A Family Kind of Wedding Page 15

  Luke raised an eyebrow, silently encouraging her to continue.

  “I’m not making excuses. I should have told Dave the truth. I thought I was protecting my son and myself, but really—I only ended up hurting Josh.” She managed a thin, frail smile. “I made a mistake. A big one.”

  “Everyone does.” Surprisingly, he didn’t seem to judge her.

  Folding her arms under her breasts, trying to maintain some semblance of poise, she fought tears. “So, cowboy from Texas, what does it matter to you?”

  “I already told you that I knew Dave. Worked for years for Dave’s father, Ralph.”

  “Uh-huh.” She didn’t like the way this was heading.

  “And you know I bought my place from him.” Luke seemed as tense as she. His shoulders were rigid, his eyes watching her every move.

  “Maybe you should tell me what I don’t already know.” She was careful. Wary. Where was the warm man to whom she’d made love only a few days before?

  “As I said, I didn’t buy the place with cash, really. I worked for him, he withheld part of my paycheck with the understanding that I’d one day use that money as a down payment on a place outside of Dallas. However, that didn’t work out, and he offered me full ownership out here instead. It was a deal I couldn’t pass up.”

  He’d told her all this before, but nothing he’d said so far explained the rigid set of his jaw or the lines of silent anger that bracketed his mouth. “So?”

  “He asked a favor of me before I headed west.”

  Here it comes. “What kind of favor?” she asked, not really sure she wanted to know. Her pulse thundered through her brain.

  “Ralph asked me to do some checking when I came into town. Before his death Dave had mentioned that he might have fathered a child back here, and Ralph wanted to locate that grandchild if he had. That’s why I came over here tonight. To get this all out in the open. It’s been a secret too long.”

  Katie’s chest was as tight as if it had suddenly been strapped in steel bands. “I had already decided to talk to the Sorensons,” she said, though she still felt cornered, as if tracking hounds had been put on her trail and she had no place to run to, her back against the face of a sheer cliff. “But first I had to talk to Josh.”

  “He didn’t know?”

  She shook her head and felt beads of sweat collecting at her nape and forehead. “As I said, no one did. Whenever the subject of his father came up, I told him that the man was in my life for a very short period, then gone, that I didn’t know much about him anymore. I promised to tell him the whole story some day, but, for the most part, I hedged. I didn’t want Josh to hear things about a father who had left him before he was born, and I thought that if I kept the guy anonymous, and if there was no speculation, no gossip, it would be okay. Of course, that was a mistake. People talk and kids are cruel.” She swiped her bangs from her eyes. “You have to understand I was little more than a kid, myself. I’d been teased all my growing-up years because my mom was forever getting married and divorced. It seemed like everyone else’s family was stable, and mine was this…this chaotic mess.

  “I know now that it wasn’t true. All families have their little secrets.” She laughed at the irony. “And of course I had no idea that the man who was supposed to be my father, wasn’t. My mom lied to me, too. I would have died if I’d guessed that I was the product of a…an illicit affair. That I would be called ‘illegitimate.’ It was bad enough as it was, and I was determined that I wouldn’t put my kid through the same kind of pain.”

  She leaned a hip against the kitchen island and glanced out to the backyard where moonlight was casting the dry grass in soft shades of silver. “Anyway, of course it was probably worse for Josh to not tell him the truth, but I was young and convinced I was doing the right thing. The trouble with a lie is it feeds on itself and keeps growing. Any time the subject came up, I evaded the issue and told myself he was too young to understand. I thought there would be plenty of time. It wasn’t as if Dave had shown any interest in my possible pregnancy, anyway. But then you landed in town with the news that Dave was dead, and I…I couldn’t stand it. I knew I had to level with Josh. I finally talked with him a few days ago.”

  “How did he take the news?”

  “He was stunned. No. Horrified would probably be a better word. Then, once the disbelief subsided, he was angry—I mean, really angry with me.” She swallowed hard and reached into the cupboard for a glass. “Can’t say as I blame him. I was mad that my mom lied about who my father was, but at least I had the chance to meet him and decide for myself how much I wanted John Cawthorne in my life. Josh has no options. I took them away from him.” She flipped on the tap, filled her glass and drank to quench the dryness at the back of her throat.

  “You did what you thought was best.” Luke’s voice was low, a balm.

  “Yeah, and it blew up in my face.” She lifted her glass. “You want some?”

  “Naw, I’m fine.” Getting to his feet, he went to her and wrapped solid arms around her torso. “You can’t beat yourself up for this.”

  “Oh, no?” Turning to gaze up at him, she saw the sweet seduction in his eyes, heard his sharp intake of breath as her breasts brushed against his shirt.

  “Nope.” His gaze slid down her face. “Besides, we have other problems.”

  “Do we?”

  “Mmm.” His arms tightened, holding her close, and she was pulled snugly to him, her breasts flattening against his chest, her hips pressed intimately to his. Gazing into her eyes, he lowered his head to hers. “This,” he said, his breath warm against her face, “is a much bigger issue.” His mouth slanted over hers, and her blood turned to fire.

  So this was the way it would be with him, she realized. Each and every time they touched, passion would ignite. Her arms wound around his neck and he lifted her off her feet. When he started for the stairs, common sense ruled. “We can’t,” she whispered, struggling to get down. “Not with Josh here.”

  Luke’s eyes were the color of midnight, but instead of releasing her, he carried her outside, across the moon-washed lawn and up the stairs to the carriage house. “If he wakes up, we’ll know,” he assured her as he kicked open the door and crossed the hardwood floor to the bedroom. He paused long enough to flip the lock behind him, then laid her on the bed and kissed her as if he would never stop.

  * * *

  “So I thought we could have lunch and catch up,” Bliss suggested a few days later. Katie, working at the office, balanced the receiver between her shoulder and ear.

  Bliss, home from her short honeymoon, was calling from her cell phone and still sounding breathlessly in love. She and Mason had just gotten back to Oregon and were living at Cawthorne Acres, the ranch John Cawthorne had called his own until his marriage to Brynnie. Brynnie had insisted he give up ranching for fear of his having another heart attack, and he’d reluctantly sold the ranch to Mason and Bliss. John and his wife would move into town as soon as Brynnie’s house was remodeled to suit them. Meanwhile, Bliss and Mason shared the place with them.

  “Sounds great.” Katie stretched the cord of her phone around the computer monitor glowing on her desk and reached into a drawer for her pen. Her cubicle, or “office,” as it was sometimes referred to, was situated in the middle of a huge room that was divided by soundproof barriers that didn’t quite do the job. The conversation of other reporters, the clacking of computer keys, even noise from the street filtered through the maze of desks.

  “Let’s meet at Claudia’s at one, and I’ll call Tiffany to see if she can join us.”

  “I’ll be there,” Katie promised, making a note to herself. She had an interview with Octavia Nesbitt, Tiffany’s grandmother and president of the local garden club, this morning; then she wanted to talk with the police department and Jarrod about the Isaac Wells case.

  Each day, she’d riffled eagerly through her mail, hoping for another missive from the mystery person, but there had been nothing at work or at home. She
’d even checked her mailbox at the cottage, on the off chance that the mail hadn’t been forwarded. No such luck.

  “Face it, Kinkaid,” she grumbled to herself, “you’ve been led down the garden path.” Lately, it seemed, her life had been bedlam. The move had been exhausting, but finally, most of her possessions seemed to have found new places of their own. Josh’s ankle was fine, and he was back at soccer practice, but the car was still a problem; she’d gone to the local dealer and hadn’t been able to locate a used vehicle that suited her. Nor did there seem to be the perfect car in the “Autos for Sale” part of the classified advertisements in the paper. She was still using her father’s Jeep, and though John assured her that it was better she be driving the rig than it be gathering dust in the garage, she wasn’t comfortable without her own set of wheels. Her convertible, if not all that reliable, had been an old friend. She punched out Jarrod’s number with the eraser end of her pencil and prayed that she wouldn’t have to leave a message if he was out.

  Her oldest half brother had the decency to answer on the fourth ring.

  “Hello?” His voice was curt, all business.

  “It’s me,” she said. “I just wanted to thank you for helping with the move.”

  “No problem. And I will fix the screen door at the cottage. I promise.”

  “Good. I’ll hold you to it. Now, what’s new with the Isaac Wells case?”

  “Ah, the real reason you called.”

  She grinned. “You always could read me like a book.”

  “Why don’t you tell me about Mr. Wells, Katie. You’re the one getting the letters.”

  “Letter. Singular. No more.”

  “Good. You know I don’t like you involved in that mess,” he admitted, not for the first time. “Stick with writing about the schools, and recipes and obituaries before your name is in one.”

  “Very funny.”

  “I’m serious, Katie. You know the police have been talking to Ray Dean, and he’s bad news.”

  Katie knew everything there was to know about Ray Dean, his estranged wife and their two sons. Ray was a criminal, convicted of theft, burglary and suspected of being involved in other crimes that had never been solved. But he’d never been caught with a weapon or had anything to do with violent crimes. Nothing like kidnapping. Or murder.

  “Just tell me you’ll keep me posted,” Katie nagged and heard her brother swear under his breath.

  “I don’t know what good will come of it.”

  “Only give my career the biggest shot in the arm of its life.”

  “Didn’t I stupidly promise that if I find out anything,” he said reluctantly, “I’d let you know?”

  “I believe the exact words were that you’d give me ‘an exclusive.’”

  “You got it.”

  “Great,” she said without a lot of enthusiasm, as time was ticking by and she was afraid this case might just end up as an unsolved mystery.

  For the next few minutes they talked about the twins, their mother and Josh, then hung up. Grabbing her recorder, notepad and purse, she flew out the door to where her father’s Jeep was parked. The rig was hot, having sat in the sun all day, and Katie made a mental note to find another vehicle. She hated being obligated to anyone, even the man who had sired her.

  Katie spent the next two hours interviewing Octavia Nesbitt. With honey-gold-colored hair that was teased to stand away from her small head, oversize glasses, and a big, toothy smile, Octavia was one of Bittersweet’s leading citizens. In three-inch heels she was barely over five feet, and Katie had never known her not to be dressed as if she were going to the opening of a Broadway play. At eighty, Octavia had the energy of a thirty-year-old, and she wasn’t satisfied until she’d walked Katie through her house—the old Reed estate—and had given her a guided tour of her rose garden and greenhouse.

  They drank tea during the interview, and after the cups were drained, Octavia read the tea leaves that had settled in the bottom of Katie’s porcelain cup.

  “You’re involved in an affair of the heart,” she observed, lifting a penciled eyebrow above the top of her thick glasses. “And this man is very special to you.”

  Katie blushed to the roots of her hair. “Anything else?”

  “Mmm.” Her brow knitted and her lips puckered. “I can’t make it out, but I’d say there was danger in your future.”

  Katie’s heart nearly stopped, then she shook her head as she reminded herself she didn’t believe in such nonsense as reading tea leaves, or palms or any other spiritual mumbo-jumbo. Still, the odd sensation stuck with her as, after the extended interview, she explained that she was meeting her half sisters for lunch, and Octavia told her to say hello to Tiffany. “Darling girl,” she said. “The apple of my eye, and her children…so dear. But her mother is such a proud woman—wouldn’t take any help from me when she was raising Tiffany. Insisted on doing it on her own. Kind of a martyr, if you ask me. But…eventually Tiffany will get her trust fund, and Rose will just have to accept it. Well, enough of that…” Her eyes twinkled behind her glasses. “I can’t tell you how pleased I am that she’s marrying J.D.”

  “She’s happy, I think.”

  “As well she should be.” Octavia clapped her beringed hands and looked skyward. “She deserves it. Now—” her owlish eyes fell on Katie again as they walked to the Jeep “—you be careful.” She touched Katie lightly on the arm. “Whatever it is you’re getting yourself into, it’s perilous.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Katie assured her but left with an uneasy, nagging sensation that wouldn’t let go of her. So what if the older woman saw danger in the bottom of a porcelain cup? “There’s nothing to it,” she told herself as she drove through the lazy streets of Bittersweet. “Nothing.” Reading tea leaves was just the older woman’s way of passing time.

  But she saw that you were involved with Luke.

  “Lucky guess,” Katie assured herself as she wheeled into the restaurant parking lot. She locked the car and half jogged to the front door of the little cottage that had been converted into an eatery. Filled with antiques, books and ferns, Claudia’s was known for its special soup of the day and cozy, intimate atmosphere.

  Tiffany and Bliss were already in a corner booth, chatting as if they’d been friends forever instead of wary siblings who’d only recently discovered that they were related. Over the course of the summer, Tiffany had warmed to Bliss, and the animosity that she originally had felt toward John Cawthorne’s only “legitimate” daughter had all but disappeared. Slowly, the walls holding them apart were crumbling.

  “We had a fabulous time,” Bliss was saying as Katie slid into the booth and sat next to Tiffany. “I’ve been to Hawaii before, but Mason hadn’t and—” she sighed dreamily, her honeymoon still fresh in her mind “—it was different, being there with someone you love. We want to go back there when we can spend more time. Hi, Katie.”

  “Sorry I’m late.”

  “Not a problem. I took a chance and ordered you an iced tea.”

  “Thanks. So what were you talking about? Your honeymoon, right?”

  Tiffany winked at Katie. “I’m trying to get all the details from her.”

  “Come on, spill ‘em,” Katie encouraged. “I hear Hawaii is way beyond romantic.”

  Bliss’s cheeks turned a soft rosy hue. “It is. We snorkeled and rented a catamaran, and took long walks along the beach. Maui was breathtaking. You’re in a mountain jungle one minute and in a resort on the beach the next.”

  “I’d love to go there,” Tiffany said wistfully.

  “Why don’t you?” Bliss reached into her purse and came up with a handful of brochures and slapped them on to the table. “Take it from me, it’s the perfect place for a honeymoon.”

  “With Stephen and Christina?” Tiffany thumbed through a brochure with a picture of a couple lying on the sand beneath a palm tree and staring at an aquamarine surf.

  “No way. They can stay with me,” Katie offered, then turned to Bliss. “You
didn’t take Dee Dee, did you?”

  “Not this time, but we plan to the next.”

  “See. You can do the same,” Katie told Tiffany as a waitress dressed in khaki slacks and a black T-shirt served them the iced tea. “Oh, jeez, I haven’t figured out what I want,” Katie said, opening her menu while her half sisters ordered.

  She settled on a French-dip sandwich, while Bliss ordered a Caesar salad and Tiffany chose a fruit plate and a bowl of soup. Bliss insisted Tiffany keep the information on Hawaii, and Tiffany slipped the pamphlets into her purse. Conversation never lagged. Lunch was served, and they ate and caught up, laughed and talked about everything and nothing. Katie felt a warm glow inside; as much as she’d loved her half brothers growing up, she’d always wanted and needed the intimacy only a sister could inspire.

  “Your grandmother says hi,” Katie said to Tiffany, explaining about her interview with Octavia. “She’s an interesting woman.”

  “Beyond interesting,” Tiffany observed. “Did she give you a cup of tea, then read your fortune?”

  “Yep.” Katie grinned. “How’d you know?”

  “She’s done it to me for years. Let me guess… She saw romance in your future, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What else?”

  Katie thought of Octavia’s concerns about danger, then decided to dismiss them. It was all nonsense, anyway. “Not much.”

  Tiffany lifted a disbelieving brow. “That’s odd. She usually comes up with two or three predictions. It’s…her passion.”

  “Now there’s a good topic,” Bliss said. “Passion. Why don’t you fill us in on this romance you’ve got going with Luke Gates.”