A Country Affair by Debbie Macomber

Nine

“This is the second bedroom,” Mrs. Jackson was saying as she led Kate through the vacant rooms. From the moment she’d walked in the door, Kate had known that this apartment would suit her needs perfectly.

“I can’t understand why you’d be wanting a two-bedroom place, but that’s none of my business,” Mrs. Jackson went on. Her hair was tightly curled in pink plastic rollers. To the best of her ability, Kate couldn’t remember ever seeing the woman’s hair without rollers.

“What did that Rivers fellow say when you told him you were moving into town?” She didn’t wait for a response, but cackled delightedly. “Frankly, I wasn’t sure you’d show up this morning. My friend Ethel and me talked about it, and we figured Rivers would tie a rope around you and hightail it to Nevada and marry you quick. Offhand, I can’t remember who’s got money on November.”

“You said to be here before noon,” she murmured, ignoring the other comments.

“Well, if Luke didn’t stop you, I expected that snowstorm would, the one the weatherman’s been talking about for the last two days.”

“Do you really think it’s going to snow?” Kate asked anxiously. The sky had been dark all morning, and the temperature seemed to be dropping steadily. Normally Kate wouldn’t have chanced driving into town by herself with weather conditions this uncertain, but if she hadn’t come, she might have missed getting the apartment.

“If I was you, I’d stick around town for a while,” Mrs. Jackson advised. “I’d hate the thought of you getting trapped on the road in a bad storm.”

“I’m sure I’ll be all right.” She’d driven her father’s four-wheel-drive truck, and even if the storm did materialize, she shouldn’t have any trouble getting home. The Circle L was only twenty minutes away, and how much snow could fall in that time?

“Would you like me to write you a check now?” Kate asked, eager to be on her way.

“That’d be fine. There’s still some cleaning to be done, but it’ll be finished before the first of the month. Fact is, you can start moving your things in here next week if you want.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that.”

Mrs. Jackson bundled her coat around her thin shoulders as they stepped outside. She glanced at the sky and shook her pink-curlered head. “If you are going home, I suggest you do it quick. I don’t like the look of them clouds.”

“Then I’d better write that check and head out.”

No more than five minutes later, Kate was sitting in her father’s truck. The sky was an oyster gray and darkening by the minute. Shivering from the cold, she zipped her jacket all the way up to her neck and drew on a pair of fleece-lined leather gloves.

Kate started the engine and shifted the gears. The radio was set on her dad’s favorite country station and the music played softly. When she left the outskirts of town, she hit a couple of rough patches in the road and bounced so high her head nearly banged into the roof of the cab. After that she kept her speed down. She drove at a steady pace, her gaze focused on the road ahead, scanning the horizon for any sign of snow.

When she was about ten miles from the ranch, the storm began. Light, fluffy flakes whirled around the windshield. The morning sky darkened until it resembled dusk and Kate was forced to turn on the headlights.

A love song came on the radio, one the band at the Red Bull had played that fateful Friday night. The night Luke had lifted her in his arms and carried her off the dance floor. Embarrassed by the memory, she reached for the radio dial, intending to change the station.

She didn’t see the rock that had rolled onto the road, not until she was almost on top of it, and then it was too late. Her instincts took control. She gripped the wheel with both hands, then swerved and slammed into the embankment. The truck stopped with a sudden jerk, and the engine went dead.

For a stunned moment, Kate couldn’t breathe. Her heart was in her throat and her hands clenched the steering wheel so tightly her fingers felt numb.

Finally, when she was able to move, Kate released a long, shaky breath, grateful the accident hadn’t been worse. She took a moment to compose herself and tried to restart the engine, but nothing happened. Twice more she tried to get the engine to kick over, but it wouldn’t even cough or sputter.

Frustrated, she smacked the cushioned seat with her gloved hand and closed her eyes. The snow was coming down thick and fast now.

“Don’t worry,” she muttered, opening the door and climbing out. “Stay calm.” Although everything Kate knew about the internal workings of engines would fit on a Post-It note, she decided to see if she could find the problem.

The snow and wind struck at her viciously, as though to punish her for not listening to Mrs. Jackson and staying in town.

After considerable difficulty locating the latch, Kate raised the hood. With a prayer on her lips, she looked everything over, then touched two or three different parts as if that would repair whatever was broken. Certain that she was destined to sit out the storm huddled in the cab, she returned and tried the key again.

The engine gave one sick cough and promptly died.

“Damn!”

Nothing remained but to sit and wait for someone to drive past. Leaving the truck and attempting to make her way to the house would be nearly as insane as driving around in a snowstorm in the first place.

Kate could almost hear Luke’s lecture now. It would be hot enough to blister her ears. All she could do was hope her father never found out about this—or she’d get a lecture from him, too.

A half hour passed and, hoping against hope, Kate tried the engine again. Nothing. But it was snowing so hard now that even if the truck had started, she probably wouldn’t have been able to drive in these conditions. She tried to warm herself by rubbing her hands and hugging her arms close to her body. It had become cold, the coldest weather she could remember.

With very little to take her mind off the freezing temperature, she laid her head back and closed her eyes, trying to relax. There was nothing to do but sit patiently and wait....

She must have dozed off because the next thing she knew, the truck door was jerked open and her arm gripped in a sudden, painful hold.

“Have you lost your mind?” The fury in Luke’s voice was like a slap in the face.

“Luke... Luke.” She was so grateful to see him that she didn’t question where he’d come from or how he’d found her. It all felt like a dream. Moving was difficult, but she slid her arms around his neck and hugged him, laughing and crying at the same time. “How did you ever find me?”

“Don’t you realize I was about to have heart failure worrying about you?”

“You’re sick?” Her mind was so muddled. Of course he’d be worried. How had he known where she was? And he seemed so angry, but that was nothing new. For the past few days, he’d been continually upset with her.

Her arms tightened around his neck and she breathed in his fresh, warm scent. When she sat up and looked around, she was shocked by how dark it had become; if it weren’t for the blowing, swirling snow, the stars would be twinkling. The storm had abated somewhat, but not by much.

“I can’t believe you’d do anything so stupid.” His voice was low and angry, his face blanched with concern. “Don’t you know you could’ve frozen to death out here? If you don’t want to consider your own life, then what about Devin away on his honeymoon? If anything happened to you, he’d never forgive himself.”

Kate bore up well under Luke’s tirade, refusing to cry even though she was trembling with shock and cold and the truth of his words. As for the part about being frozen, she was already halfway there, but he didn’t seem to notice that.

“Kate, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you’d left the truck and tried to make it back to the house on foot.”

“I knew enough to stay here at least.” She’d been a fool not to have taken the danger more seriously. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He pulled her to him and held her so tight she couldn’t move. His face was buried in her hair, one ungloved hand gently stroking her forehead, her cheek, her chin, as if he had to touch her to know he’d found her safe. When he lifted his head, he gazed into her eyes, his own dark and filled with unspoken torment. “Are you all right?”

She nodded and tried to talk, but her teeth began to chatter. Luke shrugged out of his coat and draped it over her shoulders.

“Tell me what happened.”

“I swerved to miss a rock and hit...the embankment. It was already snowing and I...the song... I changed stations and that’s when it happened... I don’t know what I did, but after I turned so sharply, the truck wouldn’t start.”

“I’ve got to get you to the house.” He half carried her to his truck and placed her in the passenger seat. He climbed into the driver’s side and leaned over to wrap a warm blanket around her, then began to rub some warmth back into her hands.

“What about Dad’s truck?” Kate asked, shocked by how tired and weak she felt.

“We’ll worry about that later. I’ll send someone to fix it when the storm’s over.”

The blast from the heater felt like a tropical wind and Kate finally started to relax. She was terribly cold but dared not let Luke know.

All the way back to the ranch he didn’t say a word. Driving was difficult, and she didn’t want to disturb his concentration. So she sat beside him, her hands and feet numb despite the almost oppressive warmth, and her eyes heavy with weariness.

Several of the ranch hands ran toward the front porch when Luke pulled into the yard. Kate found the flurry of activity all centered on her disconcerting, but she tried to thank everyone and apologized profusely for the concern she’d caused.

If Luke had been impatient and demanding when he rescued her, it didn’t compare to the way he rapped out orders once she was inside the house.

“A bath,” he said, pointing toward the bathroom as if she’d never been there before. “Warm water, not hot.”

Bill Schmidt, Luke’s newly appointed foreman, followed them to the doorway of the tiny room, looking pale and anxious. Kate felt so weak that she simply stood, leaning against the sink, while Luke ran the bathwater, testing it several times to check the temperature.

“It’s stopped snowing. Do you think I should contact one of her female friends? Maybe Miz Franklin?” Bill asked, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. When Luke nodded, Bill charged out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

Luke turned off the bathwater and straightened. He shook his head, arms limp and at his sides, mouth stern and tight. “Kate, Kate, what could have possessed you to drive in from town during the worst storm of the year? Can you imagine what went through my mind when I was looking for you?”

It took all her strength just to manage a few words. “How’d...you know...where I was?”

“You told me you were going to town to look at an apartment on Saturday. Remember? When you weren’t back after the blizzard hit, I called around town until I learned you were renting one of the apartments on Spruce Street. Mrs. Jackson told me she’d warned you herself and that you’d left a few hours earlier. Also that she’s fond of April because of all the flowers, whatever the hell that means.”

“I’m...sorry I worried you.”

His hands gripped her shoulders and the anguish he’d endured during the past few hours was written plainly on his face. The anger and pain in his eyes told her about the panic he’d felt. A rush of emotion crossed his expression and he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her.

He didn’t speak for a long moment. Instead, quietly, gently, he stroked her hair as he dragged in several deep breaths.

Kate’s heart pounded wildly in her chest. She longed to look at him, to gaze into his eyes again. She was puzzled by the intensity she’d seen there. Fear, yes, doubt and anger, too, but there was something more, something deeper that she didn’t recognize.

She longed to tell him she loved him, just the way he claimed she did, but the thought didn’t make it to her lips. Love was a strange, unpredictable emotion, so painful and difficult. Her eyes held his and she tried to smile, but her mouth wouldn’t cooperate.

Her fingertips mapped out the lines of his face, as she strove to reassure him with her touch when her words couldn’t. He captured her wrist and brought her palm to his lips.

She’d just opened her mouth to speak, when Bill Schmidt came crashing into the room. “Rorie Franklin will be over as soon as she can.”

“Thanks, Bill,” Luke said without looking away from Kate.

“Uh, I’ll be leaving now, if you don’t need me.”

“Fine. Thanks again for your help.”

“No problem. Glad you’re all right, Kate.” He touched his hat and then was gone.

“Someone should help you out of those clothes,” Luke said, half smiling, “and I don’t think I should be the one to do it.”

“I’m fine. I can undress myself.”

Luke didn’t seem inclined to challenge her statement. She floated toward the bathroom door and ushered him out, then shut it softly.

Once she started undressing, she discovered that Luke hadn’t been too far wrong when he’d suggested she needed help. By the time she sank into the warm water, she was shivering, exhausted and intensely cold again. But the water felt wonderful, although it stung her tender skin. When the prickling sensation left her, she was almost overwhelmed by the sensation of comfort. She sighed deeply, closed her eyes and lay back in the tepid water.

“Kate,” Luke called from the other side of the door, “are you okay in there?”

“I’m fine.”

“Do you need anything?”

“No,” she assured him.

A sudden thought made her bolt upright, gasping. Luke could have died searching for me. She closed her eyes and whispered a prayer of thanks that the events of this traumatic afternoon had turned out as they had.

She must have sobbed because Luke called out, “What’s wrong? It sounds like you’re crying.”

“You...could have died trying to find me.”

“I didn’t.”

“I know,” she said hoarsely, biting her lip. “I’m glad. I wouldn’t want you to die.”

“That’s encouraging,” he answered with a soft laugh.

Dressed in her flannel pyjamas and long robe, her hair hanging wetly against her shoulders, Kate let herself out of the bathroom. She looked like something the cat had proudly dragged onto the porch, but at least she felt better. A thousand times better.

Luke was sitting in the kitchen, nursing a shot glass of whiskey. Kate had very rarely seen Luke drink straight liquor.

“I blame myself,” he muttered. “I knew about the storm and didn’t warn you.”

“Warn me? That wouldn’t have made any difference. I would’ve gone into town anyway. I had to be there before noon if I was going to get the apartment. You couldn’t have stopped me, Luke. You know that.”

Luke shook his head grimly. “What I can’t understand is why moving away from here is so all-fired important that you’d risk your fool neck to do it.”

“Mrs. Jackson said she’d have to give the apartment to someone else if I wasn’t there.”

“She wouldn’t have understood if you’d phoned? You had to go look at it in a blizzard?” He urged her into a chair and poured a cup of hot coffee, adding a liberal dose of whiskey before handing her the cup.

“I already told you I couldn’t wait. Besides, it wasn’t snowing when I drove there,” Kate said patiently. “Please don’t be angry, Luke.” She reached for his hand, needing to touch him.

He clutched her fingers with his own. “Kate, if anything should convince you we ought to get married, this is it. You need me, Princess, can’t you see that?” He released her hand to brush the damp curls from her forehead. “How many times do I have to tell you that before you’ll believe it?”

“Oh, Luke,” she moaned, feeling close to tears.

“I want to take care of you, Kate. What nearly happened today, plus the fiasco with Eric Wilson, should tell you something.”

She stared at him, feeling lost and disoriented. “There are women in this community, women my age, who already have children.” Even as she spoke, she knew she wasn’t making sense.

Luke blinked in confusion. “You want children? Great, so do I. In fact, I’m hoping we’ll have several.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Kate said, exasperated. She tried again. “These women don’t live with a guardian.” Was that clearer? she wondered.

“Of course they don’t—they’re married,” Luke countered sharply.

Kate shut her eyes. “Don’t you understand? I’m old enough to be on my own. I don’t need someone to protect me.”

“We’re not discussing your age.”

“You don’t love me,” she blurted. “You feel sorry for me, that’s all. You think because Clay’s married to Rorie and...and Dad married Dorothea that I don’t have anyone. But I do! There’s Linda and lots of other friends. I’ve got a good life. I don’t need to get married.”

Luke sprang from the chair and walked to the sink, pressing both hands against the edge, hunching his shoulders, his back toward her. He said nothing for several minutes and when he finally spoke, his voice was cool, detached. “All I can say is that you must feel a lot more strongly about this than I realized. Apparently you’re willing to risk your life to get away from me.”

“I didn’t go to town knowing I was in any danger,” she objected, but he didn’t seem to hear.

“Then leave, Kate. I won’t try to keep you any longer, despite the fact that I love you and want to marry you. If you want your independence so badly, then take it.”

“Luke, please, you don’t love me—not the way you should.”

“Oh, and what do you know about that? Obviously nothing.”

“I know you keep saying you want to take care of me.”

“That’s so wrong?”

“Yes! A woman needs more. She needs to be an equal. She—”

“My love and my life are all I’ve got to offer you, Kate,” he broke in. “It’s a take-it-or-leave-it proposition.”

“That’s not fair,” she said. “You make it sound as though I’m going to live my life alone if I don’t marry you within the next ten minutes.”

Slowly he turned to face her. His eyes were piercing and as dark as she’d ever seen them. “Fine. You’ve made your choice. I’m not going to stand here arguing with you. It’s over, Kate. This is the last time we’ll talk about marriage.”

She tried to say something, but couldn’t think coherently. Even if she’d been able to work out her thoughts and give them voice, she doubted Luke was in any mood to listen. He avoided looking at her as he stalked out of the house.

A fire was blazing in the fireplace and Kate stretched out on the nearby sofa, intending to mull over Luke’s words. But her eyes felt as heavy as her heart, and almost as soon as she laid her head on the pillow, she was asleep.

Someone working in the kitchen stirred Kate to wakefulness, and when she glanced at her watch she was shocked to see that she’d slept for almost two hours.

Her heart soared when she thought it must be Luke. He’d been so angry with her earlier, although she supposed his anxiety about finding her in the snowstorm explained his attitude. She hoped they could clear the air.

But it wasn’t Luke. Instead, Rorie peered into the living room, her eyes concerned.

“I hope you don’t mind. Luke let me in.”

“You’re always welcome here, Rorie, you know that.”

“Bill Schmidt called with an incredible story about you being lost in the storm. I could hardly believe it. Clay drove me over as soon as he could, but to be honest I don’t know who was worse off—you or Luke.”

At the mention of his name, Kate lowered her gaze to the multicolored quilt spread across her lap. Idly she smoothed the wrinkles, trying not to think about Luke.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay. I just have a headache.”

“A bad one from the look of you. I’ve never seen you this pale.”

Kate’s hands twisted the edge of the homemade quilt. “Luke was furious with me for going into town—I found an apartment, Rorie. He said it was over between us.” She began to cry. “He said he’d be glad when I was gone and that he’d...never bother me again.” By the time Kate had finished, her voice was reduced to a hoarse whisper.

“I see,” Rorie murmured.

“I don’t even recognize Luke anymore. We used to be able to talk to each other and joke together, but lately we can’t seem to discuss anything in a rational manner. I’ve tried, Rorie, I really have, but Luke makes everything so difficult.”

“Men have a habit of doing that.”

“I wanted to tell Luke about the night I had dinner with you and Clay and—” She stopped abruptly when she realized what she’d almost said.

“What about it?” Rorie coaxed.

“It’s just that I’d dreaded the evening because I was afraid of being with Clay again. I’m sorry, I don’t want to upset you, Rorie, but I loved Clay for a long time, and getting over him was much harder than I thought it would be. Until the night we were all together.” The words came rushing from her. “I saw Clay with you and I assumed I’d feel all this pain, but instead I felt completely free. You’re both so happy, and I knew, then and there, that I never loved Clay the way you do. True, I adored him for years, but it was more of an adolescent infatuation. Clay was part of my youth. When I understood all these things about myself, all these changes, I felt such hope, such excitement.”

“Oh, Kate, I’m so pleased to hear that.” A shy smile dented Rorie’s cheeks.

“I wanted to explain all this to Luke, but I never got the chance, and now it’s all so much worse. I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to talk to each other again.”

“Of course you will.”

“But he sounded so angry.”

“I’m sure that’s because of his concern for your safety.”

“I can’t talk to him,” Kate repeated sadly. “At least not yet and maybe not ever...”

“Yes, you will, and it’ll be sooner than you think,” Rorie said. “You won’t be able to break off all those years of friendship, and neither will he. He’ll be around in a day or two, ready to apologize for being so harsh. Just you wait and see.”

Kate shook her head. “You make it all seem so easy.”

“Trust me, I know it isn’t. When I think back to the way things went between Clay and me, I empathize all the more with what you’re going through now.”

Kate remembered the dark days following Clay’s visit to California. Neither Rorie nor Clay had ever told her what happened. Clay had gone to San Francisco, intending to bring Rorie back with him, and instead had returned alone.

“Maybe we need to get away from each other for a while,” Kate said. “Maybe if we aren’t in such close proximity, we’ll be able to sort out what we really feel for each other.”

“When are you moving to town?”

“Monday,” Kate said, looking at the cardboard boxes stacked against the opposite wall.

“Do you need help? Skip, Clay and I could easily lend a hand.”

“That would be wonderful.”

The rest of the weekend passed in a blur. Kate didn’t see Luke once. So much for Rorie’s assurances that he’d come by soon to talk everything out. Apparently he meant what he’d said.

Monday morning, when she was about to leave for school, Kate paused before she got into her car, deciding she should at least say goodbye to Luke before she moved out.

Luke wasn’t in the barn, but Bill Schmidt was.

“Good morning, Bill.”

“Howdy, Kate,” he said with a wide grin. “Glad to see there’s no ill effects from your accident.”

“None, thanks. Is Luke around?”

Bill settled his hands in the pockets of his bib overalls. “No. Thought you knew. He left yesterday afternoon for New Mexico to look at some new equipment. He won’t be back until Thursday.”