Keeping Katie (A Mother's Heart Book 1)

by Patricia Keelyn

  Maureen could see that the memory hurt. The pain in Rita’s eyes was sharp, bitter.

  “It seems Will’s sixteen-year-old son had had enough of his father beating up his mother. The bullet went wild, hitting Mel just as he forced his way into the house.”

  Maureen groaned, feeling the senselessness of such a death, knowing how it must have affected Alan.

  Rita nodded. “Alan has never been able to get past the fact that Will’s son was taking things into his own hands.”

  “But surely he doesn’t blame that boy.”

  “That boy killed Alan’s father.” Rita looked at her hard. “It should never have happened.”

  “Yes, but …” Maureen let her voice trail off, her understanding of Alan’s pain conflicting with empathy for the boy who’d tried to help his mother. And there was Joey Simmons, supporting his family any way he could. Were they wrong? And if she believed that they were wrong, what about herself and what she’d done to protect Katie?

  No, she decided, she’d done the right thing.

  She could feel for Alan’s loss. Maybe even understand a little better why he saw things the way he did. But she’d done what she had to. Just like those two teenage boys.

  The tragedy of both situations bothered her. Couldn’t something be done before Joey and Tommy’s predicament turned into something more serious? Shouldn’t someone be trying to prevent a repeat of the disaster that had taken the life of Alan’s father? If someone took the time to intervene with Bud Simmons and his boys, maybe tragedy would be avoided. With that in mind, she decided to go out and see Tommy again. She’d check on his deer. Maybe if she could get closer to him, she could help.

  When Katie woke from her nap, they spent the rest of the afternoon strolling amid the booths, repeating the child’s favorite activities.

  As the daylight dimmed, they found a spot beneath a gigantic oak tree within sight of the bandstand. Maureen spread the blanket again, and dropped their accumulation of purchases and prizes on one corner. Rita lowered herself with a sigh, resting against the bark of the old tree. Katie immediately crawled into her lap, and Rita slid loving arms around the child. Maureen sat cross-legged next to them, a sense of peace and wistfulness stealing over her.

  All around them, the townsfolk began settling. Some carried baskets of food, others sleepy children. For a while, the evening grew quieter, with only the sounds of friends and families talking in hushed tones or laughing softly among themselves. Even the children, those still awake, seemed subdued.

  The air cooled. In the woods across the field, the first fireflies of the evening flickered. Birds chattered overhead, saying farewell to the daylight before quieting for the night.

  Maureen stretched her legs, tucking her skirt around her knees. Leaning back on her elbows, she felt the warmth of the soil and the springy grass beneath the blanket. The sun dipped lower, and the streetlights along Main Street blinked on. She fought the urge to close her eyes, not wanting to miss one second of this evening.

  “Are you hungry, dear?” asked Rita quietly.

  Maureen lifted her gaze to Rita, who rested her head against the tree, her eyes closed. Katie, too, hovered close to sleep, her head nestled against Rita’s chest. Only the slight movement of her baby fingers against Rita’s arms indicated she held on to wakefulness.

  “I couldn’t eat another thing,” she answered.

  Rita sighed. “Me, neither.”

  Silence slid easily between them, the evening sounds turning softly into those of night.

  “What about Katie?” Rita asked a few minutes later without opening her eyes. “Should we feed her?”

  Maureen saw that the tiny fingers had stilled. “She’s sound asleep. You could probably lay her down, if you want.”

  “In a minute.”

  Maureen smiled, understanding the sweet sensation of holding a sleeping child against your breast. Rita would hold Katie for some time yet.

  She let her attention drift back to her surroundings, back to the bandstand, where preparations for the evening’s entertainment had begun. The scene seemed somewhat unreal—not unlike the rest of the day. Six men, dressed in white slacks, red candy-striped shirts, navy blue bow ties, and white straw hats, set up sound equipment. She even recognized most of them. There was Abe Bollow, who owned and ran the grocery at the end of Main Street. Doc Readon, Wyattville’s sole claim to the medical profession. Ned Balwin, one of Alan’s deputies. And Percy, who ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner at the diner, and then spent the rest of the day reading newspapers outside the grocery.

  Never had she imagined that places such as Wyattville existed. These people, this town, the day’s events, none of it should be real. She found herself wishing she was truly part of it all, that she belonged here.

  Then she felt Alan next to her. It was as if the air suddenly turned warmer around her. Lifting her eyes, she followed the long line of him until she met his gaze. Smiling, she shifted slightly, giving him room to sit next to her. He dropped a small bundle onto her lap and sat down beside her.

  “What is it?” she asked, picking up the package wrapped in plain brown paper.

  “A peace offering.”

  “Hah!” Maureen stole a sideways glance at him while removing the cord that held the package together. “A bribe, you mean.”

  Alan shrugged and smiled. “Just open it.”

  Within minutes, Maureen had it unwrapped. She gasped as she pulled out the blue hand-smocked dress she’d admired and wanted for Katie. “Oh, Alan.”

  “It will look pretty on her.”

  “But …” Maureen felt unreality close about her once more. She didn’t understand this man. “Why?” she asked, searching his face for some clue.

  Alan shrugged again and looked away. “I thought Katie would like it.”

  Maureen kept her eyes on him, willing him to turn back and look at her. When he did, he reached over and touched her cheek. “You were right. I was a little hard on Joey today.”

  Her heart melted. She thought of what Rita had told her about Alan’s father this afternoon, and she suddenly felt she understood the forces that drove him. At least a little. She wanted to tell him, but the words wouldn’t come. There was this major obstacle between them, their way of looking at right or wrong. Alan saw things as black or white, she in shades of gray. Maybe in another time and place, they could ignore it, but under the circumstances, that was impossible.

  “Thanks,” she said. And then because she needed to say something else, she added, “Katie will love it.” She turned away, letting the hushed sounds of the park surround them.

  “The band’s about ready to start,” he said, his voice as quiet as those around him.

  “This town is like … something out of the past,” she said, conveying the sense of unreality she’d felt all day.

  “There aren’t many places like Wyattville left in the world.”

  “It’s like being in another time.”

  “Sometimes it seems a bit unreal. But not to them.” Alan gestured toward the others. “This is all they know. This is their reality.”

  “It’s not a bad reality.”

  “No, it’s not.” He paused for a moment, as if weighing his words. “That’s why I’m still here.”

  She turned to look at him, and he smiled, a soft, gentle smile—a smile that tore at her heart and sent a surge of longing through her.

  Who was this man? What was he? Not even David had affected her the way Alan did. He was a bundle of contradictions, and she felt both drawn to and threatened by him at the same time. Stronger and more arrogant than any man she’d ever known, he possessed all the traits she usually detested in a man. Yet he loved children and traditions and his hometown. He brought her gifts for her daughter. And he made her want him in a way she’d never wanted a man before.

  The band started slowly, pulling her thoughts back to the moment. They played old, soft music that must have brought back memories to some. A waltz, a love song … then, a
s the crowd on the grass stirred to life, the music grew livelier.

  “Come on,” Alan said, taking her hand. “Let’s dance.”

  Maureen automatically shook her head. “No, I don’t—”

  “You don’t dance?” He was on his feet now, drawing her up next to him.

  “Well, yes, but …”

  “Then come on.” He didn’t give her another chance to protest but started walking, still holding on to her hand.

  Maureen threw Rita and Katie one quick glance before Alan hustled her toward the bandstand.

  Then she was in his arms, and all other thought ceased. He pulled her close, and she felt the long, lean lines of his body pressed against hers. For a moment, they didn’t move, and Maureen felt the threads of her restraint slip. Then Alan’s feet began to move with the music, and she followed.

  She was a wonderful dancer, Alan thought. Light and airy, her movements seemed to come to her as naturally as breathing. She followed him faultlessly, not missing a step or nuance in movement. Then there was the feel of her, the underlying strength beneath the sheer femininity. She fitted him perfectly.

  He sought her eyes and felt the rest of the world drift away. He could see her struggle at first, like a small animal caught in a trap. She fought him. No. She fought herself. But his patience was gone, and he had no intentions of letting her escape.

  He knew the instant she gave up the fight, the moment she recognized the futility of denying how right this was, how perfect they would be together. At once, everything grew easier. And harder. They danced, first fast, then slow, until there was nothing but the two of them.

  When he could no longer stand the feel of her without having something more, he guided her off the dance floor. Without a word, he steered her into the woods and toward the river. She followed him willingly, silently.

  Once under the canopy of trees, it took all his willpower to keep from pulling her into the bushes and down onto the forest floor. But he kept going until they came to the river. Then he picked his way among the rocks until he found the path leading to a spot he knew.

  A few minutes later, they stood on an outcrop of rock above the river, a wall of ragged stone at their back. Below them, the water sparkled in the moonlight as it wound its way toward the Pacific.

  “It’s lovely,” she said, without taking her eyes off the scene below. “You always find the most beautiful places.”

  Alan studied her face, thinking the beauty of the silvery river below was nothing compared to her skin. He touched her cheek. She didn’t look at him, but he saw the slight flutter of her eyelashes.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said, lifting her hair so he could brush a kiss along the smooth surface of her neck.

  Maureen trembled at the feel of his lips, knowing she should stop him, yet wanting him to continue. He slipped his hands around her waist and pulled her close, pressing her head to the side as he continued his sensual exploration of her throat and neck. For the briefest of seconds, she considered stepping out of his arms. Then the thought fled as his fingers grazed the underside of her breast. With a moan, she gripped his arm, loving the feel of his strong muscles beneath her fingers.

  “I want you,” he whispered.

  She didn’t answer, couldn’t, but turned into his embrace, slipping her arms to his shoulders while he worked his magic along the edges of her collarbone. He held her tight against his hips, his hands spread wide around her waist. And everywhere he touched, with his hands, with his mouth, with the hardness of his body, the heat nearly burned her.

  She craved more.

  Slowly, he worked his way toward her lips, and the world spun crazily about her as she waited to feel his passion sear her mouth. Instead, he stopped, a mere breath away from what she’d been awaiting. She opened her eyes and met the coppery warmth of his gaze. He smiled and filled her with intense longing. She couldn’t wait any longer to taste his lips on hers. Weaving her fingers into his hair, she pulled him down until she could take what she required.

  His mouth covered hers, hard and demanding, spreading its fire downward until she ached for more than moonlit kisses and strong arms about her. The extent of her desire frightened her, and she pulled away, not enough so he would release her, but enough to give herself a moment. A moment to think. A moment to breathe.

  Maureen lowered her head to his shoulder, and Alan loosened his grip on her waist. He tried to calm himself while his heart pounded in his chest. He’d desired her for weeks now, watching her fluid movements at Lynn’s. Then he’d kissed her last week, and he’d wanted her desperately, longed to feel her lips beneath his again. But nothing had prepared him for her passion, or the way it sent a sharp claw of need ripping through his gut.

  He pulled away slightly, and with one hand, he lifted her face gently toward his. Looking into the blue depths of her eyes, he saw desire reflecting his own.

  “Maureen?” He brushed his thumb against her mouth. Her eyes drifted closed and her lips parted, drawing his thumb gently inside. He watched, fascinated, unable to move as she gently tasted the appendage.

  After what seemed an endless eternity of exotic torment, she turned her face into his palm and kissed it softly. Alan slid his hands to her shoulders and gently circled her neck with his hands. She opened her eyes and answered his unspoken question. “Yes.”

  Stepping back, he took her hand and led her into the shadows of the cliff. She came eagerly, as if she, too, could wait no longer. Her impatience destroyed the last of his restraint, and he claimed her lips with a fierce possessiveness. He invaded her mouth, and in turn, she filled his senses. Her warm, spicy smell permeated the air he breathed, while the sweet taste of her made him ache for more. She moaned, deep in her throat. Or did he?

  He pulled her closer, his hands splayed across her back, until he felt the frantic groping of her hands on his neck, in his hair, begging for more. He leaned back against the stone wall and drew her into the angle formed by his widespread legs. His hands cupped her bottom, pulling her even closer, showing her the extent of his hunger.

  Maureen needed no urging, and she rubbed herself against him, the ache between her thighs growing torturous. He aroused something within her she hadn’t known existed. A fire. A yearning. It coiled inside her, burning hotter with each caress, each stroke of his tongue. She needed him. Here. Now. On this moon-drenched cliff. Denying it had become impossible. Stopping it unthinkable.

  He slid his hands upward to claim yet another part of her. He found her breasts beneath the thin fabric of her blouse, fabric that was suddenly too thick, too cloying. As if reading her mind, he yanked the offending garment from the waistband of her skirt. The touch of his hands against her bare skin sent shivers down her spine. He worked his way back to her breasts, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. She moaned at his caress, her already taut nipples turning hard and aching.

  Maureen thought she’d reached the limits of her endurance. She thought he could take her no higher. Yet when he touched her breasts, she knew she’d been wrong. Nothing had ever felt more right, more natural than the feel of this man’s hands on her. Though she’d fought it, she had known from the very beginning that this moment, this physical contact, was inevitable. She’d felt herself drawn to him, spiraling out of control. But she had never expected this rightness, this feeling of belonging.

  The feel of Maureen’s soft skin was unlike anything Alan had ever experienced. Silky, smooth, more like fine satin than the skin of a grown woman. And her breasts, full and hard, growing heavier and more taut with each touch of his fingers.

  He pulled away to look into her eyes as he stroked her, but she kept them closed, her lips parted in invitation. He nipped at her mouth, and her eyes opened, bright with desire. They held passion, deep and demanding. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.

  Her hands pulled at the buttons of his shirt until they were skin against skin. He growled again as her mouth came back to his, and his hands returned to her bottom, grabbing and tugging at her
skirt until her soft, rounded flesh was covered only with the thinnest nylon. His hands slipped inside her panties, and he realized he planned to take her right there.

  “Maureen,” he said, releasing her mouth but not yet able to relinquish his other hold on her. He would stop now if he must, if she asked it of him. But nothing he’d ever done would be more difficult. “Here?”

  She didn’t answer verbally but drew his head back down to hers while melding herself more firmly against him. It was all the answer Alan needed, and it destroyed what little control he had left. Turning her so her back pressed up against the wall, he lifted her until she straddled his waist. She held him tight with her arms and legs while he struggled with his own clothes. Then he was free, and, ripping the thin nylon, he buried himself deep inside her.

  CHAPTER NINE

  They walked in uncomfortable silence back to the square. Maureen kept her arms wrapped tight about her waist, afraid to let him touch her again. It had all happened so fast. She hardly knew what to think, what to feel.

  She stole a glance at Alan and saw he felt it, too—the rashness of what they’d done. Turning away, she momentarily closed her eyes and stumbled over a root. Alan grabbed her arm to steady her, but she pulled away as if burned by his touch.

  He didn’t push it but stopped her with another touch when they reached the edge of the woods. “Maureen, are you all right?”

  She saw the uncertainty in his eyes, the concern. He was willing to take this all on himself, to accept the blame as his alone.

  “I’m okay,” she said. “This wasn’t your fault.” He hesitated a moment longer, and she thought he was going to say something else. Then he nodded, and they moved on.