by Hinze, Vicki
“Barbie needs to talk to me about some investment stuff.”
Katie nodded. “Tell Samantha I said hi.”
“I will.” He stopped, walked back and kissed Katie again. “You know I love you, right?”
She nodded.
“You know I’m in love with you, right?”
She nodded again, fought to bite a smile from her lips.
“Katie, do you think you’ll ever… I mean, could you ever…”
The phone rang.
Katie was perfectly willing to ignore it, but C.D. looked genuinely relieved, and he stepped away to answer it. “Hello.”
A pause, then, “She’s right here. Just a second, Blair.”
Katie wondered what was up. She and Blair had just talked late yesterday, coordinating the kids. “Hello.”
“Katie.” Blair’s voice cracked.
The kids. Something was wrong with the kids. “What’s the matter?”
“Sam just called.”
Katie gripped her stomach. She couldn’t breathe.
“They’ve postponed the divorce hearing for a month.”
Oh, thank you, God! “Is that all?”
“All? Good grief, Katie, think. We won’t be able to get remarried before Thanksgiving.”
Katie mustered some sympathy. “I know. But when you get down to it, what’s the difference? I mean, you guys are together and—”
“Sam’s parents are going to be here for Thanksgiving. They don’t know—oh, God, Katie, you know how they are.”
“They don’t know you and Sam are living together with the kids right now.”
“No!”
“Well, you could just tell them,” Katie suggested. “These are unusual circumstances, and in the eyes of God you are married because you made vows, you know?”
“Sam won’t hear of it or I would. What can I do? They’re his parents.”
Boy, did this sound familiar. That stupid perfect image thing. Again. Still. There was a huge “help me” plea in Blair’s voice. A strong one, and after all she’d done for Katie, Katie couldn’t ignore it. Especially not knowing how critical Sam’s parents could be. “Let me think and call you back in a few minutes, okay?”
“But Katie—”
“I’m not deserting you,” Katie promised, formulating a plan in her mind. “Just give me a few minutes.” The plan gelled. “Wait. Is your answering machine working?”
“Of course.”
“Great.” The plan all came together. “I’m going to call you back in about two minutes. Do not answer the phone.”
“What?”
“Don’t answer the phone.”
“But how am I going to talk to you, if I don’t answer?”
“Trust me,” Katie said, not at all sure Blair would agree.
“Of course.”
Smiling into the receiver, Katie added, “I’ll call again in half an hour. Answer then.”
“Katie,” Blair said, sounding pensive and reluctant. “I mean no offense, but are you sure you don’t need to see Dr. Muldoon at least one more time?”
“You know, coming from anyone else, I’d resent that. I’m letting it slide because it’s you. But don’t push it.”
“Okay. I’m sure what you’re doing makes perfect sense—to you.”
“That’s what matters.” Kate hung up the phone.
“Don’t tell me,” C.D. said. “She wants you to tell Sam’s parents they’re living together because Sam won’t let her do it.”
“She didn’t ask. But you know they’re the biggest snobs on the planet. If they’re not told and they figure it out—which they will because the kids won’t think twice about it—they’ll treat Sam and Blair like garbage for the duration.” Katie grabbed her address book, flipped it open to Sam’s office number. He’d be in surgery now. It was safe to call. “Sam is ruled by having the perfect image and is all about what others think—especially his parents. He always has been.”
“He’s a grown man and he’s ruled by his parents’ opinions of him?”
“Not literally, but don’t look so shocked, C.D. Everyone wants their parents to approve of them and think only the best of them. It’s a pride thing.”
“I’m short on info in that sector.”
“That’s right. I forgot for a second about your dad. I’m sorry, honey.”
“No problem.” C.D. buttoned his shirt. “If this is the kind of stuff you have to worry about with them, I think I might have been better off without them.”
“Sometimes—especially where Sam’s parents are concerned—I’d have to agree with you.”
C.D. dropped a quick kiss to her lips. “Well, rescue them, honey. I know I wouldn’t want to be away from you, so I guess even his majesty deserves a little slack. Blair surely does.”
“You’re the heart of compassion itself,” she said, watching C.D. use the tip of his cane to open the back door.
“Dr. Slater’s office.”
“Miranda?” Katie followed a hunch on who’d answered the phone. “It’s Katie Slater. Is Sam in?”
“He’s in surgery, Mrs. Slater. Is it an emergency?”
“No, not at all. I’m just trying to make some holiday plans. Would you take a message and have him call me about Thanksgiving when he’s done?”
“Yes, I will.”
“Thanks.” Smiling Katie hung up the phone, then dialed Blair.
She didn’t answer, though through the rings, Katie could almost hear her questioning Katie’s sanity. The machine answered, and Katie left a brief message. “Blair, it’s Katie. I was trying to get with Sam to make Thanksgiving plans but he’s in surgery. I guess you’re busy, too. Mmm, I really need to nail down my plans to let my folks know what I’m doing, but I don’t want the kids to miss seeing the Slaters. Since I can’t get either of you, I’ll just give them a call and set it up.”
She imagined Blair standing beside the answering machine, listening and her smile stretching ear to ear.
Katie hung up, flipped the address book to the Slaters, then dialed the number.
Sam’s mother answered. “Hello.”
“Elizabeth, this is Katie.”
“Katie,” she said. “How nice to hear from you.”
They hadn’t spoken once since she’d been rescued and returned. So much for sincerity. “I’m sorry to bother you but I can’t reach Sam or Blair, and I’m trying to finalize my plans for Thanksgiving.”
“Yes?” She sounded wary.
“Are you and Jason planning to come to Willow Creek?”
“Yes, we are. We’ll arrive the Tuesday before Thanksgiving and leave the day after it.”
“All right. I thought Blair had mentioned that you would be, and she so wanted the children available to spend time with you. If you’re leaving on Friday, then I’ll plan to take them with me to see my parents on the weekend. We’ll have Thanksgiving then.”
“That’s very good of you, Katie,” Elizabeth said. “I realize you haven’t had Thanksgiving with the children in a long time.”
“No, I haven’t.” Katie paused. “But the truth is, Elizabeth, Sam and Blair and I are working very hard to keep everything as normal as possible for the children.”
“That’s as it should be.”
Excellent. “My return has required a lot of adjustments, and well, frankly, Elizabeth, I could use your help.”
“Whatever for, my dear?”
“It’s Blair and Sam.”
“Katie, Sam is my son, and of course—”
“No, Elizabeth. There’s no problem between me and Blair and Sam, it’s between Blair and Sam. It’s not good for the children.”
“What isn’t good for them, my dear?” She sounded as worried as only a doting mother and grandmother can be.
“I’m not dead, and that’s set aside their marriage. The court is all tied up and can’t grant our divorce hearing for another month. Blair and Sam are insisting on living apart until the divorce is granted and they can remarry.”
“Well,
that is certainly appropriate…”
“It will be devastating for the children, Elizabeth.” Katie let out an anxious sigh. “They’ve had so many upheavals in their lives lately. They need stability. They feel safe at home with Sam and Blair and now if they insist on this nonsense of living apart until the paperwork can be done to reunite them, well the children are just going to be that much more upset.”
“I see your point.”
“Elizabeth, will you please talk some sense into them? They are married in the eyes of God. Man will catch up as soon as he can, but the children need them together now.”
Elizabeth didn’t hesitate. “I will, Katie. I’ll call Blair this very minute and insist she and Sam put the children first.”
“Thank you so much. I knew you’d help me with this.” And Elizabeth would now lay down the law to her anal husband, Jason. Sam’s dad would go along with whatever Elizabeth wanted to keep from having to listen to her arguments.
“Of course, my dear. The children must always come first. Take care.”
“You, too.” Katie hung up the phone and smiled. Elizabeth Slater was now a grandmother on a mission to save her grandchildren. No one could be more formidable.
Except a mom.
“Man, if you ever railroad me like that, I’m going to think about divorcing you.”
Katie whirled around and saw C.D. standing in the doorway. “I hate to point out the obvious, hotshot, but we’re not married.”
He walked over, his eyes twinkling. “Then I’ll marry you just so I can think about divorcing you.”
Teasing, Katie wrinkled her nose at him. “Who are you kidding? You’d never divorce me, or even think about doing it, C.D. Quade.”
“No?” He hiked an eyebrow in her direction.
“No,” she said with total conviction. “I walk forever in your soul.” She hiked her chin. “It’s impossible to divorce that?”
He grunted. “Guess I’m stuck with you, then.”
“Yes, you are,” she insisted. “And you love being stuck with me.”
“I do,” he confessed. “You have no idea how much.” He pecked a kiss to her lips. “I got something for you.”
A long slender box, black with a red bow. “What? Did I miss an occasion or something?”
“No.” He leaned back against the counter. “It’s time.”
She opened the box. A slender gold Cross pen lay nestled in a grove of red velvet. She looked up at C.D.
“When you wrote your first perfect-life list, it was with a brand new pen, right? That was significant.” He nodded to the Cross pen. “Well, I figure you can’t write your new one because you need…”
“A new pen,” she finished for him, then smiled. “Have I mentioned lately that I adore you?”
“Not lately,” he lied. “Actually, it’s been a long time. I’m feeling neglected.”
“Well, come here and let’s fix that.”
Ustead had the guards tie her hands to the bars of her cell.
What was he doing? Oh, God, what was he doing?
Katie didn’t dare ask. Didn’t dare utter so much as a sound. He was beyond angry and, though she had no idea why, it was clear upon whom he intended to vent.
A short guard walked into view. He didn’t glance Katie’s way, but averted his eyes to the floor. When she saw what he carried in his hand, she knew why.
A whip.
Her knees threatened to buckle. She leaned her forehead against the cool metal bars, closed her eyes and prayed for death.
Behind her, Ustead cursed her, working himself into a lather. He uncoiled the whip, cracked it on the dusty floor.
Katie tried to slip away in her mind, tried to distance herself from what was happening, but the fear was too great. Too strong. Ustead’s voice grew more maniacal, more frenetic, and he cracked the whip against the floor, screaming now, pacing behind her as if he were the animal caged.
He let out a cry that she’d heard the night she’d crashed: a tribal war cry, and then she’d felt the first bite of the whip into her flesh. God, help me. Help me!
“No!” She sat straight up in bed, her heart racing, gasping for air, still feeling the sting of the whip cutting into her back.
She doubled forward and buried her head in her hands. It was just a dream. Just a dream. I’m home now. I’m safe. Ustead is dead. He can’t hurt me anymore.
Her mouth dry, her throat parched, she downed an entire bottle of water—two rested on her nightstand beside the intercom setup between her and C.D. in his apartment—then she moved to get out of bed.
The phone rang. “You okay?” C.D. asked in a groggy voice that sounded still more asleep than awake.
“I’m fine, honey.” She wished he were here. “Go back to sleep.”
“I can come down . . .”
“No, really. I’m okay now. Going back to sleep.”
“You’d tell me—“
“I would.” She smiled. “You go back to sleep and I’ll talk with you in the morning.”
“Love you.”
“I love you, too.” She hung up the phone.
She turned up the volume on the intercom and listened for his soft snore. When she heard it, she got out of bed, used the bathroom and washed her hands, then went to the kitchen and poured herself a small glass of gingerale. It would help settle her stomach; it always did after one of those dreams. When she reached for the ice, she saw the gold pen beside the pad, still in its box.
Her ice plopped into the glass. The gingerale fizzed and hissed. She took a sip, then another, and finally reached for the pen.
“Katie Cole Slater,” she wrote. “And her perfect life.”
“One,” she said, as she wrote. “A warm and loving relationship with Molly and Jake.”
The ink flowed smoothly, easily across the pad. She paused to reflect, take another sip. “Two,” she wrote, deciding on her next item. “A business of my own that has nothing to do with flying or airplanes.”
She stared at that item, not satisfied. “This isn’t about what you don’t want, Katie. It’s about what you do want.”
Putting her mind to it, she still couldn’t decide exactly what kind of business she wanted, so she left it as it was, dropped down a line and wrote, “Three.”
An image of C.D. flitted through her mind, then stayed.
She wanted him, all right, but she couldn’t put that on a list he’d see. Regardless of what he said, she knew the man, and at some level, he still felt guilty. Maybe not responsible for what happened to her, but guilty that he’d escaped and she’d lived through constant agony, imprisoned for six years. He’d never said it that way, of course, but she’d sensed it often, especially on the nights she dreamed. He hated her nightmares as only a man who loves her could. His fear of not being there when needed had prompted him to buy and install the two-way intercom, and no matter what time of night, when she dreamed, he always called or came down.
“A permanent relationship with the man who loves me,” she wrote, then added, “before I turn fifty.”
That was enough of a cushion. C.D. would see it and not feel pressured. She wanted him, and she wanted him to want her, but for herself, not because of guilt and misguided obligations. Of course, she hugged herself, how much more permanent can you get when you’re already in a man’s soul?
Joyful, she squeezed her eyes shut and whispered, “Thank you for that, God.”
She’d feared feeling soiled and degraded the rest of her life. She’d feared never having a life again much less one rich with love. Boy, had he proven nothing’s over until He says it’s over.
Grateful for that in so many ways, on so many levels, she ripped the page from the pad and quickly added the last item. “Four. To go to the beach and step in the sand.”
There was no need to be more explicit. She knew too well what she needed to do there. But so far, the sand had proven to be something she could not yet endure nor conquer.
Chapter Eleven
On Satu
rday, when Katie and C.D. picked the kids up for a movie, Blair met Katie at the door and grabbed her in a hug. “Thank you.” Her exhaled breath shot across Katie’s shoulders.
“What for?”
“Elizabeth called and insisted Sam and I continue our ‘living arrangements’ uninterrupted for the good of the children. She was emphatic.” Blair’s eyes glittered with excitement. “I don’t know what you said to her, Katie, but it worked!”
“She manipulated her,” C.D. said. “I heard the whole thing. It was a work of art.”
“Stop it, you.” Katie laughed and swatted at C.D. “I’m glad it’s worked out, Blair.”
“Sam’s flabbergasted.”
“I’m sure he is.” Katie looked up the steps. “Are the kids ready?”
“Yes, they are.” Sam came in from the den and shook C.D.’s hand, then turned to Katie. “I understand you offered us a little assistance with my parents.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Katie hedged with a straight face.
Unsure, he rubbed his neck. “You did talk to my mother.”
“Yes, I did. I hope you don’t mind, but I couldn’t get you or Blair, and I wanted to firm up Thanksgiving plans. Didn’t Miranda give you my message?”
“Yes, she did.” He seemed more uncertain, confused.
“I left a message on your machine here, too,” Katie said.
“It’s still there,” Blair added. “I haven’t gotten around to deleting it yet.”
“Right.” Sam harrumphed. “More accurately, you preserved the chain of evidence.”
“Sam!” Blair frowned at him.
Staying quiet nearly choked C.D. Katie shot him a warning look that he’d better not open his mouth or utter the first sound.
“You always were good at bringing them around,” Sam said to Katie. “Thanks.”
She’d never had a lot of choice. He wouldn’t even try. Image, not truth, was all. But primed for a moment of grace, she left that reminder unsaid. “You’re welcome.”
“Um, Blair and I were thinking that it’s really not right for you to forfeit being with the kids on Thanksgiving, Katie.”
Blair nodded.
“We can switch off, if you like,” Blair said. “You take them for lunch and bring them home for dinner.”
