A Country Affair by Debbie Macomber

Fifteen

No emotion revealed itself on Clay’s face, but Rorie could sense the tight rein he kept on himself. Dan’s words had dismayed him.

“Is that true, Rorie?” he said after a moment.

Dan’s fingers tightened almost painfully on her shoulders. “Just tonight we were talking about getting married. Tell him, darling.”

Her eyes refused to leave Clay’s. She had been talking to Dan about marriage, although she had no intention of accepting his offer. Dan knew where he stood, knew she was in love with another man. But nothing would be accomplished by telling Clay that she’d always love him, especially since he was marrying Kate in a few weeks. “Yes, Dan has proposed.”

“I’m crazy about Rorie and have been for months,” Dan announced, squarely facing his competition. He spoke for a few more minutes, outlining his goals. Within another ten years, he planned to be financially secure and hoped to retire.

“Dan’s got a bright future,” Rorie echoed.

“I see.” Clay replaced his coffee cup on the tray, then glanced at his watch and rose to his feet. “I suppose I should head back to the Cow Palace.”

“How...how are you doing in the show?” Rorie asked, distraught, not wanting him to leave. Kate would have him the rest of their lives; surely a few more minutes with him wouldn’t matter. “Kate wrote that you were going after several championships.”

“I’m doing exactly as I expected.” The words were clipped, as though he was impatient to get away.

Rorie knew she couldn’t keep him any longer. Clay’s face was stern with purpose—and resignation. “I’ll see you out,” she told him.

“I’ll come with you,” Dan said.

She whirled around and glared at him. “No, you won’t.”

“Good to see you again, Rorie,” Clay said, standing just inside her apartment, his hand on the door. His mouth was hard and flat and he held himself rigid, eyes avoiding hers. He stepped forward and shook Dan’s hand.

“It was a pleasure,” Dan said in a tone that conveyed exactly the opposite.

“Same here.” Clay dropped his hand.

“I’m glad you came by,” Rorie told him quietly. “It was...nice seeing you.” The words sounded inane, meaningless.

He nodded brusquely, opened the door and walked into the hallway.

“Clay,” she said, following him out, her heart hammering so loudly it seemed to echo off the walls.

He stopped and slowly turned around.

Now that she had his attention, Rorie didn’t know what to say. “Listen, I’m sorry about the way Dan was acting.”

He shook off her apology. “Don’t worry about it.”

Her fingers tightened on the doorknob, and she wondered if this was really the end. “Will I see you again?” she asked despite herself.

“I don’t think so,” he answered hoarsely. He looked past her as though he could see through the apartment door and into her living room where Dan was waiting. “Do you honestly love this guy?”

“He’s...he’s been a good friend.”

Clay took two steps toward her, then stopped. As if it was against his better judgment, he raised his hand and lightly drew his finger down the side of her face. Rorie closed her eyes at the wealth of sensation the simple action provoked.

“Be happy, Rorie. That’s all I want for you.”

The rain hit during the last week of September, and the dreary dark afternoons suited Rorie’s mood. Normally autumn was a productive time for her, but she remained tormented with what she felt sure was a terminal case of writer’s block. She sat at her desk, her computer humming merrily as she read over the accumulation of an entire weekend’s work.

One measly sentence.

There’d been a time when she could write four or five pages a night after coming home from the library. Perhaps the problem was the story she’d chosen. She wanted to write about a filly named Nightsong, but every time she started, her memories of the real Nightsong invaded her thoughts, crippling her imagination.

Here it was Monday night and she sat staring at the screen, convinced nothing she wrote had any merit. The only reason she kept trying was that Dan had pressured her into it. He seemed to believe her world would right itself once Rorie was back to creating her warm, lighthearted children’s stories.

The phone rang and, grateful for a reprieve, Rorie hurried into the kitchen to answer it.

“Is this Miss Rorie Campbell of San Francisco, California?”

“Yes, it is.” Her heart tripped with anxiety. In a matter of two seconds, every horrible scenario of what could have happened to her parents or her brother darted through Rorie’s mind.

“This is Devin Logan calling.”

He paused, as though expecting her to recognize the name. Rorie didn’t. “Yes?”

“Devin Logan,” he repeated, “from the Nightingale, Oregon, Town Council.” He paused. “I believe you’re acquainted with my daughter, Kate.”

“Yes, I remember Kate.” If her heart continued at this pace Rorie thought she’d keel over in a dead faint. Just as her pulse had started to slow, it shot up again. “Has anything happened?”

“The Council meeting adjourned about ten minutes ago. Are you referring to that?”

“No...no, I mean has anything happened to Kate?”

“Not that I’m aware of. Do you know something I don’t?”

“I don’t think so.” This entire conversation was driving her crazy.

Devin Logan cleared his throat, and when he spoke his voice dropped to a deeper pitch. “I’m phoning in an official capacity,” he said. “We voted at the Town Council meeting tonight to employ a full-time librarian.”

He paused again, and, not knowing what else to say, Rorie murmured, “Congratulations. Kate mentioned that the library was currently being run by part-time volunteers.”

“It was decided to offer you the position.”

Rorie nearly dropped the receiver. “I beg your pardon?”

“My daughter managed to convince the Council that we need a full-time librarian for our new building. She also persuaded us that you’re the woman for the job.”

“But...” Hardly able to take in what she was hearing, Rorie slumped against the kitchen wall, glad of its support. Logan’s next remark was even more surprising.

“We’ll match whatever the San Francisco library is paying you and throw in a house in town—rent-free.”

“I...” Rorie’s mind was buzzing. Kate obviously thought she was doing her a favor, when in fact being so close to Clay would be utter torment.

“Miss Campbell?”

“I’m honored,” she said quickly, still reeling with astonishment, “truly honored, but I’m going to have to decline.”

A moment of silence followed. “All right... I’m authorized to enhance the offer by ten percent over the amount you’re currently earning, but that’s our final bid. You’d be making as much money as the fire chief, and he’s not about to let the Council pay a librarian more than he’s bringing home.”

“Mr. Logan, please, the salary isn’t the reason I’m turning down your generous offer. I... I want you to know how much I appreciate your offering me the job. Thank you, and thank Kate on my behalf, but I can’t accept.”

Another, longer silence vibrated across the line, as though he couldn’t believe what she was telling him.

“You’re positive you want to refuse? Miss Campbell, we’re being more than reasonable...more than generous.”

“I realize that. In fact, I’m flattered by your proposal, but I can’t possibly accept this position.”

“Kate had the feeling you’d leap at the job.”

“She was mistaken.”

“I see. Well, then, it was good talking to you. I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to meet while you were in Nightingale. Perhaps next time.”

“Perhaps.” Only there wouldn’t be a next time.

Rorie kept her hand on the receiver long after she’d hung up. Her back was pressed against the kitchen wall, her eyes closed.

She’d regained a little of her composure when the doorbell chimed. A glance at the wall clock told her it was Dan, who’d promised to drop by that evening. She straightened, forcing a smile, and slowly walked to the door.

Dan entered with a flourish, handing her a small white bag.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Frozen yogurt. Just the thing for a girl with a hot keyboard. How’s the writing going?” He leaned forward to kiss her cheek.

Rorie walked into the kitchen and set the container in the freezer compartment of her refrigerator. “It’s not. If you don’t mind, I’ll eat this later.”

“Rorie.” Dan caught her by her shoulders and studied her face. “You’re as pale as chalk. What’s wrong?”

“I... I just got off the phone. I was offered another job—as head librarian...”

“But, darling, that’s wonderful!”

“...in Nightingale, Oregon.”

The change in Dan’s expression was almost comical. “And? What did you tell them?”

“I refused.”

He gave a great sigh of relief. His eyes glowed and he hugged her impulsively. “Does this mean what I think it does? Are you finally over that cowpoke, Rorie? Will you finally consent to be my wife?”

Rorie lowered her gaze. “Oh, Dan, don’t you understand? I’ll never get over Clay. Not next week, not next month, not next year.” Her voice was filled with pain, and with conviction. Everyone seemed to assume that, in time, she’d forget about Clay Franklin, but she wouldn’t.

Dan’s smile faded, and he dropped his arms to his sides. “I see.” Leaning against the counter, he sighed pensively and said, “I’d do just about anything in this world for you, Rorie, but I think it’s time we faced a few truths.”

Rorie had wanted to confront them long before now.

“You’re never going to love me the way you do that horseman. We can’t go on like this. It isn’t doing either of us any good to pretend your feelings are going to change.”

He looked so grim and discouraged that she didn’t point out that he was the one who’d been pretending.

“I’m so sorry to hurt you—it’s the last thing I ever wanted to do,” she told him sincerely.

“It isn’t as if I didn’t know,” he admitted. “You’ve been honest with me from the start. I can’t be less than honest with you. That country boy loves you. I knew it the minute he walked across the street without even noticing the traffic. The whole world would know,” he said ruefully. “All he has to do is look at you and everything about him shouts his feelings. He may be engaged to another woman, but it’s you he loves.”

“I wouldn’t fit into his world.”

“But, Rorie, you’re lost and confused in your own.”

She bit her lower lip and nodded. Until Dan said it, she hadn’t recognized how true that was. But it didn’t change the fact that Clay belonged to Kate. And she was marrying him within the month.

“I’m sorry,” Dan said, completely serious, “but the wedding’s off.”

She nearly laughed out loud at Dan’s announcement. No wedding had ever been planned. He’d asked her to marry him at least ten times since she’d returned from her vacation, and each time she’d refused. Instead of wearing her down as he’d hoped, Dan had finally come to accept her decision. Rorie felt relieved, but she was sorry to lose her friend.

“I didn’t mean to lead you on,” she told him, genuinely contrite.

He shrugged. “The pain will only last for a while. I’m ‘a keeper’ as the girls in the office like to tell me. I guess it’s time I put out the word that I’m available.” He wiggled his eyebrows, striving for some humor.

“You’ve been such a good friend.”

He cupped her face and gently kissed her. “Yes, I know. Now don’t let that yogurt go to waste—you’re too thin as it is.”

She smiled and nodded. When she let him out of the apartment, Rorie bolted the door then leaned against it, feeling drained, but curiously calm.

Dan had been gone only a few minutes when Rorie’s phone rang again. She hurried into the kitchen to answer it.

“Rorie? This is Kate Logan.”

“Kate! How are you?”

“Rotten, but I didn’t call to talk about me. I want to know exactly why you’re refusing to be Nightingale’s librarian—after everything I went through. I can’t believe you, Rorie. How can you do this to Clay? Don’t you love him?”