Sticky Notes - A clean romance (Ethel King Series Book 1)

by Sherri Schoenborn Murray

  “Right now my Friday’s free. Next week’s Miss Wazzu. What else do you know about her?”

  The sunlight that filtered through the leaves of the crabapple tree brought out amber highlights in his dark hair. “She’s pursuing her MA in US history, supposedly very bright and, according to Mashburn, very attractive.”

  “I haven’t met Mashburn.”

  “He’s eccentric.” Quinn shrugged. “A retired history professor from Wazzu. His wife is his equal in both IQ and physical appearance, which leaves Mashburn’s taste in women up for grabs.”

  “What’s Miss Wazzu’s phone voice like?”

  “Evans is getting her number for me. I haven’t spoken to her yet.”

  “Are they all rolling into one yet?” She smiled.

  “A little. I’m waiting to see what happens with you and Brad. After Miss Palouse, I’d like to be finished with blind dating.”

  He deserved some kind of medal for his honesty. She reached out and squeezed his hand. A warm sparkle replaced the somberness in his eyes.

  Grandma opened the window above the sink. “Phone, Katherine,” she bellowed.

  “Who is it, Grandma?”

  “Joe.”

  “Get his number, and she can call him back on my phone.” Rising to his feet, Quinn strolled toward the house.

  Grandma descended the steps and handed him a plate of hamburger patties and a sticky note. “Tell her it wasn’t Joe, it was Brad.” Grandma shook her head and waved. “I can’t keep track.”

  Katherine closed her eyes.

  Quinn chuckled. Using a spatula, he transferred the patties to the barbecue rack and, then he handed her the sticky note and his phone.

  “Press send after you’re through dialing.” He sat down beside her, gripping the chair’s arms.

  “Brad probably heard Grandma yell out the window that it was Joe—didn’t he?”

  “Yes, and now you’re calling him from Quinn Benton’s mobile phone.”

  “Should I go in the house?”

  He shrugged.

  “Do you mind asking Grandma what she told him?” Katherine glanced toward the kitchen window.

  Quinn crossed the lawn. This was the part about dating she didn’t like—hurting a guy’s feelings. In his absence, Katherine silently prayed. “Lord, help me to be wise and to handle both men with love. Amen.” Quinn soon returned to sit in the chair beside her.

  “I’m not sure if you want to hear what Ethel said.”

  “What’d she say?” Katherine inhaled and tried to prepare herself.

  “She told him that you are sitting in the shade of the crabapple tree with me. And that it would be easier for you to call him from my mobile phone than for you to limp into the house.”

  “She sure knows how to paint a pretty picture.”

  Quinn chuckled. “She’s had that talk with you, too.”

  Katherine dialed Brad’s number and pressed send.

  “Hello.” Brad picked up immediately.

  “Hi, it’s Katherine calling from Quinn Benton’s phone.” It was almost exactly what she’d said a month ago to Carl when she’d leaned against Quinn beneath the maple tree on Lewis Street.

  “Yes. Hi. I regret that I didn’t invite you to just stay for dinner tonight while you were here.” He paused. “Why is Quinn there?”

  “Grandma invited him over for a barbecue.”

  “Does that happen very often?”

  Leaning into her left shoulder, Quinn was undoubtedly listening. “My grandmother and Quinn are close. Quinn dines here a few times a week.”

  She waited for Brad to say something, but he was quiet. “Are you still there, Brad?”

  “Yes, should I be?”

  Oh, if she could only walk to the front of the house.

  “I agree; it’s an awkward situation.”

  “Common sense tells me not to get any more involved than I already am. I’m sorry, Katherine.”

  She closed her eyes. “I am, too.”

  The line went dead. She clicked end and handed it back to Quinn.

  “I’m sorry, Katherine, it’s because of my being here. Isn’t it?”

  “Most likely.” Katherine sighed and looked toward the lilac bush near the corner of the house. Brad had been so attentive at the hospital, such a buoy to her spirits.

  “I’m still trying to figure out what you two have in common.”

  “Benton!”

  “Besides me, name two things that you have in common.”

  “We both like plain green tea, and he’s a Christian.”

  “What do you think about his hobbies?”

  “Water is a common theme. Enough, Benton, I’ll have nothing new to share on Friday night if you keep pummeling me with questions.”

  He smiled. “After dinner, we’re going to my house.”

  “I prefer the interrogative approach.”

  “Katherine . . .” Quinn cleared his throat. “After dinner dishes, will you go with me to my place?”

  “No.” Why his place?

  “Based on last night and our personal history, you surprise me.”

  He was referring to the Micro. The back door creaked open, and Grandma started down the steps carrying a platter.

  “I hope you two aren’t arguing again.” Grandma placed the large white platter that boasted rows of tomato and onion slices and lettuce leaves on the folding card table. “Katherine, what do you want on your burger?” Grandma set a bun on a sturdy paper plate.

  “The works, please.”

  “Even onions?”

  “Yes, Grandma!”

  Ж

  Quinn washed dishes. Katherine sat at the table and dried. Grandma put leftovers away and then pulled the pocket door closed as she exited to the living room.

  Grandma!

  Quinn folded the dishcloth and set it over the faucet.

  “Katherine, would you please do me a very special favor?”

  She finished drying the spoons and putting them away before she closed the silverware drawer and looked up at him.

  “Please give me a week before you see Brad again?”

  “What about Miss Wazzu?”

  “I’ll cancel.”

  “I have questions about Brad.”

  While Quinn winced, she questioned if she were indeed telling the truth. She was. She questioned how many miles per gallon his truck got, and if he often wore ridiculously bright Hawaiian shirts.

  “I persevered through all your pocket-sized towns,” she admitted during his silence.

  “Was your perseverance painful?”

  It had to be on account of the half tablet of painkiller medication that she could gaze into Quinn’s eyes. “I tearfully prayed a lot.”

  “Tearfully?” He swallowed.

  She nodded.

  “And, now you’re interested in someone else?”

  “Brad said that after a life-threatening experience, people sometimes look at life differently and, I want you to meet Miss Palouse.” Was next Friday night worth the present torture? Though she had questions about Brad, she knew she loved Quinn, and he finally desired to hear of her love for him.

  “You’re getting back at me. I was such a fool, Katherine. Stand up. Get your crutches. I have something to show you.”

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  He parked in the narrow driveway that ran alongside his macadamia-nut-colored ranch-style duplex. She followed him to the brick walkway and up three steps to the front porch. He held open the screen door for her.

  Whatever he had to show her was in the house.

  “Take a seat on the couch. Would you like a glass of water?” He strode through the living room ahead of her.

  “No, thanks.” An ironing board was set up in the front room next to a hamper full of unfolded clothes. A wrinkled Yale-blue polo lay strewn over the board.

  “You should wear your Wazzu-red polo next Friday.” She sat down in the deep-cushioned couch. His front room had a slightly musty smell similar to his office;
perhaps it was attributable to his collection of old books, which lined an open bookcase.

  He pulled open a drawer in a roll-top desk. “Wazzu’s red is more of a maroon, and I’m leaning strongly toward canceling Miss Wazzu.”

  “Where are you planning to meet?”

  “Alex’s is my favorite restaurant in Pullman.”

  The only entry into Alex’s was a long, steep flight of stairs. Katherine grimaced.

  “Where did I put it?” Quinn ran a hand distractedly through his hair.

  If he were searching for her Quinn List, it would be a difficult hour.

  “Found it!” With a wide smile, he sat down beside her, setting two papers on the coffee table in front of them. The paper nearest her was the list of all the reasons she’d never fall for Quinn Benton. She leaned toward him a bit to look at the other sheet. It was also her handwriting. The title read: Why I will never fall for Joe Hillis again.

  Her heart stopped. Evans had provided him with ammunition.

  “Evans was going to return it to you in one of your last essays, but he keeps forgetting to.”

  It was too much to grasp.

  “I can’t believe Evans shared it with you.” She leaned against Quinn, gripping his arm.

  “Do you see the contrast between the two?” His eyes sparkled as he held up the Quinn List. “Your first line regarding Joe was . . . Not a Christian. Your first line regarding me is He dates merely to eliminate. He chuckled. Two: He’s flighty . . . about women. Three: He’s picky about women. Four: In the shade of an enormous maple tree, he was exactly what I needed him to be, a towering strength in the chaos of my social life.” In case you didn’t hear it, Katherine, that is a positive, not a negative. He cleared his throat, patting her knee. “I can’t bring myself to read reason number five out loud. I’m not sorry that I kissed you, Katherine.” He sighed.

  “Your list is proof that you are in love with me. And you wanted to be the only woman in my life.” He smiled.

  “You weren’t supposed to have both lists to compare and contrast.”

  “Evans is gifted at reading between the lines. Cindy was only so-so.”

  Tears rolled down her cheeks. She wiped them aside. It would be so perfect and easy to give in right now, but she already had put some hope and planning into Friday night, and besides, Quinn Benton had strung her out like Christmas lights into late July.

  It was her turn.

  “Katherine, I’ll cancel Miss Wazzu if you tell Brad that you’re in love with me.”

  Brad already knew. She suppressed a smile. “I have questions about him, and like you, I’d like to answer them.”

  “Katherine, I can’t believe you said that.” He searched her eyes. “You love me. Look at the way you’re clinging to me. It almost broke your heart to tell me what you just did.”

  She sniffled.

  As he cradled her face in his hands; there was so much love in his eyes.

  He loved her. Really loved her.

  “Are you still taking any of that pain medication?” He brushed her hair back away from her face.

  “I’m down to half a tablet a day.” She swallowed, was he going to finally kiss her again? Eyes wide, she bit her lower lip.

  “Stop taking it. The Katherine King I know would never have this high of a pain threshold.” He gathered her lists and strode across the room.

  “I need to take you home now, Katherine. Get your crutches.”

  “Why?” He hadn’t even kissed her!

  Ж

  Tuesday afternoon, Katherine answered the phone. It was Brad.

  “I’m still in Lewiston. My brother and I are planning on boating again this evening, which means I won’t return to Moscow tonight until after nine. Which will be too late to visit, won’t it?”

  Maybe Grandma’s persistent comment was right. “Yes, I’ve been going to bed earlier than usual.” She glanced back at Grandma in the kitchen.

  “How has Quinn been?”

  “Attentive.”

  “Does he have a blind date this week?”

  “Yes, Miss Palouse. He’s been trying to meet her for months. Hopefully, it will come together for him this Friday.”

  “So you’re available Friday?”

  “Well . . .” She curled the toes of her left foot. “It’s become a tradition for me to attend the professors’ group, in which we discuss Quinn’s blind dates.”

  “How ’bout I take you to dinner Friday night, and we both attend the professors’ group?”

  “Brad . . .” Wouldn’t that be a shocker. “I feel it’s unfair to get your hopes up. I know how I feel about—”

  “It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

  Ж

  Quinn plunked Cindy’s Lewis and Clark class notes on the coffee table beside Katherine’s propped-up foot. “Your grandma waved me down at the gate.” He sat down on the sturdy coffee table, facing her, and regarded the seascape painting overhead. It was an old reproduction that nicely stretched the length of the couch.

  “I wish you would have asked me if it was all right to bring Ungerbach to the professors’ group.” He shook his head. Brad would be there the same night as his recap of Claire. What was Katherine thinking?

  “I’m sorry. I agree, but he was insistent. I need to be firmer with him.”

  “The man’s insistency might get you down the aisle.”

  She gazed up at him, her eyes soft and full of emotion.

  “Katherine, are you off your pain meds yet?”

  “No.” She clasped her hands together. “Brad says I’m taking such a small dose that it’s like I already am.”

  As of late, her love for him was becoming more and more visible, like rainwater on waxy leaves, it glistened. And then she did things like inviting Brad to the professors’ group.

  “You know Miss Palouse is just a formality now for me.” He wanted her to know, to dispel any doubts she might have of his love for her.

  Wide-eyed, Katherine leaned forward and picked up the class notes. “Grandma said you left your book on the kitchen table.”

  She was dismissing him. After last night, it was such a blow. Exiting the room, he patted the molding to the kitchen doorway and glanced back at her. Her face was hidden behind Cindy’s notes. He grabbed the book off the table, and on his way to the back gate, waved at Ethel in the yard. Weed in hand, she waved back, and then started toward him.

  “You look disheveled, I mean distraught.” Ethel ambled closer and using her forearm brushed her hair away from her eyes.

  “Ethel . . .” He frowned, inhaled deeply and gathered composure. “Pray for me. I never thought Katherine would be a woman to play games, but she is.”

  Ethel nodded. “You know I hate being in the middle, Quinn. You’re like family now, and your pain is like mine.”

  He waited for Ethel to add words of hope.

  “My father, Pete Pettigrew, was an old-time boxer in the days when there’d be no limit to the rounds.” She nudged her glasses higher up the bridge of her nose.

  “Yes.” He didn’t like the direction the conversation was heading.

  “He could outlast anyone. He’d always take more punches than he threw, and looked like a complete underdog until the end.” Ethel swallowed. “He had incredible willpower, determination . . .”

  Quinn waited for the punch line.

  “Katherine’s stamina for stubborn reminds me of him.”

  It felt more like a dose of reality than hope. Quinn glanced toward the house.

  “And then on the day of her accident”—Ethel’s eyes widened—“before she left the house, she was emotional for Katherine. She gave me a brief view past her King veneer into her tender heart and . . . you were there.”

  “What do you mean, Ethel? You’re being vague.”

  “Stay in the ring.”

  A twinkle sparked in her round blue eyes.

  He waved a hand toward the back door. “She just dismissed me. It’s like her heart’s had amnesia ever sinc
e she met Brad.”

  “She cried.”

  “Kings don’t cry.” He shook his head.

  “The day of her accident before she drove Edwin’s truck, she broke down and told me about the kiss and, she cried.” Ethel shook her head. “She cried about you.”

  “What?” He started for the back door. Katherine cried. His heart returned to the front porch, her arms clasped about his neck, the delight in her eyes, the love.

  “You can’t tell her.” Ethel’s voice rose. “She’ll never forgive me. She’s a King and a Pettigrew, too. . .”

  What was going on? Was Katherine putting up a wall till he met Claire? He’d never intended for the confusion, the heartache.

  He pulled into his driveway and after turning off the engine, glanced at the book in the passenger seat. For all they knew, it could be Katherine’s copy—The Last of the Mohicans beneath the cover. If it were, it would give him an excuse to return to the Kings’ and end on a better note with Katherine before her date with Brad.

  He flipped to the title page. It was indeed American Scripture. Bummer. A flash of yellow near the front caught his eye; a sticky note from Ethel.

  When you are brokenhearted, I am close to you. Psalm 34:18. I’m praying for you, Ethel. Warm tears infused his eyes.

  “Thank you, Lord, for these words of comfort, and Your timing.” He let the verse sink in and soothe his soul.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  The evening of Quinn’s date with Miss Palouse, Katherine didn’t want to recall any of the wonderful adjectives he’d used to describe Claire. Still a few came to mind—caring, nurturing, very down-to-earth, great listener, honest . . . She sounded like Mother Teresa. And for him to even pursue a blind date with her meant she was a Christian.

  Katherine wiped a tear from her eye. Why had she accepted a date with Brad? She just wanted to wear her old comfy pajama pants, kick back, and watch a movie—one movie in particular.

  After showering and changing into a lightweight cotton skirt and her white ruffled short-sleeved top, she crutched into the kitchen.

  The front door bell rang.

  “Who could that be? It’s not your doctor.” Grandma strode past her toward the door. “He called while you were in the shower. He said he’ll be running a couple of hours late, an emergency surgery.”