by Sally John
On the return trip home, they detoured into Rockville, picking up Chinese carryout, a favorite of Rand’s. The three of them ate dinner in his room at Fox Meadow, visiting until the older man had tired.
Making calls during their time together was atypical of Graham, but other things were even more uncharacteristic. Outwardly he maintained his usual subdued demeanor. Yet he occasionally lost the train of their conversation. His mind seemed distracted, his eyes focusing on something she couldn’t see. With Rand he fidgeted. With her…he maintained his distance…in every way.
She quit looking for another piece of music to play and walked over to him now. As she sat on the ottoman near his feet, he looked up, peering over the rims of his half glasses.
He closed the book. “Midwesterners are a strange lot.”
“You sound as if you’re not one. Weren’t you born in Chicago?”
“Buffalo, New York.”
“So you’re a settler, just like those Swedes.” Smiling, she took one of his hands in both of hers and held it on her knees. “Graham. Do you want to talk about it?”
He stared at her a long moment before speaking. “I can tell by the look in your eye you’re not about to accept the answer, ‘There’s nothing to talk about.’”
“If that’s your answer, I can live with it. But what I can’t live with is pretending nothing has changed. So I asked.”
“I think the third thing I first admired about you was your point-blank attitude. Do you want to know the first two things?”
“Graham, you’re not answering my question.”
“They’re part of the answer. The first thing was how very pretty you are. The second was how absolutely delightful you are.”
She lowered her eyes.
“Adele, dear, you’re blushing.” He slid his feet from the ottoman and planted them on the floor.
She felt him shift and lean toward her, but she didn’t raise her eyes. Flattery was like a foreign object intruding upon her mindset. It didn’t belong there. Compliments concerning an accomplishment for which she was responsible was another thing. Admiration for her looks or the way she spoke had never been a part of her life. Not counting Will’s compliments, which were usually when, in his opinion, she wore something especially suitable.
Graham placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face. “I’m sure you hear those things all the time. I didn’t mean for it to sound like insincere sweet talk—”
“I’ve never heard those things, and you sound so sincere, I don’t know how to respond.”
He removed his hand and smiled. “You don’t have to.”
“You’re right. Now getting back to my question?”
“If I recall, you asked if I want to talk about it. My answer is no, I don’t, but yes, I need to. I’ve been distracted today. I take it you’re wondering why?”
She nodded.
“It’s Rand’s imminent death. It’s the fifth anniversary of Sammi’s death. It’s being more vulnerable than I’ve ever been in my entire life. It’s finding you lodged in my heart while I’m not free to accept you there right now because I’m afraid to trust my feelings. It’s keeping a physical space between us, thinking that will dislodge you when the whole time all I want is to kiss you.”
She bit her lip.
“Forgive me for not being as direct as you are.”
“I’d say your answer was about as direct as you can get.”
“There’s still much you don’t know about me.”
She let go of his hand, slipped her arms around his neck, and whispered in his ear, “Graham, I’ve got the rest of my life to find out.”
He held her close. “Let’s hope it doesn’t take that long.”
Twenty-Two
“Tanner, just sit still.” Kate held the camera to her eye while he kept repositioning himself in exaggerated poses atop the video store’s counter. She lowered it, waiting for him to finish his antics. “No, we don’t want The Thinker.”
He removed his fist from his forehead, pulled his feet up and sat back on his haunches, scratching under an arm and making wild noises.
“Monkey is no good either.”
“This is an orangutan.”
“Tanner, you can be so infuriating! Just sit cross-legged. A smile would be nice. You don’t want to scare customers away.”
They had finished painting walls. Rusty had called and offered to bring over a late dinner, ribs from the Rib House. In the meantime, Kate was taking notes and a photo for next week’s article in the Times about the store’s new ownership.
“All right,” he said, stilled himself and smiled.
She put the camera to her eye again, focusing in on his face. The symmetry truly was extraordinary. Square jaw with five o’clock shadow. Perfectly shaped mouth, full lips but not overly so. Strong nose. Beautiful brown-black eyes that weren’t squinty, set off with long lashes. Masculine brows. Thick black hair combed back with mousse. Broad shoulders draped in a black sweatshirt, sleeves pushed up.
“Kate.”
“Hold on.” A smile that must have broken a hundred hearts.
“Kilpatrick!”
“Sorry.” She lowered the camera and looked him in the eye. “You know you really are handsome.”
“You’ve only just noticed?” He teased. He wasn’t a vain man, even if he did use mousse.
“Yeah, I did.” She raised the camera again, breaking off the eye contact. “And I rarely, and I mean rarely, notice such a thing. Smile, Mr. Entrepreneur.”
After she took a few shots, he hopped off the counter. “When was the last time you noticed?”
She replaced the lens cap and put the camera in its case. “David Webb. Sixth grade. He only had eyes for Susie Hall.”
He laughed. “Guess that makes me kind of an oddball?”
“No.”
“Sure it does.” He turned off the lights, and they walked through the back room. “If I’m only one out of two in your twenty-nine years, that makes me odd.”
Kate didn’t see it that way. She saw it as something…significant. Something she should tell Beth about, but something she didn’t want to tell Beth about because her friend tended to read more into things than existed.
She followed Tanner out into the alley and waited while he locked the door. They walked a short distance along the alley to the next door, the one leading to his apartment.
He said, “Of course, odd is a good thing. I mean, look at you. You’re odd and you’re a good thing.”
They went inside and he followed her up the stairs. She said, “I don’t think the two necessarily go hand in hand.”
“Well, they do with you. What’s wrong? You got strangely quiet all of a sudden.”
“Nothing.” The truth was she felt light-headed all of a sudden.
She pushed open the door at the top of the staircase and flipped on his kitchen light.
“Kate, I’m just teasing when I say you’re odd.”
“I know, but I am odd. I learned that in high school. There were a handful of people I connected with. A handful out of eight hundred and seventy-four.”
“Like I said, it’s a good thing. Go sit on the couch. I have a surprise for you. Maybe it’ll cheer you up.”
“I’m fine.”
“Sit down.” He disappeared down the hall.
Kate went over to the leather couch and checked her paint-spattered jeans before sitting. Nothing rubbed off.
She sat, remembering for some reason how it had hurt at times growing up out of sync with most of her classmates. It wasn’t until halfway through her junior year that she realized the social scene didn’t matter, the lack of dates didn’t matter. What mattered was that she knew God’s love, and she knew that with the brain He had given her, she could probably do whatever she wanted to do.
So why did it hurt now? And what did it have to do with noticing that Tanner was physically attractive? Attraction in that way only interfered with friendships. It confused the dynamics. Not that sh
e had been attracted, but there had been two guys along the way. Perfectly good friends until they started behaving like romantic fools, sending flowers and telling her she was beautiful. She still didn’t talk to either one of them.
Kate pushed her glasses up and blew out a loud breath that fanned her bangs. Maybe her body was craving protein. She had consumed way too many cookies that afternoon. Inhaled too many paint fumes.
“Ta-da.” Tanner stood before her, holding out a box. Its yellow wrapping paper obviously not put on professionally.
“What is this?”
“A thank-you gift for all your help.”
“Tanner,” she protested.
“It’s not a Galahad thing, though I do want to say you mean a lot to me, Kate Kilpatrick. I am grateful for your friendship.” He laid the box on her lap and sat in a chair. “Open it.”
“I’m grateful for your friendship. I owe you for helping me adjust to Valley Oaks.”
“For pete’s sake, Kate! Just accept the thing. You’re always wanting to make sure you’re not in debt, and you go overboard trying to outgive other people.”
“I do?”
“Yes, you do. And now you’re taking away all my fun in giving you something.”
“I’m sorry.”
He set his jaw and his eyes narrowed.
All right. “Wow, it’s heavy. Nice wrapping job.”
His expression remained the same.
Be quiet, Kate. She held her breath and tore off the paper. The box was plain cardboard with the ends taped shut. She pried open one end and reached inside. Her fingers landed on soft leather, and she knew it was a serious gift. Not daring to look at him, she pulled out a black bag that looked like a briefcase. From its weight, it was evident the bag wasn’t empty.
“Oh my gosh!” she whispered. She put a hand to her mouth and blinked at him. “It isn’t.”
He was biting his lower lip, his brows raised. He gave a slight nod.
She unzipped the case and saw the sleek black object that she had only dreamed of holding in her own hands. And then she gasped. “A laptop computer! Tanner!”
As she raised the monitor and gazed at the keyboard, he sat down beside her. “The sales clerk said women seem to prefer this one over some others. But if you don’t like it—”
“Oh, Tanner! What’s not to like? Look at this.” She ran her fingers gently over the keys. “I can’t let you—”
“Why not?”
“How can I ever repay—”
He clamped a hand over her mouth. “What did I just tell you?”
Tears came to her eyes and he lowered his hand. “Tanner, thank you. Thank you so much.”
He smiled. “You’re welcome. Now, that wasn’t so hard was it?”
To let someone outside of her immediate family so generously love her? Actually, it had been incredibly hard.
Tanner set the table, watching Kate out of the corner of his eye. She was still on the couch, playing with the laptop, calling out to him as she discovered different features. He knew his enjoyment surpassed hers. She was fun to observe, like a little kid once she had dealt with the discomfort of accepting the gift. Her glasses would slide down, she’d shove them back up, clap, and giggle. As usual, her shiny copper hair was pulled back, stray ends sticking out of a large clip. White paint streaked one side of her head. In the dim light of lamps, her sprinkle of indistinct freckles didn’t show. Her soft, creamy skin was like a child’s, untarnished by a lifetime of stupid choices.
The gift was totally unexpected, yet something she would use every day. Something she could not afford. Something that would not be in her parents’ budget. Something he could give her for the simple reason that he wanted to treat her.
Especially in light of what was coming.
The doorbell rang and he went downstairs to let Rusty in.
“Well!” she greeted him, laughing. “I guess we won’t be disturbing the neighbors, considering you don’t have any.”
“Hi. Come on in.” He took two bags from her and reveled in the scent of barbecue sauce. “Thanks for bringing this.”
She followed him up the steps. “You’re welcome. Do you have free run of the pharmacy?”
“No, the back door that leads into it is always kept locked. Here we are.” He shut the staircase door behind her.
“Nice,” she huffed, catching her breath. “The lace curtains are you. Hi, Kate.”
“Rusty! Look at this.” She held out the computer. “Laptop.”
“No kidding.” She went over to inspect it. “They make me nervous, but I know you’ve been wanting one.”
“Tanner gave it to me.”
Rusty glanced at him, back at Kate, and then she settled her gaze on him. “How’d I miss it?”
Tanner exchanged a look with Kate and asked, “Miss what?”
“You two.”
“Us two?”
She barked a laugh. “Do I have to spell it out?”
No, she didn’t have to, but he knew Kate would bolt if there was even a hint of courtship in the air. And he didn’t want her bolting.
“Rusty,” he said, “it’s a laptop, not flowers or candy or diamonds.” True, she’s changed my life, but I’m not going there.
Kate said, “Rusty, you didn’t think—” She hooted. “Us? Not in a million years. He needs some tall model next to him.”
“And what’s a tall model going to do with a friend he gives laptops to?”
“Okay!” Tanner interrupted. “Let’s eat!”
Faced with the imminent consumption of ribs from the Rib House, both Kate and Rusty dropped the subject.
Midway through the meal, Rusty said, “Katy-girl, I’ve got some good news. You know the DC contact I mentioned?”
She nodded.
“Jack came through. He knows a woman with the Post who said—”
“The Washington Post!?”
Rusty grinned. “And she said she’d love to show you around and could probably get you into a press conference.”
Kate’s jaw dropped. “Wow! Rusty! Thank you. I can’t believe it. I’ve never had that kind of a lead.”
“And imagine, it came from right here in Valley Oaks. You just never know.”
“Tanner, it’s another piece of your magic!”
“Looks that way.”
“Wow,” Kate repeated. “I feel like it’s my birthday. Did somebody move it up? Or is it Christmas in March?”
Just hold that thought, hon. Tanner figured Rusty’s news about leaving wouldn’t be received with the same gratitude.
After dinner, while Kate cleaned up the paper plates and Tanner made coffee, Rusty inspected the apartment. Eventually they settled in the living room with their mugs, and he knew it was coming. He felt uneasy. God, if You’re listening, Your Kate needs some help here.
Rusty coughed. “Well, I have some good news too.” She took a sip of her coffee, and then she looked at Kate. “You know about my friend who made that contact for you. He made one for me too.” She paused. “I’ve got a job in Chicago.”
Kate cried, “Rusty, that’s great! Congratulations!”
Tanner stayed mute. He already knew.
“Thanks. There’s a little fly in the ointment, though. I have to go next week.”
“Go?”
“Move. To Chicago.”
“How can you do that?”
“Fairly easily. Never did plan on retiring here.”
“How can Fred replace you so quickly?” Fred Wilton was the owner/publisher.
“He agrees with me. The new managing editor is right under our noses.”
Tanner saw an atypical calmness settle over Kate. The ramifications were sinking in.
Rusty went on. “You’re perfectly capable of taking over. You run circles around me. You write better and faster than I do. You’re familiar with Valley Oaks, its rhythms, its spirit. Your camera skills—”
“Rusty! I can’t do this. You teach me something new every day!”
“No, I don’t, Katy-girl. I just reveal something you already know. You’re ready. It’s like you already know how to swim. This is your shove into the pool. And, hey, you’ll get paid for it.”
“Shouldn’t somebody ask me if I want this?”
“It’s basically what you’re already doing.”
“I’m an intern. I’m out of here in nine weeks!”
“As of this Friday, you’re the editor. Nine weeks is plenty of time for Fred to find someone else.”
“I don’t want to be the managing editor of a small-town newspaper!”
“It’s temporary.”
Kate sprang to her feet and grabbed her jacket. “Temporary is too long. It’s always too long.” She rushed through the kitchen and jerked open the door.
As her feet clattered on the steps, Tanner heard her burst into tears. He stood. “I’d better go and make sure she gets home all right. It’s only two blocks, but it’s late.”
Rusty picked up her own coat and followed him down the stairs. “And I need a smoke. I figured she’d balk at first, but she’ll be all right once she gets used to the idea. She’ll realize it’s a good opportunity. It’ll look great on her résumé. But what did she mean about temporary being too long?”
“I’m not sure.” They hurried outside. “Thanks again for dinner. I’ll see you before you go.”
“Right. Bye.”
Tanner jogged to the corner of the alley. Rounding it, he spotted Kate down the block, running as fast as her short legs would carry her. He followed, keeping his distance, watching until she entered the house.
Hesitating, he stood on the curb across the street. Much as he wanted to go knock on the door, he sensed Kate was the type of girl who preferred to do her crying in private. He would respect that. For now.
Twenty-Three
During the opening hymn at the Sunday morning church service, Graham exchanged a look across the aisle and two pews up with Deputy Cal Huntington. The look indicated they would be talking in the near future.
Adele smiled up at him and nudged her shoulder against his arm, reminding him the hymnal was open for a reason. He joined in the singing.
Last night they had agreed on maintaining the status quo. In his vulnerability, he knew he was growing dependent on her company. In the norm, he would have fought against that. But then, he was losing sight of what the norm was anymore. He never imagined God granting him the ability or desire to love again. That it was happening under the present circumstances completely bewildered him.