“With a Mexican accent.”
“Could you understand them?”
“Leaving out the expletives, the gist of it was that the cops were coming, and they should leave.”
“Should we try to stop them?” Kate offered tentatively.
“Hell, no. I don't want to get shot,” Randall said.
Muscles that Kate didn't even know she possessed relaxed as the knowledge that they were safe surged through her. The filthy, rusty metal plate on which they lay suddenly felt like a feather bed. Randall's arm slid under her and then he rolled her on top of him. “It's time to celebrate,” he said, pulling her mouth down to his.
When their lips touched, all the terror, all the tension, and all the exhilaration of the last hour poured forth in a kiss so mind-bending that Kate couldn't stop even when she heard the police calling Randall's name on the bullhorn.
“Mr. Johnson, we're the police! Are you here? Randall Johnson, it's the N.Y.P.D. You're safe! Are you here?”
Randall muttered a curse against Kate's lips so she lifted her head.
“Damned police,” he complained as he helped her to her feet. “They take forever to get here and then they have to talk to you immediately.”
He took a firm grip on her hand before he raised his voice. “We're here and we're fine. We're in the girders under the upper roadway and we're coming over to the steps.”
Randall helped Kate down from their elevated roost. She was surprised to find that it seemed like the merest stroll back to the nearest catwalk.
Men in uniforms were pouring down the tower stairs. “Did you see anyone?” one yelled.
“Yeah, but they ran when they heard your sirens. I don't know which way they went,” Randall shouted back. Policemen ran east and west on the narrow walkway by the lower roadway. Several officers greeted them as they approached the stairway.
“Are you all right, ma'am? Sir?” voices asked.
Randall tucked Kate securely in at his side and answered all inquiries about their well-being in the affirmative. Someone handed him a blanket that he shook open and wrapped tightly around her shoulders.
As they climbed slowly up the steps with their police escort, another voice sounded. “We have their car. Bring Mr. Johnson over to take a look.”
The strobe lights of the police cruisers temporarily blinded Kate as they stepped onto the walkway. Then she gaped in wonder at the four empty lanes of the George Washington Bridge's westbound upper level. Police cruisers were parked at all angles and a line of stationary headlights stretched away behind them to the east. The New York-bound lanes were practically at a standstill as drivers tried to catch a glimpse of whatever disaster had brought forth such a collection of official vehicles. She couldn't help pitying the poor souls caught in the traffic jam.
“Randall, they've got half the highway stopped for us.”
He surveyed the scene. “So they do. Let's go take a look at their car.”
The soles of Kate's feet were beginning to throb painfully, but she was not about to lose the comfort of Randall's arm around her shoulders, so she bit her lip and matched his stride.
Men in uniforms and suits were swarming around a sedan pulled up against the railing farther along the bridge. “Don't touch anything please, sir. But take a look in the back. Does that mean anything to you?” an officer asked.
Randall drew Kate down with him as he bent to peer into the shadows of the car's interior. There on the backseat, coiled like a rattlesnake about to strike, lay a bullwhip. Kate instantly remembered Gill Gillespie's earlier comment. She had a sudden horrifying vision of Randall's back bleeding under the lash of it. It was with amazement that she heard him say, “No, I have no idea why they'd have a whip in the car.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but she felt his arm tighten around her shoulders in a silent command. So she changed the subject by saying to the policeman, “May I please sit down? My feet are sore from climbing around on the bridge.”
Instantly, she was swept up into Randall's arms. “I'm so sorry, darlin'. I forgot about your bare feet. Let's get you into a warm car.”
“I can walk,” Kate said without much conviction.
Randall ignored her and strode over to the Jaguar. It seemed to crouch against the barrier. Depositing her gently in the front seat, he said, “Turn on the heat and stay here while I talk to the police. I'll get us out of here as soon as possible.”
“Wait, Randall. Gill must have sent those men with the whip. Why didn't you tell them that?”
“I'll deal with Gill privately. And I promise you that he will never bother us again.”
Randall's expression left no doubt in her mind that she would never again encounter Gill Gillespie in this lifetime. Having chosen not to destroy the man once, she supposed that he was again protecting Lucinda and her family from public disgrace. However, she found it much harder to be sympathetic after her experience tonight.
As the heat blasted and her shivering subsided, Kate watched Randall walk over to the man who appeared to be directing the operation. After a brief exchange, the man nodded and waved a uniformed policeman over to escort Randall back to his car. “Are you sure that you don't want someone to drive you home, sir?” the officer asked as Randall slid into the driver's side.
“Thanks, but I'll be fine. I'll see you all in the morning,” he said, shifting into gear.
“Go slowly,” Kate said as Randall pulled onto the roadway.
He looked questioningly at her.
“I've never been the only car on the bridge,” she explained. “I want to enjoy the view.”
He started to laugh. “You are a strange woman, Kate Chilton. After what you've just been through, you want to look at a bridge.”
“It took care of us, didn't it?”
“I guess it did.” He looked around himself. “Look at the size of those cables.”
As the Jaguar rolled majestically down the middle of the empty lanes, Kate silently gave her own thanks to the great span of concrete and steel. It had not only protected her, but it also had given her the answer to an important question.
They enjoyed the view in silence until they passed the tollbooths spread across the eastbound lanes. Then Kate spoke. “I'm sorry I lost it on the fence.”
Randall reached for her hand. “You saved my life, darlin', or at least my back. You don't have anything to apologize for.”
Kate turned her hand into his and held on. “Do you think they meant to kill us?”
“I don't know, but I'm sure as hell glad not to have found out.”
“Me, too.”
They cruised along the highway at what seemed a snail's pace after their earlier headlong flight. Kate looked down at their clasped hands. Despite the fact that Randall's hand dwarfed hers, she felt no threat from his strength. Instead she drew comfort from it as she had on the bridge. She shifted her gaze to the road unfurling before them. “Randall? You know that proposal that you made and withdrew earlier in the week?”
“Yes.”
Kate glanced toward him out of the corner of her eyes. He was grinning.
“Would you be willing to, um, put it on the table again?”
“Consider it reissued.”
“You're not making this easy,” she complained, then grabbed for the door handle as the Jaguar swerved off the road and came to a sudden halt on the shoulder.
Randall put the parking brake on and leaned back against his door with his arms crossed. “I think we have some negotiating to do, but I'm willing to make an agreement in principle.”
“What does that mean?” Kate asked, crossing her arms in turn.
“Will you marry me?”
“Yes.”
“That's an agreement in principle. In a business deal, we'd shake hands and let the lawyers work out the details,” he said, reaching for her and somehow dragging her around the gearshift and onto his lap. “In this deal, there will be no lawyers, and I can do a hell of a lot better than a handshake.”
Kate snuggled happily against his chest as he enfolded her in his arms. “I love you, darlin',” he said into her hair. “I keep forgetting to say that at the critical moment.”
Kate raised her head, knowing that her feelings were plain in her eyes. “I love you, too. I knew that, but it wasn't until tonight that I trusted you.”
His half-smile vanished. Kate felt the heat of his focused gaze as he said, “I promise I will never give you cause to regret your decision.”
“I'm not worried,” she said with a soft smile, “because I know this is a good deal.”
She had no time to see if Randall smiled back, because his mouth came down on hers and all she could do was feel.
Passing cars regularly rocked the Jaguar with the wind they created, but it was a long time before the sleek car purred back onto the highway.
A Year Later...
“I'm home,” Kate said, dropping onto the mudroom bench to unlace her work boots.
Clay and Patrick thundered down the stairs. “Hey, Mom! Is everything ready for tonight?” Patrick asked.
“It looks like it,” Kate said as she wiggled her freed toes. “We just have to cross our fingers that the precast roadbed arrives. I've checked with the shipper about four times today, and they swear it's on schedule.”
“Are we really going to be on television?” Patrick said, dancing with excitement.
“Stick with me, kid, and you'll be on camera,” Kate promised. “Hi, Georgia,” she greeted her friend who had followed the boys at a more leisurely pace. “Thanks so much for coming.”
“I wouldn't have missed this for the world. It's not every day that you get to christen a brand new bridge. And I want to be on television too,” she said, ruffling Patrick's hair.
He bore it with an embarrassed grin. “I'll bet that Randall's helicopter will be on TV. He says he's flying in from the airport just in time to see the ribbon-cutting.”
Kate reached down to put her boots under the bench so she missed the significant glances exchanged among Georgia, Clay and Patrick. “Let's hope his plane from Tokyo gets in on time,” she said, as she straightened.
“You have your choice of pizza or lasagna for dinner,” Georgia said, opening the oven in which two dishes were warming.
“Pizza,” Kate said. “I don't have the energy to cut the lasagna.”
“You eat and then go right upstairs to get dressed. I'll clean up and make sure these two young hooligans look respectable,” Georgia said.
Kate followed her advice. When she sat down on the bed to pull off her socks, she allowed herself the luxury of flopping backward to close her eyes for a few minutes.
What a year it had been! Her bridge was going to be completed tonight amid much fanfare from the press and the politicians. The politicians loved it because the project was on time and on budget. Not a single commuter had been inconvenienced as the traffic flowed uninterrupted under the new construction. In fact, the old bridge would still be carrying cars up until nine o'clock this evening. Then the barricades would go up and the detour signs would be uncovered for just twelve hours. Any late drivers would be rerouted through a nearby town as the cranes and pavers worked through the night. By Sunday morning, traffic would once again cruise straight along the highway and over her creation, the old bridge beneath already forgotten. If she hadn't been so bone weary, she would have been leaping around the room with joy.
She desperately hoped that Randall would be there. He had assured her that his trip to Japan was unavoidable, but she had missed him this week. She hadn't had time to visit the big rambling Victorian he had bought to replace Eagle's Nest, and she wondered how the kitchen renovation was progressing. She blushed as she remembered how the general contractor had almost caught them as they made love on the new window seat. Randall liked to try out all the home improvements in his own way.
Once the bridge and the house were finished, they had a wedding to plan. A small one, but Randall wanted it done right. She smiled as she thought about her hard-nosed CEO wanting a romantic ceremony. While he sometimes surprised her with his sentiment, he still drove a hard bargain.
She remembered their argument about her engagement ring. Randall had wanted to get her a major diamond. Kate had preferred a more modest ring that she wouldn't feel ostentatious wearing. So they had agreed “in principle” on the smaller ring and then Randall had bought her a matching pin and earrings. When the saleswoman tried to show him a bracelet, he said, “I don't give diamond bracelets anymore.”
Kate laughed and sat up. She had to shower and change. Her mood of taking stock stayed with her as she worked her shampoo into a lather. This time Oliver came to mind. She had not seen him for months after the Beaux Arts Ball. He had even absented himself from the final signing of the partnership sale papers. Then one day he had called to say that C/R/G was opening a branch office in Boston, and he was moving there. Even as her throat tightened with regret, she had breathed a sigh of relief. Now she could begin to remember him as a friend. She rinsed away her sad thoughts along with her soap bubbles and stepped out of the shower.
When she slipped on the jacket of her wonderful new russet-colored suit, she once again felt on top of the world. She had decided that she owed herself a great outfit to wear in her great moment and this was it. The wool was so fine that it felt almost like silk. The double-breasted jacket fit her like a glove, emphasizing all the right curves without being blatant about it. A cream silk blouse draped softly in the vee of the jacket. She had to wear low-heeled shoes since she would have to walk around the construction site after the press conference, but she had splurged on new flats in a rich brown. She fastened a heavy gold circle pin on her lapel and added gold twisted knots to her ears.
“Dynamite!” Georgia said when Kate came back down the stairs. “You'll be the best-looking engineer there.”
Kate laughed. Then she whistled in appreciation as Clay and Patrick appeared in the kitchen. They were wearing navy blue blazers over khaki slacks. Clay's yellow paisley tie looked elegant against his light blue shirt. Patrick wore a pink shirt paired with a tie sporting an eye-popping pattern of electric blue and purple.
“You guys look so handsome. Did Randall take you shopping?”
“Yeah, he didn't really like my tie,” Patrick said, “but he had promised we could pick out our own. I think it's cool.”
“As long as you wear sunglasses,” Clay said.
Patrick punched him halfheartedly in the shoulder.
Kate slung her pocketbook over her shoulder and grabbed her car keys. “Let's go, gang.”
“I think you should look out the front window,” Georgia said.
Kate threw her a questioning glance and walked into the living room. She pulled aside the lace curtain to see a long black limousine parked across her driveway. Kate rolled her eyes in a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “Sometimes Randall gets a little ridiculous. I'm perfectly capable of driving to the bridge myself.”
“He knows that, but he thought it was a special occasion,” Georgia said.
“So you knew about this, and you didn't warn me?”
Georgia smiled mysteriously. “I know lots of things.”
“I should tell the driver to go home and take the minivan anyway,” Kate muttered but she knew she wouldn't do it.
The boys spent the beginning of the trip pushing every button in the limousine to see how the roof opened, the lights flashed, the television worked, and what the bar had in it. Kate refused to let them make a call from the car's built-in telephone.
When they had finished their explorations, Patrick poured himself a Coca-Cola, and after taking a sip, leaned back and said, “So Mom, you and Randall are going to get married now that the bridge is done, right?”
“That's the plan,” Kate said.
“And we'll move into the new house?”
“As soon as the workmen are out.”
“Should we start calling Randall 'Dad'?”
Kate was taken aba
ck. She glanced at Georgia who just raised her eyebrows and smiled. Kate and Randall had held long discussions about his relationship with the boys. He planned to adopt them but he didn't want to force anything on them that they weren't prepared to accept. So they had told Clay and Patrick to call him by his first name.
“Would you like to call him 'Dad'?” Kate asked carefully.
Patrick looked at his older brother. “Well, we don't want to upset you, and we weren't sure how Randall would feel about it; but if he's married to you, we think that he should be 'Dad,'“ Clay said.
Tears pricked Kate's eyes. “He'd be honored if you would call him that.”
“Cool,” Patrick said. “My dad owns a helicopter,” he tried out.
“Don't be a dork,” Clay said.
“You know,” Kate said, “it would be really nice if you would tell Randall what you just said to me.”
“No problem,” Clay said.
As they rolled onto the temporary parking area at the bridge site, Kate felt that her day could not possibly get any better. She could see the silver and blue RJ Enterprises helicopter sitting squarely in the middle of the southbound lanes of the new bridge. Randall was here. She opened the limousine's door before the driver could do it for her and jumped out to look for her fiancé.
“Hello, darlin',” he said, magically appearing at her side.
Kate threw herself into his arms and kissed him. “I'm so glad you made it on time. I missed you so much. How was your trip?”
His arms locked around her and he kissed her back for a long time. Randall used her hair to mask a quick nip on her neck. “This is torture for a man who's been away from you for a week.” He released her and Kate got a chance to survey the scene.
The arrays of construction floodlights bathed the bridge in a brilliant white glow so the crew could see to work. Kate checked that the giant cranes were in position to lift and deposit the last eight pieces of the roadbed in place. The slip form pavers stood ready to smooth the connection between the old highway and the new bridge. A police cruiser sat ready to coordinate the closing of the road.
A Bridge to Love Page 28