Rumor Has It

by Tami Hoag

  For Katie, a picnic in the park with her friends and their families was a bittersweet experience. She would enjoy their company but sit on the sidelines and watch while the others jumped and stumbled and sweated their way through a game of volleyball. She would enjoy the meal and the talk but would sit in isolation while they tended children with empty tummies, tummy aches, and skinned knees. For Nick it would be a fun, relaxing afternoon. For Katie it would be a reminder of everything she had lost and could never regain.

  In the dark hours before dawn she had lain beside him thinking while he slept. She'd never been so happy as she was with Nick. She'd never felt more complete, more feminine, more loved. Weeks before she would have told herself she deserved all those things. She would have hung on to him. Something had changed inside her since then. There had been a subtle shift in her feelings. They had deepened and grown into something she couldn't grasp with a greedy hand. When she had watched him dance with Jayne Sutton, she hadn't felt jealousy, she had only wondered at her own right to hold him back.

  How happy could he be with her and for how long? He wanted a family. She knew what that felt like. She had longed for one herself. But she couldn't give him a child of his own, and she didn't know if she could face the alternative. Adoption. People offered the piece of advice so quickly, so cavalierly. Perhaps for some people it was that simple. Perhaps they'd never dug deeply enough to uncover the fears she had.

  Katie wasn't—had never been—the kind of woman who wanted to mother everyone's children. She had never begged to hold a baby, had never automatically scooped up a toddler for a hug. It was true, she had wanted a family, but what if there was something lacking in her, and she simply wasn't capable of loving a child not of her own making? What if she were given a child who could have gone to someone more deserving? What if her motives were wrong? What if she were adopting a child simply to prove she could outdo her own mother or to make up for her own childhood? What if she turned out to be just as poor a mother as her own mother had been? How could she put a child through that?

  Compromise, Nick preached. She could compromise on some issues, not on others. The real question was, should Nick be expected to compromise? If she couldn't accept adoption, would he be willing to give up his dream of a family? Loving him the way she did, could she ask that of him?

  In the dark, lonely hours of the night, when there was nowhere for the truth to hide, the answer to her question was no.

  “This is gonna be great,” Nick said with a grin as he popped the hatch on his Trans Am. He lifted the cooler out of the trunk, set it on the ground, and turned back to get the picnic basket. “You know, when the restaurant opens I won't be able to take many days off. We'll have to make the most of this one, won't we, kitten?”

  Katie smiled distractedly. “Yes, we will.”

  She planned to make the most of it. She planned to soak up his presence, to memorize his every expression and the sound of his voice. Nick didn't realize how precious their afternoon together was going to be. It was going to be their last.

  “Are you sure you packed the container of shrimp salad in here?” He was bent over, digging through the cooler.

  Katie hooked a finger through a belt loop on his cutoffs and tugged. “You know I did. You watched me put it in. You're just looking for an excuse to dig out a beer.”

  “You know me too well,” he said chuckling, straightening with a sweating can of the brew in one hand. His gaze swept down her appreciatively, taking in her lightweight cotton tank top and soft blue peasant skirt. Even though she had grown comfortable with him seeing her scars, she still refused to let anyone else see them. That was why she wore a skirt when everyone else would be in shorts. Nick didn't complain though. He thought the way she dressed only enhanced her delicate feminine beauty. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close for a quick kiss.

  Maggie's voice called out to them from the picnic site. “Hey, you lovebirds, no necking in the park!”

  “Jealous?” Nick questioned as he hoisted the cooler onto the picnic table beside her.

  Maggie slid her sunglasses down her nose and batted her eyelashes at him. “Is that an offer, Yankee?”

  Nick shot a look at Ry. “You gotta do something about her, Quaid.”

  Ry tipped his baseball cap back and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “Aw, hell,” he said. “Just feed her something an’ she'll leave you alone.”

  “Rylan Quaid, you haven't the manners God gave a goat!” Maggie yanked the bill of his cap down over his face and turned away with her nose in the air, pretending offense at his teasing. “I declare, I don't know why I'd want to go anywhere with you.”

  Ry shoved his cap back into place and grinned at her. “ ‘Cause I'm a great kisser.”

  Much to everyone's amusement, Maggie's face turned as red as her hair. Katie smiled to herself. She was happy to see the romance of her brother and her best friend progressing, even if her own relationship was nearing an end.

  The afternoon passed with the laziness peculiar to summer in the South. Food was eaten, beer and soda poured down parched throats. The adults sprawled in lawn chairs or on blankets, digesting their dinner and soaking up the sun and the latest gossip.

  Katie soaked up the experience. Because she was more in tune with Nick, she was more in tune with everything: the way the breeze stirred the leaves, the scent of grilling meat, the way Zoe smiled at her husband, the sound of Haley Sutton, Jayne's daughter, cooing as she played on a blanket beneath an oak tree.

  She was almost painfully aware of Nick. She studied the play of sun and shadow on the angular planes of his dark face. Her gaze drifted down the long, beautiful length of his body as he stretched on the quilt. He moved with all the sinuous grace of a big cat. There wasn't an inch of him she didn't know on intimate terms.

  “Volleyball time!” Darrell Baylor announced, taking the ball from his son and spinning it on the top of his index finger.

  “It's the only trick he knows,” Zoe explained as she headed for the volleyball court, which was nothing more than a net and an area marked off by faded white chalk lines on the grass.

  Maggie and Ry went to the court arguing about who would beat who.

  “You women stand about as much chance of winning as I do of becoming Miss America.”

  “You're full of hot air, Quaid,” Maggie said. “We're gonna cream you. Zoe and I will have Nick on our team. Right, Nick?”

  “Maybe.” Nick sat up on the quilt and brushed a lock of Katie's hair back from her face. “You mind if I play?”

  She shook her head, mustering a benign smile. “No, of course not. You go on. I'll cheer for you.” It would have been nice to keep him by her side all day, but she wanted to see him active and happy. Somehow, Katie thought, that would make the break easier.

  He gave her a kiss, shed his red T-shirt, and went to join the others.

  Katie watched him jog away, trying to stem the flow of longing. She'd done a good job of hiding her emotions so far. Nick, who was usually acutely attuned to her moods, didn't seem suspicious in the least.

  As the game began, Katie rose and went to the table where Jayne was supervising while her daughter mangled a hot dog.

  “Not playing?” Jayne asked, glancing over her shoulder. She turned back just in time to intercept part of Haley's dinner, which the little girl had tried to throw to Watch.

  “No. I thought I might take a walk.” She offered her dog a piece of biscuit and watched Jayne persuade Haley to eat another bite of meat. The little girl was going to have her mother's looks and sunny disposition. “She's a beautiful little girl. You're very lucky.”

  With a wistful expression on her face, Jayne brushed a ladybug from her daughter's black hair. “Yes, I am.”

  Katie stood for a moment longer. She watched as Jayne tried to wipe mustard off Haley's face. The baby wailed in protest as she turned her head from side to side in an attempt to avoid her mother's ministrations. On the volleyball co
urt, Maggie closed her eyes and blindly swung at the ball Rylan had bumped her way. Nick dove for it but missed and ended up rolling in the grass, tackling Reese Baylor. The little boy's shrieks of delight as Nick tickled him rang out above the laughter of the adults. Nick sat up, his black hair tousled, his crooked grin lighting up his face, his arms wrapped around Reese in an exuberant hug.

  I'm doing the right thing, Katie told herself, the best thing for Nick. And, while she felt an overwhelming sadness, she also felt at peace with herself. With her hands tucked into the pockets of her skirt, she turned and started walking, her dog reluctantly trailing behind her.

  She was almost to the statue of the unknown Confederate war dead when Nick saw her out of the corner of his eye. At first he wanted to deny it was Katie walking away, even though it had to be her. His gaze made a quick reconnaissance of the picnic site before returning to the small figure headed east and the enormous gray dog that trudged along behind her.

  “Hey, Leone, you gonna serve that ball or not?” Ry called from across the court.

  “Not,” Nick mumbled absently. He dropped the ball and jogged after Katie with a strange feeling crawling around in his stomach. Why would she be walking away? Why would she want to leave without telling him? Had he gotten too caught up in the activities and ignored her?

  “Katie!”

  She stopped at the sound of her name but didn't turn around. She hadn't planned on telling him there, but it was as good a time as any, she thought as the sound of Nick's sneakers pounding on the hard ground drew near. She would tell him now, get it over with, and go home. He ran past her a step and stopped, then pivoted to face her. Although he smiled, his expression was one of concern.

  “Where do you think you're going without telling me?”

  “Home,” she said simply.

  She didn't look angry. She looked… tired, resigned. The uneasiness inside him hardened into a cold lump. “Why? Was I too caught up in the game? ‘Cause if that's it, I'll just—”

  “No,” Katie said in a quiet, unflappable tone. “You were enjoying yourself. I don't begrudge you that, Nick. I want you to enjoy yourself. I don't want you sitting on the sidelines just because I have to.”

  He sighed a little impatiently and planted his hands on his hips. “It's because of the kids, isn't it?”

  “No. Not in the way you mean.”

  Because he was looking for a reason he could latch on to and argue about with her, he didn't want to believe her denial. But he knew she was telling the truth. If anything, she had been more at ease with the children than he had ever seen her. There still had been shadows in her eyes, she still had held back a part of herself, but she had talked with Reese, had helped Charisse color. He had even seen her holding Jayne Sutton's baby. And the word resignation came back to him again. She had seemed resigned, as if she had given up on trying to distance herself.

  Instead of being glad of it, Nick felt nervous.

  “You just want to go home?” he asked. “Let's pack up, then, and take the car.”

  “No.”

  There was a finality in her tone he didn't want to hear. Dodging her gaze he lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Okay, so we'll walk.”

  “No, Nick. I'm going home alone.”

  “What are you saying?”

  Years of teaching herself cool composure stood Katie in good stead. Yet she felt as if she were cutting the words she had to say right out of her soul. She might have been able to meet Nick's demanding gaze head- on, but that didn't make what she had to do any easier. “It's over, Nick. I'm doing what's best: I'm letting you go.”

  Stunned was the only word to describe his initial reaction. He'd felt Katie pulling back, but he hadn't expected her to react so drastically. He'd sensed the previous night that something was bothering her, but he'd assumed the problem had been a minor one. She'd been upset about not being able to dance—that wasn't something people broke up over. After the party they had gone back to Katie's house and spent most of the night making the sweetest love he'd ever known—that wasn't something a woman did right before she told a guy to take a hike.

  Unless she'd been saying good- bye to him. Unless she'd been making memories to store against a future without him.

  I'm doing what's best: I'm letting you go.

  Anger surfaced over his surprise. “Who the hell is that supposed to be best for?”

  It cut deep to see the hurt and confusion on his face. Katie would have done anything to spare him pain. But a little hurt now was nothing compared to ruining his life, she reminded herself. It was better to force him out of her life now than see him miserable, staying with her out of loyalty later on. Nick deserved to get everything he wanted out of life. If that meant she had to leave him now, she would do it. She had known it wouldn't be easy, but she would survive. Loving Nick had been like a glimpse of heaven, beautiful and unexpected. She was glad for it, even if it had been only a glimpse.

  “It's best for you,” she said. Oh, how she wanted to reach out and touch him, to try to ease the hurt, but she forced herself to hold back. “Nick, you deserve more than I can give you. You deserve someone who's strong and whole, someone like Jayne Sutton.”

  The only defense he could muster was sarcasm. He laughed without a trace of humor. “You got somebody all picked out for me. That's big of you, Kathryn.”

  “I didn't say it had to be Jayne,” she clarified with a calm that antagonized his temper. “Just someone like Jayne, someone who can dance with you and play with you and give you the family you've always wanted.”

  “I've told you dancing isn't important to me, Katie. I love the things we do together, the quiet things. And if I feel the need to do something more physical, I can do it on my own. It's not as if we're joined at the hip. And what makes you think I have to have a family?” he asked, knowing it was a stupid question but being too desperate to care. “I'm thirty- two. I sure as hell could've started one by now.”

  “That first day you came to the Drewes mansion you said so. You said you loved kids and that someday you'd have a dozen.”

  He swore at her excellent memory and the fact that he had apparently cut his own throat with a casual remark. Yes, he wanted a family, but he wanted Katie first. “You should have read me my rights at the beginning: Anything I say can and will be used against me in the court of Quaid.”

  Katie stubbornly ignored his anger. She wasn't intimidated by him even if his expression was close to savage. His dark brows slashed down over brown eyes burning with pent- up fury. The mouth that could so easily lift into a boyish grin was twisted into a thin, cynical line. He felt helpless, he was lashing out—she understood the combination well. “I know you want children, Nick, and there's no reason you shouldn't have them. I certainly don't intend to stand in your way.”

  “No, you intend to push me out of yours. Get me out of your way so you can go back to feeling sorry for yourself.”

  He could have slapped her and it would have hurt less. She didn't try to deny his words, though, even if she didn't feel she deserved them. It was better to have him angry with her. The break would be easier.

  Nick swore silently and the words were directed at himself. He had never meant to be vindictive. He didn't mean it, but there was no taking the words back now. If he was lucky, they would rouse a spark of anger in Katie and burn through her resolve to let him go.

  But she didn't snap back at him. She looked as if she were simply waiting for him to step off the path so she could go home. She looked sad. She looked resigned. For the first time he felt a stab of real fear that he was going to lose her.

  “So what happens,” he asked, “when I find the perfect woman you want for me and it turns out I'm sterile? Can I have you back then? Is infertility the one thing we need to have in common for me to keep you in my life?”

  She wouldn't have guessed he considered it a small victory that she both sounded and looked annoyed when she answered him. “Don't be ridiculous.”

  “Ridicul
ous? You think it couldn't happen? You think you're the only person on earth who can't have children?”

  “Of course not,” she said, trying to rein in her frustration. Why couldn't he see she was doing him a favor? “But chances are you're perfectly able. You deserve—”

  “I deserve to have the woman I love,” he said. If she understood nothing else, she had to know he loved her. His love had to count for something. “Maybe I have always wanted a family. That's not a crime. But the first thing I need is the woman I love. Katie, if I don't have you, I'll never have anything. I've never felt the way you make me feel. You think I should give that up and go looking for something else?”

  “Yes,” she said without hesitation. Her mind was made up. She wasn't going to let him talk her out of it with words of love and the sincere expression in his dark eyes.

  “Shouldn't it be my decision to make?”

  She felt the need again, the need to reach out to him. If she could touch him, perhaps she could make him understand. But if she touched him, she would be lost. So she tried to touch him, to convince him, with her expression, with her heart in her eyes. “Maybe, but I think you're too good a man to make it.”

  “Oh, Katie…” he said on a long sigh, shaking his head. He dragged a hand back through his hair. She wasn't going to listen to reason. He may as well have been talking to the statue of the unknown Confederate war dead. “Why does it have to be all or nothing with you? There are compromises. If you'd stop being so pigheaded, we could work this out—”

  “You think I don't know about compromises?” she asked. “That's all my life has been for the last five years. All I've done is make compromises.”

  “And you've made all the wrong ones. Letting go of all your dreams isn't a compromise, it's giving up. We can work this through together, honey. You just have to be willing to try. You thought your scars made you undesirable. You were wrong. You thought you couldn't even try to dance with me. You were wrong. You think you can't have a family. You could be wrong about that too.”