by Gina Wilkins
"Yes, I'm sure."
"Spring." He took her forearms in his large hands and looked down at her. "I just want you to know that I think you and Clay are being a couple of first-class idiots. I know when two people are in love, and you and Clay are. Don't let pride stand between you."
She winced. "Derek, I know you're only trying to help, but you're wrong. Clay and I just don't work together. We're not right for each other. I'm not what he needs, and he's not— He's..." But that was one lie she couldn't voice. "Please, Derek," she said finally on a sigh.
"All right." He kissed her fondly on the cheek. "You keep in touch."
"I will. And I'll see you when you bring Summer home for Christmas. Remember, you promised."
"Right. See you then. If not before," he added somewhat mysteriously.
Spring turned for one last, lingering look around the crowded terminal before boarding her plane, ostensibly as a last glance at San Francisco. If she'd secretly hoped to spot a shaggy blond head or a man dressed in outrageous style, she tried not to acknowledge it, even to herself.
Chapter Nine
"Don't drop the pizza!" Kelsey Rayford, Spring's office manager and best friend, cried out in teasing warning as Spring balanced the enormous white box while unlocking the door to her apartment.
"I've got the pizza, you hang on to the wine," Spring returned with a grin, triumphantly swinging open the door to her roomy west Little Rock town-house apartment. Offering a cheerful greeting to the small yellow-and-white cat that had dashed to greet her, she crossed immediately to a round oak table and deposited the fragrant, still warm box on it, then dropped her purse on a chair and turned to her friend.
Tiny, black-haired, brown-eyed Kelsey laughed as she juggled a large bottle of wine, an enormous handbag and a sizable, gaily wrapped package. "I'm losing the wine. Grab it!"
Spring grabbed, catching the bottle just as it would have plunged to the floor. "If you wouldn't insist on carrying a purse that would hold half the contents of our office filing cabinets, you wouldn't have this problem," she lectured primly.
"Oh, stuff it," her friend replied inelegantly, dropping the maligned purse to the floor. "Just because you're older than me doesn't mean you can start giving lectures."
"Hey, I'm not that much older! Three days doesn't count."
Grinning at Spring's protest, Kelsey shook her head. "Sorry. For the next three days you're twenty-seven and I'm a mere twenty-six. I intend to point that out at every opportunity."
"Somehow I knew you would," Spring retorted, rummaging in her cabinets for plates and wineglasses.
The doorbell chimed and Spring turned over the duty of setting the table to Kelsey. Her neighbor, Mrs. English, stood on the doorstep, arms loaded with packages. "You had a few deliveries today, Spring."
"I can see that." Spring smiled and took the load. "Would you like to come in for a while, Mrs. English?"
"No, thanks, hon. Tom will be home for his dinner shortly. Hope you have a happy birthday."
"Thank you."
"Oh, goody, presents," Kelsey crooned when Mrs. English had gone. "And such nice big ones."
"I can't believe they all arrived on my birthday." Spring eyed the three brown-paper-wrapped parcels with interest. Trust her family to make sure she had birthday presents, she thought fondly.
"Well, are you going to open them?" Kelsey demanded impatiently. Kelsey was always impatient.
Spring shook her head. "After dinner. Our pizza will get cold if we don't eat it now."
Sighing, Kelsey reached for a plate. "I don't know how you can stand it. I'd have ripped into them the minute I got them."
"Yes, but you've never understood the pleasure to be found in deferred gratification," Spring pointed out indulgently, seating herself across the table from her friend.
"Oh, God, now you're talking like my shrink." The animated brunette stared soulfully over a half-eaten triangle of pizza. "You'd think you were a psychologist rather than an optometrist."
Psychologist. Even the word made Spring wince. "Eat your pizza, Kelsey."
Spring chatted gaily during the casual dinner—but then, she'd become an expert on hiding her feelings behind airy chatter during the past two months. She and Kelsey talked about the office, about the volunteer work that Spring had recently taken on at a local resident treatment home for troubled young people, about the gorgeous-but-just-not-real-bright man that Kelsey had dated a couple of times recently. And though Spring mentioned her sisters frequently and occasionally referred to her trip to California, she never once spoke of a tall, golden-haired man with blue-green eyes and a brilliant white smile. She had not spoken Clay's name since she'd returned to Little Rock.
"I don't know how you do it," Kelsey murmured as they finished the pizza and lingered over a last glass of wine.
"Do what?" Spring asked lazily, feeding a tiny bite of pizza crust to Missy, her cat.
"Stay so busy all the time. You were a workaholic before your vacation, but since you've been back, you're going all the time. To be honest, I'm starting to worry about you."
Few people would have been able to tell that Spring's smile was forced. She devoutly hoped that Kelsey wasn't one of those people. "Why in the world would you worry about me? I'm doing fine."
Rich brown eyes studied her face with an intensity that almost made Spring squirm. "I don't know what it is," Kelsey said finally, "but something's been different about you ever since you got back from visiting your sister. I've asked you repeatedly if anything happened while you were away, but you always shrug off my questions. Are you sure you don't want to talk to me about anything?"
"Kelsey, when did you become such a worrier? Haven't I always been able to take care of myself?"
"You're not going to talk about it, are you?"
Deliberately avoiding those searching eyes, Spring shrugged. "I don't know about you, but I'm ready to see what's in those packages. Deferred gratification is all very well, but it's time for birthday presents."
"You can be a real pain sometimes, Spring Reed," Kelsey muttered, but her attention had already strayed to the tantalizing birthday presents. She might be close to twenty-seven, but Kelsey Rayford did love presents—even if they were someone else's, as Spring knew very well.
"I'll open yours first." Spring reached for the colorful package that Kelsey had brought in earlier and tugged at the ribbon. The box opened to reveal a sheer, lace-trimmed nightgown in swirls of pastels. "Kelsey, thank you. It's lovely."
"It'll look great on you. I'm hoping it'll give you the incentive to find someone special to wear it for."
Avoiding her friend's mischievous grin, Spring began to open the box from Florida. She reflected somberly that it was a good thing she enjoyed wearing pretty nightgowns just for herself; she had no plans to wear the garment for anyone else. She couldn't imagine being that close again to any man but—
No. She wouldn't even think about him. She ripped the paper from Autumn's gift with unnecessary force, then laughed when she opened it and saw a heavy-duty lavender plastic case fitted with a set of tools—hammer, screwdrivers, pliers, wrenches, tape measure. A woman's tool kit. How typically Autumn. Defiantly functional, yet somehow feminine. "Now this will come in handy."
"You must have told Autumn that you're thinking of buying a house. You won't have a manager then to take care of repairs for you."
"I've discussed it with her. She agreed that it would be a good investment."
Kelsey looked around Spring's rose-and-cream apartment, carefully decorated with Victorian antiques and reproductions, and sighed. "I don't know how you could even think of giving up this place. It's so beautiful and you don't have to worry about lawns and plumbing and peeling paint."
Spring shrugged. "I like it here, but I've always wanted to own my own house. Don't ask why; it's just a personal whim. Besides, these furnishings are mine. My house would look a lot like this."
"True. Open the others."
Amused at Kelsey's child
like excitement, Spring obliged, tearing the paper off a package from the West Coast to reveal a large, flat box. Her breath caught in her throat when she lifted layers of tissue paper to reveal a painting. The painting. The one she'd seen in the boutique in Sausalito of the intricately depicted Victorian house surrounded by flowers, with just a suggestion of San Francisco Bay in the background.
Oh, Summer, why?
"Spring, it's beautiful! It goes perfectly with all your things. Gosh, look at the detail of that house. It's— Spring, what's the matter? Don't you like it?"
Spring cleared her throat and blinked, pushing her glasses up onto the bridge of her nose as she pasted on a smile and looked at Kelsey. "Of course I like it. I saw it in an art gallery in Sausalito and fell in love with it then. I was just...touched that Summer and Derek bought it for me."
"Oh." Kelsey frowned, still watching Spring closely, obviously suspecting that she hadn't been told the entire story.
Spring hadn't cried since she'd returned from California. Not that she hadn't wanted to, but she couldn't. The pain was too deep for tears. She refused to cry now. Tossing her head, she lifted the smaller package, barely looking at it as she fought to hold on to her enthusiasm for her birthday presents. She pushed at her glasses again and smoothed back a curl that had escaped from her prim roll of hair. She'd worn her hair up every day for the past two months.
"Oh!" The delicate gold bracelet was exquisite, engraved with an old-fashioned pattern of birds and flowers. It could have come straight from the early 1800s. It suited her perfectly. From her parents? Spring lifted the small white card enclosed in the box, read the four words written on it and dropped it with a strangled cry.
Happy birthday, sweet Spring.
"Oh, no," she whispered, her body curling inward and her eyes closing with the pain. "Oh, Clay, why?"
She'd tried so hard not to think of him. She'd stayed busy, kept her mind occupied. And it had worked—during the days, at least. Only during the nights had he haunted her. Endless, empty nights filled with laughing eyes, lazy, bright smiles, thick golden hair. A deep breath, and she could imagine herself in his arms, held close to his pounding heart as he loved her with a hungry tenderness that had surpassed any fantasy she'd ever had. And then she'd open her eyes and she'd be alone. But she hadn't cried.
She still regretted their quarrel. Though she could understand now that the argument had been the result of their precarious emotions regarding their impending separation, she wished they could have parted on better terms. They'd said some terrible, hurtful things to each other. She hoped that someday he could forgive her, as she had already forgiven him. And it seemed that he had. But it still hurt.
If only she knew how to get over him. Would there ever come a time when she could think about him without this horrible pain? When spotting a tall blond male in a crowd would not cause her heart to stop? When she'd stop thinking of amusing incidents she'd like to share with him? She had tried; God, she had tried. And she still loved him. Just as she always would.
"Spring? Spring, are you all right?" Kelsey's voice came from unexpected proximity.
Spring opened her eyes to find her friend kneeling in front of her, brown eyes huge with concern. "Spring, what's wrong?" Kelsey asked again.
Spring wet her lips, took a deep breath and sat up straight. "It's...nothing, Kelsey. I..." She stopped and buried her face in her hands, unable to lie. "Everything's wrong," she wailed, the tears finally beginning to flow.
"Only a man could cause this kind of heartache," Kelsey pronounced confidently, her hand on her friend's shoulder. "I'm speaking from experience. Who is he, Spring? Not Roger. You never looked like this over him."
Shaking her head, Spring dropped her hands. "No, not Roger."
"Ready to talk about it?"
"His name is Clay McEntire. He's..." How did one describe Clay? "He's tall and blond and has blue-green eyes and a beautiful smile. He's a junior-high-school counselor who loves kids and tears himself up over their problems. He wears funny clothes and likes to tease and shows his affection for his friends through hugs and touches. He had a lot of problems when he was young, but he overcame them. He's sometimes moody and...and he needs reading glasses, but I don't think he knows it," she finished with a sob.
Kelsey was staring at her in unmistakable astonishment. "He, um, he sounds fascinating. Not your usual type, though."
Spring choked on a humorless laugh. "No. Not my usual type."
"But you're in love with him."
"Completely. Forever."
"And?"
"And nothing. He's in San Francisco and I'm in Little Rock."
"Is he in love with you?"
"I don't know," Spring answered slowly, twisting the lovely gold bracelet between shaking hands. "I just don't know. There were times when I thought he might be. When he— When we— Well, he made me feel very special. But, for all I know, that may be the way he treats every woman in his life."
"So this is why you've been driving yourself like a madwoman ever since you got back." Kelsey shook her head in reproval. "I can't believe you've been carrying this around inside you without even telling me about it."
"I just couldn't talk about it. It still hurts too much."
"What do you think the bracelet means?"
"I don't know. Maybe it's just his way of apologizing for the quarrel we had before I left."
"Are you going to keep it?"
She hadn't thought that far ahead. Of course the logical thing to do would be to return it. It was, after all, much too expensive a gift and would only serve as a painful reminder of an incident best forgotten, she told herself. Her fingers tightened around the bangle almost in protest at the thought of sending it back. Clay had chosen this gift for her. Sending it back would almost be like saying goodbye again. "I don't know."
"When it comes to this guy, you don't know much, do you, Spring?" Kelsey asked with sympathetic amusement. "I think you should keep it."
"You do? Why?"
"Because he obviously wanted you to have it. And because he sounds like a great guy."
"He is." Spring brushed another wave of tears off her cheeks. "Oh, Kelsey, he is."
"Tell you what we're going to do." Kelsey pushed herself to her feet, rising to her entire four feet eleven inches. "We're going to drag out everything fattening in your kitchen, cover it all with whipped cream and pig out while you tell me every detail of your vacation in California—and this time you're not leaving out a guy named Clay McEntire, you hear?"
"Oh, Kelsey, I don't think—"
"Spring, trust me. Talking about it will help. Keeping it all in will only rot your insides."
Spring gave an unwilling smile, already feeling a little better. Kelsey had always had this effect on her, ever since the two had attended the same church as kids. Kelsey had grown up in Romance, Arkansas, just down the road from Spring's hometown of Rose Bud. They'd considered themselves quite cosmopolitan when they'd moved fifty-five miles south to the big city of Little Rock—population 194,000 at last count—Spring, after her graduation from optometry college almost two years earlier, and Kelsey, after her divorce a year before that. Kelsey had quit a good job to work for Spring, and the relationship had proven quite satisfying, both personally and professionally.
Spring left out no detail of the brief affair with Clay. From that first kiss in the hallway on the night they'd met to the scathing quarrel in Summer's den on that last Monday night, Spring poured out the entire story to her warmly sympathetic, if rather startled, friend. Kelsey had been right. It did feel good to talk about it.
"And that's the end of the story," she concluded, toying with a last bite of a sinfully gooey chocolate-fudge brownie sans whipped cream.
Kelsey looked thoughtful as she licked a bit of chocolate from her scarlet-tipped finger. "Somehow I don't think it is."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't happen to think the story's over. From what you've told me, Clay is as deeply involved
in this relationship as you are. And he sent you that bracelet. I don't think he's going to let you go that easily."
"Let me go? Kelsey, he did everything but drive me to the airport and throw me on the plane."
"Mmm. We'll see."
"It's over, Kel."
Kelsey only shook her dark head. "Want to bet?"
"The last time I made a bet with you, you took my grandmother's earrings from me."
"I warned you not to bet them, didn't I? But you just wouldn't believe that you and Roger would break up in less than six months."
"Okay, so you were right about Roger."
"I'm right about this, too. I think I'll give you your grandmother's earrings as a wedding present."
Spring flinched. "Kelsey, don't, please. It did help to talk to you, but I can't joke about that."
Kelsey smiled sweetly. "I wasn't joking, Spring."
She left soon afterward since both of them had to work the next day. When she was alone, Spring hung the painting from Summer and Derek in a place of honor in her living room, telling herself that someday she'd be able to look at it without fighting tears. Then she folded the nightgown from Kelsey into a dresser drawer and stored the tool kit from Autumn in the kitchen pantry. Only then did she allow herself to pick up the bracelet again. Very slowly she clasped it around her wrist. It fit as if it had been made for her.
Holding her wrist to her cheek, she closed tear-flooded eyes and admitted to herself that she would not return the gift to its sender. She supposed she'd known that all along. She would wear the bracelet always, and every time she looked at it she would remember a very special man in California. The man who'd taught her how to love.
The telephone rang just as she was about to go to bed, hoping that she would be able to sleep. It was Summer, calling to wish her happy birthday, the last of her family to call that day.
"The painting is beautiful," Spring told her honestly. "I love it. Thank you."
"You're welcome. I could tell you really liked it when you saw it. I wanted you to have it. It's perfect for you."