by Liz Talley
Kate toed one of the boxes and a spider ran out.
She brought the heel of her sneaker down on it. One down, dozens likely to go.
She cautiously lifted the water-stained flap of the nearest box.
Baseball cards. Thousands of them. Most ruined by the moisture. The Texas Rangers seemed to have been his favorite.
The next box held rocks. Nothing spectacular about them. Some were jagged with crystals, others were smooth and perfect for skipping across a still pond. A few marbles mixed within the depths. She decided to leave that box alone, for there was no telling what lurked beneath the stones.
A third box held a conglomeration of stuff: a yo-yo, a worn deck of cards with a casino logo on it, a watch that had stopped at 4:20, a bird whistle, an empty box of Hot Tamales candy and something that looked like a half-eaten Fruit Roll-Up. A couple of school papers littered the sides of the box. It appeared that at age nine or ten, Ryan had sucked at spelling but rocked fractions.
A large footlocker sat beneath the uneven window. It beckoned her like a topless dancer crooking her finger at a paunchy, bald guy.
Kate peeked out the door. Rick stood, arms akimbo, studying the writhing trees above his head. He was giving her time to get to know her deceased brother. To see the Ryan beyond the saint. But for what purpose?
She resigned herself to not knowing his motives and stepped toward the battered footlocker. She bent, flipped the unlocked latch and lifted the lid. The hinges creaked eerily. No spiders, but discolored paper hung from the inside of the lid. An address label affixed to the paper and scrawled in perfect penmanship declared the trunk to be that of Vera Horton.
Kate peered into its depths. A small stained bridle lay on top of a baseball jersey. Ryan had been number twenty-four for the Oak Stand Bears, no doubt his T-ball team if the size of the jersey was any indication. Beside that lay an elementary yearbook. She picked it up and leafed through it. Her brother had been in Mrs. Doyle’s first grade class. One of his front teeth had been missing in the class picture, and it looked very similar to the one she’d taken at age six standing beside the same teacher.
She and her brother had shared the same homeroom teacher. Maybe Ryan had sat at the same desk she’d slumped in. Maybe he’d also hidden his pencil in the groove at the very back of the desk, hoping no one else would find it and take it.
She placed the yearbook back beside the jersey. Something pink caught her eye. An anomaly like something pink among baseball cards and disgusting boy stuff had to be explored. She tossed aside a baseball cap that matched the Bears jersey and froze.
She knew that backpack—it was hers. And it had been missing for so long she’d forgotten it.
She picked it up, brushing the cheerful face of Strawberry Shortcake.
It wasn’t empty.
Hand trembling, she untied the frayed strings knitting the cloth opening together and tugged the backpack open. She pulled one item from the depths and cradled it in her hands. Carefully, she opened the journal to the first page.
Property of Katie Newman.
Beneath it, in childish handwriting were the words: my sister.
Kate traced the spidery words then wiped the tears that dripped on her forgotten journal. Obviously Ryan knew a lot more about that mean girl who’d chewed him out for tearing her skirt than he’d let on. That he’d claimed—even in this silent, private way—knocked Kate on her proverbial butt. Especially because he would have had to dig it out of whatever moldering pile of crap it had been languishing in—he’d only been a toddler that fateful day she abandoned her prize possessions.
Damn Rick for pulling her heartstrings. He knew exactly what he was doing.
Kate shoved the journal into the backpack and dug around until she found what she wanted. She stared at the picture of her parents laughing into the camera for a moment before slipping it into her pocket.
She didn’t even know why she wanted to keep it.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
AT JUSTUS’S REQUEST, Rick joined the Mitchells at Cottonwood for dinner that night. Upon his arrival, he’d dumped his frustration about the center on Kate. It seemed Sanford Stevens, the group therapy session leader, had requested that Rick not be present during his time with the clients. It had frustrated Rick to discover he wasn’t needed at the center—he wasn’t irate, but testy all the same.
After his vent, Kate and Rick had joined Vera and Justus in the formal living room for cocktails. Kate had actually been glad of Rick’s presence because the tension between her and her father had grown epic. Neither of them could get past stilted formality with one another.
Kate was counting down the days to her return to Vegas while dreading them at the same time. Her reasons for feeling that way were murky at best, but she knew they had mostly to do with Rick and her burning desire to be with him. And not only in the biblical sense. She wanted to be around him all the time.
It was all very strange.
Vera remained cheerful through the first course, though she cast worried glances Rick’s way when he began cutting his filet into tiny little pieces while staring off into space.
“How are things progressing at Phoenix, Rick?” Vera asked, sipping her second glass of wine as she stared down at the dinner plate Rosa had set in front of her.
Rick muttered a terse “Fine.”
“Well, are the boys nice?” Vera prodded.
“Yeah,” Rick said, shuffling his green peas toward his mashed potatoes. Kate chalked his distraction up to his preoccupation with things not running the way he’d like them at the center.
“Well, that’s nice. I hope they’re adjusting to the quiet life. Is there anything more I can do to help?”
Rick shrugged.
“Why don’t you answer her damned questions?” Justus exploded, throwing his fork onto the fine china of his plate. “I’m sick of this uncomfortable silence every damned night. The least you could do is carry the conversation, boy.”
“Justus, watch your language, dear,” Vera said, her hand trembling as she picked up her glass.
“I’ll say what I want to at my table. And you stop drinking so much damn wine, Vera. That ain’t gonna help one bit, woman. That boy—” he pointed his finger at the picture of Ryan, who looked quite amused at the whole situation “—is dead and he ain’t coming back.”
Vera burst into tears, Rick muttered a word that would make a nun blush, and Kate started laughing.
Justus turned his blue eyes on her. “What in the hell are you laughing about?”
“This is…this…is—” She snorted, before throwing a hand over her mouth. “It’s the most dysfunctional family in the history of dysfunction.”
Rick stared at her as if she’d licked acid tablets. “I’m not a member of this family.”
Vera moaned and Justus cursed then asked for forgiveness with eyes cast upward.
“I mean, you guys are a bunch of loony tunes.” Kate couldn’t believe she’d lost control of her emotions. This afternoon had about broken her. Since she’d arrived at Cottonwood, she’d alternated between crying, cussing, laughing and throwing herself at a celibate guy—all indications that Kate Newman had lost her mind. Clearly she belonged at this table.
“I don’t think feeling something means you’re crazy.” Vera sniffed as she shoved her half-filled glass of pinot grigio toward the Waterford saltshaker. “It means you’re human.”
“You’re right, Vera,” Rick said, his eyes connecting with Kate’s. “Sometimes when you feel things, it’s messy.”
Kate felt his words. Knew he was talking to her, not Vera. But he need not have bothered. Didn’t he know she knew things were messy? They were so messy she couldn’t find a damn thing to hold on to.
“Thank you, Rick,” Vera mumbled from the depths of her linen napkin.
“Oh, piss on it,” Justus said, reversing his chair from the table. “I’m sick of holding my tongue.”
He pointed a finger at Kate. “I don’t know why I wanted you
to stay here. You’re more stubborn than any horse, mule or goat I’ve ever worked with. And that has been more than I care to remember. I thought I could make amends with you, but you won’t even open your mouth and try. So I can’t sit here another night and pretend.” He rolled out the door.
“Justus, don’t leave. We haven’t had dessert,” Vera called after him. He ignored her and kept rolling toward the elevator that would take him to his office.
Kate looked at Vera. Her misery was plainly evident on her face and Kate felt like shit for upsetting her. “I’m sorry.”
Vera waved a hand before looking at the portrait of her dead son. “It’s not just you. Justus hasn’t grieved for Ryan properly. And I’ve grieved too much. I wish I could stop, but the hurt won’t go away.”
Kate looked at the picture of the boy who’d kept her journal hidden in a damp footlocker. His smile seemed so knowing. So like her own. “At least you let yourself feel. That has to be healthier than holding it in.”
“Maybe,” Vera acknowledged, turning to Kate. “But I’ve gotten so lost in the grief that I’ve forgotten how to live. I’m tired of merely existing. Talking about Ryan has helped me realize he’d never want me to ramble about this house, spending hours in the garden wishing for something that can no longer be.”
Rick silently watched them. His eyes looked very much the way they had when she’d emerged from the fort earlier that afternoon. Satisfied. Like a general whose battle strategies were going according to plan.
Kate cleared her throat, thinking someone should say something. Something to affirm what Vera had admitted. “From what you’ve told me, you’re right. He’d be upset with you. But give yourself a break. You postponed your grief when Justus had his stroke, then you drowned in it. So now it’s time to dry off and start living again.”
Vera nodded, and reached over to grasp Kate’s hand. Her touch was cool, but her eyes were finally warm. “Thank you, Kate. I know being here has been hard for you, but somehow, your presence has forced me to confront myself. You’ve unstuck me.”
Kate gave the woman’s hand a squeeze before withdrawing. The atmosphere felt too deep in the room. Stifling, the way it had after Jeremy had told her the IRS news. She had to get out to process. To think about how to handle her father. “I—I think I’m going to skip the cheesecake and take a walk.”
She scooted back her chair and rose. Rick did the same. “Pardon us both, Vera. I’ll join Kate on that walk.”
She had thought she’d rather be alone, but when Rick stood, relief flooded her. Having Rick beside her was becoming a habit.
Vera nodded. “That’s fine. I’ll eat the cheesecake for breakfast.” She dropped her napkin beside her plate then followed Justus’s path, heading toward where her husband had likely gone to sulk. Kate and Rick slipped through the kitchen, complimenting Rosa on the meal, before emerging into the moonlight.
The night was slightly cool, and the stars twinkled like a string of Christmas lights placed for the benefit of the two of them walking the garden path.
“I had to escape,” Kate commented after they’d walked for several minutes with no words between them.
“I know.”
They walked for several minutes more, stepping off the path and onto the land behind the house. A few Bradford pear trees showed off their snowy plumage against the dark velvet of the sky. Spring had arrived despite the cold front that had moved in a few days ago.
“You know, when I was rollin’ with my gang, I tried like hell to be hard. That was living the gang life, to be hard.” His words floated into the night, regret tinting them, making them sound prophetic. “That’s why it’s difficult to reach the guys at the center. Egos get in the way.”
“Mmm,” she said, enjoying his presence at her side. Had she ever taken a walk with a man beside her and felt comfortable?
“You know, I was never like that. Never hard.”
Kate snickered.
“Ah, bruja, you know what I mean.” There was a smile in his words. “I couldn’t kick a puppy and laugh. I couldn’t lift an old lady’s purse when I knew it held her welfare check. I never got a kid to sell drugs for me with the promise of a pair of shoes. I tried to pretend I was a badass, but I wasn’t.”
She nodded even though he couldn’t see her. And though she wore a sweater and jeans and wasn’t cold, she moved closer to him.
“You are like me,” he said, stopping and grabbing her hand. He brought it to his lips. His kiss was soft, and for a moment he became a Spanish courtier come to woo and win her. Kate was no romantic, but she couldn’t seem to stop her heart from pounding, from wanting to feel his lips on hers beneath the fullness of the moon.
“How am I like you?”
“You got hurt early in life. Like me. So you build a shell. A tough, badass exterior. You try to be hard.”
She shifted her eyes to his and he stopped beneath a redbud tree that had started pushing purple blooms forth. “You think you’re going to crack me or something?”
She tried to make her words teasing, but they didn’t come out the way she’d intended. Emotion trembled in those words, as if she were daring him, no, begging him, to find the real Kate beneath the razored hair and too-tight clothes.
His mouth descended, hovering over hers. “I already have,” he whispered against her lips.
She lifted herself onto her tiptoes and pressed herself to him as he claimed her mouth. She believed him. Maybe she’d been waiting forever for someone to find the real Kate.
The kiss was soft and sweet. And then it was not.
A rocket of passion exploded deep within her, filling her body with the sheer need to be claimed by Enrique Mendez. She wanted this man more than she’d ever wanted a man. And that wasn’t romance, or lust, or anything other than the honest truth.
She opened her mouth to him and tasted him as she wound her hands round his broad shoulders. His mouth consumed her, hard, unrelenting.
Kate moaned, allowing desire to unwind within her, unfurl within every inch of her body. She reveled in wanting him. Loved the way he felt against her. So hard in all the right ways.
“I can’t help it,” he murmured against her lips, tilting his head so their foreheads met and their breaths mingled, frosty in the night air. “I’ve tried to resist you, but I can’t. I want you, Kate, even if I’ll have you only a little while.”
She didn’t answer. Merely pressed her lips against his once again. He lifted her against him, sliding her body along his so he could reach the pulse galloping out of control in her neck. Kate held on to him as he tugged at the neck of her sweater.
“Wait,” she said, wiggling from his grasp. “You’re serious?”
He dropped her to the ground. His chocolate eyes were dilated with desire and clouded with confusion. “Huh?”
Kate looked toward the house. Justus stewed inside. Vera could wander out to the garden for midnight prayer. Rick hadn’t talked this through with Kate. This was bigger than mere sex. Kissing was one thing. Taking it to the next level was quite another.
“So you want me to leave?” he said, keeping his arms tight around her. His fingers played with the sensitive flesh beneath her sweater. The cool night air kissed her skin, but the cold didn’t seem to reach her. Not with Rick touching her.
“Only if you take me with you,” she said, half joking, half fearful he’d leave her standing here in the night wishing she’d kept her damn mouth shut.
His teeth flashed as he lowered his head to nuzzle her neck. “You’re right. This is not the right place. I want to see you naked, watch you while I make love to you. I want to kiss every square inch of your body, love every hill, valley and plain.”
Kate’s insides turned to mush as her libido kicked into high gear.
Then he murmured next to her ear. “If I don’t make love to you, I’ll never get you out of my blood.”
Kate stiffened. “Wait. You think having sex with me will cure you of this thing we have between us?”
Kate stepped back from him, ignoring her body as it protested the loss of warmth. She averted her eyes to the black horizon. “Look, I want you more than I’ve wanted any man. I’m being totally honest with you when I say that. I don’t know if it’s all this exploration of my past or if it’s something more. All I know is that when I’m with you, it feels so…I can’t even describe it.”
She found his gaze in the darkness. She couldn’t read his expression, but she could feel the desire still pulsing between them. “But even though I feel scared—not an emotion I ever admit to feeling to anyone—I want to respect the views you have on relationships. I’m not staying in Oak Stand. And I’m definitely not staying any longer than I have to at Cottonwood. I’m going back to Vegas. And everyone knows long-distance relationships don’t work.”
Rick’s lips pressed into a thin line and it made Kate’s heart ache. She couldn’t allow him to give up something that made him who he was even though she reveled in how much he wanted her. She didn’t want to be his mistake, the decision that would always haunt him.
“You amaze me, woman. So bold on the outside, but inside you’re…tender,” he murmured as he took her hand into his, cradling it much as he had on the plane. “When I was a boy, my grandmother gave me candies for being good in church. I loved them. They were hard on the outside, but sweet caramel on the inside. They were small, only a taste, but so very good.”
He raised her hand and kissed it again, pausing to drop a kiss on the pad of each finger. The heat of his touch mixed with the seduction in his voice was kinky torture.