A Country Affair by Debbie Macomber
Thirteen
Rorie set the letter on her kitchen counter and stared at it for a moment. Her chest felt as if a dead weight were pressing against it. Her heart was pounding and her stomach churned. The post-office box number for the return address didn’t tell her much. The letter could as easily be from Kate as Clay. It could even be from Mary.
Taking a deep, calming breath, Rorie reached for the envelope from Kentucky first. The return address told her nothing—she didn’t know anyone who lived in that state.
The slip of paper inside confused her, too. She read it several times, not understanding. It appeared to be registration papers for Nightsong, from the National Show Horse Association. Rorie Campbell was listed as owner, with Clay’s name as breeder. The date of Nightsong’s birth was also recorded. Rorie slumped into a kitchen chair and battled an attack of memories and tears.
Clay was giving her Nightsong.
It was Nightsong who’d brought them together and it was through Nightsong that they’d remain linked. Life would go on; the loss of one couple’s love wouldn’t alter the course of history. But now there was something—a single piece of paper—that would connect her to Clay, something that gave testimony to their sacrifice.
Rorie had needed that and Clay had apparently known it.
They’d made the right decision, Rorie told herself for the hundredth time. Clay’s action confirmed it.
Clay was wide-open spaces and sleek, well-trained horses, while she thrived in the crowded city.
His strength came from his devotion to the land; hers came from the love of children and literature and the desire to create her own stories.
They were dissimilar in every way—and alike. In the most important matters, the most telling, they were actually very much alike. Neither of them was willing to claim happiness at the expense of someone else.
Tears spilled down her cheeks, and sniffling, Rorie wiped them aside. The drops dampened her fingertips as she picked up the second envelope, blurring the return address. But even before she opened it, Rorie realized the letter was from Kate. Clay wouldn’t write her, and everything Mary had wanted to say she’d already said the morning Rorie left Elk Run.
Three handwritten sheets slipped easily from the envelope, with Kate’s evenly slanted signature at the bottom of the last.
The letter was filled with chatty news about Nightingale and some of the people Rorie had met. There were so many, and connecting names with faces taxed her memory. Kate wrote about the county fair, telling Rorie that she’d missed a very exciting pig race. The biggest news of all was that after years of trying, Mary had finally won a blue ribbon for her apple pie—an honor long overdue in Kate’s opinion.
Toward the end of the letter, Clay’s fiancée casually mentioned that Clay would be in San Francisco the first week of September for a horse show. The American Saddlebreds from Elk Run were well-known throughout the Pacific coast for their fire and elegance. Clay had high hopes of repeating last year’s wins in the Five Gaited and Fine Harness Championships.
Rorie’s pulse shifted into overdrive and her fingers tightened on the letter. Clay was coming to San Francisco. He hadn’t said anything about the show to Rorie—although he must’ve known about it long before she’d left Nightingale.
Kate went on to say that she’d asked Clay if he planned to look up Rorie while he was in town, but he’d claimed there wouldn’t be time. Kate was sure Rorie would understand and not take offense. She closed by saying that her father might also be attending the horse show and, if he did, Kate would try to talk him into letting her tag along. Kate promised she’d phone Rorie the minute she arrived in town, if she could swing it with her father.
Not until Rorie folded the letter to return it to the envelope did she notice the postscript on the back of the last page. She turned over the sheet of pink stationery. The words seemed to jump off the page: Kate was planning an October wedding and would send Rorie an invitation. She ended with, “Write soon.”
Rorie’s breath caught in her lungs. An October wedding... In only a few weeks, Kate would belong to Clay. Rorie closed her eyes as her heart squeezed into a knot of pain. It wasn’t that she hadn’t known this was coming. Kate and Clay’s wedding was inevitable, but Rorie hadn’t thought Clay would go through with it quite so soon. With trembling hands, she set the letter aside.
“Rorie, love, I can’t honestly believe you want to go to a horse show,” Dan complained, scanning the entertainment section of the Friday-evening paper. They sat in the minuscule living room in her apartment and sipped their coffee while they tossed around ideas for something to do.
Rorie smiled blandly, praying Dan couldn’t read her thoughts. He’d offered several suggestions for the night’s amusement, but Rorie had rejected each one. Until she pretended to hit upon the idea of attending the horse show...
“A horse show?” he repeated. “You never told me you were interested in horses.”
“It would be fun, don’t you think?”
“Not particularly.”
“But, Dan, it’s time to broaden our horizons—we might learn something.”
“Does this mean you’re going to insist we attend a demolition derby next weekend?”
“Of course not. I read an article about this horse show and I just thought we’d enjoy the gaited classes and harness competitions. Apparently, lots of Saddlebreds and National Show Horses are going to be performing. Doesn’t that interest you?”
“No.”
Rorie shrugged, slowly releasing a sigh. “Then a movie’s fine,” she said, not even trying to hide her disappointment. They’d seen each other only a handful of times since Rorie’s return. Rorie wouldn’t be going out with him tonight if he hadn’t persisted. She hoped he’d get the message and start dating other women, but that didn’t seem to be happening.
“I have no idea why you’d want to see a horse show,” Dan said once more.
For the past few days the newspapers had been filled with information regarding the country-wide show in which Kate had said several of Elk Run’s horses would be participating. In all the years she’d lived in San Francisco, Rorie couldn’t remember reading about a single equine exhibition, but then she hadn’t exactly been looking for one, either.
If Dan refused to go with her, Rorie was determined to attend the event on her own. She didn’t have any intention of seeking out Clay, but the opportunity to see him, even from a distance, was too tempting to let pass. It would probably be the last time she’d ever see him.
“I don’t know what’s got into you lately, Rorie,” Dan muttered. “Just when I think our lives are on track, you throw me for a loop.”
“I said a movie was fine.” Her tone was testier than she meant it to be, but Dan had been harping on the same subject for weeks and she was tired of it.
If he didn’t want her company, he should start dating someone else. She wasn’t going to suddenly decide she was madly in love with him, as he seemed to expect. Again and again, Dan phoned to tell her he loved her, that his love was enough for both of them. She always stopped him there, unable to imagine spending the rest of her life with him. If she couldn’t have Clay—and she couldn’t—then she wasn’t willing to settle for anyone else.
“I’m talking about a lot more than seeing a movie.” He laid the newspaper aside and seemed to carefully consider his next words.
“Really, Dan, you’re making a mountain out of a molehill,” Rorie said. “Just because I wanted to do something a little out of the ordinary...”
“Eating at an Armenian restaurant is a little out of the ordinary,” he said, frowning, “but horse shows... I can’t even begin to understand why you’d want to watch a bunch of animals running around in circles.”
“Well, you keep insisting I’ve changed,” she said flippantly. If she’d known Dan was going to react so strongly to her suggestion, she’d never have made it. “I guess this only goes to prove you’re right.”
“How much writing have you done in the past month?”
The question was completely unexpected. She answered him with a shrug, hoping he’d drop the subject, knowing he wouldn’t.
“None, right? I’ve seen you sitting at your computer, staring into space with that sad look on your face. I remember how you used to talk about your stories. Your eyes would light up. Enthusiasm would just spill out of you.” His hand reached for hers, tightly squeezing her fingers. “What happened to you, Rorie? Where’s the joy? Where’s the energy?”
“You’re imagining things,” she said, nearly leaping to her feet in an effort to sidestep the issues he was raising. She grabbed her purse and a light sweater, eager to escape the apartment, which suddenly felt too small. “Are you going to take me to that movie, or are you going to sit here and ask questions I have no intention of answering?”
Dan stood, smiling faintly. “I don’t know what happened while you were on vacation, and it’s not important that I know, but whatever it was hurt you badly.”
Rorie tried to deny it, but couldn’t force the lie past her tongue. She swallowed and turned her head away, eyes burning.
“You won’t be able to keep pretending forever. Put whatever it is behind you. If you want to talk about it, I’ve got a sympathetic ear and a sturdy shoulder. I’m your friend, Rorie.”
“Dan, please...”
“I know you’re not in love with me,” he said quietly. “I suspect you met someone else while you were away, but that doesn’t matter to me. Whatever happened during those two weeks is over.”
“Dan...”
He took her hand, pulling her back onto the sofa, then sitting down beside her. She couldn’t look at him.
“Given time, you’ll learn to love me,” he cajoled, holding her hand, his voice filled with kindness. “We’re already good friends, and that’s a lot more than some people have when they marry.” He raised her fingers to his mouth and kissed them lightly. “I’m not looking for passion. I had that with my first wife. I learned the hard way that desire is a poor foundation for a solid marriage.”
“We’ve talked about this before,” Rorie protested. “I can’t marry you, Dan, not when I feel the way I do about...someone else.” Her mouth trembled with the effort to suppress tears. Dan was right. As much as she hadn’t wanted to face the truth, she’d been heartbroken from the moment she’d left Nightingale.
She’d tried to forget Clay, believing that was the best thing for them both, yet she cherished the memories, knowing those few brief days were all she’d ever have of this man she loved.
“You don’t have to decide right now,” Dan assured her.
“There isn’t anything to decide,” she persisted.
His fingers continued to caress hers, and when he spoke his voice was thick. “At least you’ve admitted there is someone else.”
“Was,” she corrected.
“I take it there isn’t any chance the two of you—”
“None,” she blurted, unwilling to discuss anything that had to do with Clay.
“I know it’s painful for you right now, but all I ask is that you seriously consider my proposal. My only wish is to take care of you and make you smile again. Help you forget.”
His mouth sought hers, and though his kiss wasn’t unpleasant, it generated no more excitement than before, no rush of adrenaline, no urgency. She hadn’t minded Dan’s kisses in the past, but until she met Clay she hadn’t known the warmth and magic a man’s touch could create.
Dan must have read her thoughts, because he said in a soothing voice, “The passion will come in time—you shouldn’t even look for it now, but it’ll be there. Maybe not this month or the next, but you’ll feel it eventually, I promise.”
Rorie brushed the hair from her face, confused and uncertain. Clay was marrying Kate in just a few weeks. Her own life stretched before her, lonely and barren—surely she deserved some happiness, too. Beyond a doubt, Rorie knew Clay would want her to build a good life for herself. But if she married Dan, it would be an act of selfishness, and she feared she’d end up hurting him.
“Think about it,” Dan urged. “That’s all I ask.”
“Dan...”
“Just consider it. I know the score and I’m willing to take the risk, so you don’t have to worry about me. I’m a big boy.” He rubbed his thumb against the inside of her wrist. “Now, promise me you’ll think honestly about us getting married.”
Rorie nodded, although she already knew what her answer would have to be.
Dan heaved a sigh. “Now, are you really interested in that horse show, or are we going to a movie?”
“The movie.” There was no use tormenting herself with thoughts of Clay. He belonged to Kate in the same way that he belonged to the country. Rorie had no claim to either.
The film Dan chose was surprisingly good, a comedy, which was just what Rorie needed to lift her spirits. Afterward, they dined at an Italian restaurant and drank wine and discussed politics. Dan went out of his way to be the perfect companion, making no demands on her, and Rorie was grateful.
It was still relatively early when he drove her back to her apartment, and he eagerly accepted her invitation for coffee. As he eased the MG into a narrow space in front of her building, he suddenly paused, frowning.
“Do you have new neighbors?”
“Not that I know of. Why?”
Dan nodded toward the battered blue pickup across the street. “Whoever drives that piece of junk is about to bring down the neighborhood property values.”