Ever a Song

by Karen Toller Whittenburg

  “The kitchen.” Her answer was automatic as she watched Cade bend and lift Brian to stand beside Beth on the chair. Against the children’s fairness, his dark hair made an appealing contrast.

  “Gee, Autumn,” Richard said with a laugh, “that sounds too exciting to be true.”

  It wasn’t exciting, she thought, just nice. And she suddenly felt sorry for Richard, who had probably never washed a dish in a sink full of soap bubbles. “I baked a pie,” she told him. “Cherry. Your favorite.” Cade’s blue eyes regarded her solemnly for a minute. Cherry pie was his favorite. She had no idea if Richard even liked pie.

  “Sounds better and better.” Richard’s voice softened. “I miss you, Autumn. When are you coming home?”

  Home. Her gaze traced the line of Cade’s smile as he teased Beth with a tug of her ponytail. Brian blew suds onto Cade’s shirt sleeve to gain attention. Cade laughed, the children giggled, and Autumn felt left out, an outsider looking in.

  “Autumn?” Richard persisted.

  “I am home.” Her tone lacked conviction and she turned her back to the room before she spoke again. “How’s the new merchandising manager working out?”

  “She’s doing your job like she was born to it, but she can’t bake a pie worth a plug nickel. All things considered, I’d say she has great-looking legs.”

  Autumn laughed and Cade felt the tension stretching inside him. What had “Richard” said to make her laugh like that? And when had that hint of throaty seduction crept into her laughter? He was jealous of a voice at the other end of the phone; he was envious of the recipient of Autumn’s amusement.

  He had no right to be jealous, no right to feel like an outsider because she was talking to someone else.

  Not someone else.

  Richard, who liked cherry pie.

  Cade suddenly hated cherry pie and he wondered what he was doing in the Tremaynes’ kitchen ... besides the dishes. How had he let her talk him into that? He rinsed a glass and set it on the counter to dry, knowing that he had volunteered without a solitary protest. He had walked through the doorway and fallen into a trap of his own making.

  For a captivating instant, when he’d first seen her against the backdrop of the messy kitchen, her hair tousled, shirt sleeves rolled unevenly to her elbows, floury handprints on her jeans, and her feet bare, he had imagined that this was his home, his kitchen ... his Autumn.

  “They’re gone.” Cade snapped his attention to the mournful face of Brian, who was staring indignantly at the dishwater. “The bubbles are gone.”

  Beth leaned closer to watch the last of the suds dissolve. “Let’s make more,” she said to Cade, and he couldn’t help but touch her nose with a teasing finger. Beth looked more like her mother than her aunt, but something in her trusting expression reminded him of Autumn.

  “I have a better idea.” He rinsed the last spoon and released the stopper to let the water drain. “Let’s go on a picnic.”

  The suggestion met with instantaneous and boisterous approval. Brian, followed closely by his sister, bounced to the floor and raced to his aunt. “We’re going on a picnic.”

  “Hang up the phone, Aunt Autumn. Cade said we’re going on a picnic.”

  “Can we take the soccer ball?”

  “I’ll go get it.”

  “No, let me get it!”

  It was impossible to distinguish who said what amidst the excited chatter and Autumn placed her hand over the receiver to ask for a moment of quiet, but before she could get a word out, Beth raced out the doorway with Brian at her heels.

  Autumn looked to Cade in confusion and found herself unexpectedly entangled in the twilight uncertainty of his eyes. Tension crackled through her like static electricity and was instantly gone, leaving only a trace of awareness in its wake. Richard continued talking, but she heard only the shallow sounds of her own breathing.

  Cade broke the contact and began rinsing out the sink, as if he had noticed nothing unusual in that split-second exchange. And why not? There had been nothing unusual about it. She must have imagined, the odd look in his eyes. Bending her head in concentration, she tried to draw Richard’s words into a coherent pattern in her mind. It was unbearably warm in the kitchen. She must have forgotten to turn off the oven.

  Richard paused expectantly and from somewhere, Autumn pulled out a laugh that could pass for a response. Apparently satisfied, he laughed too. “It’s wonderful to hear your voice again,” he said. “I’m looking forward to seeing you. Eastport sounds like such an ‘alive’ place, I can hardly wait to get there. And I’ll expect you to bake a pie for me. What kind did you say is my favorite?”

  “Cherry.”

  “Right. Cherry. I’ll have to remember that.”

  Autumn frowned and zeroed in on a more important point. “When are you going to get here?”

  Something clattered loudly to the floor behind her and she turned her frown on Cade. He shrugged an apology as he bent to retrieve the metal lid.

  “I don’t know, Autumn,” Richard replied. “I’ll surprise you.”

  “Wonderful, I’ll love it.” Her smile of relief was genuine, although she wasn’t sure why she’d even worried. It would be nice to see Richard and it would be a surprise. In the more than five years she’d known him, he had constantly surprised her in one way or another.

  “That’s easy for you to say. It takes a great deal of plotting to arrive unexpectedly, you know.”

  “Oh, Richard,” Autumn said on a breath of laughter. “What would I do without you to keep life exciting?”

  “You’d bake cherry pies. Good-bye, Autumn. I’ll love you forever.”

  “Or at least until the next time you see the new merchandising director with the great legs.”

  “Oh, at least until then,” he conceded. “But what can I say?”

  “Good-bye, Richard.” She turned toward the steady regard of blue eyes on her denim-clad legs. At Richard’s final good-bye she replaced the phone and met Cade’s lazy smile with a disapproving tilt of her chin.

  He slipped his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, oblivious to her silent criticism. “There’s nothing wrong with your legs, Autumn.”

  “I know, Cade. There’s obviously nothing wrong with your hearing either.”

  His smile remained unchanged and he was definitely not stricken with guilt. “You couldn’t really expect me not to eavesdrop when you made it so easy.”

  “With all the noise you and the kids made, it’s a wonder I could hear anything.”

  “They were excited. We’re going on a picnic.”

  “We are?”

  Cade raised his brows. “Don’t you want to go?”

  Autumn pulled a hand across her forehead and walked to the oven to be sure it had been turned off. “Do I have to provide the food?”

  “Only dessert,” he said, subtly eyeing the pie as he moved to lean against the counter. “Unless, of course, you’re saving it for your boyfriend.”

  Her gaze narrowed in slow annoyance on the teasing edge of his smile. “I outgrew ‘boys’ years ago, Cade, and by the time Richard finally arrives at my door, that pie will be ancient history. Now, if you can refrain from making any more annoying remarks about boyfriends, I’ll accept your invitation”—she caught his sidelong glance at the pie—“on behalf of myself and the prospective dessert.”

  The curve of his lips deepened and warmed her irritation with friendly affection. “You never used to be so touchy, Autumn.”

  Which was perfectly true, she admitted, but things were different now. She wasn’t sure why, but she knew that things were different.

  ‘‘Let’s go!” Brian raced into the room, a soccer ball in one hand, a tennis racquet in the other.

  “That looks like a dangerous combination, fella.” Cade bent to confront Brian. “Let’s make a deal. You leave the racquet here and we’ll take Jay with us.”

  “Jay?” Brian’s eyes sparkled with interest. “Oh, boy.” He whirled and raced from the room as fa
st as he’d entered it.

  Autumn fought back the apprehension that had knotted her stomach at the mention of Jay’s name and tried to hide her disappointment. “The picnic isn’t just for us?”

  Cade slowly straightened. “No, do you mind?”

  “Of course not,” she said quickly, too quickly. “I only—well, with Jay and his mother—don’t you think three adults is one too many?”

  “There won’t be three adults. Marilynda wanted to catch up on some filing at the office, so I’m taking care of Jay for the afternoon. Now, the way I look at it, that adds up to three children, one adult, and one undecided.”

  Relief eased over her like a cooling shower and try as she might, Autumn couldn’t contain a low laugh. “All right, Cade, but I’m warning you. Next time you have to be the adult and I get to be undecided.”

  His answering grin made her wonder how she could have ever stayed away so long.

  * * * *

  Jay Meyers had the darkest eyes and the thickest lashes Autumn had ever seen. He was slight, small for his age, and excruciatingly polite—to her. With Cade he became as boisterous and bouncy as four-year-old Brian and as sassy as Beth.

  It took Autumn the better part of the afternoon to understand the sense of frustration that met her every effort to win Jay’s confidence. No matter what she said or did, he kept a careful distance between them. Ordinarily that wouldn’t have bothered her a great deal, but it was obvious that Jay adored Cade, an emotion she could readily identify with and that, even on a purely subliminal level, should have made Jay her ally.

  But it didn’t. Jay watched her with caution, if not suspicion, and Autumn felt frustrated and overly sensitive and ... jealous.

  Yes. As she folded the picnic cloth and added it to the take-home sack of leftovers, she recognized the emotion. She was jealous, but it had little to do with five-year-old Jay. It had a lot to do, however, with Jay’s mother.

  If Marilynda Meyers had missed the picnic, her name certainly had not and for that Autumn could blame no one but herself. Seeing the easy relationship between Cade and Jay had whetted Autumn’s curiosity about the relationship between Cade and Marilynda. But no matter how carefully her questions were composed, Cade’s answers were just as carefully unrevealing. Cade was straightforward about the Meyerses in general, both mother and son, but disgustingly vague whenever the conversation turned the slightest bit personal. By the end of lunch Autumn wished he would simply come right out and tell her that he was in love with the woman.

  Autumn sank to her knees in the middle of the quilt that was spread over the ground. It wasn’t fair to blame Cade for the restless feeling inside her. There was no reason for him to confide in her, no reason for her to feel left out because he didn’t choose to satisfy her curiosity. But she couldn’t think of a single reason not to blame the absent Marilynda for taking the gloss off what should have been a relaxing late August afternoon.

  Sitting back on her heels, Autumn watched the rough-and-tumble soccer game taking place between Cade and the kids. Her inner tension mellowed at the sight of his long muscular legs as he gently maneuvered the ball around three pairs of wildly kicking feet. At some point Cade had stripped off his pullover and his shoulders glistened with the sheen of exertion.

  Her gaze outlined the latent strength of his arms and traced the masculine slenderness of his hips. His every movement was concise, intriguing, and somehow more sensual than she remembered. Over the years, she’d thought of Cade as being tall, cute, nice-looking, and any number of other adolescent phrases, but she’d never before considered him in such a purely physical way.

  When had he acquired that subtle male charisma, that indefinable essence that whispered new discoveries to her senses? When had she become so breathily aware of the man who was her friend? She shifted uncomfortably on the quilt, her thoughts scattering in self-defense.

  “Aunt Autumn! Did you see that?” Beth pointed proudly to the soccer ball that was rolling with considerable speed toward the ditch at the far side of the park. “I kicked it.”

  “Good shot,” Autumn called, letting her gaze return to Cade, who was watching the ball with a rueful frown.

  “All right, Beth,” he said. “You kicked it, you go get it.”

  As if he’d fired the starting gun, the boys took off in a dead run, leaving Beth to shrill a protest and set out in pursuit. Cade rubbed the back of his neck before he walked over to where Autumn was sitting and dropped down beside her. “Too many afternoons like this could result in a substantial donation to Planned Parenthood.”

  She shot him a skeptical look and he conceded with a weary sigh. “Maybe I’m just getting too old to play with other people’s children. I always thought that by this time in my life I’d have at least three of my own.”

  Cade’s children. Autumn closed her eyes to see them. Sons, with his sun-browned hair and crooked smile, his mannerisms, and his engaging blue eyes. Perhaps one would have brown eyes, like her. She shook her head then, trying to shake out her crazy thoughts. What was she thinking?

  “It isn’t too late, you know,” she said casually, and had to struggle with each word to keep her voice from betraying her. “I’ve never understood why you’ve stayed single so long.”

  A sudden stillness closed around her as Cade turned a slow, unreadable gaze to her face. Her heart pounded with the emotion she saw in his expression, emotion that she recognized but did not really comprehend.

  “It wasn’t something I had much choice about, Autumn. Marriage isn’t one of the things you can just decide to do.”

  “Come on, Cade, don’t try to convince me you haven’t had opportunities. I can’t believe there’s never been anyone who meant that much to you.”

  Cade speared unsteady fingers through his hair and thought about telling her the truth. The problem was that there had always been someone who meant too much.

  What would she say if he told her? But it was absurd even to imagine her reaction. She was a beautiful woman who would forever see him through the eyes of a child. He couldn’t shatter that touch of innocence in her any more than he could blind himself to the desire that even now trembled within him.

  He looked up to see the children still some distance away. Beth was carrying the soccer ball like a trophy, and Cade could tell that Brian and Jay didn’t like it. The stubborn tilt of that little-girl chin made him think of Autumn, and he forced the reminiscence to take shape in his mind.

  “You’ve developed a bad habit, Cade, of dropping out in the middle of a conversation. In case you’ve forgotten, we were talking about why you haven’t had the opportunity to get married.”

  Her husky voice made the resemblance waver for a moment, but he got a firm hold on it before he turned to her again. “You’re too young for that kind of discussion. Ask me about it when you’re sixty-five.”

  His standard answer over the years, Autumn thought on a ripple of irritation. It had always been his way of teasing her, of keeping her from knowing too much about his personal life. Until today, she’d never realized how annoying it was to be constantly reminded that he was older, wiser, more experienced. Even hearing the laughter that edged his voice, even knowing he had no idea that she resented being treated like a child, she was annoyed, yet the very fact of her annoyance confused her.

  “Cade, watch this!” Jay grabbed the ball and kicked it before a startled Beth quite knew what had happened. The soccer ball soared toward its target, catching Autumn squarely on the shoulder. Her soft gasp was more surprise than anything else, although her skin stung from the impact.

  “Are you okay?” Cade moved to kneel beside her, touching her with concerned tenderness. His fingers were warmly caring through the thin fabric of her blouse, his eyes were deeply, intensely blue as he massaged her shoulder.

  She turned her head to watch his therapy, but her cheek brushed against his knuckles and her lower lip felt the smooth texture of his skin. Her eyes flew to his in startled question as her thoughts spun into a
new dimension of confusion.

  For a timeless moment the world around her stopped and she saw only Cade, his face so near her own that the very air she breathed was filled with his warmth. It was as if he had never touched her before, as if the facets of their relationship caught a streak of fire and diffused into a new and daring design. Poised on the edge of that moment, Autumn was aware of a soft, churning ache inside her, conscious of the fragile thread of tension in his stillness.

  Then there was a new touch, the insistent grip of reality as Jay pushed Cade’s hand aside to replace it with his own. “I’m sorry,” he said, his small voice hushed in apology. “I didn’t mean to hit you.”

  The moment was gone as if it had never been.

  She turned to the concern of dark eyes regarding her through heavy lashes. “I’m sorry,” Jay repeated.

  “It’s all right,” she reassured him as she patted his hand. “I should have been more careful in choosing a place to sit. Next time I’ll try not to get in the way of the ball.”

  His uncertain smile made her effort worthwhile and she felt Cade’s movements as he levered to his feet. She dared not look at him, afraid of the embarrassment she could feel descending around her.

  Cade bent to retrieve his top, but Brian tackled him with fervor. “Let’s play again, Cade.” Never one to be left out, Beth wrapped herself around Cade’s leg and added her persuasions to her brother’s. “Come on, let’s play soccer.” With only slight hesitation, Jay jumped into the fray.

  “All right, all right.” Cade surrendered to defeat with an exasperated laugh. “Get the ball and we’ll play one more game, but that’s it. This is absolutely the last game.”

  Autumn sent a silent thank-you to the children for salvaging an extremely awkward moment. As she watched the “last” game stretch into two, she called out encouragement and advice, but steadfastly refused to get involved. How could she rough-house with Cade? That would be all it would take to make her feel like a complete child.

  She was going to have to come to grips with her imagination; that was all there was to it. It wasn’t like her to act as she had done today. Maybe it was just the adjustment of being home, of a more relaxed way of life. Autumn frowned. Or maybe it was the changes she had found in Cade.