by Gina Wilkins
“Since I didn’t sleep with Buzz Stewart—ew, by the way—can I ask you about Mike?” Karen asked bravely.
“No.”
“I really didn’t know you were still seeing him,” Karen said, anyway. “You haven’t mentioned him at all.”
Catherine could concede that point. She had very carefully avoided mentioning Mike to her friends. She was not ashamed of her relationship with him, she assured herself. The truth was, she just hadn’t wanted to talk about it.
“So do you have plans for Thanksgiving with Mike?” Karen persisted.
“We haven’t talked about Thanksgiving. I assume he’ll be spending the holiday with his family.” And since his sisters had disliked her at first sight, for some reason, she didn’t imagine she would be on their list of preferred guests. Not that she wanted to be included, anyway. Talk about awkward. And she and Mike were nowhere near the point of spending holidays with each other’s families.
“I’ll come to your dinner party,” she told Karen. “But I mean it, no matchmaking. Just treat Bill and me as friends and colleagues, nothing more.”
“Isn’t that what you said about—”
Catherine pointed a finger at Julia before she could finish the question. “Buzz Stewart.”
Julia grimaced and reached grumpily for her wineglass. Karen snickered, though she quickly sobered when Julia gave her a look.
Firmly changing the subject, Catherine guided the conversation into a much more comfortable direction for the remainder of the meal.
Chapter Fourteen
Mike put his truck into Park and turned off the engine, then turned to smile at Catherine. “Well?”
She looked through the windshield at the tidy little lake-front cottage to which he had driven her. “It’s very nice.”
And she still found it hard to believe she was there. That Mike had talked her into an impulsive weekend trip to a friend’s lakeside cabin an hour’s drive southwest of Little Rock.
They had left her apartment at ten o’clock on this Saturday morning before Thanksgiving, and planned to return sometime late the next afternoon. Since he had suggested the outing only a couple of days before, Catherine had found it necessary to scramble a bit to clear her calendar, but somehow she had managed.
Mike was a very persuasive guy, she thought in bemusement as she climbed out of the truck and reached behind the seat for her overnight bag. She couldn’t imagine anyone else who could have talked her into going away with him for the weekend, especially on such short notice.
The weather was cool but clear. A light denim jacket with a thin red sweater and jeans were all she needed to stay comfortable. Overhead the sky was deep blue and almost cloudless. The fall leaves were almost all gone now, but there were plenty of evergreens around, and the glittering lake was tinted with blues and greens and silver.
“It really is lovely here.”
Mike paused on the front porch, key in hand, to glance toward the lake. “It’s great, isn’t it? This place has been in my friend Dan’s family for a long time. He took possession of it when his parents retired to Arizona a couple of years ago. A group of us comes here in the summers sometimes to drink beer and water-ski and play poker until dawn.”
“I’m sure you enjoy that.”
“Oh, yeah.” He led her into the cabin and dropped his own bag on the floor so he could turn on the lights. “He didn’t mind letting us have the place tonight, since it isn’t used so much in the winter.”
He went back out to the truck to bring in the food they had brought with them after stopping at a nearby grocery store. During the few minutes that he was gone, Catherine looked around the small cabin. The open floor plan made it look somewhat larger. She stood in the main room, which was painted a warm taupe, floored in age-buffed wood, furnished in sturdy oak furniture with nubby plaid upholstery and anchored by a large brick fireplace on one side.
The back wall was mostly glass, giving a view of a wooden deck on the back of the cabin and the lake beyond. The efficient-looking kitchen was visible behind a long, granite eating bar lined with four tall bar stools. Two closed doors on the other side of the room presumably led into bedrooms and bathroom facilities. The overall effect was ultracasual comfort, a place for kicking off one’s shoes and ignoring the outside world.
Mike walked back in carrying several bulging plastic grocery bags. “What do you think?”
“It’s perfect. I’ll put the groceries away while you take our bags into the bedroom.”
He came out of the bedroom again rubbing his hands together as if in anticipation. “Want to go for a boat ride?”
She turned away from the well-appointed kitchen to ask, “There’s a boat?”
“Yeah. It’s in the boathouse next to the dock. Dan’s taking it out next week to store it for the rest of the winter, but he gave us permission to use it this weekend.”
“I, er, suppose you know how to drive it.”
“No, but between us, we can probably figure it out.” Laughing at her expression, he shook his head. “I’ve been operating boats since I was ten—and I’ve driven Dan’s more times than I can remember. You’ll be perfectly safe.”
“Then let’s go.”
“Wait—before we go, you’d better put on a hat. Your denim jacket will probably be warm enough, especially under the life vest, but your head might get cold from the wind in the boat.”
So that was why he had insisted she bring a knit cap, along with a heavier coat in case they wanted to sit outside after sundown. It was a mild weekend. Winter weather didn’t usually set in until mid to late December in Arkansas, so they could expect comfortable temperatures for the next two days.
“A little too cold for water-skiing, though,” Mike said regretfully.
“Yes, I think so.” Now wearing her red knit cap, she eyed the metallic blue boat in the boathouse with some trepidation. “It looks fast.”
He gave her a grin that made her heart skip a beat. “Baby, it is fast.”
Uncertain whether her racing pulse was due more to nerves or to Mike himself, Catherine took his outstretched hand and stepped into the boathouse.
Mike assisted her into a life jacket, his head close to hers as he helped her fasten the front snaps. Their hands tangled at the task, and for a moment he paused just to hold her hands and smile at her. She smiled back up at him, and she was dimly aware that this was one of those perfect moments she would treasure for the rest of her life.
“Catherine?”
“Mmm?”
“You sit in that seat. I’ll push us off.”
Blinking, she returned abruptly to reality. Looking in the direction he had indicated, she nodded and let him help her into the boat.
Mike didn’t remember ever seeing Catherine quite so relaxed as she was that afternoon. They’d had a very pleasant boat ride, during which he had been on his best behavior behind the wheel. The wind had whipped color into her cheeks, until they were almost as red as her cap. Her eyes had gleamed with pleasure as she had pointed out birds and other wildlife they passed during their cruise around the lake.
He had talked her into taking the wheel, and after her initial hesitation, she’d seemed to enjoy piloting a boat for the first time. And then she had turned the wheel back over to him and simply sat back in her seat to enjoy the remainder of the ride.
They had lunch after returning to the cabin, turkey and cheese sandwiches on whole wheat bread with raw baby carrots and yogurt dip. Catherine had chosen the menu. He probably would have just grabbed some bologna and crackers. He had to admit the lunch she had put together was better.
She was the one who suggested a walk after lunch. They strolled along the road that ran next to the lake, stopping occasionally to admire a particularly interesting sight. A rock shiny with embedded quartz. A squirrel busily digging up something buried beneath a big oak tree. Tiny fish darting through the water lapping at the gravel bank.
At some point during their stroll, it just seemed natural
to reach out and take her hand. Their fingers interlaced as comfortably as if they had been walking this way for years.
He tried to analyze what he was feeling at that moment, but he could come up with only one word. Peaceful. There was no stress, no pressure, no reason to try to be anything other than himself. No other people around to come between them or remind them of their separate lives. There was just the easy contentment of being with Catherine.
Part of him wished he could hold on to this moment forever. Another part of him was aware that he would miss his family. His friends. His life.
They had reached a small playground area, where several others were taking advantage of the nice afternoon. Three women sat on a bench chatting while five children ranging in age from toddlers to perhaps eight or nine played on the slide and swings and climbing tower.
Mike grinned as a little boy launched himself down the slide with a yell. “Man, remember how it felt to be that free and unconcerned about anything beyond the moment?”
She watched two little girls chase each other playfully around a colorful plastic horse mounted on a heavy spring for rocking. “It’s hard to remember ever being that young.”
“So, were you one of those serious kids who never cut loose and played?”
She lifted an eyebrow, then nodded toward the climbing tower. “I’ll have you know I’d have been at the top of that tower in a heartbeat. I was Supergirl.”
“Supergirl, huh?” He was greatly intrigued by that revelation. “That was your childhood hero?”
“Well, Supergirl and Marie Curie.”
He grinned, delighted with the image. “Comic books?”
“Oh, definitely. My father bought them for me and smuggled them into the house when Mother wasn’t looking. I had a red towel that was my ‘cape’ and I begged for a pair of red boots. Mother couldn’t imagine where I got all those silly ideas.”
There was a smile in her eyes as the memories crossed her face. She was obviously more amused than annoyed by her mother’s quirks, which showed that the family had been close despite their oddities. As different as Catherine’s family had been from his own, he could identify with the closeness—and with the fond exasperation over a strict mother’s sometimes capricious rules.
He was absolutely enthralled with the mental picture of a pint-size Catherine in a red towel and red boots. “Superhero to scientist,” he murmured. “Interesting metamorphosis.”
“Some would say it’s an oxymoron.”
Chasing a runaway ball, a towheaded little boy of maybe five barreled across the playground and nearly crashed into Mike’s legs. Mike steadied himself quickly and caught the kid’s shoulders before the boy went over backward. “You okay, sport?”
“Uh-huh. Will you throw me the ball?”
Grinning, Mike reached down to pick up the ball. “Okay. Go long.”
Proving that sports were already a part of his life, the boy started running, looking back expectantly at Mike. Mike drew back his arm and lobbed the ball neatly into the kid’s grasp. The boy whooped victoriously and dashed off again.
Mike turned back to Catherine, who was watching him with a smile. “You’re good with kids,” she said.
“I like kids. I told you, I’m cool Uncle Mike.”
They turned back toward the cabin, their steps matching automatically. “I always thought I would make a good aunt. You know, the kind who gives books and chemistry sets for Christmas gifts? But since my parents neglected to provide me with siblings, I suppose I’ll never know.”
“You could always marry into some,” he quipped.
The lighthearted remark sort of hung in the air between them, then dropped heavily into awkward silence. Mike cleared his throat and hastily changed the subject. “Nice sailboat out there, isn’t it? Have you ever done any sailing?”
“No, I haven’t,” she said entirely too brightly. “I’ve always thought it looked interesting, though.”
Relived that the sticky moment had passed, Mike started babbling about sailing.
Still, at the back of his mind he found himself thinking that Catherine would make a terrific aunt.
They sat outside after dinner, flames flickering in a fire bowl in front of their outdoor chairs. The temperature had dropped, and they had both donned heavier jackets. The warmth of the fire felt good against Catherine’s cheeks. She sighed and stretched her feet toward the bowl, warming her toes through her boots.
“We should have thought to buy some marshmallows,” Mike said lazily, gazing into the flames.
“I’m not hungry, anyway.” They had made spaghetti for dinner, using sauce from a jar, with frozen garlic rolls and premade salads on the side. Her tummy was still pleasantly full as she rocked gently in the wrought iron spring chair.
Moonlight sparkled over the lake ahead of her, and she could hear night birds calling in the distance. The scent of smoke tickled her nose. A car went by on the road behind them, the radio bass booming so loudly that she could almost feel the vibration in her teeth, but then it was gone and the night was peaceful again.
“Are you too cold?” Mike asked.
“No, I’m fine. The fire feels good.”
“Yeah, it does.” He reached down beside his chair, picked up a stick of wood and tossed it into the flames, adding another few degrees of warmth.
They sat in companionable silence for a little while longer. Catherine couldn’t remember being this utterly relaxed in a very long time. She could almost go to sleep right there in her chair.
“It’s been a nice day, hasn’t it?”
She roused enough to respond. “It’s been a wonderful day.”
A few minutes later he chuckled.
“What?” she asked.
“Oh, I was just thinking about that kid we saw in the park today. He’s a handful, I bet.”
Remembering the boy’s ear-piercing shrieks, Catherine smiled. “No doubt about that. But he was cute, wasn’t he?”
“Yeah. Reminded me of my oldest nephew.”
“Is he a handful, too?”
“There are some who say he’s a lot like me at that age.”
Catherine wasn’t at all fooled by his innocent tone. “Which means that he’s a bit of a brat, right?”
Mike folded his hands over his stomach, his long legs stretched toward the fire. “I’d resent that if I could work up the energy.”
“But you won’t go to that trouble, because you know it’s true.”
“You’re probably right. My mother says someday I’ll have to pay for my raising when I have my own son.”
He was laughing as he spoke, but the thought of Mike’s son brought a nervous lump to her throat. She could almost picture a little blond version of him, and for some reason the image made her chest ache.
She quickly changed the subject. “You never told me—did you ever register for your classes for next semester? What did you decide to take?”
Mike’s smile faded so fast it was as if it had been wiped from his face. “I still haven’t decided. I don’t know if I even will take any classes next semester.”
It was the first she’d heard that he was even considering dropping out again. The decision was entirely his, of course, and he had to decide what was best for him, but she couldn’t help asking, “Why?”
He kept his gaze focused on the fire. “I don’t know. It just seems sort of pointless. I mean—man, it’s going to take years to finish. And I don’t really have a major or anything…”
He sounded more discouraged than disinterested, she realized suddenly. Maybe he just needed a little encouragement. “You’ve talked before about taking more hours a semester, maybe getting finished a little more quickly.”
“Yeah, but we’d still be talking about years. Do you know how old I’d be by then?”
“Only a couple of years older than I am now,” she replied wryly. “And I’m not exactly ready for retirement, Mike.”
She thought he flushed a little, but it was hard to tell in the fi
relight. “I didn’t mean to imply that you are. It’s just…”
“You’re doing so well in your classes. It would be a shame to let the hard work you’ve put in this semester go to waste.”
He was quiet for a notably long time before murmuring, “Actually, my grades have slipped a little.”
Frowning, she turned to face him. “Since when? Your grades were very good the last time you talked to me about them.”
“Those, uh, last two tests—I didn’t do so great on either of them.”
As she recalled, he had spent the night before those tests drinking with his friends, then making love with her. He’d had to work all day the next day, right up until time to leave for his classes. And since then, he had spent most of his spare time with her, assuring her that he was studying during the time they weren’t together.
She would not accept guilt for this, she told herself firmly—despite the way that emotion tried to creep into her mind. She had done everything she could to get Mike to take his classes seriously. “I’m sure you can make up for those two exams by doing very well on your finals. But it’s up to you, of course, what you do from this point.”
“Disappointed in me?” He spoke lightly, but she sensed the sincerity behind the question.
She took a moment to phrase her answer. Speaking candidly, as she always had with him, she said, “I just don’t want you to be disappointed in yourself. If you were only going to school to prove something to other people, then it wouldn’t matter so much. But I thought you were going to prove something to yourself. And that makes me wonder if you aren’t selling yourself short again.”
“I know I can do it, if that’s what you mean. I’ve proven to myself that I can keep my grades up if I work hard enough at it. But maybe I just don’t want to spend the next four to six years working that hard.”
“I understand that it seems daunting now. I’ve even been there myself. There were times during graduate school when I came very close to burnout. I felt as though I’d been in school all my life and that all I’d ever done was work and study while everyone else my age was out playing and enjoying their youth.”