Country Bride: Country Bride / Woodrose Mountain. RaeAnne Thayne
her salt would snap it up in a minute.”
“Oh, Clay, honestly!”
“When will you know if it’s sold?” Kate asked. “I don’t think Nightingale’s ever had an author living here before. Dad could convince the town council to commission a sign. You might even become a tourist attraction. Who knows where this could go?”
They all laughed, but Rorie cautioned, “It could be months before I hear, so don’t go having your father commission any signs.”
“You should’ve seen her after she got the call,” Clay said, his eyes twinkling with merriment. “I didn’t know what to think. Rorie came running out of the house and started shrieking and jumping up and down.”
“So I was a little excited.”
Playfully Clay rolled his eyes. “A little! That’s got to be the understatement of the year.”
“I’d behave the same way,” Kate said. “And you seem pretty thrilled about all this yourself, Clay Franklin.”
Clay admitted it, and then the discussion turned to the awards Clay had accumulated in several national horse shows in the past year.
A few minutes later, Mary announced that dinner was ready and they moved into the dining room. The meal was lively, and conversation flowed easily around the table.
Kate had been dreading this dinner from the moment Rorie had issued the invitation. Now she was pleasantly surprised by how enjoyable the evening had become. She’d been convinced that seeing Clay and Rorie’s happiness would deepen her own pain. It hadn’t happened. She’d expected to spend this evening nursing her wounds behind a brave front. Instead she felt giddy with a sense of release.
She had loved Clay, loved him with a youthful innocence. But she didn’t feel the same way toward him now. Clay belonged to Rorie and Rorie to him. The tender relationship Kate had once shared with him was part of the past. He would always be a special person in her life, but those old feelings, that adulation she’d felt for him, were relegated to her adolescent fantasies.
Kate Logan was a woman now.
She wasn’t sure exactly when the transformation had taken place, but it had. She’d struggled with it, fought the metamorphosis, because change, as always, was both painful and difficult. Kate realized for the first time that all the pain, all the uncertainty, had not been for nothing.
* * *
“Kate?” Luke called, as he let himself into the kitchen. “You around?”
“Here.” She was at the back of the house, packing away the library of books her father kept in his den. Every night she did a little more to get the main house ready for Luke to move in and her to move out.
She straightened and tucked in a few wisps of hair that had escaped the red bandanna. She wore blue jeans and an old gray sweatshirt and no doubt looked terrible. Despite that, she was pleased to see Luke, eager to talk to him. She was wiping her dusty palms on her jeans when he walked in.
“What are you doing?” He stood just inside the door, a frown creasing his forehead.
“What does it look like?” she said. “I’m packing.”
He hesitated, then said, “I told you, I want you to live here, at least to the end of the school year. I thought you understood that.”
“I do, Luke. It’s just that this place is yours now—or will be soon, and there’s no reason for me to stay on.” For one despairing moment, she was swept away on a crashing wave of disbelief and misery at everything she’d lost in so short a time. She could barely walk through her home and not feel an aching throb at the prospect of leaving it behind. But the sale of the ranch was part of the new reality she was learning to face.
“Of course there’s a reason for you to stay here,” Luke insisted, his voice sharp with impatience. “It’s where you belong—where I want you. Isn’t that reason enough?”
Kate forced a laugh. “Come on, Luke, there’s no excuse for me to continue living here. You don’t need a housekeeper, or a cook or anything else. You’re completely self-sufficient. And I could do without all the gossip my living here would start in town.” She paused a moment, then added gently, “I really can manage on my own, you know. I’m a big girl, Luke, and I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”
He wanted to argue with her; Kate could sense it with every breath he drew. But when he spoke next, his remarks had nothing to do with her moving.
“I suppose I should tell you about the feed store,” he said. His voice was controlled, though Kate heard a hint of anger in his words. He’d been just as incensed as she was over the incident. Once she’d come to grips with her own outrage, she’d seen how furious Luke was.
“No...well, yes, I guess I am curious to hear how you handled that. Would you like some coffee?”
“Please.”
Kate led the way into the kitchen and filled two ceramic mugs. After giving Luke his, she walked into the living room and sat on the sofa. Relaxing, she slipped off her shoes and tucked her feet underneath her. It felt good to sit here with Luke—almost like old times. So often over the years, they’d sat and talked like this. Friends. Confidants. Companions. She cradled the mug in both hands, letting the warmth seep up her arms.
“I had dinner with Clay and Rorie last night,” she said, wanting to share with Luke what she’d discovered.
“Yes, I heard. Listen, you can close the door on the situation with Fred Garner. You don’t need to worry about it anymore.”
Kate lowered her eyes. “Thanks,” she murmured. There was so much she wanted to tell Luke. “I had a great time at Elk Run last night, although I honestly didn’t expect to.”
“I can personally guarantee the matter with Garner is over. If it isn’t a dead issue, it soon will be.”
Kate would rather not talk about the wedding lottery. The subject had become an embarrassing memory—a very embarrassing one—but as Luke said, it was finished. There were other, more important issues to discuss.
“All day I’d worried about that dinner,” she said, starting over. “I wondered how I’d ever be able to sit at a table with Clay, knowing he was married to Rorie. But I did. Oh, Luke, I can’t tell you how happy they are. Deep down, I knew they would be, and I had to brace myself for that, expecting to find it unbearably painful. But something incredible happened. During the evening, I learned a valuable lesson about—”
“Good.” Luke’s response was clipped, detached.
Kate hesitated. From the moment he’d walked into her father’s office, she’d felt something was wrong, but she hadn’t been able to put her finger on it. “Luke, what is it?”
“Nothing. I’d prefer not talking about Clay and Rorie, all right?”
“I...suppose so,” she said, feeling hurt. After an awkward moment, she attempted conversation once more. “You’ll never guess who I got a letter from today.” If Luke didn’t want to talk about Clay and Rorie, then she’d try another topic that was sure to pique his interest. “Eric Wilson. Remember him?”
A slight smile touched Luke’s mouth. “I’m not likely to forget him. What’d he have to say?”
“He’s moved back to Portland and is talking to his ex-wife. Apparently she’s been just as miserable as he has since their divorce. It looks as if they might get back together.”
“That’s good news.”
“He asked me to give you his regards, and sends his thanks.” Kate paused. “But he didn’t say what I was supposed to thank you for?” She made the statement a question, hoping Luke would supply an answer.
“We talked.”
“Oh.”