Cathy nodded, her eyes silently thanking him. As she headed toward the office, she heard Ray ask Angela about Ugly Arnie, his question followed by a boisterous laugh.
The door to Grady’s office was closed, and she knocked tentatively.
“It’s open,” came his harsh response.
She entered the room and watched as a look of shock came over his face.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded as he stood.
Setting the picnic basket on the floor, she offered him a feeble smile. “Angela and I decided we were tired of eating alone, so we brought dinner to you.”
“How touching.”
Blinking back the incredible rush of hurt, she didn’t move. He didn’t want her here, didn’t want to have her connected in any way with his company. It was as if she were a separate part of his life that could be tucked away and brought out when it was convenient. She had been fooling herself with the belief she would ever come to mean more to him than Alaska Cargo. “I … I take it that it’s … inconvenient for us to intrude on you.” Her lungs hurt with the effort to hold the tears in check. After last night she had expected things to be different.
“Yes.” His narrow gaze seemed capable of cutting through granite rock. “I thought I made it clear a long time ago that I didn’t want you calling here or coming here.”
“You didn’t mention anything about my coming to—”
“Honestly, Cathy,” he interrupted, “you’re being obtuse.”
She bit into a trembling bottom lip, angry at herself for the open display of emotion. An aching loneliness swept over her, and she lowered her gaze, studying the intricate pattern of the floor. “I don’t mind you working so hard or so late, but it’s hurting Angela. I wish you’d make an effort to be home for her sake.”
“Not yours?” The question was tossed at her jeeringly.
She swallowed at the huge lump forming in her throat. “No,” she lied, “not mine.”
The silence hung like a stormy, gray cloud between them.
“Is that all?” Grady questioned angrily.
“Yes.” She nodded, her eyes avoiding his. “I won’t trouble you again.”
“Good.”
Tears welled in her eyes, and she angrily walked to the door. “After all, I know exactly why you married me. As a live-in babysitter, my place isn’t here or sharing your life.”
Her accusations seemed to anger him all the more, and he slammed his fist against the top of his desk. “My reasons or lack of reasons for marrying you have nothing to do with this.”
“Then what does?”
A weary look stole over him, and he rubbed a hand over his face and eyes. “Nothing. I’ll try and be home for dinner for Angela, but I won’t promise anything.”
“I suppose I should thank you for that, but somehow it’s not in me.” The parting words were issued in a contemptuous tone.
* * *
To his credit, Grady made a genuine effort to be home for dinner. Afterward, he spent time with Angela, but when the little girl was in bed he often made an excuse to return to the office. Within a week he was back to the late nights, although he’d speak to Angela over the phone if he was going to miss dinner.
This whole craziness with Grady had been going on for almost a month, and Cathy had yet to learn what was troubling him. He hardly spoke to her unless it was necessary. Only when he was asleep did he hold her close or display any affection.
“Daddy’s birthday is tomorrow,” Angela announced at the breakfast table Monday morning.
Cathy continued to stir her coffee. The black liquid formed a whirlpool that swirled long after she removed her spoon.
“Can I bake him a cake all by myself?” Angela questioned between bites of hot cereal. “And Ugly Arnie and me could put up a sign and have a surprise party and make hats and decorate the table and—”
Laughing, Cathy waved her hand to stop the child. “I get the idea.”
“Oh, Cathy, can I please, can I, all by myself for Dad?” Round blue eyes studied her imploringly.
“Sure.” She attempted a smile. “It’ll be fun.” Nothing was fun anymore. After a while, even Linda had noted something was wrong. Cathy had been able to disguise most of her unhappiness because Linda was preoccupied with Katy. When she questioned her, Cathy had done her best to brush off Linda’s concern, but her crushed spirit was impossible to hide, and when asked, Cathy had burst into tears. How could she tell Linda what was wrong when she didn’t know herself?
“I can bake the cake all by myself?” Angela questioned again. “And the frosting?”
“Only if you let me lick the beaters,” Cathy teased.
* * *
Cathy rose with Grady the next morning, packing his lunch and filling the thermos with coffee.
“What time will you be home tonight?” Her back was to him. She didn’t need to turn around to feel Grady’s resentment. He hated accounting for his time to her or anyone. She wouldn’t have asked him now except that Angela had worked so hard planning a surprise party.
“I’ll be home when I get here,” he responded tightly. “Don’t push me, Cathy.”
She whirled around, her eyes flashing angry sparks. “Don’t push you?” she hurled back. “Blast it, Grady Jones, either you be on time for dinner or … or …” She couldn’t think of anything that would put a chink in the steel-hard wall he had erected, blocking her out of his life.
“Or what?” he taunted, his voice grating as if he found her sudden display of temper amusing.
Defeated, she avoided his eyes. “Please, Grady, just be home.”
He didn’t answer her. Instead, he grabbed his lunch and stalked out the back door.
* * *
“Cathy, come look,” Angela called from the living room. “Everything’s ready.” The decorated cake sat in the middle of the dining room table surrounded by several small gifts. Across the doorway hung Angela’s banner, made of bold colored letters spelling out HAPPIE BIRTHDAY, LOVE ANGELA. Beside the name she had drawn a paw print. From the time Angela walked in the door that afternoon, she had spent every minute working on getting ready for the party. Proudly, she had baked the cake and frosted it. Thirty-four candles were tilted on a lopsided surface.
For her party, Cathy had baked Grady’s favorite salmon casserole and tossed a fresh spinach salad.
“Perfect.” She surveyed the room with a proud glint shining from her eyes. Silently, she was pleading for Grady to be on time, just this once. Surely he must have known she had asked him for a reason.
Everything was prepared and waiting at six-thirty. The table was set with their best dishes. The chilled bottle of wine was ready to open. Angela changed into the pink satin dress she had worn for the wedding, and Cathy was amazed to note that the child had shot up a good inch in the five months since she’d married Grady.
“Wear something fancy, too,” Angela insisted, and proceeded to go through Cathy’s closet, choosing a dress.
Cathy smiled weakly at the sleek evening gown Angela brought out. The dress was the only really fancy one she owned. She had worn it to a Christmas party two years ago with Steve.
Even as she’d placed it in the suitcase when packing for Alaska, she had asked herself why she was bringing it. The temptation had been so strong to hold on to any part of the relationship that she kept it. It had been childish, stupid. She realized that now. Her love for Grady had opened her eyes to several things she’d refused to recognize in the past.
“No.” Cathy struggled to keep her voice even. “I don’t think I should wear that dress, it’s too fancy. Let’s pick out something else.”
With a disappointed sigh, Angela did as she was asked. Finally, Cathy agreed to wear the white wool suit she had worn on her wedding day.
Next Angela insisted they wait in the living room. The minute they heard Grady the plan was to hide, then scream “Surprise!” when he walked into the room. Eager and fidgeting, Angela waited until almost seven-thirty.
“Yeah.”
Ray. Cathy swallowed and turned her back to Angela, who was anxiously watching her. “Ray, is Grady there?”
“No,” the gruff voice returned. “He left about an hour ago. Anything wrong, Missus Jones?”
She wanted to scream that everything was wrong. Grady couldn’t disappoint Angela this way, it would break the child’s heart after she had worked so hard. “Do you happen to know where he went?” She hated to pry and pressed her mouth closed so tight that her teeth hurt.
Ray hesitated. “Can’t say that I do, but as I explained not long ago, Grady don’t say much to me anymore.”
With shaking hands, she switched the telephone from one ear to the other. “It’s Grady’s birthday and Angela had everything ready for a party and—”
“Don’t tell him,” Angela cried, tugging furiously on Cathy’s wool jacket. “It’s supposed to be a surprise.” Huge tears welled in the child’s eyes.
“If you happen to see Grady …” She let the rest of what she was going to say fade. If Ray had heard Angela in the background, there wasn’t any need to continue.
“I’ll see what I can do.” The sound of his voice was stern and impatient. Cathy realized that for the first time in her acquaintance with Ray, the older man was angry, really angry.
By the time she replaced the receiver, Angela was crying in earnest. Huge sobs shook her small frame, and Cathy cradled the child in her arms, fighting back her own disappointment.
Before nine Angela fell asleep on the sofa. Cathy left her where she was and covered her with a blanket. Nothing could convince the child to eat. Angela insisted she’d have dinner when her father came home.
After changing her clothes, Cathy took the casserole out of the oven and set it on top of the range. Having warmed for so many hours, the casserole was overdone and crisp, pulled away from the edges of the dish. Her lower lip was quivering, and Cathy couldn’t remember a time when she was more angry. Grady had done this on purpose. He had stayed away because she had asked him to come home. If he was looking for a way to punish and hurt her, he had succeeded. All her life, Cathy had believed marriage was forever. Divorce was unheard of in her family. Five months was all it’d taken to destroy her marriage, and the craziest part was that she didn’t even know the reason. Moisture brimmed in her eyes, and she furiously wiped the tears from her cheek.
With a burst of energy, she brought out the sewing machine. A few weeks ago she’d cut out a skirt pattern for Angela. Maybe if she kept busy she’d forget how much her heart ached.
She’d been sewing for about an hour when she heard the back door open. Stiffening her back, she concentrated on her task and ran the material through the machine at fifty miles an hour.
“What a domestic scene,” Grady mocked, as he strolled into the room. His arms were crossed in front of his chest as he stepped in front of the kitchen table.
Jabbing a pin into the cushion, Cathy ignored him.
“I bet you wish that was me you were poking.” His mouth curled into a snarl as he harshly ground out the words.
Cathy ignored him completely, tucking the material together before carefully lowering the metal pressure foot and needle. She could feel Grady’s gaze raking her.
“I understand you sent Ray out looking for me.”
The taste of blood filled her mouth as she bit into her lip to keep from changing her expression. Again she chose to ignore him, knowing if she said anything she would regret it later. For now, it was utterly important to sew.
Placing his palms on the tabletop, he leaned forward. Cathy could smell beer on his breath and closed her eyes to the thought of him drinking in some tavern to avoid coming home simply because she’d asked it of him. More and more, the evidence pointed to exactly that.
“All right, Cathy, what are you so mad about?”
His face was so close to hers that all she had to do was turn her head to look him in the eye. Without a word, she continued to stick pins into the cotton material.
“Dear Lord, the silent treatment. I should have known I’d get it from you sooner or later.” He exhaled slowly, his breath ragged and uneven. “You must have taken lessons from Pam. That was one of her tricks.”
Remaining outwardly stoic, her nails cut into the palms of her hands. “I asked you before not to compare me with Pam,” she said in an even, controlled voice that was barely above a whisper.
“If you don’t want to be compared to her, then maybe you shouldn’t be as unreasonable as she was,” he sneered.
“Unreasonable.” She hurled the material onto the table and stood abruptly, knocking the kitchen chair to the floor. Jamming an index finger into his chest, she stood to the full extent of her nearly five feet eleven inches and punctuated her speech with several more vicious pokes. “I told you once before, Grady Jones, I’m not Pam. And what was between the two of you is separate from me. Is that understood?”
Grady looked taken aback for a moment, but he was quick to recover. His laugh was cruel. “All women are alike.”
Cathy recoiled as if his words had physically struck her. Could this be the same man she’d married? The same man she had come to love? Struggling within herself, she closed her eyes and heaved a sigh, swallowing back bitter words.
“I’ll admit you’re a much better bed partner.” The savagery in his voice did little to disguise his own hurt. “What do you do, pretend I’m Steve?”
Without thought or question, she swung her open palm at him, intent on hurting him as much as he was hurting her.
Grady caught her wrist. Their eyes clashed, and Cathy could barely see the blurry figure that swam before her. Inhaling a sharp breath, she jerked her arm free and hurried out of the kitchen. Somehow she made it to their bedroom and threw open the closet door. Dumping clothes over her arm, she carried them across the hall to the guest bedroom, making trip after trip until all her things had been transported to the spare room.
Grady stood outside the room in the narrow hallway, watching her. “I expected some kind of reaction to that remark.” He laughed, but the sound contained no amusement. “The truth always gets a reaction.”
“The truth?” Wave after wave of excruciating pain rippled over her. “You wouldn’t know the truth if it hit you in the face.”
A cold mask came over his expression, his gaze so hard and piercing that the tears froze in Cathy’s eyes.
“Daddy, Daddy.”
The child’s voice diverted his attention from her, and he turned as Angela hurled herself into his arms. “Happy birthday, Daddy. Did you find my surprise? Did you see the cake I baked for you? Cathy let me do it all by myself. We planned a party for you, but you were late. Come and open your gifts now, okay? Ugly Arnie got you one, too, but really it’s from Cathy.”
“Yes, Grady,” she whispered, her voice trembling, “happy birthday.”
Chapter Ten
As Cathy tucked Angela into bed an hour later, the little girl beamed a contented smile. “We really surprised Daddy, didn’t we?”
“Yes, we did,” Cathy confirmed.
“He liked all his presents, too, didn’t he?” Angela whispered the question.
“I’m sure he did,” Cathy said. The flesh at the back of her neck began to tingle, and she was aware that Grady had come into Angela’s room. “Now it’s way past your bedtime, so go to sleep, okay?”
“Okay,” Angela agreed.
Tenderly, Cathy kissed the child’s brow and stood. She stepped around Grady as she left the room and walked into the kitchen. She was placing the cover on the sewing machine when Grady found her a few minutes later.
An electricity hung in the air like an invisible curtain between them.
“I’ll do that.” Grady took the portable sewing machine cover, snapped it in place, and returned it to the heated back porch, where she kep
t it stored. Ugly Arnie, seeing the golden opportunity to get into the house, shot between Grady’s legs and scampered into the kitchen.
“Hey, fellow, you know better,” Cathy admonished gently, scooping him into her arms. “You belong on the porch at night. Angela will let you in tomorrow morning.”
“Here, I’ll take him,” Grady offered, extending his arms. His eyes avoided meeting Cathy’s.
Before handing Grady the pup, she gave the dog an affectionate squeeze and kissed the top of his head. Ugly Arnie would never claim the part of her affection that belonged to Peterkins. But more and more she recognized the wisdom Grady had shown by getting her another dog.
“You like the puppy now, don’t you?” Grady questioned softly, giving her a sideways glance as he lowered Ugly Arnie to the floor and cautiously closed the back door.
“Yes, I’m grateful that we have him. You were right, there would have been a void in all our lives with Peterkins gone.” She drew in a deep breath and turned toward the stove. “Did you eat?”
“No.”
Cathy reached into the cupboard to take down a plate.
“Don’t fix me anything. I’m not hungry.” He took a cigarette from his pocket.
Cathy was surprised at the suppressed violence with which he lit it. He placed the filter between his lips, inhaled deeply, then blew out the smoke with a vengeance.
“You can’t live on cigarettes and coffee.” Grady was losing weight, she noticed, not for the first time. His clothes were beginning to hang on him. But then so had she. Why were they doing this to each other?
“Don’t forget the beer. I expect you to throw that at me any minute.”
She felt her fists clench involuntarily. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Grady. If you drink or smoke or work twenty-four hours a day it has nothing to do with me. You’ve made my position in your life clear.”
“Oh, and how’s that?” He leaned indolently against the kitchen counter, crossing his arms as he regarded her steadily.
Tears sprang into her eyes, and she averted her gaze. What good would it do to accuse each other? Not tonight, not when she was hurt and angry. “Grady, I’m tired.” She made the excuse. “I don’t want to talk about it now. All I want is a good night’s sleep. Maybe you can get by on three and four hours’ rest, but I can’t.”
That Wintry Feeling (Debbie Macomber Classics) Page 14
