In the week that followed, Kate had felt as though she was walking around in a fog. She laughed, she smiled, she slept, she ate. The school year hadn’t started yet, so there was little else to occupy her mind. The days bled into each other, one indistinguishable from the next.
Soon after he’d broken their engagement, Clay headed for San Francisco, purportedly to attend a horse show. In her heart, she’d expected Clay to return with Rorie at his side. As hard as it had been, she’d tried to accept the fact Clay loved Rorie and nothing was ever going to change that.
To everyone’s surprise, Clay came home alone, and there was no mention of Rorie. Kate didn’t know what had happened between them. Hope stirred in her heart, and she’d briefly entertained thoughts of Clay resuming their engagement, the two of them marrying and settling down together, the way she’d always dreamed.
Instead she stood helplessly by as Clay threw himself into his work, making unreasonable demands on himself and his men. At first she believed the situation would change. She began stopping off at Elk Run, trying to be the friend she knew Clay needed. But Clay didn’t want her. He didn’t want anyone.
Except Rorie.
Only then did Kate recognize that it was in her power to help this man she loved. She talked over her idea with Luke, even before she approached her father. Luke, and Luke alone, had seemed to understand and appreciate her sacrifice. When she couldn’t hold back the tears any longer, it had been Luke who’d held her in his arms and who’d beamed with pride over the unselfishness of what she’d done.
As she sat, listening to the predinner conversation, even contributing now and then, she reminded herself that Luke had been the one who’d made it possible to survive that difficult time.
Luke.
Losing Clay had threatened to destroy her, mentally and physically. But Luke hadn’t allowed that to happen. It was then he’d started bullying her, she realized. She’d thought of him as a tyrant, with his unreasonable demands and his gentle harassments. Kate had been so furious with him for assuming command of her life that she’d overlooked the obvious. Only now could she understand and appreciate his strategy. Gradually, the fire had returned to her eyes and her life, although it had been fuelled by indignation. Nevertheless it was there, and Luke had been the person responsible.
She’d been furious with him when she should’ve been grateful. Luke had never stopped being her friend—the best friend she’d ever had. She’d leaned heavily on him in the days and weeks before Clay married Rorie, though she’d never understood how much he’d done for her, how much he cared.
The wineglasses were replenished and Kate proposed a toast. “To your happiness,” she said sincerely. It pained her to remember that Clay and Rorie had nearly lost each other. Because of her…
Nightingale had needed a librarian, and with her father’s help, Kate had convinced the town council to offer the job to Rorie Campbell. When she’d turned them down, Kate herself had called Rorie, and together they’d wept over the phone and later in each other’s arms.
So Rorie had returned to Nightingale, and she and Clay had been married. In October. The same month Kate had planned for her own wedding to Clay.
Kate’s thoughts were pulled back to the present when Clay said, “Rorie has a piece of good news.” He cast a proud look at his wife.
“What’s that?” Kate asked.
Rorie blushed becomingly. “Clay shouldn’t have said anything. It’s not certain yet.”
“Rorie,” Kate said, studying her carefully, “are you pregnant? Congratualtions!”
“No, no.” Rorie rushed to correct that impression. “Good grief, we’ve been married less than a month.”
“It’s about Rorie’s book,” Clay explained.
Vaguely Kate recalled that Rorie wrote children’s books. In fact, she’d been on her way to a writers’ conference when the car she was driving broke down on the road not far from Elk Run.
“Has one of your stories been accepted for publication?” Kate asked eagerly.
“Not exactly,” Rorie said.
“An editor from NewYork phoned and asked for a few revisions, but she sounded enthusiastic about the book and there was talk of a contract once the revisions are done,” Clay said. His fingers were twined with his wife’s and he looked as excited as if he’d created the story himself.
“Oh, Rorie, that’s wonderful.” Kate felt pleased and proud for her friend. “What ’s the book about?”
“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 the
re’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.
Eight
Kate 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.”