Starlight

by Debbie Macomber

  Briefly surveying the room again, Karen’s attention moved to a table with three players. Instinctively, she stiffened, her emotions muddled and confused. “Rand.” She spoke his name softly, her voice barely above a whisper. James and Carter glanced at her questioningly, but she didn’t notice.

  Rand lifted his head briefly, as though he’d heard, paused, then returned his attention to the game. But it wasn’t possible for him to have heard her at this distance. His back, facing her, was held rigid and determined.

  Drawing a deep breath, Karen’s first reaction was anger and resentment. Yet there was a flooding relief, an elation just in seeing him again, even from a distance.

  Karen continued to watch him for several moves with wry amusement. If he couldn’t see the chessboard, how could he participate? It was soon evident Rand didn’t use the board; the figures were moved for him on command by the third party. The entire game was played in his mind.

  She experienced a twinge of pride when he won the match. Her gaze followed him as he left the table and sauntered toward her.

  “I’ll be right back,” she instructed her nephews. “Stay here.”

  She met Rand at the other side of the room. “Hello,” she said evenly.

  He showed no surprise, his face a proud mask. “Karen.” He nodded in recognition.

  “I didn’t know if you’d remember me.” She was being untruthful. He may not have contacted her, but he darn well hadn’t forgotten her. She would have staked her life’s savings on the fact.

  “I remember you.”

  “I realize this is slightly out of the ordinary,” she began haltingly, “but I’d like to know what I did wrong.”

  His brows drew together in a frown of confusion. “Wrong?” He repeated the word. “You did nothing wrong.”

  Of their own volition, her eyes were drawn to his face. It was unfair that he should have this much effect on her after all this time. For a moment, Karen thought he wanted to reach out and touch her, but he clenched his fist and held it stiffly at his side.

  “Is it Cora?” At least she thought that was the name her godfather had mentioned.

  Surprise flickered briefly over his expression.

  “Uncle Evan mentioned her the night of the party,” Karen explained shakily. “He said you usually attend social functions with her, and I thought there … there may be some romantic involvement.”

  His mouth thinned with impatience. “No, this has nothing to do with Cora.”

  “If I didn’t do anything to offend you and … and if there’s not another woman involved, I’d like to know what I did wrong.”

  He paused long enough to take his coat from the rack and slip it on. Pulling the gloves from the pocket, he clenched them tightly in one hand.

  “My godfather also said you were a professor.”

  “What did you think I did? Sold pencils on street corners?” The tightening muscles of his jaw were the only evidence of anger.

  “No, of course not.” Oh dear, she was making a horrible mess of this. She inhaled deeply, hoping to calm herself and clear her thinking. “Listen, I’m going about this in the worst possible way. Could we start again?”

  Ignoring her plea, he stepped outside, allowing the door to close before she could follow.

  As childish as it seemed, Karen was tempted to stomp her foot and scream. Instead, she swallowed her anger and opened the door, stepping into the dark afternoon.

  He had gone only a couple of feet. Karen allowed the door to shut before approaching him. “Rand,” she said softly, “it doesn’t matter to me that you’re blind.”

  His posture remained rigid and uncompromising until Karen could tolerate it no longer. Without questioning the wisdom of her action, she placed a hand on his arm.

  “Randall Prescott, would you kindly listen to me? If you had perfect twenty-twenty vision or if you were as blind as a bat, I’d still find you the most captivating man I’ve ever met.”

  His mouth twisted into a cynical smile that told her he didn’t believe a word she’d said.

  “It doesn’t make any difference,” she stressed again, quickly losing patience.

  “Of course it makes a difference,” he shouted angrily, startling Karen. He caught her shoulder in a tight grip. “Blast you, Karen. Blast you for being here. Blast you for—what the hell?”

  Icy water hit Karen in the face. She gasped before being hit again. “James … Carter … stop it right now.”

  The two boys magically appeared and lowered their weapons. “I told you we’d get in trouble,” Carter said righteously.

  James ignored him. “I’m sorry, Aunt Karen. I didn’t mean to squirt you. I was aiming at him.” He pointed a finger at Rand. “You moved in my way.”

  Rand handed his handkerchief to Karen. “You didn’t mention you were related to the Dalton Brothers.” A mere hint of a smile lifted the corners of his mouth.

  Karen accepted the cloth and wiped the water from her face. “These are my nephews, James and Carter Turner.”

  “He was holding your shoulder real mean,” James explained, hoping to vindicate his actions. “He looked like he was mad at you.” Rand’s imposing figure was enough to give the stoutest of men second thoughts. As far as Karen was concerned, the boys deserved a medal for bravery.

  “You both owe Dr. Prescott an apology.” Her voice was stern, but she worked hard to suppress a smile. Rand’s face and shirt were soaked, and, feeling guilty, she returned his handkerchief.

  “You’re the one who got Aunt Karen in the face,” Carter shouted angrily at his brother. “Now I bet we don’t get dinner in the restaurant.”

  “It’s all right, boys.” A smile relaxed Rand’s taut features. “You were right to protect your aunt.”

  “You’re not mad?” James asked hesitatingly.

  Rand allayed his fears. “No, but I want you to know I’d never do anything to hurt Karen.”

  Carter was obviously pleased with the turn of events and was quick to make peace. “I like her real well. She took us to the movie and let us eat all the popcorn we wanted and—”

  “If you’d never hurt my aunt Karen, how come you were holding her shoulder like that?” James was not as easily appeased as his younger brother.

  Rand didn’t get the opportunity to answer, for Matthew burst upon the scene and demanded, “Where have ye been? I’ve been ready for five minutes. If it hadn’t been for your purse, Karen, I wouldn’t have known ye were even here.”

  “My purse!” Karen cried in dismay. She’d completely forgotten it in her eagerness to speak to Rand.

  Her father handed the leather bag to Karen, who distractedly checked its contents for anything missing.

  “I took the keys, so the boys and me will be leaving ye now.”

  “Dad?” she asked, her face a puzzled frown. What was he talking about? She was having dinner with him and the boys; it was what they’d planned. “I thought all of us were having dinner.”

  “Ye need to be discussing things with Rand,” he said, dismissing her lightly. “Are ye hungry, boys?” he asked, grinning devilishly at Karen.

  The boys gave a chorus of cheers, and with a hearty shout ran to Karen’s car.

  “Damn good game, Prescott. I demand a rematch.”

  Karen’s attention swiveled to Rand, searching his face. “Did you have a match with my father this afternoon?” Karen could only imagine the things Matthew had been telling Rand. Indignantly, she turned her attention to Matthew to discover he had already left. Her small car purred as the engine came to life.

  “Dad,” she shouted angrily. “What about me?” Her full mouth compressed angrily as Matthew passed her in the street and gave her a friendly wave good-bye.

  “I think he’s abandoned you to my care.” Rand’s frown showed her he was none too pleased with her company.

  “Well, don’t look so thrilled,” she snapped.

  Silence followed until Rand began to chuckle, but the sound of his amusement did little to soot
he Karen’s ruffled feelings.

  “This isn’t funny,” she insisted.

  “Yes, it is.” Rand broke into full rumbling laughter that shook his shoulders.

  He continued laughing. “The fact is, I haven’t found anything this funny in years.” He contained himself somewhat. “Is it always like this with your family?”

  “Sometimes it’s worse,” Karen stated dryly.

  His amusement relaxed to soft chuckles. “Since Matthew’s seen fit to throw us together, let’s find someplace to talk.”

  Karen’s spirits soared. This was what she’d originally wanted, to be with Rand. All at once, she wanted to kiss her interfering, meddling father.

  They discovered a cafe several blocks from the chess club, and Rand ordered them coffee.

  The silence stretched between them until Karen found her hands were trembling. Nervously, she clenched them together in her lap.

  “Coffee hits the spot,” she said with a false cheerfulness that sounded awkward even to her own ears.

  Rand looked away. “Listen, Karen,” he breathed forcefully, “I don’t need to tell you I enjoyed meeting you and the Forsyths’ party.” He paused, his jaw tightening. “I thought you got my message when I didn’t contact you afterward.”

  Karen gave a short, sarcastic laugh. “I got it, all right. I just don’t happen to like it.”

  Rand placed his coffee cup on the table, and Karen noted how tightly he was clenching it. “Do you always get what you like?”

  “No,” she said lightly, “but not from lack of trying.”

  “I find this all flattering, but—”

  “Flattering?” she interrupted.

  “Very flattering,” he said firmly. “But, Karen, you’re young and pretty, and I won’t have you wasting your time—”

  “On a blind man?” she interrupted him again. “Squandering my youth and beauty—is that it?”

  “Yes,” he retorted angrily.

  “Honestly, Rand, the next thing you’ll be telling me is that I deserve a whole man or something equally stupid.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  Karen nearly choked on her coffee. “I can’t believe this,” she said, keeping her voice level. “And even with this ridiculous attitude, don’t you think I should be the one to decide? It’s my life. I can squander it if I want.” She ended with a short, nervous laugh.

  “Not necessarily,” Rand replied with a twinge of bitterness. “If you aren’t going to use common sense, I must.”

  “What do you mean?” she demanded. “I’ve got terrific common sense.”

  Rand leaned against the back of the red booth. “You seem to be disregarding the fact that I don’t want you, nor do I need you.”

  “I know that,” she countered swiftly. She glanced down at her coffee, relieved he couldn’t see the hurt in her eyes. “All I know is that I’ve never experienced anything more beautiful than that night with you. I don’t even know how to explain myself. But you can’t deny it, Rand. You felt it, too.” She paused and waited for him to comment, but he didn’t. “It might have been some crazy kind of magic that touched us that night—the Christmas spirit of love and goodwill. I can only guess.” She hesitated. His mouth had become the thin, hard line she recognized. Her back stiffened. Rand could say what he liked; instinct told her he would lie. She’d backed him into a defensive corner, and he’d say anything to block her from his life. She simply wasn’t going to let him.

  Suddenly, something changed in his posture. He relaxed somewhat; his mouth softened enough for her to realize he was remembering. The enchantment of the party touched him again, or perhaps he was as weary of the argument as she.

  With his resolve weakening, Karen quickly seized the opportunity. “I remember you once told me you wished to be treated like a sighted person. Well, I think you should know that if you could see me, you’d notice I’m half starved.”

  His mouth twisted into a fleeting smile. “Is that a hint?”

  “No, it’s a blatant attempt to con you into taking me to dinner.” A full smile wrinkling the corners of his eyes told her she’d succeeded. “But before we do anything, I think we need to make an agreement.”

  A dark brow lifted itself expressively. “Such as?”

  “We need a trial period to test our feelings. Everything was so crazy that night—the stars, the music, the moonlight.”

  “The champagne,” Rand added dryly.

  She nodded before realizing he couldn’t see her acknowledgment.

  “I guess I need to know if what I felt was real or some romantic dream.” She hesitated before adding, “There would be no obligation on either side. Are you willing to do that?”

  A veiled look came over him, one so transient and brief that Karen wondered if she’d imagined it. Then Karen knew. In that fleeting second, she knew. For all his resolve, for all his determination, he wanted her. He desired her more than she dreamed possible. At the same time, he hesitated; the flint hardness of his will and years of hard-wrought self-control warred with the tumult of his desires.

  “No obligation on either side?” he questioned.

  “None.”

  He ran a weary hand over his face, then slouched forward. “All right, Karen.”

  Three

  “I’ve never known you to be particularly proper about this sort of thing,” Judy said with straight pins between her teeth. “If I were you, I’d contact him. Turn,” she directed.

  Karen was standing atop her coffee table while Judy secured pins in the hem of the wild-rose-colored dress. “I think with any other man I would. But not Rand … I’ve done as much as I dare.” It’d been two long weeks since their meeting at the chess club. Two of the longest weeks of Karen’s life. A hundred times she was convinced she’d never hear from Rand again. Not even the gentle caress of his hand against her cheek when he dropped her off at her apartment or the promise he’d phone had been enough to dispel her insecurities. Karen had been so confident after that night. They’d eaten sandwiches at the cafe and drunk several more cups of coffee. They talked for what seemed only a short time but was actually hours. Karen told him of her childhood and friends, the pain of her mother’s death—things she’d never shared with anyone else. Rand could not see her with his eyes, perhaps, but he could read her as if they’d known each other for years. Several times he paused and asked, “That’s not all, is it?” or, “What were your feelings?” Karen had bared her soul to him as she hadn’t with any other human. He listened intently when she spoke of her worries over Matthew and the changes in him since Madeline’s death. He didn’t offer advice, only listened with a knowing look that engendered confidence.

  That evening, Karen learned bits and pieces of Rand’s life, too. His mother lived in New York and worked for the state insurance commissioner’s office. His father had died when he was eleven; Rand was an only child.

  “Okay, let me stand back and see if this is even.” Judy broke into Karen’s thoughts. A warm smile formed. “This dress is going to be lovely. I’m proud of it.” The vibrant jacquard material was being handcrafted for Karen as a birthday gift from her sister. “I’m sure if Rand could see you now, he’d be knocking the phone off the hook.”

  Karen didn’t bother to correct Judy by saying Rand would never “see” her or the dress.

  Judy’s hand went to her chin as she continued to study Karen. “I don’t think I’ve ever realized how much you resemble Mom. You’ve got her tilted nose and those warm, dark eyes. You’re as beautiful as she was.”

  Karen had always been referred to as the “pretty” McAlister daughter. Judy was far from ugly, but her nose was a trifle too large, her mouth too full. But in the things that mattered, Judy Turner was the most beautiful woman Karen knew. “A lot of good a cute nose does me!” She smiled gently. “You’ve got the talent, while I’m stuck with two left hands. I could never sew anything this lovely.”

  “Sure you could.” Judy dismissed her lack of confidence with
a short shake of her head. “You’d better change. I imagine Dad’s thoroughly tired of showing my boys chess moves.”

  Karen was in the bedroom when the phone rang. “I’ll get it,” Judy called. Karen stopped dressing, her pants zipper half closed. Her heart beat expectantly, as it always did when the phone rang.

  “No, this is her sister, Judy,” Karen heard her sister say. “Yes, I am,” Judy added. “I heard you three had quite an introduction. Let me apologize again for the boys.” She laughed. “Just a minute. I’ll get Karen.”

  Judy burst through the bedroom door. “It’s him … It’s him.”

  Karen released the breath she’d unconsciously been holding. A flooding sense of relief came over her until her knees trembled.

  “Well, aren’t you going to answer it?” Judy whispered fiercely.

  “Yes … yes,” she said again, hoping her voice sounded composed and confident, knowing it didn’t. Slowly, to calm her nerves, Karen walked into the living room and picked up the phone. “Hello, Rand,” she said softly.

  “Karen”—his voice was curt—“how are you?”

  “Fine, thank you.” She was, now that he’d phoned. “And you?”

  “Good.” An awkward silence followed. “The Tacoma Actors Guild is putting on a play at the Pantages Thursday night. Would you like to go?”

  “Yes, I would,” she said with an eagerness that betrayed her.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know the name of the play?” he chided softly.

  Karen silently berated herself. Why did she have to appear so anxious? “All right, if you feel it’s important.” Suddenly, she wanted to laugh. What did it matter if he knew how eager she was to see him? If she’d answered him in a completely monotone voice, he would have guessed her feelings, anyway. “What time should I be ready?”