by Liz Talley
“Huh?”
“Betty Monk ordered that for you based on the one you circled in that damn teen prom magazine. Think she did that because she didn’t like you?”
Kate felt her heart tighten. “What?”
“And remember that trip we took with the church? The one where they suddenly had a spot open? You think that wasn’t planned by the Ladies Auxiliary for months? And that time you got sick and had to go to the hospital? Dr. Grabel helped pay the bill. He gave you more than suckers, Kate. Left and right, the people of Oak Stand loved you, even when you acted like a bitch.”
Nellie rose, pulling her purse onto her arm. “I swear, if I didn’t love you so much and if you weren’t in this mess, I’d kick your butt up between your shoulder blades.”
“Nell—”
Her friend lifted a hand. “Don’t. Just know this. Betty Monk used to always say ‘It takes a town to raise a child.’ And she said that long before Hillary Clinton did. And she meant you.”
Nellie didn’t wait for Kate to reply, she stomped down the hall, never looking back.
At that moment, Kate hated Nellie. Hated her friend for being so damned brutally honest at a time she needed someone to lie to her. She needed someone to tell her everything was going to be okay.
The curtain to the bay opened and Rick stuck his head out. He was checking on her.
Kate bowed her head into her hands.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
RICK WATCHED KATE WITH A feeling of trepidation. Kate’s head was bowed and Nellie had left. His Kate looked so forlorn sitting by herself. When her gaze met his, he saw the raw emotion and despair. Things were starting to come unraveled, and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.
Destiny twined about Kate, wrapping her in its embrace, chipping away at the protection she’d built around herself.
He felt the same pull. He had known from the moment he’d first laid eyes on her in Vegas that it was inevitable he’d get tangled in Kate. Something had propelled him to her, and he’d been helpless to stop it.
Perhaps the incident with Justus had been part of destiny’s plan, a nudge to remind Rick he was not in control. None of them were. Hadn’t he seen that firsthand? His plans, promises and vows had twisted and turned upon themselves. He was no longer centered. The gang members resented him, Kate hovered out of his grasp and now Justus lay fighting for his life.
It made him want to hit someone. Equally strong was the longing to wrap his arms around her and love her for all she was worth.
Life was contradictory sometimes.
“You think he’ll be okay, Rick?”
Vera’s words cut through his distraction. He should be thinking of Justus. “I don’t know.”
Vera pressed her lips together and stared at a sign that demonstrated what to do if someone were choking. She looked as if she might need the procedure herself. But then she literally shook herself, and her eyes grew determined. “He will be okay. He has to.”
He wondered if it might be better for Justus if he succumbed to the stroke this time. The man had been through so much. Rick didn’t know how much more Justus’s body could take. But the old man was a fighter. No way he’d leave this life easily. “You may be right. He’s a tough old bird.”
As he reached out to take Vera’s hand, a nurse stuck her head through the curtain. “Mrs. Mitchell?”
“Yes?” There was a hint of misgiving in Vera’s response.
“I have some forms for you to fill out. I know it’s not the best time, but it will hasten the process in moving Mr. Mitchell to Dallas if need be. Do you mind coming with me for a moment?”
Vera cast a glance at Rick. He nodded. “I’ll stay and wait. Go ahead.”
She gathered her things and followed the nurse toward the admitting desk. Before she disappeared, she asked. “You have my cell number?”
He gave her a reassuring nod. “Of course.”
Then he was alone with his thoughts. Not a good place to be. Not when the person who dominated so many of them sat just down the hallway. Alone. He should go to her, but knew she needed a moment to gather herself. His instincts about Kate came naturally. He got her in a way no one else did.
Man, he was screwed.
Because he knew he’d fallen hard for Kate. Ton-of-bricks hard. No way around it.
“Hey.”
The object of his affection poked her head around the curtain. She looked as though she’d been kicked. Her hair stuck to her head in a couple of places, mascara was smudged beneath her hauntingly beautiful eyes and her normally stylish clothes were wrinkled.
“Hey, yourself,” he said, sitting back and crossing his foot over his thigh. “No word yet.”
“Oh,” she said as she stepped inside the bay. “Where’s Vera?”
“She went to fill out some paperwork. They may not admit him. They may transfer him to Dallas instead.”
A different nurse appeared outside the curtain and looked at Kate. “Mrs. Mitchell?”
“No.” She shook her head. “She’s—”
“Down the hall,” Rick finished for her, mentally kicking himself. He could tell it had bothered Kate when he’d answered for her with Nellie. He glanced her way. She didn’t seem to care this time. The life seemed to have been sucked right out of her.
“Oh, well.” The nurse hovered, hesitant.
“But I’m his daughter,” Kate said. She bit her lower lip and he couldn’t tell if she was nervous, or regretted admitting the fact for the first time in a very public way.
“Okay.” The nurse smiled at Kate. “We’re going to admit Mr. Mitchell for the night and make sure he’s stable. They’re taking him to intensive care as we speak. You can go up. Visiting hours will be over in fifteen minutes, but you might catch a moment with him.”
“Go check on him, Kate. I’ll get Vera,” Rick said, rising.
Kate’s brow furrowed. “Maybe I should find Vera and you can go up.”
The nurse patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry. He’ll likely be sleeping. They’ve given him a sedative.”
He couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Maybe no one ever knew what she was thinking. Kate, the enigma.
She looked at him. “Come when you find Vera.”
He nodded as the nurse disappeared.
They were alone. He moved toward her, brushing her hair from her forehead. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Her gaze moved from his. “Sure. I’m dandy.”
He pressed her to him, tucking her head beneath his chin, wrapping her in his arms. She felt so good there. So right. “It will be okay, Kate.”
She relaxed against him. “I don’t think so.”
He tilted her chin so she was forced to meet his gaze. Tears shimmered in their blue depths. “It will.”
She blinked. “No, it’s about as bad as it can get. My best friend is pissed at me. Vera’s ignoring me. My father had a stroke because I acted like a shit. And, you, well, you make me confused and comforted and happy and scared all at the same time. Life is pretty much sucking right now.”
He gathered her to him again. “It could be worse.”
She nodded against his chest, wrapping her small arms about him and squeezing. “Yeah, I could be living in Oak Stand working at the Curlique for peanuts. Be fat and pregnant. Or on the Junior League board.”
He sighed against hair that vaguely smelled like coconut. “Funny—what sounds good to me sounds like hell to you.”
She snorted. “You obviously haven’t met the Junior League.”
“Oh, I’ve met them. Some of them have a secret desire to dabble with a tatted up bad boy. Not so different from you.”
“I want to do more than dabble with you.”
“Do you?”
Kate looked up at him. “I think so. But I can’t, can I?”
She slid from his embrace, leaving him with questions and a small burgeoning of hope.
KATE WALKED THROUGH THE DOORS of the intensive care unit like someone walking
her last few yards. She didn’t want to face what was left of the man who’d sired her. But how could she not?
She couldn’t tuck her tail and run. Not after she’d played a part in putting him here. So she pushed through the heavy doors that guarded the gravely ill and looked for a nurse.
“Excuse me.” She noticed a flash of blue scrubs behind the curved nurses’ desk. A petite woman with braided hair popped up from where she’d been digging in a drawer.
“Yes?”
“A nurse downstairs told me they’d brought, uh, my father here. Justus Mitchell.”
The woman dropped the chart she had in her hand onto the cluttered counter. “You’ve only got—” she looked at her watch “—ten minutes.” She swept her hand toward the row of small rooms adjacent to the nurses’ desk. “He’s in number five.”
Kate hesitated.
“Well, come on.” The nurse shook her beaded corn-rows. “You got to pick up your feet, child.”
She followed the nurse to the room that beeped with equipment. The nurse shifted a tray out of the way. “Don’t mind the machines. They beep all the time.”
“Oh,” was all Kate could manage. Her gaze was rooted to the man in the bed. He looked fragile. Small. Insignificant. So unlike any way she’d ever seen him.
“Ten minutes. That’s all.” Then the nurse left Kate alone with her father.
Kate didn’t know what to do. A lone chair was in the corner. Perhaps she should sit and wait on Vera. She sat, but it didn’t feel right. She was too far from the bed. Wasn’t it good for the sick to know someone was close by?
She pulled the chair across the floor, wincing as it scraped against the shiny waxed tiles. She parked it in front of the blood pressure monitor and resumed her seat.
Justus stirred.
Tentatively, she reached out and patted his arm. It felt awkward, but she did it anyway. She was lame at giving comfort, but she owed it to him.
He opened his eyes and stared at her.
Kate drew back. She could tell he didn’t recognize her.
He groaned, swiping at the oxygen tube over his nose. It registered with Kate as she swatted his hand that he could at least move that part of his body.
“Don’t,” she said. “Leave that. It’s helping you.”
He made one more attempt at removing the tube before dropping his hand onto his chest.
“Good. That’s good,” she said, using a voice she might use with little Mae.
“Katie?” he said, quite plainly.
“Oh,” she responded, tucking his hand beneath the sheet and giving it a pat. “You recognize me.”
He didn’t say anything, just watched her as she settled into the chair. Sitting with a man she half hated as he lay helpless in the bed was uncomfortable, to stay the least.
Several seconds ticked off the clock on the wall before she could look back at him.
“Katie,” he said again.
“What?”
“I—I—” Huge coughs racked his body. He pulled his arm from beneath the covers and grabbed her hand.
“Let me get you some water,” she said, pulling her hand from his and searching for one of those little plastic pitchers they kept in hospital rooms. She didn’t see even a cup. “Let me get the—”
“No,” he barked between coughs. “I’ve got to—”
“Don’t be stubborn. You’re ill.” Kate started for the open doorway. Surely that nurse could hear him.
The nurse met her at the door. She held a pitcher. She ignored Kate as she slid into the room.
“Awake, Mr. Mitchell?”
Kate wanted to tell her she was the queen of the obvious, but figured the nurse wasn’t the kind to fancy a smart-ass.
“Katie,” Justus said again, between gasps.
“Don’t worry about the girl right now. She’s over there. Take a little sip of this.” The nurse placed a bendy straw between Justus’s cracked lips. He sucked at the straw like a dying man. Then it struck Kate. What if he was dying? What if he didn’t recover?
“There now. Not too much, Mr. Mitchell,” the nurse said, removing the cup and placing it on the rolling table. She looked at Kate. “He can have another sip if he needs it, but let’s not give him too much. I don’t want him getting sick.”
Kate nodded but said nothing as the nurse walked out.
Where the hell were Vera and Rick?
Justus blinked at her.
She had nothing better to do than sit down and wait, so she did. She tried not to focus on Justus, but she couldn’t get away from him. She could hear him breathing, smell the Aramis cologne, feel his presence surround her even as silence descended upon her like a shroud.
“Katie.”
She finally met his eyes. Fell into them. The pain there, the pleading.
“I need to tell you—”
She lifted a hand and patted the shoulder beneath the worn hospital gown. “You don’t need to talk. You need to rest. Vera will be here in a moment.”
He shook his head. Irritation evident in his eyes. Oddly, it made her feel better.
“No Vera. Need to talk to you.” His words were labored, but he looked damned determined.
“I—” she started then snapped her mouth shut. She couldn’t stop him. He’d say what he had to say. But part of her didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want him to take away the anger, the part of her that made her Kate Newman. She didn’t want to revert to being Katie. But this had been his intention all along. This was what her coming to Texas was about. Justus had regrets. About her.
He wanted forgiveness, and she wasn’t sure she could give it to him. She thought about Nellie’s words how the people of Oak Stand loved her. Kate had been wrong about them. Could she have been wrong about Justus?
She’d been a child. Had she seen only what she wanted to see?
“Okay. Tell me what you need to tell me.”
It took several moments before Justus began to speak. “I’m sorry for—” he passed his good hand over his eyes “—that day.”
Kate felt like she’d been thrown from a car with each one of his carefully articulated words. She hadn’t expected him to pull no punches right out of the gate. “Oh.”
“I was wrong.” His words fell on her, heavy, sorrowful and Kate’s memory tumbled back to the day.
It was the day she’d replayed in her mind for years. The day he’d taken away her childhood, balling it into a wad and tossing it into a corner like a broken toy. It was the day she’d started hating him.
And he’d deserved it.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
KATE WAS NINE YEARS OLD the afternoon her mother packed her bags. Not once as she’d tossed her cheap clothes and cheaper jewelry in an old suitcase had she bothered to look at Kate where she sat on the woven couch with the stained arms and missing buttons. Hadn’t bothered to offer anything other than “I deserve better than this life.” Hadn’t bothered to admit she was being the most irresponsible of women, leaving her child with her mother, choosing a man over the little girl she’d given life to.
Kate had watched her mother throw her suitcase into the trunk of the slimy insurance agent’s car, heading for a new job in Southern California. Her mother’s promises of the beach and Disneyland rang in Kate’s ears. She knew her mother lied. Kate would never spin in teacups or dip her toe in the Pacific—at least not with her mom. Her mother had driven out of the trailer park with a toot and a wave. Kate climbed onto her pink bike, the one with the cool water bottle Santa had brought her for Christmas, and pedaled toward Cottonwood.
If her mother didn’t want her, her father would.
She was a good kid. She could do long division and climb trees all the way to the top. She didn’t eat much and her long hair looked like an Indian princess’s when she braided it. She could make her own bed, fold her own clothes and knew how to make grilled cheese sandwiches and peanut-butter cookies. He’d love having her in that big house, even if he was married to someone else.
S
he’d taken her time getting there. After all, she needed to study this new world she’d be entering. Cows stood around munching on grass. She didn’t know much about cows, but she could learn. Her real father had lots of cows and lots of oil wells. She didn’t know much about oil, either, except people used it to run their cars and lawn mowers.
By the time she’d reached the gates of Cottonwood, she’d drank all the water she’d put in her water bottle and had to go to the bathroom really bad. When she finally made it up the long drive, she saw a lot of cars in the yard adjacent to the huge white house. Cadillacs, Mercedes and Beemers—all the cars her mother drooled over in the TV ads. Around the back of the house was a white tent with big signs. She’d seen the signs all over town. They were for the governor’s race.
Kate dropped her bike beneath a willow tree and pulled off her backpack. Her back was sweaty and her hair had come out of her braid on one side of her head. Grams had brought home leftover French fries from the diner for lunch and Kate had dropped ketchup on her shirt, but it didn’t look too bad. Plus, her jeans were practically new and her knockoff Keds were clean and bright.
She smoothed her hair behind her ears and walked toward the people talking and holding glasses that sparkled in the light. They wore pretty clothes like the people on soap operas. She didn’t see her father.
She knew what he looked like. He drove through town in his convertible sports car sometimes. He wasn’t young, but he wasn’t too old. He always wore a cowboy hat and his laugh was really loud. Her mother said he was a force to be reckoned with. Kate didn’t know what that meant, but he had to love her. She was his kid.
She wove through the crowd, accidently stepping on one lady’s high-heeled shoes. Some people looked at her funny, probably because there weren’t any other kids here. She ducked under a man’s arm and there he stood. Her father.
He wore dark pants and a light-colored cowboy shirt. A big straw hat perched atop his head. A broad forehead stretched above his brilliant blue eyes. Eyes just like hers. People gathered around him, smiling and nodding as he said something. Probably told a funny story. Kate smiled. He was handsome and rich. And he belonged to her now.