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

by Pat Warren

  But tonight was an exception.

  Hands behind his head, he lay staring up at the ceiling. Today was Jamie’s first birthday, and Dad had come over to help celebrate. Kate, putting all their differences and hurtful silences aside, had baked a beautiful cake with pink-and-white frosting. Aaron had taken pictures of Jamie in a pretty party dress opening her gifts. And later, he’d snapped her in her high chair, her brown eyes huge as the first piece of cake was placed in front of her, then the next shot showing her diving into it with both hands. They’d all laughed.

  Only, the laughter, at least on his part, had been forced. Even such a special occasion as his daughter’s first birthday didn’t thrill him. Nothing seemed to anymore. Because of Kate.

  He had only to look at her to want her. But her eyes no longer lit up when he walked into the room, and her real smiles were reserved strictly for the baby. He’d hurt her, all but ignored her and still she hung on. Any day, he expected her to say she was moving on, thereby freeing him to get on with his life, such as it was. But she didn’t.

  He wasn’t sure why. He could see she was unhappy. Maybe it was a stubborn streak that wouldn’t allow her to quit something she’d committed to. Or maybe she held out some foolish hope that one day things would change. They wouldn’t.

  She’d given Jamie a beautiful music box for her birthday. When you wound it up, it played “Remember.” Fitz’s sharp eyes had watched Kate as she played the tune several times, as if trying to burn the song and its message into the child’s mind.

  Aaron swung both legs off the bed and reached for his pants. There was no use trying to sleep with his mind in such turmoil. Maybe the childhood remedy of a glass of milk would help, or a good book. He left his room and started down the hallway. It was then that he heard a sound.

  Jamie, he thought, and went to her room. But no, she was fast asleep, clutching Elmo. He went back into the hallway and paused, ears cocked, listening hard. There it was again, coming from Kate’s room. He went to her closed door and waited. He heard the bedsprings as she shifted and then several words he could barely make out. It sounded as if she were struggling with someone.

  “No, no, please, no,” she murmured.

  Hurriedly, he went in. She was wearing a knee-length nightshirt and had kicked off the covers. Her head shifted on the pillow, one way then the other. He stepped closer and saw a fine sheen of moisture beaded on her face.

  Her lips trembled, and she murmured again. “All gone. They’re all gone. Mom, come back, please.”

  A nightmare that had her thrashing about, locked in its grip. He sat down and touched her shoulder. “Kate, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”

  Her breathing was fast, coming out in huffs. “Where are you taking me? Please, no.”

  Aaron gripped both her arms and gave her a gentle shake. “It’s all right, Kate. Open your eyes. You’re okay.”

  Her eyes fluttered open and looked wildly about. Finally, her gaze settled on him, and she just stared, her body trembling.

  He wasn’t sure if she recognized him. “It’s me-Aaron. You were having a nightmare.” He brushed back damp strands of hair from her face. “You’re safe.”

  Safe. Then why didn’t she feel safe? Kate raised a shaky hand to her forehead. How did Aaron get in here? She must have been crying out and woke him. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. We can’t control our dreams.” He felt awkward, out of his league. “Do you want some water?”

  “No.” What she wanted was for him to hold her, to banish the memory of the nightmare, the same one she used to have years ago but not in a long while. She wanted him to understand, to love her. She wanted a miracle and knew that Aaron didn’t believe in them.

  “Do you want to tell me about the dream?”

  She felt stupid, like a child again. “I don’t know why it popped up now. I haven’t had it since I was a teenager. It’s always the same. These two shadowy figures are making us get into this big car, and someone else is putting my mother into an ambulance. She…she’s not moving, and I’m so afraid she’s dead, like my father. Then the car starts up, and I’m looking out the back window. We get farther and farther away, and no one will tell me where my mother is.” Her hand fluttered to her throat. “Silly, I know, but it seems so real.”

  “Is that what happened to you back on the farm in Frankenmuth?”

  Kate took in a deep gulp of air. “Pretty much. It’s the only memory I have that keeps recurring.” She moved as if to sit up, and he reached to help her. She felt embarrassed and wished he’d leave. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

  “You didn’t. I was awake. I heard you and I got worried.” He touched the ends of her hair, then cupped his hand around her shoulder. “I hate seeing you so upset, Kate.”

  How was she supposed to answer that? “It’s all right. I’m not your responsibility. You can leave. I’m fine, much stronger than I look. I can manage and—”

  “Oh, shut up.” He pulled her into his arms and felt the tension ripple through her. She stiffened for a long heartbeat, then her arms wound around him and the tears came. He held her gently, murmuring nonsense in her ear to soothe her, acting on instinct. He thrust one hand into her hair, his fingers massaging her scalp, hoping to relax her. She wasn’t weeping, just quietly crying, as if the tears were falling without her permission, and yet that seemed more heartbreaking than if she’d sobbed.

  Finally, it was over, and Kate felt shame along with embarrassment. Never in her life had she clung to a man while she’d cried her heart out. Too many emotions had piled up over the past months—her parents’ death, her uncle’s betrayal, her unrequited love for Aaron, the holidays. The floodgates had opened, and for a few moments there, she’d wondered if she’d ever be able to stop the tears.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice thick.

  “Don’t. Don’t say that again.” Aaron bent his head to kiss her damp cheeks, then her closed eyes and finally slanted his mouth to kiss her lips, tasting salty tears. The kiss he’d meant to offer comfort turned on him as desire, hot and heavy, slammed into him.

  “Why is it I can’t leave you alone?” he asked, his eyes glittering in the semidarkness.

  “The same reason I can’t walk away from you,” she answered.

  But tonight would be different, Aaron decided. Always before, their lovemaking had been as breathtaking as a storm raging out of control, two people wild to get at each other with precious little time to spare for the niceties. Not tonight. Tonight, he would romance her at his leisure, and the past and future be damned. There was only tonight.

  Kate hadn’t thought him to be particularly sensitive before. Skillful, definitely. Sexy and devastating and very capable of taking her to the heights. But tonight, his hands moved slowly over her, savoring, relishing, enjoying. He stroked lazily, aroused gradually, kissed tenderly.

  He seemed to bring emotion along with desire to her bed this night. There was feeling here, dark and wondrous, but also sweet and loving. With infinite patience, he wooed her, beguiled her, coaxed her to feel along with him. Tears that had nothing to do with nightmares or fear leaked from her eyes as she accepted, as she reacted, as she reveled in his touch.

  Aaron found new fascination in every curve and hollow, exhilaration in breasts that quivered with need, excitement in knowing she wanted him desperately. Needing to watch her response on her beautiful face, he sent her soaring with just a touch and swallowed the sound of his own name on her lips.

  No man could make love to a woman like this, with such care, with such tender touches, if he didn’t love her, Kate thought in a haze of feeling. Aaron did care; she felt it, knew it, deep inside. But he wouldn’t admit it, not even to himself, not yet. She prayed she could wait him out.

  She was so giving, so selfless. He felt bathed in her goodness, humbled by her generosity. Only in this way could he show how much she meant to him. Only because he could no more stay away from her than he could stop breathing..

&n
bsp; Shifting them both, eyes locked with hers, Aaron entered her and, in minutes, lost all sense of self. But what he found with Kate was far more valuable, for she gave him the greatest gift of all—herself.

  There was no denying it—when things worked out in the bedroom, everything seemed brighter, Kate thought as she walked into the den. It was late afternoon a week after Aaron had come to her bed, and although life wasn’t perfect, it was decidedly better.

  They hadn’t slept together since, for there was Fitz to consider. Kate was grateful that the woman, who was slightly hard of hearing, hadn’t been awakened by their activities that night, although Fitz’s bedroom was at the far end of the hallway. By unspoken agreement, they’d shared only kisses since, yet there was a truce of sorts, and Aaron wasn’t quite as moody. He didn’t join her and Jamie in everything they did, but he did participate occasionally and he seemed happier.

  Kate dared to dream the change was the beginning of better times to come. She’d even decided to go forward with her plan to look into the situation with Tom Spencer. Her uncle had phoned her shortly after her luncheon with Pam and brusquely demanded that she “sign the damn paper and mail it to him right away.” She’d respectfully declined. She’d told Aaron about the problem just before he’d left this morning and showed him the legal document. He’d encouraged her to pursue the matter.

  To that end, she was looking for the address book he’d told her was on his desk in his den. His lawyer, Peter Jeffries, was very knowledgeable, but if he couldn’t help her, he’d surely recommend someone who could. Kate hadn’t wanted to use anyone she’d known in Grosse Pointe, for the good old boys’ club was alive and well, and very protective of its members.

  The address book with Peter’s phone number wasn’t on the desktop. She looked around but couldn’t spot it. Aaron wasn’t due home for hours, and by then, the law offices would be closed. She was most reluctant to pry into his personal things. Still, he’d told her to go find the book. The desk drawers didn’t seem to be locked. Cautiously, she opened the top center drawer. Not there.

  Sitting down in his chair, she opened the right-hand drawer but found no book. Next, she tugged on the large bottom one, and when it came open, curiosity took over. The address book wasn’t in sight, but several framed photos were, piled in randomly. With a nervous glance toward the door, she removed several.

  A wedding picture, Aaron and Stephanie, looking young and happy and carefree. Kate could see her own resemblance to the woman Aaron had married, slight though it was. Next came a studio portrait of Stephanie, probably taken before their marriage, a bright smile on her face, her hair quite long. Very attractive. She could see why Aaron became interested.

  The next few revealed Stephanie in her nurse’s uniform, and then several of Stephanie as a new mother holding her baby. There was also one of the three of them, mother, father and child. Kate’s heart lurched at that one, hurting for the woman who’d lost so much.

  Why had Aaron hidden these away so long? Fitz had told her months ago that he didn’t want any reminders of his grief. While Kate knew that Aaron still missed Stephanie at odd moments, she truly didn’t feel he was still grieving in the heartbreaking sense.

  It wasn’t right to deny Jamie pictures of her mother, because she should grow up with some sense of who’d given birth to her. Kate certainly could relate to the feeling of loss of her birth parents. She had only one picture of the three Richards children, taken in front of the farmhouse with their dog, Rex, shortly before her world had fallen apart. She’d have given anything growing up to have more photos of her mother and father that would have added substance to her vague memories.

  Surely, Aaron would want to do the right thing for his daughter’s sake. Pushing in the drawer, she decided she’d make him see, using her own story to hammer home her point. Carefully, she stacked the framed pictures and carried them out of the den.

  Another damn snowstorm. Aaron was sick of winter, and it was only late January. At least two more months of the white stuff to go. Grateful to have made it home without skidding into another car, since the roads hadn’t been salted yet, he pulled into his garage and heaved a tired sigh.

  He looked forward to a glass of wine, one of Kate’s terrific dinners and some playtime with Jamie. That would surely chase away the problems of his long day.

  Entering through the back way, he stomped snow from his shoes and removed his coat. Turning, he saw Fitz by the stove and Jamie in her playpen, the table already set. “Mmm, smells good. What are we having tonight that smells so good?”

  Fitz welcomed him with a smile. “Kate made chicken soup earlier. I’m just cooking the noodles for it.” She bent to the cupboard to look for the colander.

  Aaron walked over to kiss his daughter. “Where is Kate?”

  “Upstairs. In Jamie’s room, I believe. Said she had something to take care of.” Humming, Fitz stirred.

  Curious, Aaron made his way upstairs, removing his jacket and tie along the way. At the open door to Jamie’s room, he paused. Kate had cleared off a space on Jamie’s chest of drawers and she was standing in front of it, holding up two framed photos as if trying to come to a decision. There was something familiar about the pictures. An alarm went off inside his head as he stepped inside. “What’ve you got there?” he asked.

  Startled, Kate looked up, surprised she hadn’t heard him come in. “I found these earlier.” She shifted so he could see the pictures. “I thought Jamie would enjoy having one of them in her room.”

  “What the hell!” Aaron marched over and snatched the photos from her hands. “Just who gave you permission to go pawing through my private things?”

  She’d never seen his face so stormy. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Aaron. I was looking for your address book with Peter’s phone number when I ran across these in your desk. I know that pictures of Stephanie may hold some sad memories for you, but your daughter needs to know her mother. I would’ve given anything to have a few of my parents. She needs to grow up having a sense of who she is, of her background, her family. I think—”

  “Think. You think? No one gives a damn what you think.”

  That hurt, but Kate had come too far to back down. He was annoyed, but maybe she could make him see. “Aaron, please, think about it. Do you plan to raise Jamie and ignore the part her mother played in her life?”

  Aaron didn’t look at the pictures, just held them in a death grip. “You had no right. You’ve overstepped your boundaries this time. This is my home, and we do things my way around here.” Not even fighting his rising fury, he turned to leave. “And if you don’t like my way, you can leave.”

  Stunned at the way he’d overreacted, at the depth of his anger, Kate just stood there. She certainly hadn’t intended to anger or hurt him. Perhaps if she waited until he cooled down and went to him to apologize, everything would be all right.

  Yet even as the thought formed, deep inside she knew that nothing was ever going to be all right again.

  Chapter Twelve

  By seven o’clock that evening, Kate had Jamie in bed and her decision made. Saying goodbye to the baby she’d come to love as her own was the hardest thing she could remember doing. She stood in the doorway to Jamie’s room, watching the toddler in her crib sucking one thumb while in her other hand she held on to a somewhat raggedy Elmo. Kate had meant to buy her a new one and hadn’t gotten around to it. Now she wouldn’t have the chance.

  Her vision blurring, she finally turned and headed for Fitz’s room. She needed to talk with the housekeeper, needed a large favor. Fitz had sensed that something was wrong at dinner when Aaron hadn’t come down and Kate hadn’t been able to eat a bite. But she’d been too polite to ask, and Kate was grateful. But now she had to confide in her.

  “Come in,” Fitz said at the first knock. Seated in her lounge chair, she clicked off the television. One glance at Kate as she walked in, and she suspected what was coming. The sadness in the young woman’s eyes had been building for weeks whil
e Aaron had waffled between quiet moods, then stormed around like a chained bull pulling at his restraints. “Sit down, dear,” she invited Kate, indicating the only other chair in her sitting room.

  “Thanks, I won’t keep you for long.” There was no point in beating around the bush. It was getting late, and the snow was still coming down. She’d already talked with Pam, whose sympathetic understanding had almost been her undoing. She’d immediately assured Kate she could stay with her as long as she wanted. Nervously, she cleared her throat. “Would it be possible for you to watch over Jamie until my replacement can be found?”

  There was no surprise on Fitz’s thin, lined face. “So you’ve finally had enough, have you? Can’t say I blame you, dear. Aaron’s not always an easy man to live with. The good Lord knows I’ve been praying that things would work out between the two of you.”

  It would only insult Fitz if she pretended to not know what she was talking about. The woman had two good eyes and had watched them both closely for months. “I’d hoped for that, too.”

  “I suppose you know he loves you. Just too damn stubborn to admit it.”

  “I’ve given him every chance, Fitz. Maybe after I leave, he can find some peace.”

  “I pray you’re right, dear. Of course I’ll watch the little one. He’ll not find another like you, that’s for certain, and I don’t mean just as a nanny.”

  “Thank you for that.” She stood, wanting to get under way before the roads became impassable. Impulsively, she bent to hug the woman she’d become so fond of. “Take care of yourself. I’ll miss you.”

  “Not half so much as we’ll miss you around here. Will you call now and again, or write?” Fitz found her eyes damp. Damn-fool man, she thought, not recognizing the prize right under his nose. Living in the past was for the very old or the addle-brained, she’d always believed. A man with a growing child needed to focus on today and the future.