Clear As Day

by Babette James

  Kay froze, unable to think, speak or move. Her stomach twisted with ice.

  She must have made some sort of noise, because Nate broke away from Olivia.

  “Ah, shit! Kay! Wait up!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Oh, shit.

  Kay stood like a statue up on the point, shocked face clear in the moonlight.

  She bolted.

  “Kay. Damn it, wait up,” Nate shouted. She had to see that. Great, just great.

  He peeled the drunk, maudlin Olivia off him, hustled her the last few yards toward her tent, and plunked her into the nearest chair. “Got to go.”

  He charged up the trail after Kay. He hoped to hell Olivia would just put herself to bed without getting near the water. “Kay!”

  Nate gained on Kay, but she was damned fast, racing like a deer on the rough, shadowy trail leading along the hillside to her camp, and stayed just ahead of him all the way.

  She was two-thirds of the way down the slope when she slipped, stumbled awkwardly and fell headlong on knees and hands.

  Nate’s heart rammed his chest, jammed his throat. “Shit! Kay, are you okay?” Stones crunched and rattled under his fast-skidding descent on the path behind her.

  Biting back a cry, she pushed herself up before he could reach her, and with short, fierce gasps, ran limping toward the water.

  “Kay, answer me!” He caught her shoulder.

  Kay ignored him as if he wasn’t there, scrubbed at her cheeks with the back of her hand and angrily kicked off her sandals. She wrenched from his hand, waded into the water and scooped water to rinse her banged-up knees.

  “How bad are you hurt?” He dropped to his knees in the water to get a better look.

  She twisted sharply from him and kept scooping water, her tears flooding, while tight, strangled whimpers ripped from her throat and slashed at his heart.

  “Talk to me.” Light. They needed light.

  He loped from the water and grabbed the lantern, his hands shaking as he turned the fuel valve and punched the ignite button. Nothing. Come on, come on. He pressed the button again and the bright hissing light flared.

  He ran back to Kay. “Let me take a look.”

  “Go away!” She flinched away, turning her back on him again.

  Anger’s burn joined his fear. “Damn it, shut up, hold still, and let me see!”

  He brought the lantern close, shining the glaring white light over her legs. Kay’s knees bled steadily, the blood heavy, then thinning and blurring with every scoop of water running down her shins into the lake. How bad? Did he need Dave? Shit, Olivia was a nurse, but way too wasted…

  “Let me see your hands. Now.” His voice crawled out tough, no nonsense.

  She flinched again, and guilt stabbed him.

  “You fell hard. Let me see you move your fingers. Tell me what hurts.”

  “Just scratched. Not broken.” She flexed her fingers, and a sob broke from her, tearing at his heart.

  As he grabbed one wrist and held the light close, she turned her face from him, squeezing her eyes tight. Blood oozed from the cuts and scrapes on her palms.

  She wrenched at his grip once more.

  “Hold still.” He grabbed her other hand. More scrapes and cuts. “You look like you had a fight with a cheese grater, damn it. Your knees are a mess. I’ll get Dave.”

  “No! Just scrapes. I’m fine.” Her shaking said otherwise. “I’m fine.”

  Yeah, right. He heaved a breath, needing his brain and heart to stop beating like crazed kangaroos. He debated how fast he could run to Spider Camp and back. Leaving her alone wasn’t worth the argument, and nothing was broken. He’d get her bandaged and calmed down first and then see. “I’ll get the soap and the first-aid kit.” He waded away.

  She scooped more water against her knees.

  He splashed back to her without the lantern. “Hold out your hand.” He spoke gruffly against the sick chill his fear had locked him in and dribbled soap into her palm. “Scrub up and we’ll get you bandaged.”

  “I can do it.”

  “Kay, will you just shut up and let me take care of you for one damn minute!”

  “Don’t yell at me!” More tears rolled over her cheeks.

  “Then stop being so stubborn. Jeez.”

  She turned away from him once more, and doggedly washed her hands and knees.

  The moment she finished, he gripped her under the arm and firmly led her out of the water to her chair. He knelt in front of her and gently dried her hands and knees. Holding the lantern close to each hand, then her knees, shins, and feet, he made one last check for grit, mesquite thorns and cactus spines.

  And yeah, true, he wasn’t looking her in the face any more than she did him.

  The cuts looked clean, but sometimes cactus spines could be hard to see. “No cactus?”

  “No. I’m fine.” Her forced, thin voice made that a lie.

  He snorted, set down the lantern, and rummaged through the assortment of adhesive bandages. He peeled the first bandage and squeezed ointment onto the pad. “Hold still.” Dropping to his knees before her, he applied the bandage over her knee, another for her shin and repeated the process for the other leg. He peeled the next bandage, applied ointment and glared up at her. “Okay. Knees done. Right hand, next.”

  She reluctantly held out her hand and extended her fingers flat, her mouth pinched and tight, and her eyes all narrow and pained. Not okay, for more than one reason.

  Her palm needed three crisscrossed bandages and two for fingers.

  “Next.”

  She cooperated this time and offered up her left. Just one large for that palm and another for her thumb.

  He kept her hand in his when he was done. The damned ring winked and shone in the lamplight. “Kay, we need to talk.”

  She tugged at him, tension trembling through her, ready to burst into tears and bolt again.

  He kept his grip firm. “Kay. Nothing happened. Nothing was going to happen. Olivia was drunk. I was walking her back.”

  “You kissed her.” Her pointed accusation whispered out.

  Her distrust stabbed him through. He hadn’t done one damned thing wrong. “She kissed me. There’s a big damn difference. All I did was walk Olivia back to her camp so she’d get there safely and not drown herself. She’d had too much to drink. You know that. She said thank you. She kissed me. End of story.”

  She hugged her arms around herself and stared out at the lake.

  Oh, God, help me. The pit of his stomach crawled. No good deed goes unpunished. “Look, Kay, I’m sorry it happened, okay? Damn it, I can swear myself blue, but you either trust me or you don’t.” He expelled a heavy, frustrated breath and stared at her. “But remember I’m not whoever’s in your head freaking you out right now.”

  He jammed a hand through his hair, walked over to the cooler and pulled out two beers. He popped the tabs and handed her a can. He didn’t want anything more to drink, but he needed a drink bad. He took a long swallow, looking out at the lake. He took another hard swallow.

  He turned and met her eyes. Her teary, strained face was killing him here. “You’re not the only one taking a risk here, Kay. I’ve never asked anyone to marry me. To me you’re worth the risk. There are no guarantees, babe. Yeah, I have a past. You have a past, too. But it’s past. I want to make a future with you. I’ve never screwed around on a relationship. I don’t want Olivia. I don’t want that waitress at the café. I want you, every prickly, stubborn, sweet bit of you. I love you. It’s simple, plain and true.”

  ****

  Nate’s face was stern and his eyes steady. If she had any sense about these things, she’d believe he was telling the truth.

  He dropped into his chair beside her, joining her in staring out at the lake in silence.

  Men were deceivers ever…Why was Shakespeare going through her head?

  Guilt swept her and she studied the beer can in her hands, rolling the chill smooth metal between her fingertips, struggl
ing to dredge up the right thing to say. The bruises and cuts throbbed and her palms burned.

  What had she seen? What he said happened or what she wanted to think happened so she’d have an excuse to break off this nonexistent engagement? What really happened?

  One kiss. That was all.

  One kiss and Olivia had started it, not Nate.

  That was the truth of what she had seen.

  True, but what about what you never see?

  She was such an idiot, never worrying or thinking about what Nate was up to when they were apart. Now she was going to have this memory in her head all the time.

  You don’t know what he’s been doing while he’s away from you. So he didn’t kiss her this time. This time.

  Dad always lied. Lying was easy enough for Dad. Even easier for Nate. Who’s going to tell you halfway around the world?

  You’re just like your mother after all.

  If she weren’t so socially incompetent, she wouldn’t have needed that walk. If she hadn’t gone for that walk, she wouldn’t have seen anything, and she wouldn’t have this cloud of doubts stinging at her like hordes of mosquitoes. If she trusted Nate like everyone said she should, everything would be fine now. If she trusted anyone—

  She sipped her beer, avoiding turning to him, avoiding the words piled in her throat, replaying that kiss with Olivia. Olivia had unsteadily toppled into Nate and kissed him. He’d just held Olivia, steadying the tipsy, brokenhearted woman. That was the truth.

  A sigh told her she’d taken too long.

  When Nate spoke again, his voice was all gravel. “I know you never said yes. I know you’ve never said I love you back…”

  She flicked her gaze up to him.

  He sat there somber and hurt. “But you also didn’t say no. I’ve hung all my hope on that.” He finished off his beer and shoved to his feet. He held out his hand. “I’m not whoever hurt you. Just give me a chance, babe.”

  …sigh not so, but let them go…

  She set her hand in his.

  He gently raised her up and gathered her into his arms, his embrace strong and gentle. “You could always talk to me. That hasn’t changed. Ask me anything. Tell me whatever you want. I’m trying here, Kay. Trying to do the right thing. For both of us. Trust me.”

  She owed him an answer. She couldn’t say no without hurting him. She couldn’t say yes without being absolutely sure. And his concept of love and her understanding of love…And what about trust?

  But you’re going to have to say something at some point. You need to say yes or you need to say no.

  “I believe us, together, is the right thing, for both of us.” He kissed her forehead. “Just give me a chance, babe.”

  Going to bed was awkward for the first time ever, and it was all her fault she’d driven a wedge between them with her mistrust. She was too muddled from exhaustion and beer to get a full grip on her churning, fracturing thoughts, but she wasn’t so buzzed she couldn’t tell everything was an unresolved mess.

  He kissed her and cuddled her as if she were made of spun glass, and that made everything worse.

  Her tears leaked out, silent, slow, and impossible to shut off.

  Nate sighed. “Just try to relax and sleep. Everything’s fine.” He hugged his arm around her as they lay spooned together. “Trust me. I’ve got you.”

  He fell asleep with his arm trapping her against him. Kay fought the need to peel him off her and lay awake for a long time, listening to his soft snores, his relaxation luring and irritating. The familiar, primal quiet of the desert night failed to ease her. Her tear-raw eyes and scraped hands burned, her knees ached from the hard fall, her head throbbed and her chest stabbed with every beat, every pang and twinge of guilt, doubt and fear dug in like cat’s claw thorns.

  You have to trust someone someday. Just go to sleep. Maybe things won’t look so bad in the morning.

  Nate and the sun were both long up when Kay woke.

  The tempting aroma of coffee lured her to get up, but her body was one big stew of aches from the simple scrapes, bruises, strained muscles, and a lingering hangover from her crying jag.

  Sunshine, a pleasant breeze, and coffee—things should have looked better, but it was now Saturday, the day before Nate had to leave, and she had to face him after her wackiness last night.

  Don’t be a chicken. She couldn’t hide in here all day and she had to pee, badly.

  She peeked through the tent netting. Nate was sitting at the table, drinking coffee and reading a paperback. She steeled herself and emerged from the tent.

  The reserve and concern in his eyes blunted his welcoming smile. “Hey there. How’re you feeling?”

  “Okay.” Her voice squeaked from a dry throat, embarrassingly small and shy.

  She slunk away and took care of the bathroom business, and when she returned, her coffee waited ready at her seat.

  “Are you going to paint today?” He hugged her with care, his tone all no-pressure. He was giving her an out.

  Kay picked up her mug and winced at her sore hand. No, holding a brush today would be uncomfortable, and she needed to not wimp out. He would be gone tomorrow, and she was too torn over what she was going to do to focus on painting, however tempting the escape.

  He pulled out her chair for her. She sat with careful casualness and drank the first mouthfuls of coffee too fast, scalding her tongue, but needing the pause and excuse for silence drinking allowed.

  He’d hung his hope on her not having said no.

  Maybe that should be a sign for herself, as well? She would focus on facts, not jump to emotional conclusions, and reclaim the decisive person she used to be. She practiced yes under her breath. Say yes, say you’ll go with him. She had to. She wanted to. Mostly. It’s normal to feel overwhelmed at times, JoAnn had said. So feeling mostly was a good thing, right?

  Now all she had to do was get the words out of her throat. All she had to do was trust Nate with everything.

  Oh, shit.

  She cleared the lump in her throat. “No, let’s go hang with everyone.”

  ****

  “Sounds good.” Nate sipped at his tepid coffee, trying once again to swallow his heart back down into place. Now, time to ease into real talk. No pressuring her into an answer. Just talk.

  “You don’t talk much about your family.” He sucked in his breath.

  Uh, Quinn, what happened to the ease into it plan?

  She shrugged, her eyes focused into the depths of the mug. “We’re not close. Not much to talk about.” She drank her coffee down.

  He scrambled for another question. “Why didn’t you go to your mom’s wedding?”

  Kay winced, her fingertips whitening on the ceramic between them.

  Oh, bugger it. You’re as smooth as a bulldozer today. Brain ever connect with your tongue?

  “She didn’t tell me. She didn’t ask me.” Her voice was cool and casually dismissive as she pushed out of her seat, but her body vibrated with tension as she fussed over pouring more coffee.

  Ah, shit. “I’m sorry.” Before he could think—or say anything else stupid—he was standing and had her in his arms.

  She shrugged casually, in contrast to her rigid spine against his chest and the cool hurt in her voice. “I shouldn’t have been surprised. As I said, we’re not close.”

  He pressed a soft kiss to her hair. What next? Two feet in mouth already, might as well keep going. “What about your dad?”

  “Why so many questions?”

  “I don’t know much about your folks. I never asked.”

  “There’s not all that much to know.” She groaned. Giving in to answering his questions, or groaning at having to speak?

  She ducked her head, focused on the coffee cup in her hands. “My mother is a serial bride still looking for her Prince Charming and happily ever after. My dad is still the autocratic perfectionist, still travels nonstop, and still chases the deal and the women. My sister won’t leave the abusive jerk she married because
he ‘loves’ her. I live in Tucson and stay as far away from them as possible because I can’t deal with all their drama. If you’re wanting some sort of traditional everybody-comes fantasy wedding, it’s not happening. It can’t happen. I don’t want them.” She set the mug on the table hard and half-heartedly tugged for him to let go.

  Nate had never heard such bitterness in her voice before. Sadness for her filled him, even as his heart was leaping like a fool with hope at the hint Kay was considering a wedding as an actuality for them. He kept her in his arms. “But they’re your parents, your sister. You’ll tell them…”

  He felt her edgy twisting of his ring on her finger. “I’ll tell them, out of courtesy, but I don’t want them. So please don’t be thinking of a nice family get-together at a wedding to mend fences or anything. It won’t happen. Can’t.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too.” This time when she shrugged free, he released her.

  Kay sat at the table and picked up her coffee mug. She sipped pensively, staring past the mug’s rim somewhere toward the tranquil water.

  Nate refilled his mug and took his seat.

  Her next few words came hesitantly, then rolled like an open floodgate, “My parents managed to stay married for twelve years. They probably only stayed together that long because Dad was always traveling. Love was a wild, grand passion to them. They fought all the time, and made up loud and angry. They had a routine: Dad would blow in home from one of his trips, sweep her off her feet, swearing he missed her, swearing his love and showering her with gifts and attention. Mother would be blissed for a few days, then one of his girlfriends would call, or Mother would get tired of his autocratic ways, and the glow would fade, and the arguments, fights, and shouting would begin again. My sister and I learned to take cover, fast. I was ten when they officially split. Dad just stopped coming home from his trips. They hooked up a few brief times after the divorce was final, claiming it was ‘for the kids’ and again occasionally between Mother’s marriages, but Dad never moved back home. Dad can’t stay faithful, despite his promises of love, Mother isn’t a forgive-and-forget kind of woman, despite her promises, and they still can’t give up the fighting.”