“I thought Taylor Morgenroth should play the Indian chief,” Kate was saying to Linda when Sally Daley walked into the faculty lounge Monday afternoon. The two were discussing the final plans for their Thanksgiving play.
“Taylor’s the perfect choice,” Linda agreed.
“I see you girls are busy,” Sally commented. “This play is such an ambitious project. You two are to be commended.”
“Thanks.” Linda answered for them both, trying to ignore the other woman as much as possible.
“Wasn’t that Rorie Franklin I saw you with the other day, Kate, dear?”
“Yes. We had coffee at Nellie’s.” She resumed her discussion with Linda, not wanting to be rude to Sally, but at the same time, hoping to dissuade her from further conversation.
But Sally refused to be thwarted. She settled in the chair opposite Kate and said in confidential tones, “You’re completely over Clay Franklin now, aren’t you, dear?”
Kate shared an exasperated look with Linda and nearly laughed out loud when the third-grade teacher playfully rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. To hear Sally talk, anybody would think Kate had recently recovered from a bad case of the flu.
“Sally!” Kate exclaimed when she realized how avidly the other woman was waiting for her reply. “How am I supposed to answer that?” She covered her heart dramatically with one hand and assumed a look meant to portray misery and anguish. “Do you want me to tell you that my pride’s been shattered and I’ll never love again?”
Sally shook her head. “I wouldn’t believe it, anyway.”
“Then why ask?” Linda prompted.
“Well, because we all love Kate. She’s such a dear, and she’s been through so much lately.”
“Thank you,” Kate said graciously, then returned her attention to the Thanksgiving project.
“Most of the fuss about you and Eric Wilson and Luke Rivers has died down now,” Sally assured her, as if this should lessen the embarrassment of that Friday night.
“I take it you haven’t talked to Eric lately?” Linda asked, surprising Kate with her sudden interest. There’d been plenty of opportunity to inquire about him, but Linda hadn’t done so until now.
“Talked to him?” Kate echoed with a short, derisive laugh. “I don’t even shop at the Safeway store for fear of running into him again.”
“I don’t think you need to worry,” Sally said blandly. “From what I hear, he’s avoiding you, too.”
Linda snickered softly. “No doubt. I’m sure Luke Rivers put quite a scare into him.”
“How do you mean?” Kate demanded, already angry with Luke.
“You don’t know?” Sally asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
“Know what?” Kate swung her gaze first to Linda, then to Sally. “Did Luke threaten him?” If he had, he was going to hear about it from her.
“I haven’t got the foggiest idea what Sally’s talking about,” Linda said quickly.
“I didn’t hear anything specific,” Sally confirmed sheepishly. “I thought maybe you…” The older teacher’s expression suggested that she hoped Kate would fill in the succulent details herself. “My dear, surely you understand that everyone in town is speculating about you and Luke,” she continued.
“Rumors have been floating around since Clay’s wedding,” Linda added.
“But Sally just finished telling me those were dying down,” Kate snapped, irritated with the entire discussion.
“The rumors aren’t about you and that Wilson fellow,” Sally rushed to explain. “As far as your one date with him is concerned, it’s history. He’s too smart to cross Luke.”
“I’m sure he is,” Kate said, anxious to quell the woman’s gossip. “Aren’t we about finished here, Linda?” she asked pointedly.
“Ah…yes.”
“Now folks are talking about seeing you and Luke together at Nellie’s last week, just before your father’s wedding, and there’ve been a few rumors flying about the two of you at Pastor Wilkins’s, too.”
As fast as her hands would co-operate, Kate gathered up their materials. Sally seemed to accept that she was about to lose her audience. If she’d come to pump Kate for information she’d just have to realize Kate wasn’t talking. Standing, Sally gave a deep sigh, clearly disappointed. She collected her purse and headed out the door, pausing to look back. “Frankly, I think Fred Garner’s carrying this thing about you and Luke a bit too far. I consider what he’s doing in poor taste.” With that, she left the room.
“Fred Garner?” Linda echoed after a stunned second. “What’s that old coot doing now?”
“Fred Garner owns the feed store,” Kate said in a puzzled voice.
“Yes, but what’s he got to do with anything?”
“Beats me.” Still, Kate couldn’t help wondering. Fred had seen them at the restaurant, and he’d been at the reception for her father and Dorothea. Although she hadn’t seen him on the porch when a number of guests had found her in Luke’s arms, she had very little doubt that he was there.
When Kate drove home an hour later, Luke was working in the yard. She climbed out of the car, took two steps toward him and halted abruptly. The lump in her throat was so large she could hardly swallow, let alone speak.
The trembling had started the minute she left Garner Feed and Supply. She’d dropped in at the store following Sally’s remark, and from then on everything had grown progressively worse. The way she felt right now, she could slam her bag over Luke’s head, or do something equally violent, and feel completely justified.
“Kate?” he asked, looking concerned. “What’s wrong?”
She knew her emotions were written on her face. She’d never been more scandalized in her life, which was saying a great deal, considering the fiasco with Eric Wilson.
In fact, the blow her dignity had been dealt by Luke Rivers during that incident paled in comparison with this latest outrage. There was only one thing for her to do. She’d have to move away from Nightingale.
“This is all your doing, isn’t it?” she demanded in a shaking voice. She held her head high, although it was a struggle to preserve her composure. Her pride was all she had left, and that was crumbling at her feet.
Luke advanced several steps toward her. “What are you talking about?”
She ground her fist into her hip. “I just got back from the feed store. Does that tell you anything?”
“No.”
“I’ll bet.”
He frowned. “Kate, I swear to you, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She made a doubting noise that came out sounding and feeling like a sob. Yet he appeared so bewildered. She didn’t know how any man could cause her such life-shattering embarrassment and maintain that look of faithful integrity.
The tears wouldn’t be restrained any longer, and they fell from her eyes, running down her face. They felt cool against her flushed cheeks.
“Kate? What’s wrong?”
Kate turned and walked rapidly away from Luke rather than allow him to witness her loss of control. She hurried into the house and slumped in a chair, hiding her face in her hands as she battled the terrible urge to weep hysterically. The painful sensation in the pit of her stomach grew more intense every time she took a breath.
The door opened and she said, “Go away.”
“Kate?”
“Haven’t…you…done…enough?” Each word rolled from her tongue on the end of a hiccuping sob.
He knelt in front of her and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, but she pushed him away, refusing the comfort he offered.
Kate’s shoulders still heaved. With an exasperated sigh, Luke got up. He stood back on his boot heels and buried his hands in his pockets. “All right, tell me about it.”
“Pastor…Wilkins…bet…twenty…dollars…on…December,” she told him between sobs. Her fingers curled into fists. “Even…Clay…put in a…wager.”
Seeing his name on that huge blackboard had hurt more than
anything.
“Kate, I swear to you I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Furiously she wiped the tears from her face and tried to marshal her self-control enough to speak clearly. “The…feed store,” she managed.
“What about the feed store?”
“They’re taking bets—it’s a regular lottery,” she cried, all the more furious with him because he was making her spell out this latest humiliation.
“Bets on what?” Luke’s frown was growing darker, and Kate could tell that he was dangerously close to losing his patience.
“On us!” she wailed, as if that much, at least, should be obvious.
“For what?”
“When we’re going to be married!” she shouted. “What else? Half the town’s gambling on the date of our wedding.”
Luke moaned, closing his eyes, as if he couldn’t quite believe what she was telling him.
“You honestly didn’t know?”
“Of course not.” He was beginning to look perturbed as only Luke could. His dark eyes took on a cold glare that would intimidate the strongest of men. “How ’d you find out?”
“Sally Daley said something about it after school, and then in the school car park one of the mothers told me March is a lovely time of year for a wedding. March sixteenth, she said. Then…then I made the mistake of stopping in at the feed store on my way home to…to check out what was going on.”
Luke nodded, but Kate had the impression he was only half listening to her.
“As far as I’m concerned, there’s just one thing for me to do,” she said, gaining strength from her decision. “I ’ll offer my resignation to the school board tomorrow morning and leave the district this weekend.”
Luke sent her a quick, angry look. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll take care of this my own way.”
Seven
At one time Kate spent as many hours at Elk Run, the Franklin stud farm, as she did at the Circle L. But when she arrived Tuesday night for dinner, Elk Run no longer felt familiar. It seemed like years instead of weeks since her last visit. Kate’s enthusiasm for this dinner with Clay and Rorie had never been high, but now she felt decidedly uncomfortable.
“Kate, welcome.” Rorie flew out the door the minute Kate pulled into the driveway. She stepped from the car into Rorie’s hug.
Clay Franklin followed his wife and briefly held Kate close, smiling down on her the same way he always had from the time she was thirteen. Back then, she’d worshipped him from afar, and she’d worshipped him more with each passing year. Kate paused, waiting for the surge of regret and pain she’d been expecting; to her astonishment, it didn’t come.
“We’re so glad you could make it,” Rorie said as she opened the door.
Recognising Kate, Clay’s old dog, Blue, ambled over for his usual pat. Kate was more than happy to comply and bent down to scratch his ears.
Mary, the Franklins’ housekeeper, bustled about the kitchen, dressed in her bib apron, hair twisted into thick braids and piled on top of her head. Kate could scarcely remember a time she hadn’t seen Mary in an apron. The scent of freshly baked pie permeated the room, mingling with the hearty aroma of roast beef and simmering vegetables.
“I hope that’s one of your award-winning pies I’m smelling, Mary,” Kate said. “I ’ve had my heart set on a piece all day.”
“Oh, get away with you,” Mary returned gruffly, but the happy light that sparked from her eyes told Kate how gratified the housekeeper was by her request.
“When are you going to give me your recipe?” Kate asked, although she didn’t know whom she’d be baking pies for now that her father had remarried. “No one can bake an apple pie like yours.”
“Mary won’t share her secret with me, either,” Rorie said, giving a soft laugh. “I don’t think she’s willing to trust a city slicker yet.”
“I never wrote down any recipe,” Mary grumbled, casting Rorie a stern look. “I just make my pies the same way my mother did.”
“I wish I could bake like Mary does,” Rorie said, slipping her arm around her husband’s waist. They exchanged a meaningful glance. Clay’s smile showed he couldn’t care less whether or not she could bake a pie.
Once more Kate braced herself for the pain of seeing them together, gentle and loving, but to her surprise she didn’t feel so much as a pinprick of distress. She relaxed, wondering at what was happening—or rather, wasn’t—and why.
“Where’s Skip?” she asked suddenly. She missed Clay’s younger brother almost as much as she did Clay. They’d been friends for years.
“Football practice,” Clay explained. “He ’s quarterback this year and proud as a peacock. He’ll be home later.”
“About the time Mary serves her pie,” Rorie whispered to Kate. Skip’s appetite for sweets was legendary.
The small party headed into the homey living room. The piano stood against one wall, and Kate noted the music on the stand. She’d always been the one who’d played that piano, but it was Rorie who played for Clay now. There’d been a time when Kate and Clay had sung together, their voices blending in a melodious harmony. But Clay sang with Rorie now.
Kate expected the knowledge to claw at her insides, and she did feel a small twinge of regret—but that was all.
“Skip’s hoping to catch you later,” Rorie said.
“As I recall, you played quarterback your senior year of high school,” Kate reminded Clay as she claimed the overstuffed chair. “That was the first year the Nightingale team made it to the state finals.”
Rorie smiled delightedly at her husband. “You never told me that.”
“There wasn’t much to tell,” Clay said with a short laugh. “We were eliminated in the first round.” He sat beside Rorie and draped his arm around her shoulders, as if he had to keep touching her to believe she was here at his side.
Mary carried in a tray of wineglasses and an unopened bottle of a locally produced sparkling white. “I take it Devin and Dorothea arrived safely in California?” she asked as she uncorked the wine.
“Yes, Dad phoned when they arrived at Dorothea’s daughter’s house.”
“We didn’t get a chance to say more than a few words to you at the reception,” Rorie apologized. “You were so busy pouring coffee, there wasn’t much opportunity to chat.”
“I know. It was good of you and Clay to come.”
“We wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” Clay said.
“I wanted to tell you how nice your father and Dorothea looked together. And for that matter, you and Luke, too,” Rorie added.
“Thank you,” Kate said simply, wondering if her friends had heard about the incident on the Wilkins’s front porch. It still embarrassed Kate to think of all her father’s friends seeing her and Luke together…like that. “So much has happened in the last month,” she said, trying to change the subject before either of them mentioned her father’s wedding again. “Who’d ever have believed Luke would end up buying the ranch?”
“It must’ve come as a shock to you,” Clay said evenly, “but I’ve been after him for years to get his own spread.”
“What are your plans now that the Circle L’s been sold?” Rorie asked.
“I’m looking for a place in town,” she said, and sipped her wine.
“From what Luke told me, he’d rather you continued living on the ranch,” Clay said, studying her as though he knew something she didn’t.
“I know,” Kate admitted. “It ’s very generous of him, but I’d prefer to get an apartment of my own.”
“Good luck finding one,” Clay murmured.
They were both aware that a decent apartment might be difficult to locate. Nightingale was a place of family dwellings, not singles’ apartments.
They chatted easily as they waited for Mary to announce dinner. Every now and then, Kate saw Clay glance over at Rorie. His look was tender and warm and filled with the deep joy that came from loving completely and knowing that love was returned.
Eventually Rorie did go back to San Francisco, but Clay couldn’t forget her. Kate had done her best to pretend; she’d even talked Clay into setting a wedding date, pressuring him in a not-so-subtle way to marry her quickly. They’d been talking about it for years, and Kate wanted the deed done before Rorie realized what she’d given up. Their getting married seemed the perfect solution. Then, if Rorie did come to Nightingale again, it would be too late.
Kate’s strategy had been a desperate one, planned by a desperate woman. And as often happened in such cases, her scheme backfired.
Kate didn’t think she’d ever forget the day Clay told her he wanted to break their engagement. The words had scarred her soul like lye on tender skin. He’d come to the ranch, and from the minute he’d asked to talk to her, Kate had known something was terribly wrong. She’d tried to ease the tension with talk of bridesmaids’ dresses and floral arrangements, but Clay had stopped her.
He’d sat with his hands folded, his eyes regarding her sadly. “I wouldn’t hurt you for anything,” he’d said, and his words rang with truth and regret.
“Clay, you could never hurt me.” Which was a lie, because he was already inflicting pain.
He’d told her then, simply and directly, that it would be wrong for them to marry. Not once did he mention Rorie’s name. He didn’t need to. Kate had known for weeks that Clay was in love with the other woman. But she’d chosen instead to involve her heart in a painful game of pretend.
Instead of accepting the truth when Clay had come to her with his decision, she’d insisted he was mistaken, that they were right for each other and had been all their lives. The memory humbled her now. She’d tried to convince him that all they needed was a little more time. By the next week, or maybe the next month, Clay would understand that he’d made a mistake and he’d want to go through with the wedding. She could afford to be patient because she loved him so much. Kindly, and as gently as possible, Clay had told her time wouldn’t alter the way he felt. Then he’d left, although she’d pleaded with him to stay.
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