She tried again, turning the key and pressing harder on the gas.
The Buick only groaned.
Caroline’s heart fell.
“Finicky old boat,” Nan said. “Give it a minute and try again.”
Caroline waited and turned the key again. Nothing more than a clicking noise. She wanted to cry.
Nan sat watching a leaf flutter through the air.
Caroline tried once more. There was a soft whirring noise and then silence.
“Alternator,” Nan said, still staring as the leaf landed on the hood. “Gus said this would happen.”
Caroline closed her eyes and wished she were someplace else.
“I’ll head over to Gus’s garage and get him to take a look,” Nan said.
Caroline knew she should offer to go but there were people about, and Nan had already grabbed her cane and set off down the sidewalk.
Caroline pulled her cap down low and pretended to nap.
Nan returned a few minutes later with Gus by her side.
He opened the hood. “Give her some gas, Alice,” he called.
Caroline turned the key. There was only silence. She sighed.
Gus slammed the hood. “Well, Nan, it’s like I told you last time. Looks like the alternator. But what you really need is a new car.”
Nan harrumphed. “This is a good car.”
Gus grinned. “But it’s getting old.”
“Like the rest of us.”
The big man laughed. “No arguing with that. And I can fix her up again. But winter’s coming, and I want you to be safe on the roads.” He looked up at Ute Peak, where clouds were building as if on cue. “Colonel wouldn’t forgive me if you broke down.”
Nan harrumphed again.
They must have had the conversation many times. Caroline wished they would finish it now, so she could get away from here.
“I’ll think about it,” Nan said finally.
Gus brightened.
“In the meantime, let’s try a new alternator.”
Gus let out a breath. “You’re the boss. I’ll run you home now, ladies. And gentleman,” he added, with a nod to Pippin in the backseat.
But it was his son who showed up to drive them to the ranch in his Jeep Grand Cherokee.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Ken,” he said in a voice that was as deep and smooth as an easy chair. He took Caroline’s hand in his, and it was by far the biggest hand Caroline had ever held.
“I’m Alice,” she said, looking up into a face that gave new meaning to the term “ruggedly handsome.” Large brown eyes set in a wide face with a jaw that looked as though it was chiseled from the same granite as Storm Pass.
“Welcome to town.” His face, with its wide jaw and deep-set eyes, would be intimidating if not for his smile, which was bright and warm and a perfect match for the one she’d just seen on Gus Kincaid. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alice.”
After a quick nod, Caroline was first to draw her hand away. She couldn’t help but notice the warmth of him lingering where he had touched her. Flustered, she looked down to where Pippin was skittering around Ken’s hiking shoes.
He shifted his weight, which set Pippin off barking at the top of his lungs.
“Hey, buddy, it’s okay.” Ken crouched, dangling his hand so Pippin could sniff it.
The dog gave Ken’s hand one lick but backed away when Ken tried to pet him.
Ken straightened up and grinned. “Tough guy.”
Ken was even bigger than his father and then some. He had the same easy way, the same slow smile, and this was now aimed at Caroline, despite the dog that raced snarling around his feet.
“Sorry,” Caroline said. “Poppit, hush.” She had chosen a name similar to Pippin’s real name in the hope that he would obey. At the moment, it was a strategy that seemed doomed.
“Poppit,” Ken repeated with a chuckle, extending his hand to pet the dog, who continued to bark. “C’mon now, Poppit.”
Ken Kincaid didn’t ruffle easily, Caroline decided. She smiled. “It takes him a while to warm up to people.”
“Like the rest of us, I guess.” He shrugged, a quick movement of massive shoulders under his polo shirt. “I happen to like dogs, Alice.”
The name, chosen only because she’d never met anyone named Alice, sounded good on his lips. She snuck a look up at him and met his glance. He was still grinning at her like he had all the time in the world. Relaxed. Carefree. And something else.
Interested.
The realization hit her like a jolt that was both powerful and unexpected. She worried that he could see behind her dark glasses into her eyes and beyond, to how she felt inside.
And the way she felt was anxious. Alert. Afraid. And, more than anything, attracted to him.
She reached down to scoop Pippin into her arms, then busied herself shepherding the dog and her few belongings into Ken’s Jeep.
Nan sprang into the backseat over Caroline’s protests, proving she was still spry.
Caroline climbed into the front seat, almost light-headed at what she was doing. Looking back, she liked everything about that ride, from the camp smell of the worn leather seats to the mountain’s rich scent that drifted through the open windows, to the way Ken kept turning his head to smile at her and point out sights along the way.
He showed them the cutoffs to his favorite hiking trails, the middle school he had attended growing up, and the sheared-off pieces of granite left over from the last Ice Age. He and Nan did most of the talking, but Caroline understood the tour was for her benefit. He pointed out the drive that led to his place, a handsome A-frame built of hardwood logs just outside of town.
Nan bustled around after they arrived at the ranch, showing them into the front room, which was comfortably furnished and up-to-date, like the rest of the place, from what Caroline could see. Nan insisted they sit, bringing tall glasses of iced tea on a tray before disappearing into the kitchen.
Ken settled into an easy chair by the living room fireplace. “So, you wear shades inside?” His tone was teasing.
Caroline hesitated. Keeping them on now would make it seem like she had something to hide. Forcing a smile, she pulled off the glasses and cap, ruffling her short locks into waves around her face. She was aware of his gaze on her, and despite the approving look on his face, she reddened.
“Now I get to see you without the disguise.”
Disguise. Caroline’s stomach lurched. She looked up sharply to see if he was testing her. But the smile on his face was innocent. Not to mention the look in his eyes was one of admiration. Something she wasn’t used to. “I’m sensitive to sunlight,” she said finally.
He sipped his iced tea and considered this. “Guess that makes today my lucky day, getting a look at you minus the cover-up.”
Flustered, Caroline took a gulp from her glass, more for something to do than because she was thirsty.
“So, how do you like Storm Pass?”
The directness of the question caught her off guard. “I wish I could stay forever,” she blurted.
“No reason not to.”
There were a million reasons. But Caroline wasn’t about to explain them. She had learned long ago to reveal as little as possible about herself, the things she wanted and the things she wished for. Doing so only fed Porter’s rage. Aware that she had just broken one of her basic rules, she felt compelled to change the subject. “Did you grow up here?”
Most people didn’t notice when someone changed the subject, but Ken Kincaid wasn’t like most people. He cocked his head and looked at her. “You should stay if you feel comfortable here. Storm Pass is a small town but there’s always room for one more.”
Caroline felt her cheeks heat up.
“And the answer to your question is, yes, I grew up here. Left for college. I went to USC on a football scholarship. I played safety.” Seeing her quizzical expression, he smiled. “That’s a defense position, by the way. And it’s fine with me if you don’t follow football. In f
act, I’d kind of like it.”
His words implied a shared future. The realization gave her a pleasure that tinkled inside her like music, and she smiled, flirting back. Her alma mater did not have a football team but its basketball team was top-ranked, a fact she was about to mention when an alarm bell clanged inside her mind. “I just never watched much football,” she said at last.
“Never watched football?” Nan bustled back in with a plate of cookies, which she set on the coffee table. “Do you realize you’re talking to one of the most famous men in Colorado?”
Caroline smiled uncertainly, but one look at Nan’s face revealed she was serious.
Ken chuckled, embarrassed. “Well, maybe the most famous football player in Storm Pass. I might as well tell you now, since my father will get around to it before long.”
“His father has an entire room full of his trophies. Ken’s just too modest to tell you. You know, he played for the Kansas City Chiefs until season before last.” Nan paused to watch Caroline’s reaction.
“Oh.” Caroline nodded. She recognized the team name but that was it. Her life over the last two years had not allowed for anything as normal or mundane as watching pro football on TV.
“Sit, you two,” Nan ordered. “I’ll get dinner started before I show Alice around.” She disappeared into the kitchen.
Which left them on their own. Caroline got the definite feeling that this was what Nan had intended. She snuck a glance at Ken, who was settled against the back of the chair with his legs stretched out in front, watching Pippin race around after Nan’s Jack Russell terrier, Scout.
He caught her glance and winked.
Leaving no doubt that he was happy for the time alone with her. Caroline cleared her throat, not comfortable to sit in companionable silence with him. “I can’t imagine what it would be like to grow up knowing you have talent,” she said truthfully.
“Everybody has a special talent,” Ken said.
“Not like yours,” she said.
Ken considered this, flexing the toes of his hiking shoes. “My talent is hard to explain, but I’ll try.” He eased forward, resting his arms on his knees and letting his feet land on the rug with a small thud.
Suddenly he was in close range, all broad shoulders and big arms. And keen eyes. “The moves were always there, a part of me, like my arms and legs. Getting drafted to play pro ball was incredible.” He smiled, remembering.
“I met my wife in Kansas. Soon to be ex-wife, as it turned out.” He gave a small shrug. “I got injured and had to give up the game. She wanted to be married to a football star, not a guy who used to play pro.” He shrugged again and let out a long breath. “You win some and lose some, I guess.”
There was silence while they both considered this. “Yeah.” Caroline took a sip of her iced tea.
Ken waited, and when Caroline didn’t offer any information of her own, he cleared his throat and continued. “I kicked around Kansas City for a while, then came back home to my true love.”
True love. So he was with someone.
“Fishing,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “I’m happy when I’m fly-fishing, that’s my big love.”
It was an interesting choice of words. Living with a psychoanalyst had taught Caroline that words carried weight. She risked a look at Ken’s face, and the playful twinkle in his eyes told her he had chosen those words deliberately.
She couldn’t hold back a smile. “Fly-fishing?”
“Yeah,” he said with a grin. “I take groups up the mountain in trout season. You ought to try it sometime.”
Images of old-growth forest pressing right up against the sides of the road, with occasional glimpses of lakes that looked positively primeval, came rushing back to Caroline from her bus ride just, what, day before yesterday? “I can see why you came back,” she said simply.
Ken took another sip of iced tea. “I could show you around.”
His tone was casual, but the invitation was not. Caroline hadn’t been on the receiving end of attention from a male in a long time, and certainly the boys she had known from GWU didn’t compare to Ken Kincaid. He was a man, all grown up, and he seemed normal. Uncomplicated. Not to mention too handsome to look at. A warning flare went off in Caroline’s mind. She was not free. Not by a long shot. She sipped her iced tea to stall while she considered how to decline. Spending time alone with him would mean trading confidences, personal information. But Caroline knew that a single casual remark could cost her life, and perhaps his, too. “Maybe,” she said, hating herself. “Maybe sometime.”
He drained his glass and stood. The room seemed to shrink around him. “Well, I’ve got to move along now. There’s plenty of trout up there. They’ll keep till you’re ready.” He cocked his head, his lips curved and his eyebrows raised, in a well-I-gave-it-a-try look.
“Yeah,” she said, looking away. But not before she caught the warmth in his eyes, which threatened her resolve.
He took a step in her direction. “Thanks for the tea. I’ll just put these in the sink.” He took her glass, his fingers brushing hers in a small movement that thrilled her. Standing next to him was like standing at the base of a tall building. She didn’t envy the running backs from opposing teams whose job it was to get past him with a football. But right now there was nothing imposing about him at all. In fact he seemed like nothing so much as a very large and very comfortable teddy bear. Caroline fought the sudden urge to move closer.
His gaze locked on hers, and she could swear he sensed her impulse.
Nan appeared, and the moment passed.
The sight of them standing together put a smile on Nan’s face that was so wide her eyes crinkled till they were almost shut. “Leaving so soon, Ken? I made meat loaf for dinner. Join us,” she said, collecting the glasses.
“Thank you kindly, Nan. I’ll take a rain check.” Ken looked through the picture window at the postcard view of the neighboring peaks, where clouds were piling up thick and fast. “Looks like it might turn out to be a snow check.” He grinned.
“Okay, but I’ll hold you to it,” Nan said.
“I promise not to be the only man in Storm Pass who can resist your meat loaf, Nan. Besides,” he said with a chuckle, “Gus would never let me hear the end of it.”
“Well, then come back tomorrow for leftovers.”
“I might just do that. I plan to check on you anyway while your car is in the shop,” he said, serious now.
“Drop in any time,” Nan said firmly. “Door’s always open.”
“Thanks,” he said with a smile. But he directed his next words at Caroline. “I’ll look forward to that.”
Nan bustled around the kitchen after Ken left, cheerier than ever. She whipped up a steaming pot of buttermilk mashed potatoes to go with the meat loaf, and served it with garlicky creamed spinach. She watched Caroline help herself to seconds. “It’s not good to be too thin,” she said approvingly.
Caroline studied her plate. She was five feet, seven inches tall, and had always maintained her weight at a size six. But Porter pointed out flaws, and she began to detest the parts of her body that were weak, such as the soft flesh on her inner thighs and the backs of her arms. She learned to stop eating when he did, whether she’d had her fill or not. Ending a meal still hungry was preferable to being the only one still chewing under Porter’s watchful gaze, like a cow working her cud.
“You eat slowly,” he observed. “You do everything slowly, like a small child.”
Desserts were always shared. Although he offered to order one after every meal whenever they dined out, Caroline learned to say no except on rare occasions.
It felt good not to have someone criticize her for every bite. She’d shrunk two dress sizes during their marriage, and it was probably more than that if she was honest. “I can’t remember ever having meat loaf this good,” she told Nan now.
Nan swallowed, her eyes as lively and alert as someone half her age. “Storm Pass does a body good. It’s done a lot of good
for Ken Kincaid.”
Caroline hid her interest at the mention of Ken’s name by taking another bite of creamed spinach.
“He was hurt, physically and mentally, when he came back. I guess that wife he had in Kansas liked the limelight more than she liked him.”
Caroline took a bite of meat loaf, hanging on every word.
“It’s her loss,” said Nan. “I’ve known Ken since the day he was born, and there’s no finer man anywhere except maybe his father. He’s licked his wounds long enough. He needs to open up and share his life with somebody new. And she’ll be a lucky girl. And that’s the world according to me,” Nan said with a laugh. She pushed back her chair and stood, waving off Caroline’s offer of help. “You’ve had a big day. You need to soak in a hot tub and go to bed with a good book. You can get the lay of the land here and start work tomorrow.”
Caroline spent the evening doing both, but nothing could quell the feelings brewing inside her. Relief that she had found a place, at least for now, and a tingle of pleasure at the thought of Ken Kincaid and his laughing brown eyes.
She lay in bed, waiting for sleep to come, listening to the wind in the trees.
Something banged, keeping time with the wind gusting outside, hard and loud.
Caroline’s heart stopped. She tensed, waiting for the tinkling sounds of breaking glass, the scrape of a door being pushed.
But none came.
Her pulse slowed after a while and her muscles relaxed.
It was probably nothing more than a loose shutter.
She was not safe, she knew this with every molecule in her being. Porter would search until he found her. He was searching now.
CHAPTER 9
After the paralysis of his initial shock, Porter reverted to his bachelor routine, seeing patients during the day and dining on takeout food at night. He informed the one waitress who asked that Caroline was visiting family and would return soon.
He kept himself busy with the task of putting their home in order, the new order. He purchased cartons from a do-it-yourself moving store and packed up Caroline’s belongings to give to the Salvation Army. There was one exception, her cherished collection of Herend figurines handed down from her grandmother, with whom she had been especially close. These he took to a weedy lot behind a strip mall and smashed, one by one.
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