by Carol Cox
Mitch’s face sagged, and he let his hands drop limply to his sides. “It isn’t that I suspect him, exactly. I just know there’s something that doesn’t look right.”
“Doesn’t look right? And that’s reason enough for you to presume his guilt? I work with the man, remember? I see him every day, and I’m telling you, you’re wrong.” She stepped back, putting some distance between them. “You found some information that didn’t make sense to you, so you’ve decided some sort of conspiracy exists. But you can’t back up that assumption, can you? You haven’t been able to find one thing to prove this wild theory of yours.”
She whirled and paced the narrow width of the alcove. Her heel struck one of the potted palms and nearly sent it over. “You know what the real problem is, Mitchell Brewer? You’re so bent on making a name for yourself, you’re seeing evil where none exists.” She saw the lines of pain etched across his face but was too angry to care.
“Believe me, Catherine, I’m not taking any of this lightly. Do you think it was easy for me to tell you that?”
“I think you’re more interested in headlines than in protecting a respectable man’s good name.”
“I appreciate your loyalty to him, and I don’t want to hurt either one of you. I wouldn’t have said a word about it if you hadn’t pressed me to.”
But if she hadn’t forced the issue, she would have thrown open the door of her heart without realizing what he might do for ambition’s sake. Tears burned her eyes and clogged her throat. She turned her back on Mitch and spoke in an icy tone. “Take me home.”
Thirteen
Merry Christmas!
Catherine penned the bright greeting, then stared dully at the sheet of stationery, her mind as blank as the rest of the page. She shifted in the hard-backed chair and looked out her window, hoping the view outside would provide inspiration.
The sun shone in a sky of brilliant blue. Her lips twisted. If there were any justice, the heavens ought to be hung with leaden clouds dropping sheets of rain to echo the despair in her heart. She drew a shaky sigh and turned back to the letter to her family:
I can picture you all sitting around the living room today. Dad has stoked the fireplace to take the chill off the air before he sits down to read the Christmas story. Afterward, you’ll be laughing and teasing as you exchange your gifts.
Just as they had every Christmas morning of her life. Her eyes misted, and she paused to swipe at them with her handkerchief.
I, on the other hand, stepped outdoors this morning and barely felt the need for a wrap. This desert air is so clear that I can almost pick out the individual rocks on the side of Camelback Mountain. You’d enjoy it down here, I know, although I confess the mild temperatures hardly make it seem like Christmas.
Neither did the pain that lingered in her heart ever since Mitch had dropped her off the night before. Neither of them had spoken on the drive home, and he hadn’t said more than a brief good-bye when he escorted her up to her door. Truth to tell, she hadn’t given him an opportunity to do more. Given the coldness of her attitude toward him, it was a wonder frost hadn’t formed right there on the doorstep.
She had done the right thing, though, in cutting the evening short. Mitch’s suspicion of Mr. Showalter still stung. So did the knowledge that accepting her invitation might have owed as much to wanting to snoop around the Showalter home as to any desire to spend time with her.
At least she hadn’t let him kiss her. She still had her self-respect intact. Catherine dipped her pen nib in the inkwell and continued resolutely:
I miss you all more than I can say. Still, I can’t tell you how much it means to me to be here, especially at this moment in Arizona’s history. Great things are about to happen, and I’ll be on hand to see them all! And to tell you about it, of course. You’ll have your very own firsthand account of all the goings-on, straight from my pen.
Catherine went over what she had written, looking for anything that would strike a sour note, anything to give the slightest hint to her family that all was not perfectly well in her universe.
In the distance, church bells chimed. Catherine read the cheery missive a second time and lifted her pen again, ready to add a few last lines before her signature.
A series of quick taps rattled the door. Mattie pushed it open and poked her head inside. “Are you busy?”
Catherine summoned up her brightest smile. “Not at all. I was just writing a Christmas letter to my family. I’m nearly finished.”
Mattie slipped inside the room and produced a small, wrapped package from her pocket. “Here. I wanted to give this to you before I leave for church. It isn’t much, but I hope you like it.”
Catherine took the little parcel and reached in her desk drawer for Mattie’s present.
“You go first,” Mattie commanded. “I can’t wait to see your reaction.”
“Oh, Mattie, they’re lovely.” Catherine looked at the soft linen handkerchiefs in her lap and traced the delicate lace edging with her fingertip.
“I saw you looking at them the last time we went to Goldwaters’,” Mattie said with a grin. “I was glad when you didn’t buy them so I could give you something I knew you’d like.”
“And I do.” Catherine laid the snowy squares on the far corner of her desk, safe from contact with the inkwell. Her spirits lifted for the first time since the disaster of the night before. It was Christmas, after all. “Now open yours.”
Mattie didn’t need a second invitation. She carefully unwrapped the paper Catherine had decorated with sketches of flowers and bows, and crowed with delight when she spied the tiny bottle of perfume and the packet of sugared almonds within. “This is perfect. You know me well.”
Catherine had to laugh. “I know your sweet tooth, you mean. Those almonds won’t last long, but I hope you enjoy them while they do.”
Mattie drew herself up with an affronted air. “Are you implying I won’t be able to resist? I’ll have you know I have tons of self-restraint.” She popped one almond into her mouth, then another. “When I want to, that is.”
They both dissolved into giggles, and Catherine wrapped her arms around the other girl. “Thanks, Mattie. You’re a dear friend.”
“As are you.” Mattie returned the hug. The church bells tolled a second time, and she straightened, glancing at Catherine’s small clock. “I need to be going. Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?”
Catherine started to answer, but Mattie cut in. “You don’t need to make excuses. If I had a chance to spend Christmas Day with someone as nice as Mitch Brewer, I’d jump at it. Have a wonderful time!” She laughed and waved as she went out, leaving Catherine alone with her thoughts.
She managed to keep the smile on her face until the door closed, then sagged back into her chair. All the Christmas cheer seemed to leave when Mattie did, and Catherine’s brighter mood with it.
She couldn’t blame Mattie for not realizing how her parting comment stung. She remembered their excitement over shopping for the aqua dress.
“You’re away from your family,” Mattie reasoned, with an air of one who knew about such things. “He’s away from his. You’re going to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day together. Sounds like the man is getting serious.” She let out a wistful sigh. “This is so romantic!”
Laughing, Catherine had agreed. It had made perfect sense at the time. She didn’t see any need to spoil Mattie’s day by telling her things had changed. Neither could she fault Mattie for the emptiness she felt.
You’ve only yourself to blame for that. And why should you be feeling so miserable? she scolded herself. You’re right where you wanted to be, holding the kind of job you dreamed of.
All true enough. So why did she feel like a cavern of loneliness had opened up inside her?
She heard the church bells again. She pictured Mattie sliding into her pew. Would Mitch be sitting in his own church, ready to spend the holiday with some of his single friends?
It seemed everyon
e had a place to belong and someone to belong to today. . .except her. She picked up her pen and held it over the sheet of paper a moment, then scribbled rapidly: I’ll close this wishing you the merriest of Christmases with all my love.
She signed her name and dashed away her tears before they could trail down her face and splash onto the stationery.
❧
An eternity passed, although the calendar on her wall assured Catherine it had only been a matter of days since her disastrous date with Mitch. Seven to be exact. Undoubtedly the longest week of her life.
She lifted the current page on the calendar. Tomorrow would usher in the first day of 1912. But where the prospect of a new year once held nothing but bright promise, the idea of going though another twelve months seemed more like a prison sentence.
She let the sheet fall back into place. Tomorrow she could tear it off, assuming she could summon up the energy. Or maybe she would just let it hang there as a reminder of the month her life had gone from joy to despair.
Sensing that something was amiss, Mattie fluttered around like a butterfly. Catherine deflected her questions at first, then came right out and told her to mind her own business, too sick at heart to be able to bring herself to tell her friend how foolish she had been.
She managed to drag herself out of bed every morning, to make herself presentable, and to show up at the office on time. There, she could throw herself into a frenzy of activity, matching pace with Mr. Showalter, who was certain each day brought them that much closer to statehood.
Catherine clutched at those hours at work like a lifeline. Keeping up with the frenetic pace set by her employer was more than a matter of earning her pay. It gave her a reason to get up every morning, to breathe in and breathe out, and otherwise go about the business of living. Once work hours had ended, she returned to the boardinghouse. Ignoring Mrs. Abernathy’s tempting dinners, she would flop onto her bed and stare at her ceiling until she fell into a troubled sleep. And then she got up the next day and did it all over again.
Mattie watched from a distance, knowing her concern would not be welcome, but too loyal to abandon her completely.
Maybe the long anticipated Admission Day would spark her back to life. Catherine stretched across her comforter and tried to recapture her former pleasure at the thought of attaining statehood at last. It was no use. Try as she might, she couldn’t get past the ache inside. The tears that had scalded her cheeks the first few evenings had dried up under the heat of the anger she now felt. She rolled over onto her side and wrapped her arms around her knees.
Just who was she angry with? Mitch, for daring to question her employer’s integrity? Or herself, for the way she lost her temper and treated Mitch so spitefully? If she could answer that question, maybe she could pull herself out of this funk and get back to living again.
A quick knock sounded on her door. Mattie. Probably with some cheery idea about helping her see in the new year. Catherine clamped her lips together and refused to answer. If she didn’t hear anything, she might just assume Catherine was asleep and go away.
The tapping came again. Catherine stifled a groan and pulled her pillow over her head. She didn’t want to see Mattie or anyone else right now.
When the knob rattled and the door swung open, she sat up, ready to give Mattie a piece of her mind for bursting in uninvited.
Mrs. Abernathy’s round face beamed at her. “I’m sorry if I disturbed you, dear, but there’s a gentleman downstairs asking for you. I know you’ve been feeling under the weather lately, but I didn’t think you’d want me to send him away.”
Catherine pushed herself up off the mattress. “Who is it?”
“He didn’t give his name.” The landlady’s eyes twinkled as she backed out into the hall. “But he certainly is good-looking.”
Nathan Showalter would fit that description, Catherine thought. But he would have sent a messenger if he wanted to see her. A man of his stature would hardly go to his secretary’s boardinghouse to ask her to come in to the office.
Who else could it be? Her heart sang out a hopeful answer, even as her head squelched the idea. Mitch had no reason to come. Not after the way she had treated him. Her head understood that all too well, but her racing heart refused to listen to reason.
Telling herself she was a fool for daring to hope, Catherine checked her appearance in the mirror and gasped. Her hair dangled about her face in untidy strands. She yanked her brush through the tangles and dressed it in a simple style. There wasn’t much she could do about the circles under her eyes. That pallor, though. . .
She pinched her cheeks and bit her lips to bring back some color. She surveyed the results. Hardly a prize-winning effort, but the best she could do under the circumstances. Racing to the head of the stairs, she breathed a prayer that her heart, instead of her head, would be proven right and descended the steps.
Mitch stepped out of shadows near the doorway when she was still four steps from the bottom. Catherine gripped the banister, resisting the impulse to clear the remaining steps with a single leap and hurl herself into his arms.
She tried to arrange her features in an expression of polite inquiry but couldn’t keep a joyful smile from spreading across her face.
Mitch turned his hat over in his hands. “I thought you might like to go for a drive.”
Catherine completed her descent and tried to collect her whirling thoughts. So much to say, so much to explain. Where should she begin? In the end, she simply looked up at Mitch and nodded. “I’d like that.”
❧
The roadster bounded its way over bumps and ruts as Mitch guided the jaunty little car along a route that took them north of town. His attention was once again focused on keeping the car on the road, so Catherine contented herself with holding on for dear life and watching the landscape fly by.
As they left the city and its buildings behind, the scenery gave way to a sweeping expanse of desert. The tawny grasses reminded her of home, and she followed the sweep of their lines to the tall mountains that ringed the Valley of the Sun.
These wore a scattering of green on their dusty brown slopes, but a multitude of rock outcroppings eliminated any hint of softness. Nearer to the road where they jounced along, palo verde trees and stately saguaros dotted the landscape, and the scent of greasewood hung in the air.
A harsh land, some would call it, but it was her land, her family’s home for three generations.
The road ran right up to the foothills of Camelback Mountain. Mitch followed the track partway up the slope then swung the roadster in a wide loop so they sat facing the western sky, where the sun hung suspended over the horizon like an orange globe. He set the parking brake and turned off the motor. The sudden stillness came almost as a shock after the loud rattling of the engine.
Mitch swiveled so he sat half facing her. “I’ll bet you never spent a New Year’s Eve halfway up the side of a mountain before.”
“Why, I believe you’re right.” Catherine was grateful for his teasing tone and answered in kind. “Speaking of New Year’s Eve, I suppose you’ve already made a list of resolutions?”
“Only one.”
She waited a long moment. “Are you going to tell me what it is?”
“Later.” He leaned back against the leather seat and stretched his legs as far as he was able within the confines of the car. The sun edged its way down past the tops of the White Tank Mountains to the west.
A tenuous silence hung between them. Catherine didn’t know what to make of the situation. To all appearances, they seemed to be back on their old, easygoing footing, but neither of them had brought up the altercation at the Christmas party. Until they did, could she take anything for granted?
Streaks of copper, peach, and crimson shot out from the dying sun, lengthening the shadows across the land. The mountains in the distance took on a purple hue. Catherine twisted her fingers together. Mitch seemed content just to sit and watch the show of colors, but she couldn’t relax until s
he had made her peace with him.
“There’s something I want to say.” She knotted her hands in her lap. “I want to apologize for the way I acted last week. I was upset, but I didn’t have any right to behave that way. I was cold and unkind to you, and I’m truly sorry.” And I wish I hadn’t spoiled that kiss, she added to herself.
Mitch watched the shadows deepen. The hint of a smile played over his lips.
Catherine bristled. “Are you laughing at me?”
“Not at all. I was planning to apologize myself. I was just thinking that clearing the air this way makes it easier for me to tell you what I have to say.”
Uncertain of where this was leading, she tried to match his bantering tone. “Something about your fascination with sunsets?”
“No, about the resolution I made.” The teasing note remained in his voice, but it didn’t match the intensity in his eyes.
Catherine’s heart skipped. “And what might that be?”
Mitch twisted so he faced her fully. The movement brought his knee up next to hers. Catherine pressed her hands against her skirt to blot the dampness from her palms.
Mitch leaned so close she could feel his breath brush her cheek. He focused his gray eyes on hers and held her captive with his gaze. “Never again to let myself get distracted when I’m about to kiss a lovely lady. This lovely lady.” He slid his arm along the seat behind her, leaned closer, and covered her mouth with his.
Catherine felt his arm tighten, pressing her close against him. Her hands slid up to encircle his neck. Whatever she had dreamed this kiss might hold, reality far surpassed her imagination.
Once again she had that sensation of tumbling off a precipice—falling, falling, with no one to catch her, knowing she had to hit bottom at some point but with no idea whether something would break her fall gently or she’d shatter into a million pieces.
Their lips parted, and Mitch stared at her in the waning light, looking as stunned as she felt. A slow smile curved his lips, and he brought his hand up to cup her cheek. Catherine rested her head against his palm, wishing she could make this moment last forever.