She punched in the numbers to her house and lifted the phone, wincing as the static crackled in her ear. The phone at her home rang again and again. “Please answer it, Grandma, please,” she pleaded. Finally, she heard, “Hello?”
Nadine sagged in relief. “Thank goodness you’re still up, Grandma. It’s Nadine.”
“Nadine...are you...” Crackling static broke into the conversation.
“I’m close to the river.” Nadine clutched the phone with one hand and her thin jacket with the other. The wind was picking up, and already, her ears were getting cold. “Trace dropped me off somewhere in the valley.”
“Where?”
“I’m at least half an hour’s drive out of town.”
“Which—” her words were drowned by static “—direction?”
“West. We drove west out of town, then he turned north up the valley to Fort Henday.” The static crackled louder. She turned to see if the reception got any better.
She was now walking into the chilly wind. Her fingers were numb, and her ears ached, but at least the static had died down.
“Is there anything you recognize?”
“I know where I am—up the Coal Creek road. Can you come and get me?”
“Yes. Of course. Just stay where you are.” There was a moment’s pause. “You are okay, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Nadine replied, her voice unexpectedly shaky. “Yes, I am.”
“Okay. I’ll be...soon...” Grandma’s voice faded away and Nadine lowered the now-dark handset. The battery was dead.
She dropped it into her pocket and turned her back to the wind. Nadine wrapped her coat closer around her, tucking her hands into the wide sleeves. It was her least practical coat, a thin corduroy barn jacket she had picked up at a garage sale a few days ago because it was red.
Trace said she looked good in red. Trace, who was married.
Nadine sniffed, swallowed, determined not to cry. She felt cheap, humiliated, and vulgar. She hadn’t known he had a wife and children. He hadn’t given an inkling during their many conversations.
Nadine looked up at the stars that spread away from her, feeling small, unimportant, disposable. She was walking along a dark, empty road—a tiny figure on a huge globe populated with many other tiny figures, each with their own sorrows and problems. What made her think her problems were so much worse than many others?
Even as she formed that thought, she knew that the same God who had created all this from nothing also heard her prayers, whether softly whispered or shouted aloud.
Now, walking along the road, she prayed. As she prayed, she felt God’s peace wash over her, comfort, and strengthen her.
But her hands were still cold.
She shoved her hands farther up her sleeves and hurried, hoping the movement would get her blood flowing and warm her up. Behind her, the bitter wind pushed itself through the thin material of her jacket, whipped her hair around her face, and seeped into her bones.
She shivered and pulled one hand out of her sleeve and pressed its meager warmth against one aching ear. After a while, she traded hands. It helped a small amount, but her hands would not warm up.
Please, Lord. Let my grandmother come soon, before I can’t move anymore.
Finally a faint light shone above a rise in the road ahead of her. It got brighter and brighter, and then headlights blinded her as a vehicle topped the rise and roared toward her.
Not Grandma, she thought with a sinking heart. Grandma’s little car had only one headlight and about half the horsepower. She paused, clutching her coat, waving her arm. She didn’t care who it was, she would ask if they could at least drive her somewhere warm.
But the vehicle drove past her, then slowed and turned around. She watched the SUV as it pulled up beside her, and her heart sank as she recognized the vehicle. The driver door opened and she took a step back as a tall figure stepped out.
Clint Fletcher.
Shock slammed through her. How did he know? What had made him come at precisely that moment?
Nadine hesitated, her heart beating in a staccato rhythm, her feet unresponsive. “How...”
“Doesn’t matter, just get in.” Clint moved around the vehicle and opened the door for her. She took a few shaky steps and climbed in, heart racing. Clint slammed the door shut behind her and walked around the front, momentarily illuminated by the headlights. He was frowning and his lips were pursed. Was he angry? As he closed his door, Nadine was surrounded by blissful warmth, blessed heat.
“Are you okay?” Clint asked, turning to her. He draped one arm over the steering wheel, while the other lay along the back of her seat.
She nodded, unable to look at him. “My grandmother is coming...” She could hardly speak, her lips were so numb.
“Actually, she called me and asked me to come and get you.”
The thrum of the engine and the gentle hum of the heater were the only sounds in the dark intimacy of the SUV. Nadine bit her lip, trying to stop her erratic breathing.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” There was concern in his deep voice.
Nadine nodded, shivering as she began to warm up. She laid her head back, felt Clint’s hand, and sat up again. She swallowed, hardly knowing where to start.
His hand touched her head, curving around it, the warmth of his hand seeping through her hair, making him very real.
“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Clint’s fingers tightened their hold.
“No. No, he didn’t.”
“Good.”
Silence again.
“That’s some kind of boyfriend you got there.”
“I already told you, he’s not my boyfriend. He just wanted to talk, and I thought, after the way I used him, I owed him at least that.”
Silence followed her admission. Clint shifted his weight, and his hands engulfed hers, warming them. “You’re freezing,” he said quietly, rubbing her hands with vigor. “How long have you been out here?”
“About an hour, maybe more.” She still couldn’t look at him, because she still was absorbing what had happened, what was happening now.
“Trace just dropped you off?”
“I could have gotten a ride back to town with him, but I didn’t think it was wise to stay around him anymore. He was quite...upset.”
“Upset? Why?” Clint rubbed harder, then stopped when Nadine winced. “Sorry,” he murmured, pressing her hands between his large warm ones.
“I got mad at him when I found out he—” Nadine’s voice caught, and the words came tumbling out. “He’s married, Clint. He has two kids and a wife named Tina. They’ve been separated for a while, and he wants to file for a divorce.” Nadine turned to Clint, her fingers entangling with his. “I didn’t know anything about it when I went out with him. Truly. I’m so, so ashamed.”
Clint looked down, his thumbs caressing the backs of her hands.
“Of what?”
She released a harsh laugh. “Don’t you see? I’m just like my sister. Going out with someone who belonged to someone else.”
Clint raised his head, his eyes narrowed. “Did you know he was married?”
“No. I didn’t.”
“Then how do you see yourself as wrong here?” Clint’s quiet question soothed her concerns, eased her shame.
“A couple of reasons.”
“Like?”
Nadine eased out another sigh, realizing how foolish the whole situation was—she may as well tell him everything.
“It all started with trying to get Grandma off my back.”
“What?”
“She’d been trying to set me up with all kinds of unsuitable and oddball guys—”
“Like me?” Clint said with a faint chuckle in his voice, which made her smile despite the situation.
“At the time, I didn’t know the entire truth about Leslie, so in a way, yes.”
“I hope you’ve changed your mind about that.”
“You know I have,” she said, sending him a gentl
e smile. Then she cleared her throat. “Anyway, Grandma. It was driving me crazy. I’ve been trying to get her to move out for months now, but she won’t go until she thinks I’ve found someone and I’m engaged.”
This was greeted with silence, and Nadine realized how that might sound.
But, she didn’t know how to claw back from that so she plunged onward.
“I finally got tired of it and told her, in a fit of frustration, that I had a boyfriend and that I was fine. I was hoping she would get the hint and leave. When she asked me who it was, I pulled some name out of the ether.”
“You made up his name?” Clint chuckled.
“Glad you can see the humor in this, but it wasn’t completely made up. I had been doing a piece on the new equipment dealership in town, and Trace’s name must have been in it, because his was the first name that came to mind. Then Elaine decided the ‘romance,’” she made the ubiquitous bunny fingers, “needed some help. She knows Grandma always reads ‘About Town,’ so she wrote that piece about me and Trace going to the movie in Eastbar. And then Trace showed up at the office and he was, well, attractive and fun and interested in me.” At that moment, she was thankful for the darkness they sat in so Clint couldn’t see her cheeks flush with embarrassment.
“He is kind of good looking, now that you mention it.”
“You’re laughing at me.” She gave him a gentle swat.
“Well, it is rather funny.”
“I guess.”
“So, why did you break up with him?”
Nadine could see the soft glow of his eyes, remembered the kiss he had given her, their conversation in the restaurant. He had come for her. Grandma had asked him to, but he had come for her. She squeezed his hands as she took a deep breath and a chance.
“I like someone else better.”
Clint’s thumbs slowed, and he released her one hand, his coming up to touch her cheek. “That’s good,” he said. Their eyes met in understanding, and Nadine’s breath left her body. His fingers stilled, and moved from her face to her neck.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“Kissing you again.” He slid his fingers around her neck as his eyes held hers. Mesmerized, she drifted toward him. He drew her closer and then, finally, oh finally, their lips touched.
Hesitantly at first, as if the intimacy was too much to absorb at once. Then his hand tightened, pulled her nearer, and fitted his mouth closer, his other arm coming around to pull her against the solid warmth of his chest.
Nadine’s eyes drifted shut, and her hand slipped across the breadth of his shoulder, around his neck. He was warm, solid, real.
She kissed him back, their lips moving carefully, exploring, discovering. This was where she should be. It was as if a mocking echo of her past had finally been stilled here, in Clint Fletcher’s arms.
She drew back, her fingertips stroking his cheek.
His features became serious, then, as his fingers explored her face: “So, here we are again.”
She nodded, still trying to sort what had happened in the office with the articles she had shown her grandmother.
Trying to figure out what to do about Clint; what to do about Skyline.
She made the plunge. “I’m taking your advice,” she said. “I’m letting Allison write up the accident story.”
In the glow of the dashboard, she caught the glimmer of a smile.
“I figured that would make you happy,” she said with a wistful tone. Though part of her still struggled with letting go, she knew allowing Allison to take the article was a first and very important step.
Clint reached across the console and caught her hand in his. “I hope it makes you happy.”
“I don’t know yet. Finding out the truth about my father has been such a large part of my life—too large it seems—so it won’t be so easy to just walk away.”
“No. I suppose not.” He gave her hand a light squeeze.
“Anyway, I was going to tell you tomorrow, and then, well, this,” she waved her hand around, as if encompassing everything that happened tonight.
“I’m glad you told me now. I’ll be gone the next couple of days. I have a meeting in Cranbrook that I can’t get out of.”
She was surprised at the disappointment she felt.
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I’m sorry to tell you. I was looking forward to stealing a kiss in the break room again.”
“You wouldn’t,” Nadine said, half laughing, half anticipating the idea.
“I’m the boss. I can do what I want,” he said, lifting her hand to his and pressing a warm kiss to her palm. “Anyway, this one will have to hold you for now.”
She smiled and curled her fingers around her palm. “I’ll keep it in a safe place until I need it.”
He laughed at that, then turned ahead, put the car in gear and headed down the road.
Back to town.
Chapter 15
“What do I do with this?” Allison stood in front of Nadine’s desk the next day, her hands holding the sheaf of notes she took the previous week.
Nadine looked up at her, gathering her scattered thoughts.
“I’m supposed to get these into a coherent article by this afternoon?” Allison lifted her hand as if in surrender. “I thought you were writing it up. I don’t have the background on this company you do.”
“That’s why I asked you to write it up.” Nadine smiled at Allison as her intercom beeped. “You’ll have a different perspective on everything.”
“You’ve got a caller on line one.” Julie’s voice came in over the intercom.
“You’ll do just fine, Allison,” Nadine said, waving her away. “Now get to work. I’ll vet it for you once you’re done.” She punched the button and picked up the phone, dismissing her new reporter.
Allison looked at the notes again and then left.
“Hello,” Nadine said, with a grin at Allison’s expression as she left. Nadine tucked the phone under one ear, putting the papers from the desk and into a folder.
“Miss Laidlaw?”
“Yes.”
“I’m the lady who wants to meet you at the volleyball game Friday.” The woman’s voice was harsh and deep—the voice of a smoker.
Nadine flipped over the pages of her desk calendar, feeling confused. Nothing was written down. “Volleyball game?” She couldn’t remember setting up an appointment.
“I sent you the letter. About Skyline.”
Nadine clutched the handset, her heart fluttering as it all came back. How could she have forgotten?
“Five o’clock work out for you?” the harsh voice continued.
Nadine’s thoughts immediately jumped to Clint. What would he think? Should she do this?
She pushed her questions aside. She wasn’t doing anything with the information. It was only a meeting, a way to put an end to this once and for all, like he had encouraged her to.
“Yes,” Nadine assured her, pulling a pen and a pad toward her. “I’ll be there covering a volleyball game. How will I know you?”
“Like I said, I’ll be wearing a green sweatshirt and gray pants. I know what you look like. Just stay in the main gymnasium and I’ll find you.”
“Okay. Five o’clock, main gym. Gotcha.”
“No one else will know or be there?”
Nadine hesitated, wondering if she was getting set up. The lady sounded like a kook, but she didn’t dare offend her. She had waited too long to find out what this informer knew. “No one else will know. Can I ask your name?”
“Chantelle.”
“Okay Chantelle. I’ll see you then.”
Without saying goodbye, Nadine’s mystery caller hung up.
Nadine laid the phone in the cradle and, blowing out her breath, leaned back. There was altogether too much mystery surrounding this woman, and for a moment, Nadine was tempted to let it all go. She had promised Clint she would back off Skyline.
This is for me, she realized. This
is for my mother.
While she had passed off the accident article to Allison, she knew she had to follow up on this.
Clint waited while Julie patched him into Nadine’s office, feeling a moment’s apprehension, wishing he was back in Sweet Creek and not stuck in a hotel in Cranbrook. But when a major advertiser calls to talk about an account, you go.
However, now he felt as nervous as a teenager and had to remind himself that he was Nadine’s boss as well as...
He wasn’t sure what, exactly. He knew only that he had no intention of letting Nadine slip from his hands again.
“Hello.” Nadine’s hesitant voice made him smile.
“Hi, this is your boss. I was wondering if you have some important school-board meeting to cover on Friday night.”
“Wally’s doing that.” She sounded reserved.
“No volleyball games?”
“I’ve got Allison on them.”
She sounded distant, and it bothered him. Was she regretting their times together? Was she thinking of Trace again?
Clint leaned his forehead against the cool window of his hotel room. He wished he were back in his office just down from Nadine’s. He wanted to hold her and remind himself that she had come willingly into his arms. He didn’t know where to begin with this girl who had him tied up in knots for so many years. “Then you can spare some time for me?”
“Friday night? This Friday night? I thought you weren’t coming back until Saturday.”
I’m coming earlier because I missed you.
No way he was telling her that.
“I thought I could pick you up at about six from your apartment.”
She was silent a moment, then said, almost breathlessly, “Can we make it later?”
She sounded like she was putting him off, and Clint didn’t know if it was his overactive imagination or if she was avoiding him.
He really had to let this go. Remind himself of the good times, of the moments of closeness, of the things they shared. She was probably busy.
“Okay. How about six thirty? I’ll call you once more, just to confirm.” Goodness, he thought, sounds as if you’re making hotel reservations.
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