that this place is yours now—or will be soon, and there's no reason for me to stay on.” For one despairing moment, she was swept away on a crashing wave of disbelief and misery at everything she'd lost in so short a time. She could barely walk through her home and not feel an aching throb at the prospect of leaving it behind. But the sale of the ranch was part of the new reality she was learning to face.

“Of course there's a reason for you to stay here,” Luke insisted, his voice sharp with impatience. “It 's where you belong—where I want you. Isn't that reason enough?”

Kate forced a laugh. “Come on, Luke, there's no excuse for me to continue living here. You don't need a housekeeper, or a cook or anything else. You're completely self-sufficient. And I could do without all the gossip my living here would start in town.” She paused a moment, then added gently, “I really
can
manage on my own, you know. I'm a big girl, Luke, and I don't need anyone to take care of me.”

He wanted to argue with her; Kate could sense it with every breath he drew. But when he spoke next, his remarks had nothing to do with her moving.

“I suppose I should tell you about the feed store,” he said. His voice was controlled, though Kate heard a hint of anger in his words. He'd been just as incensed as she was over the incident. Once she'd come to grips with her own outrage, she'd seen how furious Luke was.

“No…well, yes, I guess I am curious to hear how you handled that. Would you like some coffee?”

“Please.”

Kate led the way into the kitchen and filled two ceramic mugs. After giving Luke his, she walked into the living room and sat on the sofa. Relaxing, she slipped off her shoes and tucked her feet underneath her. It felt good to sit here with Luke—almost like old times. So often over the years, they'd sat and talked like this. Friends. Confidants. Companions. She cradled the mug in both hands, letting the warmth seep up her arms.

“I had dinner with Clay and Rorie last night,” she said, wanting to share with Luke what she'd discovered.

“Yes, I heard. Listen, you can close the door on the situation with Fred Garner. You don't need to worry about it anymore.”

Kate lowered her eyes. “Thanks,” she murmured. There was so much she wanted to tell Luke. “I had a great time at Elk Run last night, although I honestly didn't expect to.”

“I can personally guarantee the matter with Garner is over. If it isn't a dead issue, it soon will be.”

Kate would rather not talk about the wedding lottery. The subject had become an embarrassing memory—a very embarrassing one—but as Luke said, it was finished. There were other, more important issues to discuss.

“All day I'd worried about that dinner,” she said, starting over. “I wondered how I'd ever be able to sit at a table with Clay, knowing he was married to Rorie. But I did. Oh, Luke, I can't tell you how happy they are. Deep down, I knew they would be, and I had to brace myself for that, expecting to find it unbearably painful. But something incredible happened. During the evening, I learned a valuable lesson about—”

“Good.” Luke's response was clipped, detached.

Kate hesitated. From the moment he'd walked into her father's office, she'd felt something was wrong, but she hadn't been able to put her finger on it. “Luke, what is it?”

“Nothing. I'd prefer not talking about Clay and Rorie, all right?”

“I…suppose so,” she said, feeling hurt. After an awkward moment, she attempted conversation once more. “You'll never guess who I got a letter from today.” If Luke didn't want to talk about Clay and Rorie, then she'd try another topic that was sure to pique his interest. “Eric Wilson. Remember him?”

A slight smile touched Luke's mouth. “I 'm not likely to forget him. What'd he have to say?”

“He's moved back to Portland and is talking to his ex-wife. Apparently she's been just as miserable as he has since their divorce. It looks as if they might get back together.”

“That's good news.”

“He asked me to give you his regards, and sends his thanks.” Kate paused. “But he didn't say what I was supposed to thank you for?” She made the statement a question, hoping Luke would supply an answer.

“We talked.”

“Oh.”

“I told him he was wasting his time on you because you're in love with me.”

Kate was outraged. “Luke, you didn't! Please tell me you're joking.”

He smiled briefly, then his eyes took on the distant look he'd been wearing a moment earlier. Kate couldn't ignore it any longer. “Luke, please, tell me what's bothering you.”

“What makes you think anything is?”

“You don't seem yourself tonight.” Something in his voice puzzled her. A reserved quality. It was as if he was distancing himself from her and that was baffling. After Clay's wedding, Luke had actually insisted they get married, and now he was treating her like some casual acquaintance.

Kate took another sip of coffee while she collected her thoughts. Luke was sitting as far away from her as he could. His shoulders were stiff and his dark eyes a shade more intense than usual. Gone was the laughing devilry she adored.

“I'll be out of town for a few days next week,” he said abruptly. “I'm hoping to pick up a few pieces of new equipment from a wholesaler in New Mexico.”

“When will the bank close the deal on the ranch?”

Luke paused and his eyes pinned hers. “Your father and I signed all the papers the day before he married Dorothea Murphy.”

Kate felt like bolting from her chair, the shock was so great. “Why didn't you tell me?” she demanded, her heart racing. “Why didn't my father? I shouldn't even be here now. This is your home. Yours. Bought and paid for and—”

“Kate.” He set his mug aside and wearily rubbed the back of his neck. “You 're welcome to stay as long as you need. If you insist on leaving, that's fine, too, but there's no rush.”

She brought her hands to her cheeks, which were feverishly hot one minute, numb and cold the next. “I 'll be out as…as soon as I can find someplace to move.”

“Kate, for heaven's sake, why do you persist in being so stubborn?”

She shook her head, hardly understanding it herself. All she knew was that this house, which had been a part of her from the time she was born, no longer belonged to her family. Despite everything Luke said, she couldn't stay on at the Circle L, and she had nowhere else to go.

K
ate had just finished correcting a pile of math papers when her friend Linda Hutton entered her classroom. Linda's third-grade class had been on a field trip and the two friends had missed talking at lunchtime.

“Hi,” Kate said, smiling up at her. “How 'd the tour of the jail and fire station go?”

Linda pulled up a child-size chair and sank down on it, then started massaging her temples with her fingertips. “Don 't ask. By noon I was ready to lock up the entire third-grade class and lose the key.”

“It certainly was quiet around school.”

Linda gave a soft snicker. “Listen, I didn't come in here to learn what a peaceful day
you
had. The only reason I'm not home in bed curled up with aspirin and a hot-water bottle is so I can tell you I was at Garner Feed and Supply yesterday afternoon.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, and you aren't going to like what happened. While I was there, Mr. Garner asked me if I wanted to place a wager on the Rivers-Logan wedding.”

Kate's heart stopped cold. “He didn't!”

“I'm afraid so.”

“But Luke told me he'd taken care of the problem. He said it was a dead issue and I shouldn't worry about it anymore.” It wasn't like Luke to make careless promises.

“I wish I didn't have to tell you this,” Linda said, with a sympathetic sigh.

“But Luke told me he'd personally talked to Fred Garner.”

“He did. Mr. Garner made a point of telling me that, too,” Linda confirmed. “He claimed Luke was hotter than a Mexican chili pepper. Said Luke came into his place, ranted and raved and threatened him within an inch of his life. But, Kate, the whole time old Garner was talking to me, he wore a grin so wide I could've driven a Jeep through it.”

Kate sagged against the back of her chair.

“Then Garner told me that the harder a man fights marriage, the faster he falls. Apparently he's taking bets from as far away as Riversdale and south.”

Kate pressed a hand over her eyes. “What am I going to do now?”

Linda shook her head. “I don't know. At least Garner's taken it off the blackboard, but when I said something about that, he told me he had to, since half the county wants in on the action. It seems the betting outgrew his blackboard space.”

“If nothing else, it proves how desperate this community is for entertainment,” Kate muttered. “If the good people of Nightingale have nothing better to do than waste their time and money on something as silly as this, then it's a sad commentary on our lives here.”

Kate's friend cleared her throat and looked suspiciously guilty.

Kate hesitated, studying Linda. No, she told herself. Not Linda. Her closest childhood friend wouldn't place a wager. Her expression confirmed that she would.

“You chose a date yourself, didn't you?” Kate demanded.

Linda's gaze darted all over the room, avoiding Kate's completely.

“You did, didn't you?” Kate exclaimed.

Linda's fingers were curling and uncurling in her lap. “You're my oldest, dearest friend. How could I ever do anything like that?” she wailed.

“I don't know, Linda. You tell me.”

“All right, all right,” Linda confessed. “I did put a wager on June. The first part of summer is such a lovely time of year for a wedding….”

“I can't believe I'm hearing this.” Kate had the sinking suspicion that her father had probably gotten in on the action, too, before he left on his honeymoon.

“I had no intention of betting,” Linda hurried to explain. “In fact I never would have, but the odds were so good for June. For a five-dollar bet, I could collect as much as five hundred if you were to marry around the middle of the month—say the sixteenth. It's a Saturday. Weekends are always best for weddings, don't you think?”

Kate wasn't about to answer that. “You know, I suspect this whole thing is illegal. Each and every one of you should thank your lucky stars I don't call the sheriff.”

“He's betting himself—on March. Said his own wedding anniversary is March tenth and he thinks Luke will be able to persuade you early in the spring. According to Fred, the sheriff figures that once Luke gets you to agree, he won't wait around for a big wedding. He'll want to marry you before you can change your mind.”

Kate sent her a furious look. “If you're telling me this to amuse me, you've failed miserably.”

“I'm sorry, Kate, I really am. The only reason I went into the feed store was so I could assure you the whole betting thing was over, but I can't and—”

“Instead you placed a bet of your own.”

“I feel guilty about that,” Linda admitted, her voice subdued.

“Why don't we both forget it and concentrate on the Thanksgiving play?” Instead of upsetting herself with more talk of this wedding lottery, Kate preferred to do something constructive with her time.

“I might be able to make it up to you, though,” Linda murmured, fussing with the cuffs of her long-sleeved blouse.

“Whatever it is will have to be good.”

“It is.” Linda brightened and pulled a slip of paper from her purse. “I got this information from a friend of a friend, so I can't confirm how accurate it is, but I
think
it's pretty much for sure.”

“What's for sure?” she asked when Linda handed her the paper. A local phone number was carefully printed on it.

Linda's sheepish look departed. “It's Mrs. Jackson's number—she's the manager of the apartment complex on Spruce Street. They may have a vacancy coming up next week. If you're the first one to apply, you might have a decent chance of getting it.”

“Oh, Linda, that's great!”

“Am I forgiven?”

Kate laughed. “This makes up for a multitude of sins.”

“I was counting on that.”

Kate called five times before she got through. Mrs. Jackson seemed surprised to be hearing from her.

“I thought you were marrying that Rivers chap,” the elderly woman said. “Can 't understand why you'd want to rent an apartment when you're engaged to that man. The whole town says it's just a matter of time.”

“Mrs. Jackson,” Kate said loudly, because everyone knew the old woman was hard of hearing, “could I look at the apartment soon?”

“Won't be cleaned up for another day or two. I'll let you know once it's ready to be shown, but I can't help feeling it's a waste of time. Don't know what's wrong with you young women these days. In my day, we'd snap up a good man like Luke Rivers so fast it'd make your head spin.”

“I'd still like to see the apartment,” Kate said.

“Saturday, I guess. Yes, Saturday. Why don't you plan to come over then? I'll need a deposit if you decide to take the place.”

“Will a check be all right?”

“Good as gold when it's got your name on it,” Mrs. Jackson said, chuckling. “Don't suppose you have any season or month you're particularly partial to for weddings, would you?”

“No, I can't say I do.”

“Well, me and Ethel Martin think you and that Rivers fellow will tie the knot in April. April seems a mighty nice month for a country wedding.”

“I'm sure it is,” Kate said, clenching her teeth.

“Good. Now listen, soon as the word gets out, someone else'll be wanting that apartment, so if you aren't here by noon Saturday, I'm going to have to give it to whoever shows up. You understand?”

“I'll be there before noon.”

“See you then.”

“Goodbye, Mrs. Jackson.”

“You keep thinking about April, you hear?”

“Yes, I will,” Kate murmured, rolling her eyes as she replaced the receiver.

That night, Luke stopped in shortly after Kate had finished dinner, which consisted of a sandwich eaten while she emptied the living-room bookcases. She filled box after box with books, her own and her father's, as well as complete sets of Dickens, Thackeray and George Eliot that had belonged to her mother. The physical activity gave her time to think. She'd realized the night she had dinner at the Franklins' that she wasn't in love with Clay. That same evening, Kate had also realized how much Luke had done for her in the weeks following her broken engagement. It troubled her to acknowledge how unappreciative she'd been of his support.

At Clay's wedding, she'd only added to the problem by asking Luke to marry her. He'd been willing to comply, willing to continue taking care of her through these difficult emotional times. In his own way, he did love her; Kate didn't question that. But he seemed far more concerned with protecting her from the harsh realities of life.

All the talk about weddings had brought the subject to the forefront of Kate's mind. She tried to picture what her life would be like if she were to marry Luke. From the night of Clay's wedding, Luke had been telling her she was in love with him. It came as a shock to realize how right he was. She
did
love him, a thousand times more than she'd ever dreamed.

Luke claimed he loved her, too. If that was true, why was she fighting him so hard? For one thing, Luke had delivered his declaration of love in such a matter-of-fact, unromantic way, it was hard to believe he really meant it. If she could be sure that his feelings were rooted in more than sympathy and physical attraction, she'd feel more confident. But Luke kept trying to shield her, as though she were a child. Now that she was moving into a place of her own, she'd be able to analyze her changing emotions more objectively. She'd be completely independent, away from the environment they'd always shared. Once they were apart, once it was clear that she could manage by herself, Luke would be free to pursue a relationship with her as an equal, an adult woman—not a little girl who needed looking after.

“I see you're at it again,” he said, standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room.

“Luke—” she slapped her hand over her heart “—you startled me!” Her thoughts had been full of him and then suddenly he was there.

As he did more and more often of late, Luke was frowning, but Kate wasn't going to let that destroy her mood. She was thrilled with the prospect of moving into her own apartment and settling into a different kind of life.

“I have good news. I'm going to look at an apartment on Saturday morning.” She dragged a heavy box of books across the carpet. “So,” she said, huffing, “I'll probably be out of here sooner than we figured.”

Luke interrupted her, effortlessly picking up the cardboard box and depositing it on the growing stack at the far side of the room.

“Thanks,” she murmured, grateful for his help.

“You shouldn't be doing this heavy work by yourself.”

“It's fine,” she said, rubbing the dust from her hands. “The only trouble I'm having is with these books. We've got so many.”

“Kate, dammit, I wish you'd listen to reason.”

“I'm being reasonable,” she said, fixing a reassuring smile on her face. “All I'm doing is giving you what's rightfully yours.”

Luke's frown grew darker, and he dragged a hand through his hair. “Listen, I think we may have more of a problem with Fred Garner than I thought.”

“Yes, I know,” Kate said, already filling the next box. “Linda told me after school that he's doing a thriving business.”

Luke knelt on the floor beside her. “You're not upset?”

“Would it do any good? I mean, you obviously did your best and that just seemed to encourage the betting. As far as I can see, the only thing that will resolve this issue is time.” She kept her gaze averted and added, “When six months pass and we're still not married, everyone will accept that nothing's going on between us.”

“Nothing?” Luke asked bitterly.

Hope stirred briefly within her. “I like to think we'll always be friends.” An absent smile touched her lips. “Now that I've decided to distance my emotions from this lottery nonsense, I find it all rather comical. You should do the same.”

“This amuses you?”

“The good citizens of Nightingale are amused. Everyone seems to assume that because Clay and Dad both got married and the ranch has been sold, I should swoon into your arms.”

“Personally, I don't think that's such a bad idea.”

“Oh?” She chuckled and tucked a few more books in the box. Her heart was racing. If Luke was ever really going to declare his love, it would be now. “That wasn't the message I got the other night. I tried to have a serious talk with you about my evening with Clay and Rorie, and all you could do was glower at me.” She glanced up, shaking her head. “Like you're doing now.”

Luke walked away from her. He stood staring out the window, although Kate suspected the view was of little interest to him. “I just wish you'd be sensible for once in your life,” he snapped.