“I do understand. I—”
“You need to listen, Kay.”
Kay put down her brush, too.
“I was very much in love with your grandfather. I told you how we met, but not about how Paul courted me. He was a rich, worldly man, and I was a poor, struggling artist barely into womanhood. He knew about my strict upbringing, and he never pressed me. But I loved him.” She smiled, and in that moment Kay saw the young woman her grandmother had been, and she understood why Paul had lost his heart to her. “I shocked him and myself when I couldn’t take it anymore, and I threw myself at him. Never has a woman been caught so well.”
Her face went misty with reminiscence.
“When I discovered I was pregnant,” Dora said, “he asked me to marry him. I first said no. I had my pride after all—the Aaronson pride—and I didn’t want him to marry me only because I was carrying his child. I wanted him to marry me for me. He said he was, but…”
She shook her head. “He immediately moved in to my studio—this man whose family owned a half-dozen homes, settled in to heating soup on one burner in that ramshackle studio. He said someone had to look out for me, and he kept asking me to marry him. After a month I said yes. But it was too late. He died two days before we were to be married.”
Kay had always known Paul Pelten had died before her father’s birth, but the topic was rarely discussed.
“You know he fought in World War II? He was hit by shrapnel. But he insisted they patch him up and he went back to his unit. A friend of his told me about that at Paul’s funeral. They left a lot of shrapnel in him. And the doctors said it must have traveled to his heart.
“One morning he just didn’t wake up. I was five months pregnant.”
“Oh, Dora.”
“Don’t feel sorry for me, Kay. You’re the one I feel sorry for. You never had a chance to know him, to be loved by him. And neither did your father. But Paul did his best for us. He made a will, dated the day I told him I was pregnant, with a trust for me and our baby.”
She pushed her hair off her face with the back of her hand.
“I don’t remember those last months of my pregnancy. I don’t remember the birth of my only child. I was drowning in grief. I was letting myself drown in it. Your father wasn’t neglected—not then, not ever. Paul had seen to that. And I loved him. How could I not? He was part of Paul. Ronald was given everything I could give him. Everything except rules and the self-respect they bring.” She looked straight at Kay as if making a confession. “Everything except my time and my attention. That I gave to painting. It was my salvation. And those early years of painting like the possessed made my career. But it cost my son. And that is my failure.
“We have never really known each other, Ronald and I. After he married and became so involved in your mother’s circle, we rarely saw each other. Until you were born.
“You brought me back to the realm of the human, where I saw Ronald’s weakness all the more clearly.”
Kay remembered the niggle of familiarity she’d felt that last day of the shoot, when Brice had come back and expected to have everything the way he wanted. She’d thought Brice’s ego was like a blindfold, keeping him from seeing anything else around him. Of course it had been familiar, she’d grown up with a man just like that.
“Oh, Kay, sweetheart,” her grandmother said, “I should have fought for you. And that’s my shame and my regret.”
Chapter Eleven
From every objective standpoint, the reception at Corbett House for Dora Aaronson was a roaring success.
Lana Corbett’s usual idea of entertaining lacked the basic ingredients of fun and warmth, but there were so many people here waiting to meet the famous artist that it boosted the conviviality factor tenfold from past gatherings. Plus, the guest of honor did a lot to make the atmosphere festive.
Dora dazzled the reporters Kay had tempted here with news releases. She took every opportunity, from what Rob heard, to talk up Bliss House, the mural and the opening. He knew Kay had hoped for TV, but everyone else was wildly impressed that the Tobias Record’s editor was joined by reporters from Milwaukee and Madison papers.
But to Rob all that was peripheral.
He’d arrived early at Corbett House, but Kay was already there, at the far end of the living room, assisting the photographer from the Record to get shots of Miss Trudi and Dora. Her head had come up and their gazes had met for an instant, then she’d turned away.
He’d stayed away since then. Although he couldn’t seem to do anything about the direction of his eyes.
What was that Kay had told him about framing a shot through the viewfinder? How the human eye could sort out the extraneous material to focus on the important, but the director had to do it for the camera. Well, either he had an extremely efficient editor focusing his views or everything except Kay was extraneous.
He’d thought that if he gave her time, her first reaction to his decision about his career would ease and they could talk about it. She would see that what he planned to do was right.
When she’d said she got to ask the questions during their walk the other night, he’d hoped she would ask about his decision. But she hadn’t brought it up at all. She wouldn’t talk about it, yet it remained there, solid and thick, between them.
“Here, have some punch,” Fran ordered, materializing at his elbow. “At least that will get your arms uncrossed while you stand here staring at Kay like a thundercloud.”
He looked down at her. “I’m not—”
“Yes, you are. I’m worried about you, Rob. I’ve tried to give you privacy this summer, time to figure out what went wrong with Janice. But that’s not what I’m worried about now. You’re not going to mess this up with Kay, are you? Just because she’s not in lockstep with you like Janice seemed to be doesn’t mean you’re not good together—in fact she’s just what you need.”
Need… Yeah, he needed Kay. That didn’t mean he could have her.
Fran was unfazed by his silence.
“I was concerned at the start, concerned you’d get hurt when she went back to New York. But…do you know Kay doesn’t have a place to live in New York?”
He opened his mouth, but had no chance to speak.
“Don’t tell me that means she’s not organized, doesn’t think ahead. It could also mean she’s totally organized and thinking ahead beautifully…if she’s not interested in returning to New York.”
Money came in from one of the grants Max and Steve had obtained in the spring. Rob deposited it immediately and spent the morning on the Bliss House budget. Even with the grant, the numbers weren’t great, but they were logical, and the work was familiar, straightforward, uncomplicated.
Besides, he needed to have the finances up to date for whomever picked up this job when he left, which would be soon.
He wrote checks to reimburse Trevetti Building and drove to Bliss House to deliver them. Max and Suz had put the business out on a limb for this project and he wanted them to have the money as soon as possible.
He found them and their foreman, Lenny, discussing how much renovation of the turret exterior had to be done now and how much could possibly wait. Suz took immediate possession of the checks and headed for the bank, while Max and Lenny happily expanded their horizons on repairs to the turret.
Rob went the back way to his car. Through the tearoom window he saw Dora, but not Kay.
“She is not here today,” Miss Trudi said.
He jerked around. He hadn’t heard her behind him. “Miss Trudi.”
“She called Dora this morning to say she was remaining at home because Chester is acting strangely and her temperature had dropped yesterday. Apparently, such a drop—”
“I know. The puppies are supposed to come twenty-four hours later. But it’s earlier than Allison thought. Did she say… How’s she holding up?”
“I should imagine Chester is rather confused and—”
“Kay.”
“Oh, you were inquiring
about Kay?” The woman’s face was practically saintly in its innocence. “I have no idea, my dear. No idea at all. Now, I must get on with my duties.”
Without looking at him again, she proceeded into Bliss House.
He’d promised to help with Chester. He wasn’t going back on that. Whether Kay wanted him there or not.
Kay opened the door.
“Oh, Rob.” She looked relieved, and that eased one knot in his gut. “I was going to call, but I didn’t want to leave her.”
His arms encircled her without any thinking involved. “How is she?” He meant, how are you?
“I don’t know. It seems to be taking forever. I haven’t called Dr. Maclaine yet, but I was about to.”
She had turned toward the hallway. With effort, he released her and followed to the sunroom.
The dog wasn’t in the whelping box. Towels were scrunched on the floor with Chester lying stretched full out with her nose between her paws. Rob thought he recognized one of Kay’s black T-shirts in the impromptu bedding.
The dog’s eyes followed Kay with pathetic confusion. Abruptly she raised her head and started panting.
“She’s been doing this for more than an hour. She keeps changing position, then panting, then pacing. And it’s so early.”
“That date was a guess, Allison told us that. And this is all part of labor. Remember what the book said.”
Kay picked up one of the dog encyclopedias lying open on the desk, but didn’t look at the pages. “I know, I know. But there’s got to be something we can do.” She dropped to her knees with the book in her lap and stroked the dog’s head.
“What about that raspberry tea you got. You said it’s supposed to relieve stress. And—”
“And strengthen contractions and help lactation. That’s a great idea. Would you make it?”
“Sure.” He could boil water.
Returning with the tea, he told her, “I called Allison, to let her know. She says it sounds like we’re doing everything we can do.”
Which was basically nothing. Allison had also said they should stand back and let Chester handle it. Rob didn’t say that to Kay.
Chester turned away from the tea Kay offered her, got up and circled once, twice, three times. Then settled down again on the towels.
“The book says Chester should be getting into the whelping box.” Kay chewed on her lip, her fingers tapping the bowl of cooled tea.
“Maybe Chester didn’t read the book.”
“Real funny, Dalton. Chester didn’t read the… Oh. Oh!”
Chester got up, stepped delicately into the whelping box, lay down on her side, gave a sort of deep pant, and the birthing started.
Kay flipped forward two pages in the book, made more difficult by the plastic gloves she and Rob had donned. “Here. The book says the placental material should be dark green or purplish and odorless.”
“It’s odorless. And that’s—”
“What does that mean—dark green or purplish? How can it be both? Why aren’t they specific? Chromium-green oxide or hunter hue?”
“I’d call it dark green, Kay.”
“You really think it’s dark green?”
“Yes. And I’m the guy who thinks before he—”
He stopped. They both did.
“Oh, my God,” she breathed. “There’s the puppy.”
They grinned at each other like fools. She had tears in her eyes and he couldn’t swear he didn’t.
“And she’s doing what the book said she’d do,” he said. “She’s a great mother.”
“Of course she is. The best.”
The euphoria didn’t last.
With the puppy stumbling through its first steps, more placental material appeared, but no puppy. Chester strained, panted, pushed, and still no puppy.
“Please call Allison again,” Kay said, totally calm now.
The vet told them to bring Chester and the new puppy in. Right away.
Rob carried Chester, wrapped in a blanket, to the car. Kay, with the solitary puppy in a clean towel on her lap, sat on a narrow strip of the back seat next to Chester, talking quietly, as he drove and vowed to rip a strip off Steve for letting Tobias have such damned rough streets.
Allison shooed him and Kay out of the treatment area.
“We’re going to supplement her calcium to help her deliver, Kay,” she said. “It’s basically inducing labor with an injection. Give the puppy to Hannah, and we’ll let you know as soon as we know anything. Now we need to do our jobs.”
Kay walked out with him, but she stopped and faced the door that closed behind them.
“Kay, they’re going to take care of her. It’ll be okay.”
Rob put his arms around her and pulled her to him, wrapping his warmth around her chilled shoulders. He moved chairs directly across the hall from the door. Another assistant suggested they move to the waiting room. He told her it wasn’t happening.
Kay’s fingers tapped against her thigh. He took her hand, their fingers interlocking, and she calmed. They talked. Disjointed comments about Bliss House, the opening, the mural.
Allison came out. Kay half stood, but Allison gestured for her to sit. “Everything’s going fine so far. She’s had another puppy and it went well. We’re going to give her some privacy and we’ll keep checking on her.”
She and the assistant went to other examination rooms. One or the other returned to Chester’s room every few minutes. Each time Allison passed, she said everything was fine, and Kay nodded numbly.
After more than two hours, Allison opened the door of Chester’s room.
“Kay and Rob, Chester has six healthy pups, and everyone seems fine.”
“She’s…she’s okay?” Kay asked.
“She’s fine. I’m going to keep her overnight for observation, but she and the puppies should be able to go home tomorrow. Do you want to see her before you leave?”
Kay took another load of towels out of the dryer and started folding.
Today had been the most peculiar blend of fear, elation, grossness and beauty.
When she’d seen Chester with the pudgy, stumbling blurs of fur, she’d had the insane urge to burst into song and tears simultaneously. Chester, for the first time in their brief partnership, had largely ignored her. Chester had more important things—six of them—to worry about.
Rob had brought her back to the Hollands’ and pitched in helping her clean the sunroom and prepare the whelping box for the next day when Chester and the puppies would come home.
Home.
Except this wasn’t Chester’s home. Or hers. No matter how comfortable she’d come to feel in this old house. She’d have to think about that eventually. She’d have to think about a lot of things eventually.
With the towels folded, she flopped down on the sunroom sofa next to Rob, careful not to brush against him.
“I am dying for a shower. But I can’t move yet. Lord, after this, it’s going to be easy to be a mother—at least they usually only come one at a time.” He rolled his head toward her and raised his eyebrows. “What?”
“That sounded pretty positive for someone who doesn’t want a family.”
“I never said I didn’t want a family. I said my biological clock hadn’t been wound yet.”
Questions and comments pinged between them without a word being spoken.
“Look, Kay—”
“Rob, can we…” She’d interrupted, but now she didn’t know what she wanted to say. “I don’t know how to say this. I just know you’re leaving, then I’m leaving, and after that… But until we leave, we’re both here. Now.”
Heat flared in his eyes at that final word. But his tone was calm. “Why don’t you go take a shower and I’ll get some food together.”
And then we’ll talk.
It hung in the air between them, but she wasn’t ready to pull it down and examine it. Not yet.
Wrapped in a terry cloth robe and turban, Kay came out of the bathroom to find Rob sitting on the
bed with a tray of two kinds of cheese and crackers, a cut up apple, two wineglasses and a bottle in ice. The ice was in the Green Bay Packers cookie jar from the top of the refrigerator.
He held out one of the glasses. “If this isn’t enough, we’ll get delivery.”
Trying to calm that ba-bam cadence of her heart, she took the glass. He filled it, then his own. Gingerly, she sat on the edge of the bed.
He raised his glass in a toast. “Until.”
She understood. A toast to finding a way to be together for now, to taking this time they had until they left.
“Until.” She touched her glass to his.
“White or orange?”
“What?”
“Cheese.” He gestured with the knife to the cheese board.
She laughed, releasing nerves and fear, knowing that had been his intention and grateful for it.
They settled more comfortably on opposite sides of the bed, eating the cheese and crackers, drinking the dry white wine and talking about how they would care for the puppies, especially for these first few vital days.
The wine was gone and the tray mostly crumbs when Kay shifted on the bed and her turban tumbled off. She automatically put her hands to her hair, mostly dry now and no doubt sticking out to rival a punk rocker’s.
Rob’s hand covered hers, smoothing over her hair, down to the back of her neck. Leaning across the bed, he kissed her. His tongue plunged into her mouth, questing without any hint of question.
He eased back, pausing to kiss her again, lightly, then sat straight, looking into her eyes.
She didn’t know what he saw there, she didn’t know what she felt. Except that she wanted him. She wanted this, their until.
He put the tray on the floor, then came back to her. Kissing her the same way from the same angle. She touched his face, and as if that had supplied some power he’d been awaiting, the kiss changed, deepened. He kissed down her neck, spreading the robe open, pushing it back over her shoulders.
She accepted, but only for so long. His clothes got in her way, so she evicted them. Then it was only them. Her. Rob. Not future. Not past.
Least Likely Wedding? Page 19