by Unknown
Ruth kept going. “They’ll be fine.”
Catherine wanted to ask if they could communicate with animals, also, but didn’t. She wanted to do nothing that might precipitate a dialogue. Sitting stiffly in her seat, she stared straight ahead. In an hour, she’d be at the Albuquerque International Airport, and then she’d be by herself.
THE GRAYSON MEN HADN’T GONE TEN FEET INTO THE woods before meeting Luke and Hero. The warning growl came from deep within the animal’s chest. Fangs bared, his gray hair bristled on his back. One by one the brothers stared at the animal until he sat back on his haunches, his fur smooth, his fangs hidden.
“Nice pet,” Morgan said, his hands on his hips.
“Belongs to Catherine,” Luke said, his attention on the two cars leaving. “I’m glad she let Mama drive her to the airport.”
The men chuckled. Pierce spoke to the frowning Luke. “I’m not sure she had a choice. Since you weren’t there, the Little General took over.” He shook his dark head. “Sierra does like taking charge.”
“This time I agree with her.” Luke started toward the cabin. “Come on. I need to call Sierra and ask her and Mama to stay with Catherine until her plane departs, then find Daniel.”
RUTH MADE IT TO THE AIRPORT IN JUST SHY OF AN hour. After checking in the rental, she and Sierra insisted on seeing Catherine to her gate. Too drained to argue, Catherine agreed, thinking they would leave afterward. An hour lengthened into two and the Grayson women remained.
Very clearly Catherine recalled how Ruth had stayed with her at the Red Cactus when she had been frantic with worry. Whatever Catherine had done wrong, she hadn’t turned Ruth completely against her. She tried to take small comfort in that, but it was impossible. The pain inside her went too deep.
Finally the call came for her to board. Strangely, she wasn’t as anxious to leave the women’s company as she had thought. “Goodbye, Ruth, and thanks for everything.”
Ignoring the unsteady hand extended toward her, Ruth hugged Catherine. “Is there any hope that you might come back?”
“No.” She faced Sierra. “Thanks and goodbye.”
“I’m not as polite as my mother. Why are you walking out on my brother?” Sierra asked, curiosity more than censure in her voice.
Ruth didn’t chastise her youngest child. Her attention centered on Catherine.
“Because I love him.”
Turning, she entered the boarding terminal and took her seat in first class. She stared out the window at the tarmac until the gray surface blurred. Finding her shades in her purse, she put them on.
Hang on for just a few more hours, she told herself. She repeated the litany over and over during the course of the flight. She was the third person off the plane. Obtaining her luggage, she went outside. She had just hailed a cab when she heard the familiar sound of her name.
“Catherine.”
Catherine glanced around to see her mother rushing down the sidewalk toward her. Tall and regal in an Anne Klein antique-white pantsuit, Elizabeth Stewart enveloped her daughter in a hug. Catherine’s throat grew tight; the tears she had been holding at bay spilled down her cheeks.
Elizabeth took one look at her daughter’s face and steered her toward the waiting cab. “We’ll talk inside.”
After they were seated, Elizabeth gave the driver Catherine’s address, then sat back with Catherine’s hand in hers. “It appears I was right to take Luke Grayson’s call.”
“Luke?” Catherine’s head came up.
“Yes. Daniel tracked me down for him, then Luke called and demanded to speak to me.” Elizabeth wiped the tears from her daughter’s face. “You look terrible. What happened?”
“Your foolish daughter fell in love.” Catherine closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the seat. “I promised myself I’d never regret loving Luke, but it hurts, Mother. It hurts so bad.”
“Oh, baby.” Elizabeth squeezed her daughter’s hand, feeling helpless and not liking it. “All men aren’t selfish like Roderick.”
Catherine spoke without opening her eyes. “I’d be the selfish one if I married him, Mother. Luke deserves a whole woman.”
“Do you think another woman could love him more?”
Her eyes snapped open. “No.”
“Then you are being selfish. You’re condemning Luke to either second best or loneliness.” Elizabeth sat back in her seat. “Love is hard enough to find. No one should toss it away.”
THE CALL CAME CLOSE TO THREE FIFTEEN THAT AFTERnoon. Luke was waiting. The conversation was brief.
“Did her mother get there on time?” Ruth asked.
“Yes,” he answered, hanging up the phone and observing the attentive expressions of his siblings. “Now you can all go home. I’m fine.”
Morgan, his long, jean-clad legs stretched out before him, crossed his highly polished booted feet. “You’re always trying to get us up here, and now you want to throw us out.”
“I’ve got Pierce on the run,” Sierra said, moving her knight.
“That’ll be the day,” Piece returned, studying the chessboard.
“I didn’t marinate those steaks for nothing,” Brandon said, getting up to go to the kitchen.
Ruth’s fingers expertly danced across the keys of the baby grand. “Playing is the only way to keep it tuned properly.”
All excuses, because they loved him and worried. For Catherine’s sake, they needed certain information. “Brandon, get back in here.”
He waited until his younger brother came running back. “I need to tell you something that I don’t want going past this room. The only reason I’m telling you is because if I’m lucky enough to convince Catherine to marry me, I don’t want her hurt unintentionally.” He took a deep breath and told them everything. “Mama, if you have grandchildren, they won’t be coming from me.”
Getting up from the piano bench, she went to her eldest and took his hands. “Catherine is a wonderful, caring woman. Your happiness is enough. I’d be honored to have her in the family.”
Different words with the same support came from each of his siblings with accompanying suggestion as how to get her back. Sierra opted for a tried and proven method. “You could always kidnap her the way Uncle John Henry did Aunt Felicia.”
Luke nodded, considering, then smiled for the first time all day. “I just might do that.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
SUMMER WAS BEAUTIFUL IN LOS ANGELES. THE SKY WAS blue and clear; the air filled with the lush scents of flowers in bloom. People were happy everywhere Catherine went. She had every reason to revel in the season herself, she thought, as she prepared herself a glass of iced tea.
Her publisher had been ecstatic over her latest book, Graywolf the Guardian, the story of a spirit wolf who kept watch over a little girl while she was lost in the forest, then led her to safety. Her department chair had assured her she was now in the top two for department head of Developmental Psychology at her university. Her reputation was intact. Rena Bailey was in jail and no longer a threat to Catherine or her own children. More good news had arrived in a letter from Naomi just that morning.
Naomi had written to say that she and Kayla were doing well in their own apartment, which Sierra and Richard had helped them find. Naomi had gone for her second interview with the Santa Fe School District and was hired for the fall term. Richard was taking her out to celebrate, just the two of them. It wasn’t a date or anything, Naomi wrote, but the excitement and nervousness and admiration for Richard came through clearly. Ruth had volunteered to keep Kayla.
Catherine had felt an odd shift in her heart when she had read that sentence, but she had refused to indulge in self-pity. It was about time Naomi and Kayla learned to live without fear. Still, she set the glass on the countertop without drinking.
Included in Naomi’s letter was a message from Richard that Hero was all right, and that the two teenagers involved in his shooting had been found. Ironically, they had been worried about the animal they’d shot and had fi
nally worked up enough courage to go back and look for him. Luke had been in the woods with Hero and found them instead. Luke had told Richard the scare Hero had given the young boys was worth a hundred gun safety classes.
From Luke there was nothing.
In the bright yellow kitchen of her condo Catherine gazed out the kitchen window to the small back yard. Yellow jasmine climbed profusely over her wooden fence to offer an arresting backdrop for the stone bench where on rare occasions she could relax with a book.
Catherine’s hands gripped the edge of the countertop. She hadn’t been able to relax since she’d left Santa Fe. Her home that she had meticulously created no longer brought her peace. The spaciousness, the plants, the many windows all reminded her of another home high in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. A home where she could never belong.
She dreaded nightfall when she climbed into her lonely bed. There was no strum of a guitar to lull her to sleep, no strong arms of the man she loved to hold her. She missed Luke. The three weeks apart had increased the ache, not diminished it. She couldn’t recall the last time she had done more than pick at her food.
Missing Luke was like missing a part of herself. And she hadn’t heard a single word from him.
For a man who said he loved her, he certainly wasn’t beating down her door to get her back. Stop it, she ordered herself, or this time she really would go crazy. Pushing away from the counter, she picked up the glass of tea, dumped it into the sink, and rinsed the glass.
“This is what I wanted.”
Then why do you hurt and hunger for him?
Leaving the kitchen, she went to her office and cut on her computer. She was days behind on the computations for her research paper. If she wasn’t careful, for the first time in her teaching career, she’d miss publishing a yearly paper. At least Jackie had resigned, and she had a new assistant for the coming term.
Catherine’s fingers hovered over the keys while she reread her notes. Moments later she flipped the computer off and stood.
In her unsettled frame of mind, she wasn’t in the mood to delve into “The Lasting Effect of Dysfunctional and Fractured Families on School Age Children.” Her hand tunneled through her hair. She had to snap out of her melancholy. Maybe a walk would help.
Grabbing her house keys from her purse, she left the house. She was stepping off the stone porch when a black Lincoln Continental pulled up to the curb. Her steps faltered, her hand gripped one of the curved black railings framing the five steps. Her heart rate going crazy, she stared as Luke emerged from the driver’s side.
The unexpected sight of him took her breath away. He looked magnificent. His wide shoulders filled out his tan sports jacket to perfection. His long legs were encased in dress slacks. She couldn’t help but remember when her hands had greedily clutched his muscular body to hers, her fingers had locked themselves in his straight black hair to bring his sensuous mouth closer. Her mouth dried, desire swept through her.
“Hello, Catherine.” Closing the car door, he crossed the sidewalk and stood looking up at her as if it had been three minutes instead of three weeks since he had last seen her. “Seems like I caught you just in time.”
The greeting was polite and impersonal, and took her completely by surprise. She blinked, quickly recovered, and pushed away the mild annoyance and, yes, hurt. She’d always had little patience with indecisive adults. It was disconcerting to find she was among their number. “Good evening, Luke.”
He came up another step, then another, until they were eye to eye. “I know it’s short notice, but I thought you were the best person to handle the job for my clients.”
“Clients?”
“Yes.” Luke looked over his shoulder at the couple who had emerged from the car. “Dominique and Trent.”
Trent and Dominique Masters stood on the sidewalk, their arms around each other, their expressions troubled. Dominique had been wearing white the last time Catherine has seen her, but unlike now, her stunning face had been radiant. Trent’s broad shoulders were braced, his handsome face lined with worry.
At their wedding less than six months ago, the goodlooking couple had been immensely happy. Bothered by the drastic change, Catherine rushed down the steps and embraced Dominique. “It’s good to see you.” She shook Trent’s hand. “Hello, Trent.”
“Hello, Catherine.” Dominique moved back into her husband’s arms as if she was his anchor.
“Hello, Catherine,” Trent greeted, his voice uncertain. “I’d really like to speak with you. Would it be possible to call me when you return? We have a hotel room in town.”
Catherine didn’t have to think about her answer. “I was just going for a walk. Come on. We can talk now.” Bounding back up the steps, very much aware of Luke, she opened the door to her condo. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
They all declined. She motioned them to seats in the living room. Bright light streamed in through the arch of windows. Sitting on the deep-cushioned burgundy leather sofa, Catherine tried not to recall when the sun had poured over her and Luke in an intimate embrace, when neither would have tolerated the distance separating them. “What can I do for you?”
“Help Trent find his mother,” Dominique answered as soon as they sat. Luke remained standing.
Catherine frowned. She had read in one of the numerous news articles covering their engagement that Trent had been raised in foster care. “You want me to help you gain permission to open your files?”
“Thanks to Luke, that won’t be necessary.” Trent leaned forward, excitement creeping into his deep voice. “He’s found a woman in Atlanta he thinks is my mother.”
Reluctantly Catherine’s attention went to Luke. “How? It’s been over thirty years.”
“A lot of painstaking hard work and luck. Trent was with someone until he was approximately seven days old, he was in good general health, and he had been circumcised. The last bit of information told us he had been born in a hospital. So somewhere there was a record of his birth.” Arms folded, Luke leaned against the side of a Queen Ann chair. “We inputted a two-week time span with infants’ birth dates and mothers’ names into the computer to locate both and find any infants who were unaccounted for.”
Catherine’s eyes widened. “That must have taken months. Not to mention the cost.”
“Money’s not important,” Dominique and Trent said almost in unison, then glanced at each other with unquestionable devotion.
Trent Masters was well-off and owned his own trucking firm, but he was nowhere near the league of Dominique or her mega-rich brother, Daniel. But that wouldn’t matter, Catherine realized studying the couple. Whatever resources Dominique had were Trent’s and vice versa.
Impatiently, Dominique pushed her thick, waist-length braid over her shoulder. “What we need is you.”
Catherine’s frown returned. “I don’t understand.”
Luke straightened. “We need an unbiased, experienced observer that can tell us if the woman we believe to be Trent’s mother is being truthful when we question her.”
“You can do that,” Catherine told him.
“Yes, but it might get sticky,” Luke said. “Joann Albright is the wife of a very influential businessman who has political aspirations. They have two adult children, and to all outward appearances are the picture-book family. In fact, they were once voted family of the year. Everything tells me this is going to be rough. You have a way of soothing people, making them feel comfortable. If we blow this meeting with her, we may never get another one.”
He was right, of course. Only a very small percentage of the mothers who abandoned their children were remorseful or wanted to see them again. “What led you to her?”
“She and her six-day-old son were involved in a one-car accident. The car ran off the road on a clear day and ended up in a lake. They managed to get Mrs. Albright out, but they never found the child.”
Luke regarded Trent, his head bowed, his hands clasped in Dominique’s before he continued. “A
ccording to the report, she kept repeating the child’s name over and over, and demanding the rescuers let her go. She had to be forcibly restrained. When Mr. Albright was contacted, he thought there had been a mix-up. She had had a Cesarean section and was supposed to be in bed. The house staff told the investigator that Mrs. Albright advised them she’d take care of the baby and she should not be disturbed. She arrived at the hospital in shock, and hysterical. The reason for her being in the car was moot after the devastating loss of their first child. From Atlanta to Columbia, South Carolina, where Trent was found, is almost a straight shot. It was months before she was seen in public after the accident, and when she was, she was pregnant.”
“Luke, it’s not unusual for parents to have another child after such a tragedy,” Catherine said. “They see it as a way to ease the pain and heal, but . . .” her eyes saddened. “No child can replace another one.”
Trent’s dark head came up. “The note my mother left with me in the hospital bathroom said, ‘Keep him safe. I can’t. Tell him I loved him. I did, but he won’t remember.’ If she was in an abusive situation like the authorities thought, why would she give me up, then have another child that she kept?”
The hurt confusion in his voice and face were readily discernible. “I can’t answer that, Trent, until we learn more. I do know the reason women stay is complicated. It has to do with a myriad of things, their need for love, the way they were raised, or simply survival.”
“But she was out,” Trent reminded her.
“Leaving, to you or me, may seem as simple as walking out the door, but as I said, it goes much deeper than that. A woman might be dependent upon the man for financial support or might think that something she had done or didn’t do deserved such treatment. She may feel something is lacking in her.”
“And blame herself,” Dominique said, her body rigid, her beautiful face tight with emotion.
“Exactly, but they shouldn’t,” Catherine said, her expression turning thoughtful. No one was sure why Dominique and her first husband, a very wealthy man, had suddenly divorced, but Catherine suddenly got a strong vibe that Dominique might be talking from experience. “It takes a very strong woman to walk.”
