Sweetest Desires (A Sweetest Day Romance)

by Beverly Taylor

  Katharine softly fingered the portrait through the glass. A pile of paperwork required her review and signature, but it was no use. She couldn’t focus. Deciding to take advantage of a particularly beautiful winter afternoon that felt more like Indian summer, she indulged herself in the splendor of Berkley’s well kept enclosed botanical gardens. Even though the complex offered beautiful lounging areas and comfortable recreation rooms, all in all, the residents enjoyed this area most. She bent over, touching a delicate spray of blossoms, letting the blaze of color warm her senses.

  Her thoughts traveled to the time when she and Carson first met on the University of Alabama campus. Katharine had selected the college because it offered a full scholarship to the business program if she joined the gymnastics team. Carson had gone there on a baseball and academic scholarship and was majoring in mass communications. Both decided to attend graduate school soon after completing their bachelor’s degrees.

  Katharine’s good friend, Natalie, had invited her to attend a meeting of Christians on Campus, a network of Christian students encouraging one another in spirit, faith, and love. This particular meeting had consisted of fifteen students. Carson, a reporter for the Crimson Tide Gazette was present only to take notes for an article about the organization he would later write. Soon, he’d fallen in love with Katharine. Both had joined the group and became active members, spreading the Gospel to nonbelievers and admonishing believers to continue in the faith.

  Where has it all gone? Katharine thought. How could I have fallen by the wayside and let this happen to my marriage?

  A voice broke into her reverie, calling her name. With a flick of her hand, Katharine pushed a strand of hair away from her face and returned to admiring the coral flowers on the nearest bush. She’d made it perfectly clear to her support staff that she wasn’t receiving any business-related calls while she was there.

  “Mrs. O’Connor,” her administrative assistant, Linda, called again, this time stepping behind her. “Mr. O’Connor is on the phone. He says it’s important.”

  Katharine nodded, wondering as she paced back to her office what excuse Carson would make this time.

  Bracing herself for bad news, she hit the speaker button. “Katharine O’Con”

  “Sweetheart!” Carson’s voice greeted cheerfully.

  “Hi, honey! I was just thinking about you. I can’t wait to—”

  Carson cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. I was just, uh, thinking about you too. But guess what?” His tone instantly switched from embarrassed discomfort to the excitement of a child on Christmas morning.

  Katharine’s heart skipped a beat. He’d called her sweetheart. He sounded as if the other night had never occurred when he tossed those hurtful words at her. “What?” she responded eagerly.

  “I’ve just been informed that I’m being honored at the American Journalists Association banquet. I knew I’d been nominated for the Robert W. Laster Award for Sports Reporting, but I didn’t expect to win it this year!”

  Katharine was silent, overwhelmed with sweet relief. He hadn’t called to cancel after all.

  “Did you hear what I said?”

  “Oh, honey, yes . . . yes, I heard you.” She smiled brightly, blinking herself back into consciousness. “Congratulations! It’s long overdue. This will give us something extra to celebrate this evening.”

  “Uh . . . yeah. About tonight. I, um, well, some of the guys at the office want to take me out to celebrate. I hope you understand. Maybe we can reschedule dinner for sometime next week or whatever.”

  Astonished and furious, Katharine decided nothing more could surprise her. “What’ll we do about the reservations at Cavalieri’s?” She struggled to keep her self-control. “I had to reserve the date on the credit card three months ago, and it’s nonrefundable. Do you know how hard it is to get a reservation there?”

  “I know,” Carson said callously. “Good thing I keep up my membership fees with Cavalieri’s Gold Club.”

  Katharine said nothing. Did his social status mean more to him than his marriage?

  “I’ll tell you what,” he negotiated. “Since you’ve already made arrangements for a babysitter, why don’t you get Natalie to go with you? I’d hate for you to miss out on an elegant dinner because of me.”

  Katharine studied her reflection in the family photograph, brushing back the pesky single strand of hair that disconnected itself from the others. Besides her long eyelashes and shapely legs, she’d always considered her forehead her best feature. I’m going to make you love me again, she thought. She forced her attention back to the conversation.

  “Congratulations again,” she said, well aware her good wishes sounded empty and hollow. “I gotta go. I have several things I need to take care of. Enjoy your evening.” She tapped the speaker button to off, instantly dissolving the call to prevent a closing remark from Carson.

  Resting her elbows on her cluttered desk, she covered her eyes and wept silently.

  * * *

  “Extension 1775, please.”

  After two rings, Natalie’s voice answered, “Natalie Harper.”

  Katharine’s speech was barely coherent. “You wanna go to Cavalieri’s with me this evening? Carson’s picking up the tab.” She sucked in a breath and held it as long as she could before releasing it in a burst of tears.

  “Awe, sweetie.” Natalie’s sentiment came across caressingly. “What happened? I thought this romantic evening was a done deal for you and Carson. It’s all you’ve talked about for the past three months.”

  “It hurts, it hurts so badly,” Katharine said in between hiccupy sobs.

  “Is it her?”

  “I’m sure it is,” Katharine sniffed. “He claims he’s going to hang out with the guys from the office to celebrate his being honored with the AJA award.” The tissue box was in her lap. She yanked two out and blew her nose into it.

  “Oh, girl, that’s wonderful! So he won it?” Natalie’s voice rose with as much excitement as if Carson had won an Olympic gold medal. “I know how important that award is to him. He’s worked so long and so hard for it.” When Katharine didn’t respond, she added in a more subdued tone, “You don’t believe he’s going out with his coworkers, huh?”

  “No, I really don’t.”

  “He may be telling the truth, Kat. The Laster trophy is one of the most coveted awards in his field, and I’m sure his coworkers are happy for him. I mean, c’mon now—he’s beaten out those guys at the Times, Post, and,” she emphasized, “USA Today. Now that’s saying something right there.”

  “Whose side are you on?” Katharine asked, trying to smile. “We should’ve left you in Alabama.” With fresh tissue, she wiped the remaining teardrops from under her eyes, smearing her eyeliner and alleged waterproof mascara.

  Carson was a native of the City of Brotherly Love, and Katharine was born and raised in the capital of the Buckeye State. When they married after grad school, they had relocated to Atlanta where Carson had taken a job as a writer for a national magazine headquartered in New York, with other offices in Chicago, Los Angeles, Dallas, London, and Toronto. When a marketing position became available in Atlanta, he’d put in a good word for Natalie and she was offered the position.

  Natalie had since resigned from the paper and was now the director of marketing and publicity for her brother Vincent’s lucrative movie company, Royalty Film Productions (RFP), in the Atlanta office. The company’s main office is in Los Angeles, but because RFP did a great deal of filming in Georgia, her brother had built a studio in Atlanta.

  “I was the maid of honor at your wedding, and you and Carson are my dearest and closest friends. So don’t turn this into my taking sides.” She’d said it teasingly, but at the same time, as she’d been known to do, got her message across, candidly. She paused for a second and then added, “Tell you what. Let me make a phone call to Stephen and I’ll meet you at Cavalieri’s.”

  * * *

  The intimate private dining room at Cavalieri�
��s was a riot of cherry-red walls. Furniture and accessories in a profusion of colors and patterns created the illusion of a nineteenth-century manor. Two Persian rugs, each replete with lush roses, separated the seating areas. At one end of the room, a fire blazed in a wood-mantled hearth garnished with small vases of fresh roses, a Sir Francis Drake giltwood mirror, a mantel clock, and brass candlesticks. Flower-strewn chintz chairs and ribbon-stripped upholstered loveseats, Asian Chippendale side tables, Oriental porcelain lamps, petit-point throw pillows, and an impressive assortment of plants from Chelsea Botanical Gardens completed the period setting.

  But Natalie took notice how Katharine wasn’t admiring this splendid decor. She seemed to be staring at an imaginary Carson, who sat across from her, tossing her small, sweet kisses.

  The sharp ringing of Natalie’s cell phone jolted Katharine from her daydream.

  Instinctively, Natalie reached into her purse to retrieve the phone and answer it. The caller ID read wireless caller. She flipped open the receiver and put it to her ear. At first, she heard nothing except a faint clattering that sounded like pans being placed on a stove. “Hello?”

  “It’s me,” her husband’s voice responded, sounding cold and deep.

  “What is it?” Natalie asked.

  “I want you home.”

  “I can’t come right now, Stephen. I already explained all that.”

  “This is a disaster,” he complained. “I cleared my calendar of patients this afternoon so we could have a beautiful evening together, and now you’ve spoiled it, all because your friend can’t keep her husband interested.”

  Natalie turned slightly away from Katharine’s view and whispered sharply into the phone. “That’s not fair. Where’s your compassion?” She knew then that something was wrong. Her husband doesn’t say things like that. The moment it left his lips, she was sure he’d regretted it.

  After a long silence, Stephen retracted his statement. “Yes, you’re right. As a friend, I should be more considerate of Kat and even more so as a doctor. Give her my regards. I guess I’m just a little jealous she’s there with you while I want you right here with me . . . especially this evening.”

  “That’s very sweet of you, darling, but why this evening? What’s so important about this eve—?” She cut herself off. “Never mind, this could get lengthy. But I’ll admit—I do like being fought over for a change.” She smiled at the thought. "I’ll see you later tonight.”

  He breathed lightly into the phone. “Please don’t keep me waiting too long,” he begged. “No telling when we’ll have another opportunity like this. Remember . . . the fertility specialist said spontaneity could be the key to reproduction.”

  The Harpers had been trying for years to have a baby. They were among the fifteen percent of cases in which testing revealed no abnormalities. Their doctor referred to it, unhelpfully, as an "unexplained" fertility problem. Natalie had considered fertility drugs, surgery, artificial insemination, and even In vitro fertilization, but all these solutions seemed unnatural. Ultimately, they had decided to wait upon the Lord, relying on faith and prayer instead of expensive desperation measures. If God never blessed her womb, she had another natural alternative method to building a family—adopting a child or children into their home and their hearts.

  Sounds more planned than spontaneous to me,” Natalie purred as handsome young men in crisp white shirts, black moiré bowties, tight pants, and short black jackets raced in and out, carrying soup plates and fresh baked breads filled with the crème de moules au safran that Katharine had selected as their first course. “But it sounds like a lot of fun.” She blushed as if they were married for eight days instead of eight years.

  “Are you being flirtatious?”

  “Maybe,” she grinned. She turned straightway and her eyes landed on Katharine, who was looking as dejected as if she’d received a pink slip after fifteen years of dedicated service.

  “Well, Stevie, darling,” Natalie said softly through a fading grin, “our entree is being served, and I’ve got to go before it gets cold. See you in a little while. Love you so much.” She closed the phone without giving Stephen a chance to say good-bye.

  Natalie swallowed deeply while watching her unhappy crony slowly scoop a spoonful of soup to her lips. “That was Steve. He says hello.” Reminded how Katharine wanted to be with Carson as much as she wanted to be with Stephen, her husband’s criticism kept her from smiling at Katharine.

  Katharine lay her spoon on the saucer, staring into her bowl. “’Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for a friend’—or at least put her own life on hold for that friend.” Her heavyhearted eyes raised to Natalie’s face. She attempted a smile, but it looked more like a strained grin.

  A warm feeling came over Natalie at this unmerited praise.

  “Stephen’s upset because you’re here with me, isn’t he? I can’t blame him. Carson is making all our lives miserable.” Katharine lowered her eyes for a few seconds before raising them to meet Natalie’s again. “You and Steve have a wonderful marriage. What’s your secret? Maybe he can show Carson what to do.” She tried to suppress a sob.

  Natalie considered a diversionary tactic, but on second thought, she remained silent. Sometimes even a soft voice is powerless against a broken heart. She pulled an embroidered handkerchief from her purse and handed it to Katharine.

  Katharine received it and dabbed her eyes. “I won’t do this,” she said, shaking her head vigorously. “I’m not going to spoil it for us. Let’s just enjoy the evening.” She scooted her chair closer to the table, taking a palm-sized mirror out of her black satin clutch purse and touching up the corners of her eyes and lips with her finger. “It took me hours to paint this mug,” she said, “and this is the second time today I’ve had to retouch it.” She snapped the mirrored compact shut and waved the hanky in the air. “I promise I’ll wash this and return it.”

  Natalie stared at her friend with an expression of sadness.

  “Quit looking at me all pitiful-like,” Katharine stated.

  “Why don’t you talk to him about her? Bring it to his attention that you know about them.”

  “I’m not ready. I think if I bring her name up, it’ll give him a chance to compare the two of us and she’ll win out over me.”

  “Nah. I don’t think so. It’s not that serious.”

  “MmHmm,” she nodded lightly. “If I tell him that I know about this Cindy-woman, I’m scared he’ll say something like, ‘I’m glad you found out about her. I’ve been meaning to tell you. I want a divorce from you so I can marry her,’ or something there about.”

  “You’ve been watching that Lifetime Movie Network channel again?”

  Katharine smiled some. “Oxygen.”

  “Aha. I knew it was one of those so-called man-bashing networks.”

  “Hey, those women can’t help it if their husbands turned out to be unfaithful jerks.”

  “That’s not the Carson I know. He doesn’t fit into that category. He loves you and the kids.”

  “That’s not the Carson I know either, but I wish someone would tell my aching heart.” With much effort, she held back a tear.

  “I just did,” Natalie smiled softly, and they turned their attention to the smoked salmon with caviar, savoring the meal in silence. When the waiter had cleared their plates and returned with their dessert, cold Grand Marnier soufflés topped with raspberry coulis, and was pouring fresh coffee into porcelain cups, a mandolin player entered the room wearing a tuxedo and a melancholy expression. His olive skin was brightened with blush, and his fake mustache tilted slightly downward on the right side as he played a soft, romantic melody.

  “With all this crying and sniffling, I guess now the waiters and musician think we’re having a lovers’ quarrel,” Natalie joked.

  For the first time that evening, Katharine laughed.

  Chapter 3

  Hearing a noise in the kitchen, Katharine picked up the small alarm clock and pulled
it closer to her eyes. Four-thirty-two a.m., and Carson’s side of the bed had not been slept in. She was appalled he would slip home at this hour. The latest he’d ever stayed out was close to two a.m., and even then, he had sent a text message to update Katharine on his agenda. Although, she didn’t discover the message until later that same morning.

  But when she went down to the kitchen to confront her husband, she found CJ instead.

  “What are you doing up so early?” Katharine charged. “You still have two hours before getting ready for school.”

  CJ inserted the milk carton back into the refrigerator. At eight, he still wet the bed. A problem Katharine attributed to his drinking liquids late at night.

  “I was thirsty, Mom.” His sweet smile was exactly like his father’s.

  Katharine followed CJ up the stairs and waited for him to come out of the bathroom. After tucking him back into his bed, she peeped into Bethany’s bedroom. As usual, the pillows and blankets were strewn on the floor, and Bethany was curled up in fetal position.

  Katharine was afraid of Bethany’s catching cold. She replaced the blankets snugly around her little girl’s shoulders, slightly lifting her head to slip the pillow under it.

  Before returning to the kitchen to wash out the glass CJ had used, Katharine poked her head into the guest bedroom to see whether Carson had decided to sleep there for the night as he often did when he came home late or when he and Katharine had argued. The bed remained neatly intact. There was no sign of Carson.

  Ordinarily he’d phone to say that he’d be home late because he had to meet a deadline. It was Carson’s favorite and most predictable excuse, but today, he didn’t make it. He didn’t call, period. Not even a text message.

  Katharine decided to check the den to see if he’d fallen asleep on the sofa watching television, as well as home office, the family room, and the basement. All the rooms were vacant. She called his cell phone, but his answering machine immediately picked up.