Amusement at her father’s embarrassed reference to gynecological issues gave way to confusion. The other one? What was he talking about? She was an only child. “The other one what? I don’t understand.”
“Oh, I thought you two might have discussed it. Before you got married, perhaps.” At her negative murmur, he sniffed. “Well, there was another baby before you, but he only lived a few hours. A heart issue, they told us. Something not formed right inside. I don’t know the medical term for it, but anyway, your mother took it hard. Very hard.” He sighed. “She’d been quite excited about the whole process and then afterward she—she was almost inconsolable. It took me a long time to convince her to try again, because…” He trailed off but Kat was incapable of making a sound to fill the gap. Everything seemed to have stopped inside her. “Well, she just wasn’t the same after that,” he finally added. “Even after you were born so healthy, I’m not sure she ever really believed you were going to stay with us.”
“I—I didn’t know any of this,” Kat finally managed, when she realized her father had stopped talking.
He sighed. “I suppose I’m not surprised. We haven’t spoken of it since. And after we came home empty-handed from the hospital that time, part of her seemed to just…shut off. I got her some help for the house and encouraged her to start seeing her friends again, but I never saw the same kind of life in her that she used to have. I’d hoped another baby would bring her back to herself, but I’m not sure…”
Kathleen waited, her thoughts spinning wildly. When another silence began to stretch out, she thought to ask, “What did the doctor say this time?”
“Oh, apparently he talked about some kind of operation. I don’t think your mother was too pleased about the idea. She’s lying down right now. You know.”
Kathleen did know. And yet she didn’t. She was quite familiar with her mother’s histrionics, but this new insight gave her pause. “Please tell her I hope she’s better soon. And you’ll let me know what you decide about the operation?”
“Of course, dear. And you’re doing fine, right?”
“Fine, yes,” Kat lied. What else could she possibly say? After their goodbyes, she didn’t move from the chair near the phone. All of her energy was focused on grappling with the sudden knowledge that her mother had carried a baby before her. One that had died after she’d given birth. Had the price of that loss been handed down to her, along with hair and eye color? Or had she also inherited a damaged heart, but hers malfunctioned emotionally, rather than physically, the symptoms revealing themselves gradually over the years?
Dimly, she heard the sound of the back door and Whit’s voice moving toward her, calling her name. She blinked and stirred, clearing her throat to answer. Before she could get a word out, she caught the familiar scent of Whit’s cologne, spicy and warm, and felt a hand rest lightly on her shoulder.
“Am I here on the wrong night? That kitchen is cold and dark.” Whit’s tone was teasing, but when Kathleen turned and looked at her, she squatted down, her expression concerned. “What is it, Kitty? What’s wrong?”
“Whit, I…” It was too much. Kat’s throat closed up, emotions overwhelming her. Whit moved closer and Kat found the perfect place for her weary head—on Whit’s chest. Whit helped her stand, murmuring, “Come on. It’s okay. Come with me now,” and they made their way to the bedroom. As Whit eased her onto the bed and slipped out of her WAC jacket, Kathleen realized she was still in her dressing gown. She hadn’t cooked or cleaned or dressed and done her makeup, none of the things she needed to do to get ready for Whit’s visit.
“I’m sorry,” she began, hating the quaver in her voice. “I haven’t…everything is—”
“Shh.” Whit lay beside her, stroking her hair. “Just let me stay for a little while. Then I’ll go if you want me to.”
“No, I don’t want that. I never wanted you to go.”
Whit’s hand stilled and she was quiet for a long minute. “Yeah well, I thought maybe you wanted to go, Kat. I mean, you’ve seemed so far away lately. But I know you love this house, and then it came to me that maybe you didn’t want me here.”
“No.” Kat shook her head, but Whit stopped her with a hand.
“Look, I didn’t intend to bring it up this way. There are things we need to talk about, but I could tell from the minute you looked at me that there’s something else on your mind. I’m here for you, okay?”
They lay quietly for a time, and Kathleen saw it all quite clearly. Vic had sensed her detachment, and whether or not she completely understood it all, Kat’s behavior had hurt her badly. Badly enough to believe that she wasn’t wanted in their home. Telling her lover how deeply sorry she was would only be a first step. She needed to convince her that something like this would never happen again. And to do that, she needed to decide in her own mind and heart that she was truly ready to make a commitment and to honor it for as long as Vic would have her. Oddly, it was the last part of that thought that scared her the most. What if she pledged to stay forever just as Vic was ready to tell her that she’d had enough, that she no longer wanted her at all? It would be like her to let me down easy, Kat knew.
Whit hadn’t imagined that she’d be on the bed with Kathleen five minutes after arriving. Well, she might have imagined it, but she certainly hadn’t expected it. She had fully intended to keep things cool, as Rachel had suggested in her letter. It had been a shock to find it in her mailbox, but the contents were even more surprising. Rachel was seeing a woman named Beth, who was a baker there in Daytona Beach, Florida. It was hard to imagine the tough, no-nonsense Dr. Milligan she’d known caring for someone described in her reply as “easygoing and kindhearted.” But when she searched her feelings, Whit found she was happy for her friend and hoped Beth would be good to her. Even more intriguing was the last paragraph, which contained the advice she’d asked for.
Whit, Rachel had written, I know you to be very determined when it comes to going after what you want. But may I suggest that in this instance, it might pay off for you to play a little more hard to get? Let her chase you for a change. And it might help if you gave her reason to think she has a little rivalry for your attention. You may use my name if it helps, though I know I was never any competition for her. In any case, I hope things work out in whatever way is best for you.
So Whit had planned to be a bit reserved. Pleasant, yes, but not overly warm. But when Kat had looked at her with her expression full of sorrow, she reacted as she would have if things between them were normal and she’d just come home from work. Now, realizing her mistake, she drew back slightly, putting space between them. “Would you like me to see if I can pick up something for us to eat? That diner is probably still open.”
Kat turned her face into the pillow without answering. Whit was sure her reaction was partly shame for being unprepared as a hostess. Or was it that she’d said or done the wrong thing and Kat was upset with her? Again? Still? As the silence stretched out, she felt her anger rise as she thought how tired she was of walking on eggshells, trying to gauge Kat’s mood and always trying to please her. Maybe Rachel was right, and it was her turn to be pursued.
She stood and reached for her jacket. “Well hell, Kat. If you’re not going to talk to me and we’re not even going to eat, then I’m leaving. Clearly, hoping for some conversation and a little chow is me asking for too much from you. As usual.”
She was almost out the bedroom door when she heard Kat’s voice, muffled by the pillow. “I called home earlier and talked to my father.”
Whit paused. She knew Kathleen was close to her father, and his thoughts and opinions mattered a great deal to her. She turned back and leaned against the doorway. “Is everything all right at home?”
Kat sniffed and faced her. “I’m not sure. I mean, my mother is having some problems, but Father’s all right. He told me—” She stopped and frowned as she sat up. “Please don’t go, Vic. If you’d pour me a glass of wine, I’ll join you in the kitchen in a few minutes.�
�� Scrubbing her hands over her face, she took a deep breath, adding, “And I’m sure a resourceful Army medic like yourself can find something for us to eat.”
An hour later, Kathleen’s wine glass was empty and the sandwiches Whit had made for them were just crumbs. Whit finished her beer and shook her head, still pondering the effect this revelation was having on Kat. “So, do you think you’ll discuss this with your mother the next time you go home?”
Kat looked away, her green eyes focused on something far away. “I don’t know,” she said finally. “I’m going to have to think about it some more. And I suppose it will depend on how she’s doing physically.”
Whit waited, hoping Kathleen’s attention would return. When it didn’t, she stood, carrying their plates to the sink. “It’s getting late. I’d better head back to the base.”
Kat blinked. “Wait. I was going to ask you about how things were going.” She stood also, clearly flustered. “I mean, I heard that Miriam was sick again and they probably wouldn’t hold the hearing. Have you heard anything more?”
For a few wild seconds, Whit thought about telling Kat everything. What would her reaction be if she knew Whit’s actions were responsible for Miriam Boudreaux being too ill to testify? Would she appreciate Whit’s dual motives of revenge and protection? Or would she be horrified at the idea that Whit had broken her medic’s oath? Should she gamble on the hope that Kat would understand her intentions or keep this secret from her, adding another gap to the distance between them? Faced with two negatives, Whit shook her head again. “I’m going by there now. I’ll let you know if I find out anything more.”
Kathleen took a step toward her. “You could stay here tonight, you know.” At the lift in Whit’s eyebrows, she added, “And sleep in the guest room if it makes you more comfortable.”
In two strides, Whit was in front of her. Taking Kat’s face in her hands, she looked into her eyes with an expression so intense, Kat felt it in her very core. “If I ever stay here again, it won’t be in any damn guest room. And there won’t be much sleeping, either.” And to hell with hard to get, she decided, and kissed Kathleen Hartley in a way she rarely did unless they were in bed—hard and fierce, with all the passion she could muster. She didn’t wait to see Kat’s expression when she pulled away, only turned on her heel and walked out the door.
* * *
“It was you, wasn’t it?”
Whit had still been thinking about that kiss when she walked into Miriam Boudreaux’s room. It was late, and she’d half expected her to be asleep. The angry tone in her accusation snapped Whit back to reality. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about me puking my guts out because you slipped me a mickey.”
Whit managed a short laugh. “You’ve obviously lost your mind along with your dinner. I’m one of the few friends you’ve got left in this place. Why would I do something like that?”
Boudreaux’s eyes narrowed. “I couldn’t figure that out either. But I had a visitor earlier and she helped me understand a few things.”
Whit held out her arms, gesturing for Miriam to continue. “I can’t wait to hear this.”
“Apparently Sara hasn’t really gotten over me.” She flashed Whit a cocky grin. “You know how it is. Once you’ve had the best, there’s really nowhere else to go.”
Whit held her expression steady, forcing images of Boudreaux fondling Kat out of her mind. Instead, she tried to guess at Sara’s motivation and prepare for what she might have said. Miriam seemed to be waiting for some kind of response, so she shrugged. “And?” she asked impatiently.
Miriam’s grin faded. “She told me that you’d switched sides, buddy.” That last word was entirely sarcastic. “She said that you and the little woman were thick as thieves with the redskin and her pretty dolly.”
Frantically, she tried to remember the last time she’d seen Sara. “Why? Because they were at our New Year’s party? Look, a lot of other people were there, including some we didn’t know very well.”
“Yeah, but your woman didn’t kiss all of them, did she?” Whit flinched and Miriam pressed her case. “And apparently plans were made for phone calls later. Some kind of action needed to be taken, Rains said. Did you have that little chat with all your guests?”
Whit recalled that Sara had left just after Gale and Bett. She must have overheard their conversation. “God, Boudreaux, it was New Year’s and I was drunk. How do you expect me to remember every little detail of what happened and who said what?” She thought of another angle and rubbed angrily at her eyes, trying hard to sell it. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe Sara’s threatened by our friendship, and she’s saying things to make you doubt me?”
Boudreaux sat up, leaning forward in the bed. “I’ll tell you what did occur to me, with Sara’s help. Every time you’ve come to see me, I’ve been sick after. Every time. And a medic like you would know about that kind of thing, wouldn’t you? Yeah, and it would be easy to get your hands on something that would do that, right? Was that the action you planned?” She clucked her tongue. “You thought I was going to tell on you to our big, bad colonel so you made it so I couldn’t testify, is that it? And here I thought we were friends.”
Whit felt almost paralyzed. Nothing would move, including her mouth. She forced herself to breathe, and tried to think of anything she could say to allay Boudreaux’s suspicions. Maybe she needed to turn the tables, go on the offensive. “A real friend would have given me some assurance that you wouldn’t name us. Every time I brought it up, you acted like you hadn’t decided yet.” Her voice sounded weak, and she swallowed, adding more intensity when she continued. “This isn’t a game for us. Our lives are at stake here.”
“And what about my life, huh?” Boudreaux whined. “I don’t have my own place or some fancy lady to pay my way. I won’t have nothing to show for myself when I get back home but a blue ticket and the clothes on my back. You know I’ve been sending most of my paycheck back home. I’ve got next to nothing in my PX account. You would have done something for me, or at least helped me figure out a way to get some money out of this deal, if you were really my friend.”
Whit took a step closer, her fists clenched. That unjustified grievance in Miriam’s petulant tone had all but snapped her control. Through her gritted teeth, she muttered, “If you were really my friend, you wouldn’t have touched Kathleen the way you did. For that alone, you deserve everything you get. I should have gone with my first instinct and put something else in the booze you’re so fond of. Something that you wouldn’t wake up from.” She leaned closer and her voice dropped to a growl. “And that could still happen, you know. I have lots of friends, lots of real friends, on this base. So every time you take a sip or a bite of something, you’d better think twice about what you plan to say to our big, bad colonel.” After opening the door, she turned back and added, “And I’ll be back to check on you tomorrow, friend.”
Though she felt real satisfaction at the fear in Boudreaux’s eyes, by the time she reached the medic’s office, she’d begun to regret every word. Well, not regret exactly, but wish there was a way to take it all back. Because once Miriam got over being scared, she’d be angry. And there was no telling what she would do in that condition. Whit sighed, knowing she’d blown her chance to solve this problem herself. She was going to need help now.
Chapter Twenty
When the phone rang as they were dressing for work, Rain jumped to answer it, something she almost never did. There was silence for a time, as if Rain was listening to a long story. When Bett heard her begin to talk, she joined her in the kitchen. “Yes, they are,” Rain was saying. “I’ll meet you there at noon.”
Rain hung up and finished buttoning her jacket. When Bett raised an eyebrow, she said, “That was Whit. She wants to talk to me about Miriam. We’re meeting for lunch at Mel’s.”
“I’m coming too,” Bett announced, holding out her hand to forestall any objection on Rain’s part. “I’m coming,” she repeat
ed. “And that’s the end of that discussion.”
Rain nodded. “Good. We’re going to need you. Whit was clearly upset, and I could hear Kathleen in the background. I think she will be there also.”
* * *
The lunch crowd wasn’t too large yet, and Gracie led them to an open table in the back. They all ordered, though no one mentioned being particularly hungry. Then all eyes turned to Whit.
“I want everyone to understand, I’m not proud of what I did, and if I could go back, I wouldn’t do it again. Not this way,” she said. “In fact, I’d change a lot of things,” she added, her voice softening.
Kathleen breathed out and turned to her. “Me too,” she whispered. They looked at each other for a long moment. Then Whit turned back to face her friends.
“Miriam doesn’t have the winter vomiting disease or anything like it. She’s throwing up because I’ve been giving her doses of ipecac. I wanted—”
“She was trying to protect us all by making Miriam unable to testify,” Kathleen broke in, a tremor in her voice though her expression remained neutral. Whit knew she didn’t want her to mention the revenge element, although Bett and Gale would probably figure that out on their own.
“Yeah, uh, and she knows it was me. I mean, I didn’t exactly admit it but we had a big blowup and I lost my cool.” Whit looked away. “I told her she deserved what she got and I threatened her. Told her I could still make it a lot worse.” She shook her head. “It was stupid of me.”
There was silence around the table. Their food came, but no one ate. Finally, Bett said, “So how did you leave it with her?”
“Well, that’s the problem.” Whit picked up her fork and pushed her mashed potatoes around her plate. “I went by early this morning, planning to apologize, to grovel or do whatever I needed to. But the doctor was examining her and I couldn’t go in. The nurse said she wasn’t allowed any visitors because she was having heart palpitations. I guess I…” Whit trailed off, staring at her food. Kathleen touched her arm and she startled. “I must have overdosed her,” she blurted. “And now I’m not sure what to do about it. I can’t ask anyone on the base for help without implicating myself and possibly getting them in trouble too. But hell, what if she never recovers? What if she has a heart attack and dies? I’d have to confess. I don’t think I could live with myself, knowing that I was the one who killed her.” She turned to Bett, tears in her eyes. “I only threatened to kill her because she made me mad. I didn’t mean it. Not really. I’m sorry.”
Guarding Hearts Page 30