by Sandra Brown
“Would you like to take a ride?” He nodded. “You got it, cowboy.” She led him through the gate and into the ring. He selected the smallest of the ponies. “This one’s my favorite, too,” she whispered confidentially. “He’s got the prettiest mane and the longest tail. And I think he likes you best, too. I saw him scoping you out.”
Michael smiled shyly, and her heart nearly burst.
A man dressed like a cowboy was helping the other children mount, so Cat bent down to lift Michael into the saddle.
“Better let me. He’s probably heavier than he looks.”
She was brushed aside by a pair of hands she knew by sight and touch. Alex lifted Michael with ease and swung him into the saddle.
“There you go, Hopalong. Here’re your reins. Hold them like this.” He folded Michael’s fingers around the strips of leather, then placed both hands on the pommel of the saddle. “Say, podnuh, I think you’ve done this before. You’re a natural-born cowpoke.” He gave Michael a companionable pat on the back.
“Everything okay here?” The man in charge checked to see that Michael was safely situated in the small saddle.
Cat placed her hand on the boy’s thigh. “Michael? Are you ready?”
He had a white-knuckle grip on the saddle horn, but he bobbed his head up and down.
“I’ll be right over there,” she said, pointing to the spot. “I’ll be watching you. I won’t leave.”
She took up her post at the railing in full view of Michael and waved at him. The “cowboy” made a kissing sound and the four ponies plodded forward in their controlled circle.
The boy’s face registered an attack of abject terror, but it quickly passed. He glanced nervously at Cat out the corners of his eyes, afraid to move his head. She smiled encouragement and kept her eyes on him even when Alex moved into place beside her.
“Cute kid.”
“What are you doing here, Alex?”
“I was invited.”
“This is one social obligation you could have declined.”
“I came because I wanted to make a contribution to Cat’s Kids.”
“Oh, please.”
“It’s true.”
“So why didn’t you mail a check?”
“Because I also wanted to see you.”
She turned toward him and, for the first time, looked him straight in the eye. Which was a mistake. Because he looked good enough to eat. And the intensity with which he was looking at her brought back memories that were both wonderful and distressing.
She turned back to Michael and waved as he rode past. “Then you’ve wasted your time. Don’t you remember the last thing I said to you?”
“You told me to fuck off.”
She bowed her head and uttered a short laugh. “I don’t think I phrased it quite that explicitly, but that was more or less what I meant.”
“I’ve tried to contact you a hundred times. Where’ve you been?”
“I went to California.”
“To cry on Dr. Feelgood’s shoulder?”
“Dean’s a trusted friend.”
“How sweet.”
“At least I know exactly where I stand with him.”
“Damn right you do. And so do I. You’re beholden to him. The pill-pusher takes full advantage of that.”
“Dean is not a pill-pusher and my relationship with him—”
People were watching them, some with knowing smiles on their faces. Those who had attended Nancy’s dinner party where Alex had been her date probably thought there was a hot romance between them.
Not wanting to create a spectacle, she pasted on a smile and returned her attention to Michael, who had become brave enough to bounce his heels against the pony’s sides, imitating the older boy riding on the pony in front of his.
“Go away, Alex,” she said under her breath. “You’ve made your position clear, and so have I. We’ve got nothing else to say to each other.”
“I’m afraid it’s not that easy, Cat. Charlie and Irene Walters are itching to meet you, and they’ll be here soon. They vowed they’d never speak to me again if I didn’t personally introduce you to them.” He took a step closer. “It was great of you to call and invite them.”
“Since our scheduled first meeting went awry, I thought I should extend them a personal invitation.”
“They also said that someone from the state agency called and set up another interview. Was that also your doing?”
“Sherry thought they sounded like perfect candidates to adopt and was disappointed when I told her about the mixup. I’m sure she followed up.”
“But you put in a good word for them.”
She shrugged.
“Thanks.”
She turned on him, barely containing her anger. “It’s not up to you to thank me. I didn’t do it for you. I did it for Mr. and Mrs. Walters. As you pointed out to me the morning we met, I shouldn’t judge them by the company they keep. By all means, I’ll be delighted to meet them when they arrive, but make yourself scarce. Now, if you’ll excuse me, the ride is over and I’ve got to get Michael.”
She pushed past Alex and went into the ring.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Alex let her go. He was sensitive to Cat’s position, especially at this function. She represented Cat’s Kids, and vice versa. Everything she said and did reflected on the program. He didn’t want to be responsible for any negative publicity, so he pretended that he was ready to end their conversation. He even managed a smile for anyone who might be watching.
As soon as Cat left the pony ride with Michael, Nancy Webster summoned her to the gazebo, where a crowd had gathered. Alex caught the word: Willie Nelson had arrived.
The singer sang a few songs. Cat, serving as honorary hostess of the event, remained on the platform with his band. She held Michael on her lap and even coaxed him to clap his hands in time to the music. He was still in her arms when she went to the microphone and made a few welcoming remarks, then urged those in attendance to contribute what they could for the children’s special needs.
Following the short program, she stood and talked to the country/western star. Each time she laughed at something he said, Alex’s gut tightened with uncharacteristic jealousy. Finally the performer departed with his ragtag entourage, which, in Alex’s biased opinion, looked like an offshore drilling crew after a two-week shift.
Alex noticed, at about the same time as Cat, that Michael had cupped his crotch with one hand and was shifting restlessly from one foot to the other. Cat leaned down and whispered something in his ear. He nodded. Hand in hand, they made their way to the house and went in the front door.
Alex followed them inside. Away from spectators, he and she might be able to reach an understanding. Short of that, he would try and get her to agree to a meeting sometime later. She might think their short-lived relationship was over, but she was wrong.
He loitered in the Websters’ living room, pretending to appreciate Nancy’s collection of Hummel figurines and hoping to intercept Cat when she emerged with Michael from the powder room beneath the stairs.
He swore beneath his breath when Bill Webster beat him to it.
From the living room, he heard Webster greet her warmly. “Cat! Glad I ran into you. I’ve hardly seen you all evening.”
“Hello, Bill. This is Michael. He needed a rest room, and the port-a-potties had long lines. I hope you don’t mind that we made ourselves at home.”
“Of course not. When a young man needs to go, he needs to go in a hurry.” He chuckled. “What do you think of the festivities so far?”
“Everything’s marvelous,” she replied. “I’ll never know how Nancy managed to pull it together in such a short time.”
“This is nothing compared to the big fund-raiser we’ll hold in the spring.”
“I can’t even imagine it.”
Alex envisioned her making one of her funny faces. However, there was no humor in her voice when next she spoke.
“Bill, I need to
talk to you about something important. Five minutes, first thing Monday morning?”
“Your tone makes me nervous, especially since you just returned from California. You’re not thinking of quitting us and going back to Passages?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Well then, what’s on your mind?”
“It can wait until Monday.”
“Sorry, Cat. I’ll be attending a broadcasters’ meeting in St. Louis. I leave tomorrow night and won’t be back in the office until Thursday.”
“Oh. Then I guess it’ll have to wait till then.”
“Don’t be polite. If it’s something that serious—”
“That’s just it. I don’t know. I wanted your opinion on whether or not it’s serious.”
“I’ve got five minutes now,” he offered. “Let’s go into my study where we can talk privately.”
“I hate for Michael to miss the fun.”
“He can play with my decoys.”
“All right. I really don’t think this should wait another week.”
Alex heard the study door close. He stepped into the wide foyer and furtively glanced around. There was no one else in sight, so he crept down the hallway and stood outside the closed door. Listening carefully, he could just make out their words.
“The originals are at home locked in a drawer,” he heard Cat say. “I carry these copies around with me. Read them, then tell me what you think.”
Webster fell silent. Alex heard Cat talking softly to the boy, apparently trying to interest him in Webster’s collection of decoys.
“Good Christ,” Webster exclaimed. “How long have you had these?”
“Several weeks. What do you make of them?”
“My first impression is that whoever sent them is obviously mentally disturbed.”
Outside the door, Alex frowned.
“Jeff’s done some checking for me,” Cat said. “There was one other short article written about the accident in Florida. None relating to the others. They were all ruled accidental deaths, which leads me to believe that I’m making a mountain out of a molehill. If the police don’t suspect foul play, why should I?
“Still, I’m very disturbed over this. I thought you should be made aware because if something does happen, it could involve the television station and the safety of everyone there.”
“Do you think that whoever sent these might actually come after you?”
Alex didn’t hear her reply. Instead he heard his own name, spoken in question form. He spun around. Nancy Webster had just cleared the front door.
He grinned nonchalantly to cover his blatant eavesdropping. “Hi, Nancy.”
“Have you seen Cat?”
“I saw her coming into the house and followed her this far. I think she brought the little boy in here to go to the bathroom. He apparently did the deed because I thought I heard her voice in here and was just about to knock.”
Nancy moved past him and, without knocking, opened the door to her husband’s study. “Bill? Cat? What’s going on?”
The door swung open wide enough for Alex to see Bill seated in a maroon leather easy chair. Duck decoys were lined up on the ottoman in front of him. Michael was pushing them across the smooth leather. Cat was seated on the rug at Webster’s feet.
Webster hastily shoved a handful of papers into his coat pocket. He looked startled and upset. “What is it, dear?”
Nancy looked like she’d been smacked in the face with a bag of wet cement. The tableau in the study was cozy and domestic. Alex knew that nothing untoward had happened, but he was constrained to silence.
“The fireworks are about to start,” Nancy said with a stiff smile. “I didn’t want you to miss them.”
“Thank you for letting us know.” Webster stood up and offered his hand to Cat. However, she came to her feet unassisted and lifted the boy into her arms.
“Come on, Michael. We can’t miss the fireworks.”
When she noticed Alex standing just beyond Nancy and realized that he’d overheard her conversation with Webster, her forced smile collapsed.
Cat carried Michael outside. She oohed and aahed over the pyrotechnics for the child’s benefit, but her excitement was phony. Nancy possessively linked arms with her husband. Her enthusiastic comments on the fireworks also rang false. Webster was so withdrawn that he seemed not even to notice them.
Alex didn’t see them at all. While the Roman candles exploded overhead, his hard gaze was fixed on Cat Delaney.
For the second time that evening, Nancy found Bill sequestered in his study. It was late. Everyone had left. The clean-up crew was due to arrive in the morning to haul off debris and set the grounds aright.
When she entered, he raised his highball glass to her. “You pulled it off with your usual style. Join me for a celebratory drink?”
“No thank you.”
He’d had more than one and didn’t need another. His face was flushed, and the whites of his eyes were turning pink. He rarely got tight, so when he did, the signs were noticeable.
“I’m exhausted,” she said, extending her hand down to him. “Let’s go to bed.”
He ignored her hand. “You go on. I’ll be up shortly. I’m going to have another short one.” He poured more scotch into his glass. He grimaced when he took a sip. He wasn’t drinking for enjoyment.
Nancy sat on the ottoman in front of his easy chair. “Bill, what’s wrong?”
“I’m thirsty.”
“Stop that!” she said sharply. “Don’t insult me.”
He seemed on the verge of arguing, then changed his mind. Closing his eyes, he raised the glass to his forehead and rolled it from side to side as though to iron out the frown lines.
“I saw your expression when you discovered Cat and me in here,” he said. “I shouldn’t have to explain myself, but I will. We were discussing a private matter.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“It’s not like that, Nancy. My God, give me some credit. She looks too much like Carla to ever become my lover.”
“Then are you trying to replace Carla with her?”
He looked at her hard, his eyes no longer hazy from alcohol. “Is that what you think?”
She bowed her head and stared at her wedding ring as she turned it around her finger. “I don’t know what to think anymore. Nothing’s been the same between us since we lost Carla. Instead of climbing out of our grief, our lives have been on a gradual landslide. No matter what I do, I can’t seem to stop it. I dread hitting bottom because I don’t know what’s waiting for us there.”
She raised her head and looked at him with yearning. “Why don’t you reach for me anymore, Bill?”
“I do.”
“Not as frequently. And when you do, it’s not the same as it used to be. I can feel the difference. I want to know what’s interfering with our marriage. If you’re not having an affair with Cat, what’s going on?”
“How many times do I have to say it? Nothing. I have a lot of responsibilities. When I come home late, I’m tired. I can’t get it up on command. Sorry.”
His sarcasm made her angry. She stood and headed for the door, then turned back before leaving. “Talking to you tonight would be a waste of time because you’re drunk. Which is another indication that something is terribly wrong. I don’t know what it is, but don’t try and tell me that I’m imagining it.
“Carla was a delightful girl. We’ll love her forever. You’re close to all the children, but you and she had a special relationship. When she died, I know you felt that a part of yourself had died, too. If I could give her back to you, I would, Bill.”
She spread her arms helplessly. “I can’t. But I refuse to lose more than what’s already been taken from me. My whole life revolves around loving you. I plan to keep you and to restore our marriage to the way it once was. No matter what I have to do.”
Cat slept very little that night.
She couldn’t get Michael off her mind. He was so emotional
ly and socially retarded that to draw him out would require an enormous amount of dedication. But the right parents could do it with love and patience, and the reward would be well worth the effort. Inside him was an animated little boy wanting desperately to be coaxed out.
Michael wasn’t all that was on her mind, however. Seeing Alex had caused her to doubt all the positive resolves she’d made in California. It was galling how much she still wanted him.
His friends Irene and Charlie Walters had been as affable as he’d described them. She was certain that once they completed the required parenting course, they would make excellent parents to one of Cat’s Kids.
At any other time, she would have enjoyed meeting them and would have wished to spend more time with them. But the introduction had taken place shortly after the fireworks. Still fresh on her mind was the expression on Nancy Webster’s face when she opened the study door and found her and Bill together. Clearly, Nancy had misinterpreted the nature of their private chat.
These worries, in addition to the stalker—as she referred to him for lack of a better term—continued to weigh heavily on her mind. Needing distraction, she spent Sunday afternoon shopping, then went to a movie that evening.
On Monday she and Jeff wrote thank-you letters to those who had made contributions to Cat’s Kids at the picnic.
On Tuesday, they videotaped a segment with a five-year-old girl who was hearing impaired and had recently lost both parents in an accident.
That night when Cat returned home, she found among her mail a familiar envelope. It was identical to the three that had come before it. The content, however, was different.
Inside was a single sheet of white paper. Written to emulate newspaper copy was a story about the former soap opera star, heart transplantee Cat Delaney. It went on for several paragraphs, detailing her accomplishments, including Cat’s Kids.
It was her obituary.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“It’s weird all right, but it isn’t criminal—know what I mean?”
Lieutenant Bud Hunsaker of the San Antonio Police Department wore checked polyester pants and black lizard cowboy boots with white stitching. His short-sleeved white shirt was stretched over a beer gut cinched by a tooled leather belt. His short, clip-on necktie lay diagonally across his chest. He had the bulk, the complexion, and the wheeze of an excellent candidate for a heart attack.