"I'm not sure this falls into that category." But he hadn't come here to lecture on the evils of nicotine. "I brought your clothes over. I dropped them on the table in the foyer. You left them at the cabin yesterday."
"Thanks."
"My pleasure." Gareth looked away for a moment, debating the wisdom of continuing. But there were things he wanted to get off his chest and this was as good a time as any to do it. "I wanted to talk to you about what happened yesterday," he said slowly.
Nick inhaled too quickly and coughed as the smoke burned his throat.
"You okay?" Gareth asked, concerned.
"Fine. I'm fine." Nick turned to stub the barely touched cigarette out. "Maybe I'll quit before I finish both packs," he muttered. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and looked at his brother again, his dark eyes shuttered and unreadable. "What about yesterday?"
"The thing with Matthew. It was incredible."
"Yeah, that's me. Incredible as hell." Nick's mouth twisted in a self-mocking smile. Oddly enough, he seemed to relax a little. ''Miracles to order—that's my stock in trade."
"I know you don't want to talk about it," Gareth said doggedly, ignoring the sharp humor. "But there's something I want to tell you, something I should have said a long time ago."
Nick shifted uncomfortably. "I have an awful feeling you're about to break the Guy Code."
"The Guy Code?"
"You know, the one that says we don't talk to each other about anything but sports and food. So, what do you think of the Rams' chances at the Super Bowl this next year?"
"I think they've moved to St. Louis." Gareth was torn between exasperation and amusement. The conversation was going in a typically Nick-like direction.
"I forgot." Nick frowned. ''Are the Dodgers still around?"
"Yeah. And, if you really want to, we can analyze whether or not they're going to make it to the World Series, but I'm still going to say what I came here to say."
"You always did have a nasty dogged streak in you." Nick sounded resigned.
"I'll take that as a compliment." Gareth took a moment to set his thoughts in order. "A while ago, when Kate cut her finger at the nursery and...you—"
"I waved my magic wand," Nick finished for him, his voice edgy with temper. "I remember. What about it?"
Gareth cursed his own clumsiness. He was blowing it, but it was too late to back down now. He had to plow ahead and hope he didn't make a bigger mess of it. "You said some things that made it sound like you thought I was ashamed of your...gift."
"Did I?" Nick shifted restlessly, the old oak floorboards creaking under him. "It doesn't really matter one way or the other, does it?"
"It matters to me if you think that." Gareth hunched his shoulders. "What you can do—" He broke off and shook his head. "People use the word miracle to describe everything from a football upset to a sale on toilet paper, but what you did yesterday—that was the real thing."
"But you didn't want me to do it, did you?" Nick said more sharply than he'd intended.
"I've seen what it does to you when you succeed—and when you don't," Gareth said simply.
Memories suddenly lay between them, as vivid and sharp as a film strip. Gareth pulling him away from the car, away from Lisa and the baby. Gareth telling him it was too late, that he couldn't help them, that no one but God could help them now. He'd finally had to knock Nick unconscious to get him out of the garage.
"That was...a long time ago," Nick said, his voice rough with emotion.
"I guess it was," Gareth said. "I didn't mean to dredge up old memories. I just wanted you to know that... Well, I guess I wanted you to know that, when I saw what you did yesterday, I was very...proud." He shrugged, uncomfortable with the emotional direction the conversation had taken. "I just wanted to tell you that."
"Thanks. I... It means a lot to me to know that."
"Yeah, well. I thought it ought to be said." Gareth pushed his hands in his pockets and then pulled them out again. Wanting to end the sudden, uncomfortable silence, he looked at Nick and grinned. "How the hell are those Dodgers, anyway?"
Nick laughed, but the shadows remained in his eyes. Gareth wondered if those shadows would ever fade completely, if he'd ever be able to put the past behind him and move on with his life.
"The Guy Code is always there when you need it," Nick said.
"Nice to know there's something you can count on." Gareth nodded to the stack of lumber and paint cans. "You think Harry's really going to sell this place?"
"I doubt it." Nick caught his questioning look and shrugged, smiling ruefully. "He thought I needed to be saved from the evils of Wall Street so he drummed up the idea of selling the house and hit me with a major guilt trip to get me back here. I've got to hand it to him, he put on a hell of a performance."
"He must have been hell on wheels in a courtroom," Gareth said, careful not to make any comment about whether or not Nick might have been in need of saving. There was a limit to the amount of emotional baggage he wanted to shed in one day.
"It would serve him right if I made him sell the damned place when I'm done with it," Nick said, but there was no real force behind the threat
"It's a great old house." Gareth looked around the room, seeing past the shabby surface to the quality beneath. "They really built to last in those days."
"Labor and materials were a lot cheaper." Nick reached for a cigarette and then changed his mind. He pushed his hands into his pockets instead and watched as Gareth crossed to one of the windows and ran his hand over the woodwork.
"Makes my place look like it's put together with spit and bailing wire," He looked out the window. "Kate's crazy about this yard. She says it could be a real showpiece."
"Harry likes what she's doing with it." Nick said neutrally.
"She's done a little work around my place already." Gareth turned from the window and wandered toward the center of the room. "But I have a feeling she wants to make some major changes and is waiting until after we're married to spring them on me.
"She seems to know her stuff when it comes to landscaping."
"She does." Gareth picked up a paintbrush and flicked the bristles back and forth across his palm a few times before setting it down. "It's funny that she should be so into plants since her family was constantly on the move when she was a kid. She doesn't talk much about it, but I gather she hated moving all the time."
"That kind of thing can be hard on a child." Nick could think of no more exquisite punishment for his sins than to have to listen to Gareth talk about Kate.
"I never have figured out why they moved so often. Something to do with her father's job, I guess." Gareth frowned and looked down as he gently bounced the toe of his shoe against the side of a paint can. "Like I said, she doesn't say much about it."
"Maybe she figures it's best to leave it in the past."
"I suppose." Gareth was silent a moment and then he seemed to shake off his contemplative mood. "I'd better let you get back to work. I'm heading into the station. They weren't expecting me back today so I figure I might be able to catch up on some paperwork."
"All work and no play," Nick reminded him, hoping it wasn't obvious that he was anxious to see this visit end.
"Yeah, I know I'm in danger of becoming a workaholic." Gareth grinned ruefully. "I did call Kate to see if she wanted to catch a movie, but she thinks she's coming down with a cold and wants to spend the day popping vitamin C and resting to see if she can head it off."
"I hope she can," Nick said. Guilt was a lead weight in the pit of his stomach.
"Me, too." Gareth turned toward the door and then hesitated, bending to pick something up off the floor near the sofa. He straightened up with a lacy, flesh-toned bra dangling from his finger.
"Something new in house restoration tools?" he asked quizzically.
Nick felt as if he'd just been kicked in the stomach.
His mind went completely blank, and he stared at the lacy garment as if he'd neve
r seen it before.
"The grapevine must be slowing down," Gareth said, filling in the silence. "I haven't heard about anyone you're seeing."
"Some people like their privacy," Nick got out. His muscles felt stiff as he moved forward and took the bra from his brother. Not knowing what else to do with it, he stuffed it in his back pocket.
"Not even Howard Hughes could have kept his privacy in this town." Gareth looked both curious and surprised. "Someone I know?"
"I doubt it."
Gareth waited, as if expecting him to add something to the flat statement, but Nick's powers of invention had been drained dry. The bra felt as if it was burning a hole in his pocket to match the one guilt was burning in his gut. When he didn't say anything more, Gareth frowned, his expression going from curious to concerned.
"You're being careful, aren't you? I mean, these days, there's—"
"I'm a little past the age of having my big brother lecture me about safe sex," Nick pointed out. He was suddenly sharply aware that the warning came too late.
"Sorry." Gareth's smile was a little sheepish. "Old habits die hard, I guess."
"I suppose." Nick started for the door, beyond caring if Gareth thought there was something odd in his behavior. Five more minutes in his brother's company and he was going to start screaming a confession neither of them wanted to hear.
❧
For several minutes after Gareth was gone, he stood in the entry way, staring at the closed door. Almost with a sense of detachment, he wondered how long it would take for the fallout from last night to cease.
When the phone rang, Kate hesitated before answering. She wasn't in the mood to talk, and she was tempted to let the machine pick it up. But she told Gareth she didn't feel good enough to go to a movie. If he was calling to check on her and she didn't answer, he would probably come over. The thought was enough to make her pick up the receiver.
"Hello?"
"Kate?"
Just the one word, but she knew his voice. Her fingers knotted around the receiver, her chest suddenly aching with tension.
"I don't have anything to say to you."
"Then you can just listen while I talk," he said, his polite tone as sharp as a slap. She felt her face flush as anger replaced the turmoil churning in her stomach.
"Maybe I should have phrased it differently," she said tightly. "You don't have anything to say that I want to hear."
"If you hang up, I'll come over."
The threat caught her as she was pulling the receiver away from her ear. She hesitated, but something told her not to test him.
"I'm listening," she said sullenly.
"I don't know if it's occurred to you yet, but we didn't exactly spend much time discussing some of the more basic realities of sex in the nineties."
They hadn't spent time discussing sex at all, Kate thought, remembering the sense of urgency that had her tearing at his clothes. She was ashamed of the way her body reacted to the memory, a tingling awareness flooding over her from head to heels, an unmistakable warmth. She closed her eyes, letting her head fall back against the sofa.
"Kate?" Nick's tone was sharply questioning.
"I'm here."
Though she tried to keep her voice level, she must not have been entirely successful because his tone gentled subtly.
"What I'm trying to say is that I didn't use any protection last night."
She shuddered. He wasn't telling her anything she hadn't already thought of, but it seemed more real somehow when she heard him say it. "I know," she said, helpless to banish the thickness from her voice.
"You don't have to be afraid of getting...anything," he said, all the sharpness gone, leaving only concern. Oddly, that made her eyes burn with tears when his anger hadn't. She breathed through her mouth and fought to get her emotions under control.
"I don't know what the protocol is," Nick continued when she didn't speak. "The truth is, I haven't done much dating since...in the last few years. I just wanted you to know you didn't have to worry, at least not about that."
"Thank you." She drew a shallow breath. "You don't have to worry, either."
"I figured as much." He hesitated. Kate guessed what was coming, and her fingers ached from the pressure of her grip on the phone. "You could be pregnant."
''No." The denial was flat. Inarguable. "You don't have to worry about that, either."
"Are you sure? You don't have to deal with it alone. I'll—"
"I don't have to deal with it at all," she interrupted. "It's not an issue."
"Are you taking—"
"You don't have to worry about it," she said sharply. "Is that all you had to say?"
"I... That's all I called for," he said slowly. "Kate—"
"Goodbye." She hung the phone up and sat staring at it, wondering if he'd call back. But the phone remained silent. After awhile, she slid down until she lay curled up on the sofa, her arms wrapped around her stomach, her forehead resting on her knees.
Chapter 11
"Shouldn't you be home primping for your date tonight?" Brenda stopped a few feet from where Kate was unloading sacks of manure from a truck and stacking them in neat piles next to the purple bam.
"I've got time." Kate hefted another sack to the top of the pile.
"Shouldn't somebody be helping you with that?" Brenda asked, frowning.
"Are you offering?" Kate threw her friend a dry look of inquiry as she reached for the next sack on the truck.
"Ordinarily, I'd like nothing better," Brenda said mendaciously. "But I'm not really dressed for it." She gestured to her trim white slacks and light blue silk blouse. "But I'll go get one of the boys for you."
"Exercise is good for you."
"I've heard that rumor, but I think it's a filthy lie. Shall I get Jerry or Larry?"
"It's John and Don," Kate said, grinning. "And you don't need to call them because Vm almost done."
"Well, I knew they rhymed," Brenda said, shrugging. She narrowed her eyes against the sun. "It's kind of warm out here. You're not going to get sunstroke, are you?"
"Worried about workman's comp?"
"No, I just don't want to have to explain to Gareth how his fiancee came to collapse on the job."
"I'm not going to get sunstroke," Kate assured her.
Every time Brenda mentioned Gareth's name, her conscience pinched viciously. She'd managed to avoid him almost completely for the past two weeks, since that disastrous night with Nick. She'd seen him at church and they'd had one hurried lunch together, but she hadn't spent any real time alone with him.
Sitting beside him in church had been agony. If a lightning bolt had come through the roof and struck her down, it would have seemed no more than she deserved. As she struggled to pay attention to Philip Blackthorne's gentle sermon, she vowed to tell Gareth the truth. He deserved that much from her. If he broke off their engagement... Well, she could hardly expect him to do anything else.
She thought later that she would have told Gareth the truth if he hadn't had to leave right after the service. She hadn't seen him or talked to him for two days, which had given her forty-eight long hours to wonder if telling him was the right thing to do.
Did it serve any purpose to tell him something so hurtful? What if she just kept the truth to herself and did her best to make up to him for the terrible wrong she'd done?
Or was she trying to justify making the easy choice?
The questions spun round and round in her head until she felt dizzy. In the end, she didn't really make a decision so much as she simply took the path of least resistance.
"Are you doing something special tonight?" Brenda asked, breaking into Kate's thoughts.
"Tonight?" Kate tossed the last of the bags of manure on the stack and turned to look at her blankly.
"You and Gareth," Brenda prompted. "Are you doing anything special?"
"I don't know. Dinner or a movie, I guess." She pulled off her leather gloves as she spoke. "It's what we usually do."
Brenda arched her brows. "You sound less than enthused."
"No, I really enjoy our evenings." Kate smiled and hoped the expression reached her eyes. "Some people might get tired of doing the same old thing, but I kind of like it."
"Gareth is a little predictable," Brenda said with rueful affection. "I guess you'd better get used to it, if you're going to marry him."
"Of course I'm going to marry him," Kate said. Brenda's startled look made her realize that she'd spoken too sharply. Guilty conscience at work, she thought, and forced a quick laugh. "I guess that wasn't really a question, was it? Sorry. I'm a little tired. My brain seems to be running in neutral lately."
"You have seemed a little distracted the last couple of weeks." Brenda looked concerned. "Is everything okay?"
For a moment, Kate was tempted to pour out the whole miserable story. She wanted desperately to talk to someone about what had happened. In the back of her mind was the vague idea that maybe, in talking about it, she'd be able to figure out how she'd come to abandon every principle, every moral, every shred of sanity and find herself in bed with her fiancee's brother. Not even in bed, she remembered. They hadn't even made it that far.
"Everything's fine," she lied. Best friend or no, she couldn't tell Brenda about that night with Nick.
"Well, it's not going to stay fine if you don't get home and change," Brenda said, wrinkling her nose as Kate came closer. "You smell a little...earthy."
"Eau de manure?" Kate suggested. "Maybe I can make it all the rage."
"I wouldn't be surprised. If people will embrace navel piercing, they can probably be convinced that smelling like a cow pie is a good thing." "Maybe we could become filthy rich." "At least you've already got the filthy part down." For the first time in two weeks, Kate laughed. The sound made her feel a little better. If she could laugh, maybe there was hope that life, as she knew it, wasn't completely at an end.
"This has been great." Gareth's arm rested lightly around Kate's waist as they walked toward her apartment. "It seems like ages since we spent any time together."
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