A Country Affair by Debbie Macomber

Sixteen

“Kate,” Rorie demanded. “What are you talking about?”

“You and Clay,” she said sharply, sounding quite unlike her usual self. “Now, do you love him or not? I’ve got to know.”

This day had been sliding steadily downhill from the moment Rorie had climbed out of bed that morning. To admit her feelings for Clay would only hurt Kate, and Rorie had tried so hard to avoid upsetting the other woman.

“Well?” Kate said with a sob. “The least you can do is answer me!”

“Oh, Kate,” Rorie said, her heart in her throat, “why are you asking me if I love Clay? He’s engaged to you. It shouldn’t matter one little bit if I love him or not. I’m out of your lives and I intend to stay out.”

“But he loves you.”

The tears in Kate’s voice tore at Rorie’s already battered heart. She would’ve given anything to spare her friend this pain. “I know,” she whispered.

“Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

Only the world and everything in it. “Yes,” she murmured, her voice growing stronger.

“Then how could you do this to him?”

“Do what?” Rorie didn’t understand.

“Hurt him this way!”

“Kate,” Rorie pleaded. “I have no idea what you’re talking about—I’d never intentionally hurt Clay. If you insist on knowing, I do love him, with all my heart, but he’s your fiancé. You loved him long before I even knew him.”

Kate’s short laugh was riddled with sarcasm. “What is this? First come, first served?”

“Of course not—”

“For your information, Clay isn’t my fiancé anymore,” Kate blurted, her voice trembling. “He hasn’t been in weeks...since before he went to San Francisco for the horse show.”

Rorie’s head came up so fast she wondered whether she’d dislocated her neck. “He isn’t?”

“That’s...that’s what I just told you.”

“But I thought... I assumed...”

“I know what you assumed—that much is obvious—but it isn’t like that now and it hasn’t been in a long time.”

“But you love Clay,” Rorie muttered, feeling light-headed.

“I’ve loved him from the time I was in pigtails. I love him enough to want to see him happy. Why...why do you think I talked my fool head off to a bunch of hard-nosed Council members? Why do you think I ranted and raved about what a fantastic librarian you are? I as good as told them you’re the only person who could possibly assume full responsibility for the new library. Do you honestly think I did all that for the fun of it?”

“No, but, Kate, surely you understand why I have to refuse. I just couldn’t bear to come between you and—”

Kate wouldn’t allow her to finish, and when she spoke, her voice was high and almost hysterical. “Well, if you believe that, Rorie Campbell, then you’ve got a lot to learn about me...and even more about Clay Franklin.”

“Kate, I’m sorry. Please listen to me. There’s so much I don’t understand. We’ve got to talk, because I can’t make head or tail out of what you’re telling me and I’ve got to know—”

“If you have anything to say to me, Rorie Campbell, then you can do it to my face. Now, I’m telling Dad and everyone else on the Council that you’ve accepted the position we so generously offered you. The job starts in two weeks and you’d damn well better be here. Understand?”

Rorie’s car left a dusty trail on the long, curving driveway that led to the Circle L Ranch. It’d been a week since the telephone call from Kate, and Rorie still had trouble assimilating what the other woman had told her. Their conversation repeated itself over and over in her mind, until nothing made sense. But one thing stood out: Kate was no longer engaged to Clay.

Rorie was going to him, running as fast as she could, but first she had to settle matters with his former fiancée.

The sun had begun to descend in an autumn sky when Rorie parked her car at the Logan ranch and climbed out. Rotating her neck and shoulders to relieve some of the tension there, Rorie looked around, wondering if anyone was home. She’d been on the road most of the day, so she was exhausted. And exhilarated.

Luke Rivers strolled out of the barn, and stopped when he saw Rorie. His smile deepened. It could’ve been Rorie’s imagination, but she sensed that the hard edge was missing from his look, as though life had unexpectedly tossed him a good turn.

“So you’re back,” he said by way of greeting.

Rorie nodded, then reached inside the car for her purse. “Is Kate here?”

“She’ll be back any minute. Usually gets home from the school around four. Come inside and I’ll get you a cup of coffee.”

“Thanks.” At the moment, coffee sounded like nectar from the gods.

Luke opened the kitchen door for her. “I understand you’re going to be Nightingale’s new librarian,” he said, following her into the house.

“Yes.” But that wasn’t the reason she’d come back, and they both knew it.

“Good.” Luke took two mugs from the cupboard and filled them from a coffeepot that sat on the stove. He placed Rorie’s cup on the table, then pulled out a chair for her.

“Thanks, Luke.”

The sound of an approaching vehicle drew his attention. He parted the lace curtain at the kitchen window and looked out.

“That’s Kate now,” he said, his gaze lingering on the driveway. “Listen, if I don’t get a chance to talk to you later, I want you to know I’m glad you’re here. I’ve got a few things to thank you for. If it hadn’t been for you, I might’ve turned into a crotchety old saddle bum.”

Before Rorie could ask what he meant, he was gone.

Kate burst into the kitchen a minute later and hugged Rorie as though they were long-lost sisters. “I don’t know when I’ve been happier to see anyone!”

Rorie’s face must have shown her surprise because Kate hurried to add, “I suppose you think I’m a crazy woman after the way I talked to you on the phone last week. I don’t blame you, but...well, I was upset, to put it mildly, and my thinking was a little confused.” She threw her purse on the counter and reached inside the cupboard for a mug. She poured the coffee very slowly, as if she needed time to gather her thoughts.

Rorie’s mind was whirling with questions she couldn’t wait for Kate to answer. “Did I understand you correctly the other night? Did you tell me you and Clay are no longer engaged?”

Kate wasn’t able to disguise the flash of pain that leaped into her deep blue eyes. She dropped her gaze and nodded. “We haven’t been in weeks.”

“But...”

Kate sat down across the table from Rorie and folded her hands around the mug. “The thing is, Rorie, I knew how you two felt about each other since the night of the Grange dance. A blind man would’ve known you and Clay had fallen in love, but it was so much easier for me to pretend otherwise.” Her finger traced the rim of the mug. “I thought that once you went home, everything would go back to the way it was before....”

“I was hoping for the same thing. Kate, you’ve got to believe me when I tell you I would’ve done anything in the world to spare you this. When I learned you and Clay were engaged I wanted to—”

“Die,” Kate finished for her. “I know exactly how you must have felt, because that’s the way I felt later. The night of the Grange dance, Clay kept looking at you. Every time you danced with a new partner, he scowled. He might have had me at his side, but his eyes followed you all over the hall.”

“He loves you, too,” Rorie told her. “That’s what makes this all so difficult.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Kate answered flatly, without a hint of doubt. “I accepted that a long time before you ever arrived. Oh, he respects and likes me, and to Clay’s way of thinking that was enough.” She hesitated, frowning. “To my way of thinking, it was, too. We probably would’ve married and been content. But everything changed when Clay met you. You hit him right between the eyes, Rorie—a direct hit.”

“I’m sure he feels more for you than admiration....”

“No.” Kate rummaged in her purse for a tissue. “He told me as much himself, but like I said, it wasn’t something I didn’t already know. You see, I was so crazy about Clay, I was willing to take whatever he offered me, even if it was only second-best.” She swabbed at the tears that sprang so readily to her eyes and paused in an effort to gather her composure. “I’m sorry. It’s still so painful. But you see, through all of this, I’ve learned a great deal about what it means to love someone.”

Rorie’s own eyes welled with involuntary tears, which she hurriedly brushed aside. Then Kate’s fingers clasped hers and squeezed tight in a gesture of reassurance.

“I learned that loving people means placing their happiness before your own. That’s the way you love Clay, and it’s the way he loves you.” Kate squared her shoulders and inhaled a quavery breath.

“Kate, please, this isn’t necessary.”

“Yes, it is, because what I’ve got to say next is the hardest part. I need to ask your forgiveness for that terrible letter I wrote after you left Nightingale. I don’t have any excuse except that I was insane with jealousy.”

“Letter? You wrote me a terrible letter?” The only one Rorie had received was the chatty note that had told her about Mary’s prize-winning ribbon and made mention of the upcoming wedding.

“I used a subtle form of viciousness,” Kate replied, her voice filled with self-contempt.

Rorie discounted the possibility that Kate could ever be malicious. “The only letter I got from you wasn’t the least bit terrible.”

Kate lowered her eyes to her hands, neatly folded on the table. Her grip tightened until Rorie was sure her nails would cut her palms.

“I lied in that letter,” Kate continued. “When I told you that Clay wouldn’t have time for you while he was at the horse show, I was trying to imply that you didn’t mean anything to him anymore. I wanted you to think you’d slipped from his mind when nothing could have been further from the truth.”

“Don’t feel bad about it. I’m not so sure I wouldn’t have done the same thing.”

“No, Rorie, you wouldn’t have. That letter was an underhand attempt to hold on to Clay... I was losing him more and more each day and I thought... I hoped that if you believed we were going to be married in October, then... Oh, I don’t know, my thinking was so warped and desperate.”

“Your emotions were running high at the time.” Rorie’s had been, too; she understood Kate’s pain because she’d been in so much pain herself.

“But I was pretending to be your friend when in reality I almost hated you.” Kate paused, her shoulders shaking with emotion. “That was the crazy part. I couldn’t help liking you and wanting to be your friend, and at the same time I was eaten alive with jealousy and selfish resentment.”

“It’s not in you to hate anyone, Kate.”

“I... I didn’t think it was, either, but I was wrong. I can be a terrible person, Rorie. Facing up to that hasn’t been easy.” She took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Then...a few days after I mailed that letter to you, Clay came over to the house wanting to talk. Almost immediately I realized I’d lost him. Nothing I could say or do would change the way he felt about you. I said some awful things to Clay that night.... He’s forgiven me, but I need your forgiveness, too.”

“Oh, Kate, of course, but it isn’t necessary. I understand. I truly do.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, dabbing her eyes with the crumpled tissue. “Now I’ve got that off my chest, I feel a whole lot better.”

“But if Clay had broken your engagement when he came to San Francisco, why didn’t he say anything to me?”

Kate shrugged. “I don’t know what happened while he was gone, but he hasn’t been himself since. He never has been a talkative person, but he seemed to draw even further into himself when he came back. He’s working himself into an early grave, everyone says. Mary’s concerned about him—we all are. Mary said if you didn’t come soon, she was going after you herself.”

“Mary said that?” The housekeeper had been the very person who’d convinced Rorie she was doing the right thing by getting out of Clay’s life.

“Well, are you going to him? Or are you planning to stick around here and listen to me blubber all day? If you give me any more time,” she said, forcing a laugh, “I’ll manage to make an even bigger fool of myself than I already have.” Kate stood abruptly, pushing back the kitchen chair. Her arms were folded around her waist, her eyes bright with tears.

“Kate,” Rorie murmured, “you are a dear, dear friend. I owe you more than it’s possible to repay.”

“The only thing you owe me is one godchild—and about fifty years of happiness with Clay Franklin. Now get out of here before I start weeping in earnest.”

Kate opened the kitchen door and Rorie gave her an impulsive hug before hurrying out.

Luke Rivers was standing in the yard, apparently waiting for her. When she came out of the house he sauntered over to her car and held open the driver’s door. “Did everything go all right with Kate?”

Rorie nodded.

“Well,” he said soberly, “there may be more rough waters ahead for her. She doesn’t know it yet, but I’m buying out the Circle L.” Then he smiled, his eyes crinkling. “She’s going to be fine, though. I’ll make sure of that.” He extended his hand, gripping hers in a firm handshake. “Let me be the first to welcome you to our community.”

“Thank you.”

He touched the rim of his hat in farewell, then glanced toward the house. “I think I’ll go inside and see how Kate’s doing.”

Rorie’s gaze skipped from the foreman to the house and then back again. “You do that.” If Luke Rivers had anything to say about it, Kate wouldn’t be suffering from a broken heart for long. Rorie had suspected Luke was in love with Kate. But, like her, he was caught in a trap, unable to reveal his feelings. Perhaps now Kate’s eyes would be opened—Rorie fervently hoped so.

The drive from the Logans’ place to the Franklins’ took no more than a few minutes. Rorie parked her car behind the house, her heart pounding. When she climbed out, the only one there to greet her was Mary.

“About time you got here,” the housekeeper complained, marching down the porch steps with a vengeance.

“Could this be the apple-pie blue-ribbon holder of Nightingale, Oregon?”

Mary actually blushed, and Rorie laughed. “I thought you’d never want to see the likes of me again,” she teased.

“Fiddlesticks.” The weathered face broke into a smile.

“I’m still a city girl,” Rorie warned.

“That’s fine, ’cause you got the heart of a country girl.” Wiping her hands dry on her apron, Mary reached for Rorie and hugged her.

After one brief, bone-crushing squeeze, she set her free. “I’m a meddling old woman, sure enough, and I suspect the good Lord intends to teach me more than one lesson in the next year or two. I’d best tell you that I never should’ve said those things I did about Kate being the right woman for Clay.”

“Mary, you spoke out of concern. I know that.”

“Clay doesn’t love Kate,” she continued undaunted, “but my heavens, he does love you. That boy’s been pining his heart out for want of you. He hasn’t been the same from the minute you drove out of here all those weeks ago.”

Rorie had suffered, too, but she didn’t mention that to Mary. Instead, she slipped her arm around the housekeeper’s broad waist and together they strolled toward the house.

“Clay’s gone for the day, but he’ll be back within the hour.”

“An hour,” Rorie repeated. She’d waited all this time; another sixty minutes shouldn’t matter.

“Dinner will be ready then, and it’s not like Clay or Skip to miss a meal. Dinner’s been at six every night since I’ve been cooking for this family, and that’s a good many years now.” Mary’s mouth formed a lopsided grin. “Now what we’ll do is this. You be in the dining room waiting for him and I’ll tell him he’s got company.”

“But won’t he notice my car?” Rorie twisted around, gesturing at her old white Toyota—her own car this time—parked within plain sight.

Mary shook her head. “I doubt it. He’s never seen your car, so far as I know, only that fancy sports car. Anyway, the boy’s been working himself so hard, he’ll be too tired to notice much of anything.”

Mary opened the back door and Rorie stepped inside the kitchen. As she did, the house seemed to fold its arms around her in welcome. She paused, breathing in the scent of roast beef and homemade biscuits. It might not be sourdough and Golden Gate Park roses, but it felt right. More than right.

“Do you need me to do anything?” Rorie asked.

Mary frowned, then nodded. “There’s just one thing I want you to do—make Clay happy.”

“Oh, Mary, I intend to start doing that the second he walks through that door.”

An hour later, almost to the minute, Rorie heard Skip and Clay come into the kitchen.

“What’s for dinner?” Skip asked immediately.

“It’s on the table. Now wash your hands.”

Rorie heard the teenager grumble as he headed down the hallway to the bathroom.

“How’d the trip go?” Mary asked Clay.

He mumbled something Rorie couldn’t hear.

“The new librarian stopped by to say hello. Old man Logan and Kate sent her over—thought you might like to meet her.”

“I don’t. I hope you got rid of her. I’m in no mood for company.”

“Nope,” Mary said. “Fact is, I invited her to stay for dinner. The least you can do is wipe that frown off your face and go introduce yourself.”

Rorie stood just inside the dining room, her heart ready to explode. By the time Clay stepped into the room, tears had blurred her vision and she could hardly make out the tall, familiar figure that blocked the doorway.

She heard his swift intake of breath, and the next thing she knew she was crushed in Clay’s loving arms.