“Kat, can we talk? I mean, really talk.”
One of her fears about this weekend was coming true. She wanted to tell him so many things. At the same time, she didn’t want to speak to him at all. She was stuck. If she walked out, she’d disappoint Uncle Charles and create more friction between her and Nick while they were in the courtroom. If she could just deal with him for the next month, he’d be gone from her life. This time, forever.
Resigned, she sat on the edge of the sofa with perfect posture and as far away from him as she could get. “Okay. What do you want to talk about?”
“What made you decide to practice law?”
“Alice, my adopted mother, helped me figure out what was important to me. She asked me what I would want if I could have anything. I said I wanted to be in charge, to have control over my life. I didn’t like the way they did things in foster care, the way I was treated. She asked if I thought I could do a better job managing the lives of kids like me. I’d never thought of it that way. But I knew I could. I’d been where they were. I knew what they were going through, what scared them the most.
“She told me I had a lot to do if I wanted to go to law school. She introduced me to Judge Pierce and helped me sign up for scholarships. She and the judge had me do pre-law at community college and join the honors college before I applied to Stetson. She helped me find volunteer work that boosted my community resume.” Katherine chuckled.
“She and Judge Pierce wrote recommendation letters and coached me on my interview. The college offered me a full ride on the spot. When I stood before the admissions board and they said I was exactly what they were looking for, it was surreal. I studied night and day, terrified I’d let Alice and Uncle Charles down. I cried when I received my diploma. Alice cried when I passed the bar. Judge Pierce helped me get my first job and had me assigned to his courtroom. He would never cop to it, but I think he cried after our first session.”
Nick sat and listened as if he cared about her triumphs and struggles. He’d always been able to trick her into believing she mattered. To him. Then he smiled, like a shark flashing a mouth full of white teeth. “Maybe we should get started on lunch,” he said and rose from the floor.
Katherine didn’t know what Nick was up to, but he was up to something. He hadn’t commented on her trip down memory lane after hounding her into talking to him. He’d just given her that toothy grin and jumped to his feet.
She got the ingredients for chicken salad out of the refrigerator and lined them up on the counter. He whistled while he worked. The sound was like nails on a chalkboard, and she wasn’t having any luck tuning him out.
“Okay, what are you trying to do?” she asked after a few minutes of his off-key attempt at The Andy Griffith Show theme.
He had the gall to play dumb. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You know exactly what I mean. You begged me to talk to you. I did, and you have no comment. There are no more questions about my past you need answered? I’m an attorney, too. We never let anything go.”
“I understand that talking to me is more than you can handle right now. I don’t want you to feel afraid or—” he paused, giving her a look that resembled pity “—inadequate. It’s okay if you’re uncomfortable sharing things about yourself with me.”
She stood in stunned silence. If he thought for one minute that she was some wimpy crybaby who didn’t know how to express the way she felt, then he was a complete idiot. “I am not afraid to talk to you about anything, Mr. Delaney!” She punctuated each word with a determined slice of her knife into the innocent onion at her mercy on the cutting board.
Nick had his back to her filling a pot with water. He made her wait until he finished his task and turned around. “I wouldn’t want you to feel anxious.”
“I’m not!”
“You’re sure? I mean, if things get to be too much for you, just say the word.” His concern bordered on patronizing. Her grip tightened on the knife and she fought the urge to choke him.
His worry and syrupy attitude were enough to make her gag. What was he up to? He couldn’t think she was that weak. “Oh, for goodness sake, I survived foster care. I can answer any personal question you want to ask me.”
“Okay. I’ll take you at your word. Are you seeing anyone?”
“Excuse me?”
“I think that’s a reasonable question. Your uncle mentioned you spend Friday nights with Jeremy. Is he your boyfriend? How serious are the two of you?”
“I don’t have time for dating. I spend all my free time volunteering.”
“So, who’s Jeremy?”
“He’s a friend from college. We do volunteer work together.”
“Hmmm.” He turned to set the timer for the eggs he’d put on to boil.
Katherine blew a wisp of hair out of her eyes and started dicing the chicken. “That’s all you wanted to know? My dating status?”
“I was going to ask why you aren’t married, but since you don’t have time to date, there’s the answer.”
“I don’t want to get married.” She forced the words out between clenched teeth.
“Why not?”
There was no way she was explaining the whys of that statement to him. “I doubt it would work for me, so why bother?” She raised and dropped her shoulders in a dismissive move. “Men in political office tend to be married. What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Are you seeing anyone?”
“No one serious. I stay busy with work, too. But unlike you, I’m not opposed to marriage. I have an image of the right woman for me. I haven’t found her yet.”
Her hands stilled. “An image?”
Nick opened the fridge and got the mayonnaise. “Not a physical image. A personality. I want someone who shares the same concerns for the community. Someone willing to go with me to political and corporate dinners because she likes being with me, even if she hates the social hobnobbing.”
“Oh, I get it. You want a trophy wife. Arm candy.”
His answer was immediate and defensive. “I won’t marry to advance my career.” He ignored her snort of disbelief. “I want someone who knows the real me. Who can sense from across the room that I need rescuing. A partner I can discuss problems with, who will offer intelligent, insightful suggestions on how to fix those problems.”
“Sorry, I don’t know any social butterflies with political goals. I don’t attend many dinner parties.”
“Why is that?”
She organized their lunch on a tray while he put ice in the glasses for tea. “I don’t have time. Family court doesn’t require hobnobbing. Besides, I don’t have any political aspirations.”
* * *
Nick released the dogs from their leashes once they reached the woods. The dogs took off, barking and chasing squirrels. He and Katherine jogged to keep up but were no match for the dogs’ exuberance. They found a place to rest against a fallen tree.
He watched Katherine as she ran her fingers over the rough bark of the tree trunk. “Are you really serious about never getting married?”
She glanced up. “I think marriage should involve love, but I...” Her voice trailed off.
“You what?”
“Nothing.” She slid from the log and walked farther down the path toward where the dogs circled a tree, eyeing a squirrel out of their reach.
He went after her. “There’s no nothing now. What were you going to say? Come on, Kat—you said you could handle the questions.”
With her back to him, she balled her fists at her sides and took a deep breath before she faced him. Her eyes were vacant, cold. “My mother loved my father, too much. And then I let myself care about someone. But he wasn’t who I thought he was. He did help me realize the level of emotions involved in our relationship were very uneven. I tha
nk God every day I found out before I did something too stupid to take back. So, you see, I’m not a good long-term risk. I can’t commit because I’m not capable of loving a man the way you should for a relationship to work. I would never trust that he loved me that much.”
The hurt in her eyes matched the quiver of emotion in her voice. But he knew she showed her capacity to love every day. She poured her heart, her soul, into those kids she helped, one case at a time.
“Is that why you dump all your love into your work?” He kept his voice quiet, almost gentle. Her answer was important. Somehow, he believed the world would be dimmer if she gave up hope.
She looked at him in bewilderment. “My work? What has my job got to do with love?”
“Uh, you think what you do doesn’t require love?”
“No, what I do involves compassion. There isn’t room for love in my job. I deal with abandoned, neglected children who have tender emotions. I’m a temporary fixture in their lives. I can’t let them get too attached to me or they’ll be hurt even worse when they get transferred.” Her voice was raw, edged with the emotions she fought to control, but they flickered across her face, reflecting in her expressive eyes.
“No, reading their case files and making a recommendation for their care is your job. Driving a little boy to see his grandmother on weekends goes beyond an act of compassion.” He stepped away, then turned back. “I get that you want to keep your heart safe. You only share your emotions with the revolving door of cases you handle because you think it will stop you from getting hurt.”
He drew in a deep breath, while she stood motionless. “But there will come a day when a guy takes one look at you and that big marshmallow of a heart you have and he’ll recognize what a treasure you are. He won’t be able to let you go.” He walked up to her and cupped her cheek in his hand, his words a whispered plea. “When he does, at least give him the chance to love you as much as you deserve.” He dropped his hand and moved toward the dogs.
“I can assure you, no man is going to walk into court and decide I’m his dream come true. I live in the real world. I’m happy being alone. My life is full. You’re the one looking for a partner, not me.”
The anger and bitterness in her words caught him by surprise and he called her bluff. “You’re right. I’m the one who doesn’t want to spend the rest of my life coming home to an empty apartment. I want someone who’s not afraid to share my dreams, my love. You’re hiding from the real world. So keep on volunteering and avoid living life and stay safe. No one will ever be able to touch that precious heart of yours.”
Her chest was heaving. She flung each word at him like a rock meant to do him harm. “I’m not hiding from anything. Do you know how many kids I help doing what I do? How many battered women I give free legal advice? I am living. I don’t need a man to tell me I’m worth something. My worth shows in the people I help. The lives I change for the better.”
Buster and Bruno reacted to her distress. They whined and pawed at her for attention. She reached down and rubbed their backs until they quieted.
He didn’t want to fight with her. He cared about her. But it wasn’t in his power to make her happy. He asked God to give her peace, to comfort her. To show her there was someone out there for her. That she wasn’t meant to be alone.
“I’m sorry.” His voice gentled. “But I think you sell yourself short. You’re worth far more than the job you do, as great as you are at it. Has anyone ever nominated you for Citizen of the Year?”
She growled and looked like she was going to scratch his eyes out.
“What? I’m serious. You do so much to help the people of this community. That’s what the award is for, isn’t it?”
“What is it with that stupid award?” She threw her hands up and stalked back toward the house.
He jogged to catch up with her. “What’d I say?”
Once they reached the house, Nick hurried to clean up before coming into the kitchen, ready to help and talk to her some more. Now that she was finally opening up, he wasn’t giving her a chance to slide back into her shell.
“What are we making?”
“I’m making a strawberry pizza.”
“Strawberry pizza? You mean strawberries with tomato sauce?”
She laughed. “Think of it as a big cheesecake with a strawberry glaze.”
“O-kaayyyy, that’s better. But I still don’t know where the pizza comes in. But you’re the boss. What do you need me to do?”
“I need four cups of sliced berries.”
They worked in companionable silence. He split his attention between slicing berries and watching her make the glaze. But when she opened the fridge and set the pot from the stove on one of the shelves, his curiosity won out. “What are you doing? That’s a hot pot you put in there.”
“I know. I put a trivet on the shelf. Trust me, it’ll be fine.”
“If you say so.
She shook her head and offered him a rueful smile. “It’s the judge’s favorite. Alice always made this for him on his birthday.”
“I’ll wait until I’ve taste it before passing judgment.” After a long pause, he continued his questions. “Where did you learn to cook?”
She was stirring graham cracker crumbs and melted butter together in a bowl. She stayed silent so long, he wasn’t sure she’d answer. “I volunteered for kitchen duty at the group homes where I stayed. The bullies wouldn’t be caught dead doing KP so it was a safe place. The cooks always appreciated an extra pair of hands, no matter how inept. Eventually they shared techniques and recipes.” She dumped the mixture into a glass dish and smoothed it out with a spatula before popping it into the oven.
She carried the bowl she’d used to mix the ingredients over to the sink, turned on the faucet, and grabbed the soapy sponge. “The hardest thing after I was out of foster care was remembering to reduce the recipes. I was used to feeding twenty people.”
Nick took the bowl from the drying rack and wiped it with a towel. “Well, we always had a cook. Unless she left milk and cookies on the table, the kitchen was off limits. I learned how to microwave frozen dinners and boil water while away at college, but that’s as good I can do.”
They stood next to each other, working in tandem. She washed and rinsed. He dried and stacked. When she handed him the last dish, she said, “Maybe you should add cooking to your list of requirements for that partner you’re after. She’s sounding more and more like a hostess. I hear Abby Blackmon’s available. Tell her you’re nice to small children and you’ll score some extra brownie points.”
He clenched his jaw, but held his tongue.
“Dinner’s almost ready. Nick, I was teasing.” The ding of the oven timer distracted her.
He left while her back was turned.
Their meal consisted of a beef roast she’d cooked in the crockpot with vegetables. Dinner conversation, however, was subdued and stilted. The judge pounced on their lack of communication. “Anything happen while you were out with the dogs?”
“No, we were fine.” She shifted the carrots around on her plate. “Nick thinks someone should nominate me for Citizen of the Year.”
The judge choked on his food. Nick leaned back out of the line of fire.
“Well, you should be nominated.” The judge pounded his fist on the table like a gavel.
“I completed that volunteer history because of emotional blackmail. I’m still not happy with you.”
The judge ignored her and turned toward Nick. “I have friends on the committee that selects the Citizen of the Year. This year they’ve asked me to speak. I thought it would be a good idea to have Katherine and other volunteers document the work they do so the committee can see how many charities benefit from the volunteers’ hard work within our community.”
“I think Abby Blackmon is the ideal nominee,” s
he said. “Her father donated a truckload of money to build that new children’s wing. She speaks well. She photographs well. She’s used to being in the limelight and attends charity luncheons. People doing the grunt work belong in the background.”
Uncle Charles nailed her with a stern glare. “Well this time you will be front and center, young lady. I have a table reserved with your name on one of the place cards. It starts at six Friday night. You’d better not be late.” With a smile, he motioned to Nick. “Would you care to join us?”
Nick took the opportunity to score a point of his own. “My father wanted me to call and see if Abby Blackmon was available.”
Kat’s glance jumped to his. He smiled. “I told him I could arrange my own dates. I’ll be happy to go and I won’t need a date. I’ll bring Kat, to make sure she arrives on time,” he promised, without taking his eyes off her. “You don’t mind riding with me, do you?”
“Don’t put yourself out on my account. I’m more than able to drive myself.”
He leaned forward. “That’s okay. I don’t mind. Besides, it’ll free up a parking space.” His eyes twinkled with laughter in answer to her glare.
The judge missed the undercurrent, or maybe not, because he gave his hearty approval. “That’s an excellent idea. Katherine, you’ll ride with Nick.”
“Fine. Who wants dessert?” She rose from the table, tossed her napkin over her plate and stalked toward the kitchen.
She returned with a dish of fluffy white filling topped with a bright red sauce loaded with berries and set it in the middle of the table. “There’s some spaghetti sauce in the kitchen. I could drizzle some over your piece.” She threw him an impish smile.
“Don’t you dare. I’ll take a serving just like it is.”
“It might taste terrible.”
“No. Sometimes a man knows with one look when something’s perfect.” His gaze locked with hers.
Her hand wobbled when she handed him a plate loaded with a generous serving. With his first bite, his eyes slid closed and he moaned in pleasure.
“If you’re this crazy about food, you need to either take cooking lessons or marry a chef.”
Campaigning for Love Page 6