Sweet Ride!

by Bonnie Edwards

  "They're easy as pie." Jace took the jug of orange juice out of the refrigerator and set it on the counter.

  "I can't bake a pie, either." She heard her breath catch in the sudden stillness after her desperation-laden announcement. She smoothed her apron against her thighs and hoped Jace hadn't noticed. "Or at least, I've never tried."

  "Hey." He turned to study her. Concern edged into his eyes. "Don't get upset, it's only potatoes. Are you okay?" He reached for her and held her by the shoulders. "You're not okay. What's wrong? Has something happened? Lose out on a sale?"

  The heat from his hands soothed her through her light cotton blouse. She shook her head no, but her damn breath caught again and this time she was sure he heard it.

  Couldn't she cook a measly meatloaf without falling to pieces?

  "No, it's just that as nice as Brenda is...." She trailed off with a sigh. "Harry's been making noises about churches and ministers and honeymoons without actually asking Brenda to marry him."

  Jace grinned, and lifted that damned eyebrow. "And?"

  "Brenda got tired of waiting and did the asking herself."

  Chapter 10

  Jace picked Katie up and swung her around in his enthusiasm. "Married? My uncle's finally going to tie the knot? That's great."

  She knew that. She did.

  "It is, isn't it?" She smiled back at him. "Harry said it was about time she figured out what he'd been saying. Now there's a wedding to plan." Not that she knew anything about planning one, but Brenda would. She seemed so normal.

  "That's a problem?" he asked, rubbing her shoulders gently. He moved up, massaging her neck, as well. His eyes were alight with happiness and satisfaction. Katie only hoped she could muster the same emotions soon. She hated this sense of dread she was living with. She couldn't shake it, no matter how hard she tried.

  "For me, yes"—she sighed, wishing for patience and time to enjoy the neck and shoulder rub—"life's gotten way out of control and I'm frantic. Nothing's as it was." He dragged her to his chest and she stood stiffly in his embrace. He rubbed her back, her shoulders, her behind, clasping her to him. She felt the effect immediately.

  "At least this hasn't changed," she said, already responding to his arousal. She relaxed under his gentle ministrations, and he held her. She settled her head against his chest and let the sound of his steady heartbeat soothe her. She tried to find the words to explain as she drank in the scent of Jace.

  "I've found myself compromising, sharing time, plans, cooking," she said, "and sharing a bathroom without so much as batting an eye." She should be happy that she'd coped this well, but she couldn't help but worry about the next big adjustment, which would be going back to life without Jace.

  "Yeah, we share a bathroom. So what? I'm tidy."

  "Yes, you're tidy." She playfully shoved him in the chest, but nestled against him immediately. "None of this has been easy for me, and now Brenda's asking my advice on cruise wear, for pity's sake."

  Also, she shouldn't give a damn about whether a man who was leaving soon would like her meatloaf. Being in love was too hard to deal with, she decided, putting her feeling of impending doom down to knowing that Jace would be gone as soon as Harry was back at work. The day she'd been wishing for would do double duty as one of the worst days of her life.

  "Tell her you don't have any idea what's appropriate and don't worry about it anymore." His stomach growled and he lifted the lid of a pot on the stove. "Tell me you're mashing these. I love mashed potatoes."

  "I'll make gravy, too."

  "I've died and gone to heaven."

  She tried not to be goofy with pleasure, but she couldn't help it. Happiness welled up inside her chest along with tears.

  His blue eyes sparked with anticipation and a shock of lacquer black hair swung across his brow. His hair had grown since they'd met. Jace was no longer the impeccably snipped and trimmed banker she'd first seen.

  "Is there anything else bothering you?" he asked, apparently misunderstanding the reason for her dampened lashes.

  "Not really." How could she explain her choking panic whenever she saw her life without Jace and Harry? Somehow, they'd attached strings to her heart without her knowledge or consent.

  The look of concern in his eyes deepened and she said the first thing that popped into her head. "Brenda wants me to shop for a wedding dress with her and give her a detailed explanation of how to handle Harry. As if anyone could." Wedding dresses. Dread bloomed again.

  "I'd say you've had more practice handling Harry than Brenda has. I'm sure if you think hard enough, you'll come up with a good piece of advice. And isn't shopping for dresses what women do best?"

  "Most women."

  "Have they set a date?"

  "They're waiting until after the cruise. Brenda's first wedding was huge, she said, and this time she'd like something more intimate." Just family, she'd said, including Katie as if there were no doubt she was as good as Harry's kin.

  As they talked and set the table together, Katie felt more relaxed about the meal. After they'd eaten and washed the dishes, Jace pulled out a bottle of wine and tugged her toward the living room.

  She wondered what he had in mind because he seemed distracted, but she didn't want to probe. She wasn't stupid. With Harry's health improved to the point of planning a new life then it only stood to reason that Jace's move to Switzerland was imminent.

  He opened the wine and poured them each a glass. She tucked a leg under her on the sofa and accepted her wine.

  "You're deep in thought," she said, unsure if she wanted to hear what came next.

  "I want to ask you something about yourself, Kate, and I don't know how."

  "Just ask."

  He settled on the floor with his back against the sofa. She slid down beside him and stretched her leg along the length of his. "What do you want to know?"

  "About your mom. Do you remember anything at all?"

  "I was only three when she died."

  "What do you remember?"

  "The smell of French perfume and smoke. The cigarette smell clung to her all the time. She was happy and laughed a lot. I remember that." She took a sip of wine, not sure where he was headed with this conversation, but willing to go along.

  "Anything else?"

  "My red and white tricycle. I climbed way up to the seat. It was higher than I thought I could climb." She got lost in the memories, awash in the remembered comfort of her mother's embrace. "I made Beau ride it first because I was too scared."

  Jace's legs shifted and he pulled up a knee. He watched her as if from a great distance, concern in his expression. Jace was there, but it was her mother's love she felt. It had been so long since she'd reached for that small comfort.

  "She laughed and hugged me and said it was okay to be afraid. She said when I was bigger I could do anything I wanted. Be anything I wanted."

  She closed her eyes for a long moment, savoring the memories of love. Baby, kiss Mommy ni-nights. I'll see you in the morning.

  "She was warm, Jace." Her voice cracked a little. "And she loved me. I remember that. I remember feeling loved and... warm."

  Jace blinked several times and gently tugged her close. She went gladly, needing him.

  "All of a sudden, she was gone," she said against his shoulder. "I was alone and crying. I couldn't stop."

  At the time, the people around her had seemed cold and distant. But now, she understood they'd been merely at a loss to comfort a little girl who refused to be comforted.

  "I remember someone telling me to stop, but I couldn't."

  "Did you ever learn what happened to her?" he asked gently.

  She nodded but said nothing. He stroked her shoulder, waiting.

  "When I was about twelve, I had a foster brother approach me, but he was a creep." Her tone was matter-of-fact. She felt a sudden tension in Jace and looked at him, surprised.

  "He 'approached' you?"

  She glanced at him and smiled to reassure him. "Relax, he
was only fourteen and wanted to try out his kissing technique. He shoved his tongue in my mouth." She smirked. "I told him if that was what he wanted he should find a soda bottle."

  Jace's relief was obvious. "So, you've always been mouthy."

  "Yep." She leaned against him. He put his arms around her. "He got his revenge by telling me my mother was a cheap whore and she'd been killed by a john." She said it baldly, as if it didn't matter.

  "That son of a—"

  "Let me tell you the version of the story I believe," she interrupted him so she could get the full story out. Now that she'd started, she felt more at ease and hoped he would understand her better for the telling. She turned and faced him.

  "His story disgusted me and didn't fit my memories of her. She couldn't have been a bad woman, you see? Not like he said, anyway."

  He nodded. "She loved you very much."

  "Yes, I'm sure of it." She beamed a smile at him. "In three years she gave me all the love she could."

  Jace had to clear the lump from his throat. But had it been enough? Had that short time prepared Kate to accept that there was such a thing as unconditional love? He hoped so. "Tell me what you believe happened."

  "When I was sixteen, I demanded to see the records. I told my caseworker what Roddy had said. She got mad and broke the rules. She let me read my file." Kate smiled up at him trustfully. "My mother was an exotic dancer. That way she could spend days with me and work at night."

  "It makes sense. Dancers make a reasonable living if they're smart." He grinned to reassure her. "And if she was anything like you, you can bet she was one smart lady."

  Kate nodded. "I like to think so."

  "What happened to her?"

  "She was driving home one night from work." Her voice faltered so he massaged her shoulders, hoping to help, and to ease her pain in some way, hoping to show her how much he loved her. "A drunk driver ran a red light and crossed the intersection in front of her. Her brakes failed and she died instantly." Kate turned tear-filled eyes up to him.

  "She was only nineteen." Her chin quivered but the tears didn't fall. Kate tilted her head, as if daring the world to doubt her love for her mother. "And there was no john. She lived the way she did for me, Jace. Because she loved me."

  "You know the rest," she went on. "After being shifted from home to home, I decided it was much easier to keep moving, even if I had to be a hellion to make people let me go."

  Kate reached for him suddenly. "Jace," she whispered. "I need you."

  She'd felt loved once. He was determined she'd accept love again. And now he had an ally: a long-dead teenage mother who'd done all she could to give her baby exactly the same things Jace wanted for her. He sent a silent thank you heavenward just before kissing Kate.

  * * *

  It was Katie's turn to get groceries after work. She'd been in such a muddle lately what with all Jace's intense lovemaking that she'd completely forgotten to write out a list. Afraid of forgetting something important, she dashed home before going to the store.

  She was surprised to see Rollie Yetz's car, large, silver and classic, parked in the shade of the large maple. Rollie's driver was leaning against the passenger door, absently cleaning his fingernails. She wondered if he realized there was a long string of pigeons sitting on a telephone wire directly over his head.

  She turned off her engine and the man looked up as she got out of the Mustang. His gaze swept up her legs, past her body and into her face. His smile said he liked what he saw.

  "You may not want to stand there long. You're in the line of fire," she said, pointing skyward.

  He jumped out of the way and cursed at the birds. Obviously not a nature lover, she thought.

  It wasn't until she was halfway up the walk that she wondered why Rollie was here. He owned a string of dealerships across the state, run by various family members. He and Harry had known each other for years. Perhaps this was only a friendly visit. After all, word was out that Harry was easing back into his routine, and she was aware that the end was near for her and Jace.

  When she opened the front door, voices were coming from the living room. They were discussing business. There was no real privacy, but she knew Harry didn't need any. There was nothing she didn't know about the lot.

  "Of course, Yetz Enterprises would make every effort to keep the existing staff in place, especially Ms. Calhoun. She's some saleswoman," Rollie Yetz's voice came to her softly.

  Katie froze in her tracks.

  "Would she sign a contract to stay for at least a year?" Rollie went on.

  Uncomprehending, she stepped into plain view in the archway. Harry and Jace were standing with their backs to her, but Rollie smiled in welcome when he saw her.

  "No, she won't be here," Jace said firmly in response to Rollie's question. "Kate and I will be leaving for Switzerland. We'll be married within the month."

  Katie stopped again, vaguely aware her mouth was open and that she'd been about to say hello. But all thought of a pleasant conversation fled. Married? Switzerland? They were selling the lot?

  The lot that had become her life?

  "I see," Rollie said, but the rest was lost on Katie. She strode forward into the already crowded room.

  Jace and Harry turned, looking surprised.

  "Switzerland?" she demanded, anger rolling through her in waves. "How dare you plan my life?" She looked at Harry, who should have understood, who should have known she'd never put up with this.

  "You sold the lot, Harry? Everything? Out from under me?"

  Jace had the grace to turn red, at least. Harry wouldn't look at her.

  Jace put out a hand toward her, concern in his eyes. She stepped back, out of the room, feeling ill and unsteady while her head swam. Jace came toward her, his hand still outstretched.

  This was it, the big bad ugly she'd dreaded. Her heart had known what her head had refused to see.

  She batted at Jace's hand. "Don't touch me," she said hollowly. "Don't ever touch me again." She glared up at him. "You had no right, Jace, no right at all to assume I'd go along with you." Move to Switzerland? Her?

  "Kate," he pleaded softly, glancing over his shoulder at the two silent men. "We'll talk about this—"

  "No," she cut him off. "No more talk. When we talk, all you do is talk and I listen. But you never listen to me, Jace. Never." The words poured forth, with all her rage and pent up frustration and broken love. "I've told you that I don't want what you're offering. I can't live the way you want me to. But you've never heard me, have you?"

  "I thought you'd be happy, that you'd want the security of not having to make a decision," he explained.

  "But that's the point, Jace. I like making decisions. I like being in control of my life." She drew in a ragged breath. "What took me eight years to build you took away in weeks." She turned away and ran up the stairs in a dead heat. She had to get out of here.

  Escape.

  Energy pulsed through her as she pulled her boxes from the corner where she'd kept them all these weeks. Where could she go? She couldn't stay in Bellingham anymore. Jace had ruined the place for her.

  She yanked open her drawers and piled her lingerie into a carton. Seattle, she decided without a second thought. It was large enough to get lost in and close enough to stay in touch with her business contacts.

  "Kate?" Jace called from downstairs.

  "Leave me alone." She slammed a drawer shut and opened the next. She tumbled the sweaters she found directly into the box without stopping to fold them. Her perfume bottles and nail polish were on top of her dresser.

  One swoop of her forearm cleared the dresser top. She choked back a sob as the bottles fell on top of the cushioning sweaters. Fuchsia, harvest bronze, and hot pink bottles of polish nestled with amber and gold bottles of scent in a patchwork of crazy color against the soft shades of her sweaters.

  Jace stood in the doorway, his chest heaving. "What are you doing?"

  She didn't touch the contents of the nex
t drawer. She simply turned it bottom up to let her T-shirts fall into the box.

  "I'm leaving," she snapped. Temper flared as she continued to empty her dresser. She closed the full box, interlocking the flaps so it wouldn't fall open.

  Jace disappeared.

  She snorted. Typical, she thought bitterly. None of her other so-called families had helped her pack either. They had all let her leave alone.

  She was throwing the last of her suits and dresses into a carton when Jace returned. He had an entire set of luggage in his arms. Expensive luggage, if she knew anything about labels. She closed this box as well.

  "At least take these," he said quietly. "I bought them for you, for our honeymoon."

  She whirled and stared at him. "You what?"

  "You moved in with those cardboard boxes and I thought you'd like a set of luggage." The man was actually trying a smile.

  "I hate luggage."

  His smile faltered but he still looked at her as if she were a little crazy.

  "Nobody hates luggage. What's to hate?" he asked too reasonably.

  She ignored him and his question. Had she forgotten to pack anything? She pushed past him, caught a whiff of his scent, and stormed into the bathroom to collect the items she'd left in the medicine chest.

  He stood in the bathroom doorway, blocking her exit, shrinking the room. She glared up at him. "Get out of my way."

  "Answer me. Why don't you use luggage?"

  "If I tell you, will you listen?"

  "I promise." He still wore a reasonable expression which proved the lie. He had never listened. Not really.

  "I was issued one suitcase when I was a kid." She kept her voice cold and her tone direct. "I dragged it from house to house. When I left the last facility, I threw it out and swore that from then on I'd use cartons to move just like regular people."

  "That's it? That's all? You're holding a grudge against luggage. That's not rational."

  "You don't get it. You don't understand me, Jace, and you never will. We're too different. What would I do in Zurich? I've got no skills to find a job. I can't speak the language. I'd have no choice but to follow you around like a lost puppy, and I can't do that." She raised her voice, unable to hold back the flood of emotion. "I was forced to let the state and their bureaucrats control my whole life when I was a kid—where I'd live, my school, even the clothes on my back. I can't put myself in that position again. I won't put myself in that position again." She drew a deep breath. "Clear enough?"