Keeping Kate (Reunion: Hannah, Michael & Kate #3)

by Pat Warren

  And, Kate reminded herself, she had a lovely home to live in and a generous salary she was banking each week, for she had nothing to spend her money on except the occasional gift for Jamie. She also had Fitz, having grown fond of the older woman with her quaint philosophy delivered in the Irish accent she’d never quite lost.

  But what Kate didn’t have was any improvement in her relationship with her employer. If anything, Aaron had cooled considerably since he’d acted out of character by kissing her at the hospital that night. He was once more avoiding her, no longer arriving early most evenings, and now spending the hours at home either quietly playing with Jamie or holed up in his study with paperwork. Quite often, he attended business dinners and various presentations, something he hadn’t done very often before.

  Kate pulled Jamie’s door half-closed after putting her to bed for the evening and thought that Aaron needn’t bother to think up excuses to avoid her. She’d stay clear of him, since he no longer desired her company. He rarely made eye contact with her, had shared only two meals with all of them recently and hadn’t touched her even accidentally since the incident at the hospital.

  Restlessly, she went back downstairs, wondering what to do with her energy. She wasn’t much for watching television, which Fitz loved to do, already in her room with one of her favorite programs. Kate loved to read, but she’d read herself to sleep nearly every evening for over a week. Here it was seven, and the long evening stretched before her.

  She wandered to the family room, picked up a few toys she’d missed earlier, then walked over to stare out at the already darkened sky. It was chilly out, but they hadn’t had snow yet. Used to Michigan winters, she didn’t mind the cold. Perhaps a walk along the river would clear the cobwebs from her muddled mind and tire her enough to sleep.

  That decided, Kate slipped on her heavier shoes, grabbed her jacket and scarf, then went to let Fitz know to listen for Jamie while she took a walk. She might have guessed that Fitz would warn her about strolling around in the dark, but Kate wasn’t afraid. The boardwalk was well lighted most of the way with old-fashioned lampposts, and she was certain she wouldn’t be the only soul outdoors needing a little air.

  She set out, a scarf she’d knit hanging around her neck, her hands stuffed in the pockets of her leather jacket. The light wind felt good ruffling her hair. Reaching the boardwalk, she saw only one freighter slowly moving down the river. Soon, there’d be none when the water froze over. Winter was such a forbidding time, when so many things ceased due to the cold. Or perhaps it was her mood, which was a sad one.

  Why was it that she always wound up alone? Kate couldn’t help wondering. She scarcely remembered her original family, her parents and Michael and Hannah, when they’d lived on the farm in Frankenmuth. One day, everything was wonderful, or had she just viewed it with the eyes of a six-year-old? The next day, her father was dead, her mother taken away, her brother and sister gone, too.

  But the Spencers had taken her into their home, and while it hadn’t been the same, she’d felt cared for and safe. Now they, too, were gone, and Uncle Tom had robbed her of everything. She had only Pam as a cousin and friend. Yet Pam was suddenly in love and would likely be forming a family with her newspaper man. Leaving Kate alone again.

  And then there were the Carvers. She adored Jamie and would be content mothering the child the rest of her days. But the father was another problem. She’d grown to care deeply for Aaron, but he’d made it abundantly clear he wanted no woman in his life, certainly not her.

  Yet he’d responded to that kiss that had started out small and exploded into a startling revelation. For both of them, she was sure. He felt it, too, Kate knew. It hadn’t been her imagination. But he would deny it. He was a man who would turn from his desire, his needs, because he was afraid of losing again. She’d seen his anguish at the hospital at the thought of Jamie being taken from him. She was no psychologist, but Kate felt that Aaron was afraid of involvements because the one time he’d committed, things had ended badly and much too soon. Then there was the trauma of his mother’s departure and his father’s absence, so much for a boy to have to deal with. Early fears, she knew only too well, stayed with a person into adulthood.

  The wind picked up as she strolled. Kate wrapped. her scarf about her neck and walked on. The sky was filled with heavy clouds, and the river was choppy this evening. There was the smell of rain in the air, but it didn’t seem imminent. She wished it would snow instead.

  It occurred to Kate that she’d never really been in love before. Evan didn’t count, for although she’d thought at the time that he was the one, she’d soon realized that he wasn’t the man she’d made him out to be in her mind. So here she was in love for the first time at twenty-four, only to find that the man wasn’t interested in keeping her in his life. She wouldn’t be surprised if Aaron found a reason to let her go soon, for her very presence in the house was upsetting to him, she could see.

  The problem was, he wanted her. She wasn’t vastly experienced, but she knew desire when she saw it in a man’s eyes. But Aaron didn’t want to want her. And he was a man of iron control when he made up his mind.

  Lost in thought, Kate was scarcely aware that she’d ambled past the lighted area of the boardwalk and onto the dim riverbank. The pebbly ground crunched underfoot as she trudged on, wishing she could change a future that loomed ahead as lonely and grim. She disliked feeling sorry for herself and rarely gave in to self-pity.

  Squaring her shoulders, Kate decided it was time to discontinue these gloomy thoughts. If Aaron didn’t want her, it was his loss, damn it. She would stay on despite his indifference to her and concentrate on Jamie, who loved her unconditionally. If he wanted her gone, he’d have to fire her. She was someone of worth, and if he couldn’t see that, then that was his problem.

  Head held high, chin up, she walked on with a determined step, scarcely noticing that the wind carried with it the first drops of a cold rain.

  Aaron parked his car in the garage, got out and pulled up the collar of his coat. Nearly eight o’clock, a hell of a time for a man to be getting home, especially one who’d left at seven that morning. And to add to his annoyance, it was raining heavily, a blustery downpour cold enough to turn into snow eventually. Hurriedly, he dashed inside, setting down his briefcase and shrugging out of his coat. The house was quiet for early evening.

  Rubbing his hands together, he checked and found a plate in the fridge that he could warm up for dinner. Fitz’s lamb stew. Apparently, Kate hadn’t cooked today. He had little appetite for Fitz’s meal, especially having to eat all alone. Maybe later. He wasn’t very hungry just yet. Restless was what he was. He grabbed a small bottle of juice, screwed off the top and drank deeply.

  If Stephanie had been waiting for him, he’d have built a fire in the library and they’d have sat together, sipping a glass of wine, discussing their day. Was it that woman he missed or merely the remembered ritual, the need to share an evening with a loved one?

  Annoyed with his thoughts, Aaron walked toward the front of the house. He could hear television voices coming from Fitz’s room at the head of the stairs. He went up, deciding to change clothes before warming his solitary meal. He pushed open Jamie’s door, went inside and saw that she was lightly snoring on her back, wearing a pink blanket sleeper. He touched the backs of his fingers to her baby cheeks and found her warm but not overly so. Again, he was overwhelmed with gratitude that she was well and at home, safe in her own bed.

  He strolled on down the hallway, pausing at Kate’s door. Surprisingly, it was open, but the room was dark. Curious, he peeked inside and saw no one. He snapped on the light and verified that the room was empty. He’d passed both the library and family room downstairs, and she hadn’t been in either. Odd, because her car had been in the garage.

  Growing concerned, he retraced his footsteps and knocked on Fitz’s open door, calling out her name.

  She clicked off the TV and rose from her recliner. “Would you be ne
eding something, Aaron?” she asked.

  “I’m just wondering where Kate is.”

  “She went for a walk a good hour ago.” With the television off, Fitz could now hear the rain splash against her windows. “Oh, my, will you look at it out there. I got so involved in my story I didn’t notice the storm come up.”

  Aaron frowned. “Where was she headed?”

  Fitz shrugged. “She didn’t say. Just a walk. She’s been a bit on the melancholy side, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.” She peered at him through the glasses that she seldom wore, certain that if he had noticed, he’d chosen to ignore the young woman he was treating so poorly. Keeping her guessing was what he was doing, and her growing fonder of him by the day.

  “A walk? Who in their right mind would go walking in the rain when it’s pitch-black out?” Swearing under his breath, Aaron stomped out and hurried down the stairs. Damn-fool woman. What could she have been thinking of?

  That was all they needed just now, another rush to the hospital, this time with a case of pneumonia, he thought as he pulled his fleece-lined jacket from the back closet. He stopped only long enough to change shoes, then hurried out the door.

  From her upstairs bedroom window, Fitz watched Aaron drive off, the rain pelting against the windshield. If only she’d noticed the weather turning bad earlier, she might have called him to go after Kate then. She wasn’t certain just how long it had been raining, but by the look of the puddles in the backyard, it had been a while.

  The poor child would be soaked and sure to catch cold. She’d best put on water for tea and find more blankets for her bed. Purposefully, Fitz left her room and went downstairs.

  Michigan—Fall 1982

  It is with a mixture of joy and sadness that I write in my journal today. The joy is boundless, for I hold in my arms our tiny baby, Emily. Sloan’s first daughter is beautiful. We are truly blessed.

  But the sadness lives within me, for we still haven’t located my three lost children. Sloan has diligently worked toward that end and we have learned much but not enough.

  He discovered that a careless judge in Michigan had done some poor record keeping years ago, and my little ones slipped through the cracks of the system. No one in the adoption centers, the Child Protective Services or any other agency, nor in the court system, could tell us for certain what happened to them. My heart breaks all over again.

  Through Sloan’s persistence, we uncovered some facts. Michael, my oldest, had run away from his last foster home at age sixteen, while I was still in the hospital. We’ve checked military records, police files and advertised in major city newspapers, but so far, we’ve found not a trace of Michael. But we will not give up.

  Hannah we traced back as far as her high-school graduation in Lansing, but the last foster family she lived with moved out of the area, and we can’t seem to locate them. Thus, we’ve been unable to learn more. God willing, we will one day.

  My youngest, Kate, disappeared from the records almost immediately after she was taken from the farmhouse at age six. Apparently, she was privately adopted through an attorney. The lawyer died, and the records are sealed. At this time, we’re at a dead end, but I know Sloan will find a way to locate my baby.

  In the meantime, I fill my hours with Christopher, who is eleven now, a handsome boy who loves me as his mother. And now we have this precious little one. Emily has dark hair, big brown eyes and a dimple in her chin the same as mine. It feels so good to hold an infant again.

  But still there is an ache, an emptiness in my heart that can only be healed when I once again hold Michael and Hannah and Kate in my arms also. I know that one day that will happen. I pray it will be soon.

  Chapter Seven

  The lamps along the riverbank were dim under the best of circumstances. In a heavy downpour, they did nothing but illuminate the rain as it fell. Discouraged with trying to drive and search out a particular someone at the same time, Aaron pulled off onto a side street and parked the car. Leaving it, he hunched his shoulders and jogged toward the boardwalk, his thick soles squishing in the wet grass.

  There was very little traffic on the boulevard street and even fewer pedestrians. He saw the lights of a freighter way downriver, hazy in the foggy night. Peering ahead, north on the wooden walkway, he could see no one. Yet that was probably the direction Kate had chosen. He remembered it was the path she’d mentioned taking several afternoons when she’d wheeled Jamie in the stroller to feed the ducks. A flash of lightning lit up the night sky, followed by a rumble of thunder. An older man carrying a shopping bag passed by, and an impatient horn blasted from the corner. In the distance, he could hear a dog barking steadily.

  He started out, his steps rapid, alternately angry with her and worried over her. Whatever had possessed her to stay so late? To his knowledge, it had been raining since around half past seven. Fitz said she’d left the house about seven, an hour ago. She should be thoroughly drenched by now, the little fool.

  Melancholy. Fitz had told him Kate had been melancholy lately. If so, she wasn’t alone in her feelings. How did Fitz think he felt, sleeping in the same house with Kate night after night, wanting her yet knowing he shouldn’t touch her again? His father’s face in the hospital waiting room when he’d walked in on them haunted him. He’d seen shock and disbelief. He’d disappointed William. And small wonder, groping a woman in a public place with his child gravely ill and his wife dead only a short few months.

  Water beaded in Aaron’s hair and trailed down his cheeks as he hurried on. Fitz seemed to think he was the cause of Kate’s melancholy because he hadn’t been around much. The housekeeper was trying to lay on the guilt, as she’d done when he’d been a boy. But it wasn’t guilt alone that kept him from spending more time with Kate. It was a sense of fairness. He knew he’d never marry again, could never risk being hurt like that again. Loving and then losing that love was the worst nightmare he’d ever lived through. Which was why he felt that it was grossly unfair to lead Kate on. The explanation fell a bit short of perfect, but he didn’t have time to think it through more thoroughly just now.

  Where in hell was she? he asked silently, trying to discern human shapes from the vague shadows up ahead.

  All he saw was a skinny dog darting out of the trees on his way to the road, barely sparing him a glance. He stopped and called out her name, but the wind took the words and whipped them out across the churning river water. Aaron forged on.

  He was well past the last of the lampposts when he spotted a lone figure standing alongside a cluster of tall pines, huddled with her back to the river as if trying to avoid the wind-driven rain blowing in from the east. He picked up his pace and waited until he was a hundred or so feet away before again calling out her name. The figure separated itself from the shadows and stepped out onto the dim path. He rushed forward and saw that it was Kate. Kate with her hair plastered to her head, a wet scarf dangling from her neck, her clothes saturated, her face streaked with mud.

  “Thank God it’s you,” Kate said, recognizing him.

  “What are you doing out here?” Aaron drew a folded white handkerchief from his pocket and stepped closer to wipe the worst of the muddy streaks from her face.

  “I went for a walk and wound up much farther away than I realized. The next thing I knew, rain was coming down in buckets. I was trying to hurry back when I fell on the slippery walk right into this muddy hole.” More annoyed than hurt, she drew in a breath. “I lost my shoe, couldn’t find it anywhere in the dark.”

  “Forget the shoe. Why were you standing just now in those trees? Don’t you know that’s the last place you should be when it’s lightning out?” Concern had him sounding sharp, critical.

  Kate felt like grinding her teeth. Here he was, interrogating her in the driving rain. “I know that but I didn’t know who was coming toward me.” She took the sodden handkerchief from him and wiped her eyes.

  “Lucky it was me.”

  She felt him slip an arm around her, but she starte
d shoelessly limping ahead of him. “Yeah, lucky,” she muttered. She didn’t feel very lucky just then.

  Aaron followed, wondering at her strange mood. “What’s the matter?”

  She hated saying it out loud. “I feel so stupid.”

  “Well, don’t. The storm came up unexpectedly and caught you off guard.” As if for emphasis, another bolt of lightning slithered across the sky and disappeared in the dark, whirling river water. The echoing thunder seemed farther away now.

  Despite his reasonable explanation of her careless behavior, Kate was embarrassed. The man must think she didn’t have a working brain. Children wandered off and got caught in storms, not adults. Well, this would be the excuse he could use to fire her. A woman who didn’t have the good sense to come in out of the rain obviously wasn’t fit to watch over his child. Kate felt a hopeless shiver take her.

  Aaron hustled her across the street. Just as they reached the curb where his car was parked, the other muddy shoe dropped off. Impatiently, he picked it up before opening the door.

  “I’ll get your car all wet and dirty,” Kate said, shoving her hair off her face with the back of a wet hand.

  “I’ll have it washed. Get in.” He waited while she did, then went around to get behind the wheel. In minutes, he had them at his back door.

  Kate hurried into the warm kitchen before the shakes took over. She stripped off her ruined scarf and removed her favorite jacket, thinking it would never be the same again.

  “Sit down over here,” Aaron told her, pulling out a kitchen chair, “and let me help you.”

  She obeyed, too cold and shivery to protest, then watched him remove her muddy socks as Fitz came bustling in.

  “There you finally are. Heavens, child, you’ve no doubt caught a fierce cold.” She poured hot water into the teapot. “Not to worry. We’ll have you warm as toast in no time.”