Before she realized it, Katherine found herself talking. “I, for one, shall welcome Rowena. We were fast friends at school and I’ll not desert her.” Katherine lifted her chin, but softened her expression with a slight upturn of her lips. “The Lord requires us to forgive. Not that Rowena’s done a thing to any of us. The problems in her marriage are between her and her husband. And the Lord.”
Mrs. Porter looked askance. “My dear Katherine, you’re much too tolerant. It’s your youth, no doubt. When you grow older and wiser, you’ll learn that society’s rules are made for good reason. To flaunt them is to invite disaster.”
Mrs. Bruce nodded. “Your elders know best.”
Katherine’s fingers flew as she attached silk ribbon to the crown of her hat. Their judgmental attitudes appalled her. How could they relish ostracizing a young woman they’d all known for years? Had they no mercy for someone probably no worse than they? Poor Rowena sinned, but so did everyone. She didn’t deserve to be singled out merely because her transgression embarrassed society.
The ladies continued to gossip, but Katherine, head bent over the boater, concentrated on the silk daisies and yellow ribbon and ignored the chatter. Could she ever fit in with this self-righteous group and accept their prejudices and ridiculously strict standards without a whimper of protest? Did she truly want to?
Chastising others for failing to forgive was far easier than extending forgiveness herself. Katherine sighed inwardly. She’d tried to absolve Charles and Harriet, but her grievances still burned deep in her chest like an unquenchable fire. Lord, please soften my heart. It’s as cold and hard as a rock. I have no right to condemn these smug ladies when I also fail to forgive.
That evening she mulled over her own hypocrisy. Her dinner of venison stew sat like an indigestible lump in her queasy stomach. Under Mama’s scrutiny, she smiled and chatted and acted as charming as she possibly could. But she yearned to lie down on her chaise longue and be alone with her thoughts.
“I think I’ll retire early.” Katherine leaned into her mother on their way out of the dining hall. “I’m not feeling very well,” she said, touching her stomach.
Mama pursed her lips. “Oh, my dear! I was counting on you to help Randy entertain tonight. He’s going to sing and play the mandolin. I thought you might join him in a few duets. Perhaps a bit of ginger ale will settle your stomach?”
Katherine suppressed a sigh, knowing that any argument was futile. And she had promised she’d cooperate with Mama; she ought to at least take a stab at it. “Perhaps ginger ale would do the trick.” She followed her family and Mama’s guests into the lounge. Andrew was among them, but he remained curiously apart, choosing a chair in the far corner. She’d hardly seen him over the last day—presumably, he’d been hard at work on her father’s business. But it was good to see him, even from afar. His eyes met her glance and they both smiled. Unexpectedly, she felt heat sear her cheeks and she quickly looked away before their gazes locked again.
For the next few hours she accompanied Randy on the piano and together they sang several popular songs they both knew well. And her mother had been right—a glass of ginger ale gradually settled her stomach. As she relaxed, she started to enjoy herself, much to her surprise.
Singing had always brought her joy and peace, and tonight she sang along with Randy with a lighthearted lilt to her voice. Several times she glanced in the direction of her mother and felt glad to see that she smiled and nodded her approval. Finally, somehow, she was doing something right in her mother’s eyes.
Chapter Ten
Between songs, Mr. Wainwright slid into the empty chair beside Andrew. With his eyes fixed on Katherine and Randy, Andrew’s boss leaned sideways and said softly, “They make splendid music together, don’t they?”
“Yes, sir, they both have beautiful voices.”
“I’d say they blend in perfect harmony, as if they were meant for each other.”
Andrew glanced at Mr. Wainwright then. From the older man’s expression, he understood the meaning behind the statement. Had Mrs. Wainwright put her husband up to this? It mattered little. If it was what his boss wanted, who was he to argue? “I hear what you’re saying, sir. As pretty as the music is, I think I’ll retire for the evening. It’s getting late and you know how I like to start work early.”
Katherine’s father nodded with satisfaction. “An excellent idea, Andrew. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Vaguely dispirited, Andrew left the lounge without a last glimpse toward Katherine. But her voice, mingled with Randy’s, echoed in his mind as he climbed the stairs to the second floor and disappeared into his bedroom.
Settling into a chair by the window, Andrew felt the night air cool his burning face. Apparently his affection for Katherine hadn’t gone unnoticed. From now on he’d take care not to look like a lovelorn suitor, or else he’d find himself back in a hot, stuffy New York office for the remainder of the summer. Or even worse, without a job.
Andrew opened his Bible, but he couldn’t concentrate. He lowered the book and let his mind wander. And then he prayed. Lord, You know all about this dilemma I’m in. Please guide me to do the right thing for everyone concerned, not just for me. I have such a strong feeling that You mean for Katherine and me to be together, but could I be mistaken? Am I blinded to Your will, Lord? Speak to me. I’m listening.
When Katherine looked for Andrew again, he’d vanished. The discovery left her feeling oddly bereft. The glow from the evening dimmed.
Mrs. Lessman warbled a sweet, slightly off-key song, followed by a surprisingly good duet from Mr. and Mrs. Porter. Later in the evening, footmen served refreshments, but Katherine passed them up, afraid to upset her sensitive stomach.
After the guests dispersed to their bedrooms, Randy lingered in the lounge, shuffling around his sheet music. “Thanks for joining me, Katherine. Wasn’t that great fun? Let’s sing together again soon.”
“I’d like to. But now I’m tired. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way.”
“Please, Katherine, stay awhile longer. Only five or ten more minutes. We should practice the songs for the sing-along your mother is planning. She’d like us to perform a few duets.”
Katherine looked around the deserted room, practically expecting her mother and Mrs. Clarke to peer around the corner, hoping a meeting exactly like this was occurring. The grandfather clock chimed midnight, but Katherine summoned the last bit of her strength. “All right. Just awhile longer. Then I simply must be off.”
They practiced a few more songs, all Gilbert and Sullivan tunes from their comic operas. Randy eased a few inches closer as she played the piano, but Katherine ignored his movement. When they finished the song, he folded the sheet music and placed it in the piano bench.
“Did you enjoy tonight?” he asked, taking her hand.
Her impulse was to slip her fingers out of his grasp, but instead she smiled. “Yes, I did.” His hand felt almost too soft and smooth.
“It’s grand seeing you smile for a change. You were much too glum when you first arrived. But now you seem happier and ready to rejoin society. Am I right?”
In the dim gaslight, his chiseled features softened. His straight black hair, usually parted in the middle and controlled with macassar oil, fell across his high forehead. She smelled the pleasant scent of coconut from his hair tonic and mustache wax. For a moment she thought she’d push the stray lock back in place, but that was much too intimate a gesture toward a man she considered just a friend. He might think she was falling in love—or at least falling into line—and she wasn’t anywhere near ready for their fledgling relationship to accelerate.
She slid her hand away from his. “I am happier, Randy. And I had a delightful evening. Thank you for that.”
He smiled at her. “You’re exhausted. Let me walk you to your cabin.”
She nodded, relieved to be moving, even if he was coming along. He offered his arm, and together they strolled down the dark walkway, lit only by the lig
hts still burning in the lodge.
“Maybe tomorrow we can play tennis or Ping-Pong. Or go for a swim. The water is cold, but that never used to bother you.”
“We’ll see. Thank you for asking.”
Frowning, Randy tilted his head. “Katherine, why are you acting so formal? So, uh, removed? We’ve known each other all our lives. And yet you act as if you hardly know me.”
They halted at her door. Gazing into his bewildered eyes, she felt a twinge of pity for him. “Eight years has changed us all, Randy. I’m not the same girl I was. Even though we’re good friends, we must get acquainted all over again.” I didn’t have the same impulse with Andrew, she thought. With him, it was like nothing had changed, even after all these years . . .
The twist in his mouth signaled he didn’t agree. “I’m the same fellow I’ve always been. You already know just about everything there is to know about me.” Then he raised his boyish grin that never failed to melt the hardest of hearts. “My life is an open book.”
She straightened her crooked smile. “Yes, I can see that. But I’m afraid I’m different, Randy. Give it time, will you? Give me some time.”
They couldn’t force love to happen merely because their families expected it. And she couldn’t pretend a grand and glorious romance if it didn’t truly exist. Yet she’d neither dismiss his interest out of hand nor would she rush into a relationship before she was ready. Regardless of what their mothers desired.
Andrew strolled toward the dining hall early the next morning and took a deep breath of crisp mountain air. His mood seesawed from joy to depression and back again. Maybe it was because Katherine had dominated his dreams last night. Watching her sing had lifted his spirits, regardless of her father’s warning shot across his bow. Her bright smile reminded him of the young girl he’d fallen in love with years ago, and nothing could dim that. Except for the fact that most of those smiles had been directed toward his cousin, Randy. Yet once or twice she’d caught his eye, tilted her head, and flashed a grin, but then let her gaze flit across the rest of the group.
Andrew had felt something that probably no one else saw. The old Katherine was emerging from her web of sorrow. He could tell, even if no one else could. He wondered if she felt anything beyond friendship when their eyes met last night. Was there an inkling of love in her eyes? Or was he merely wishing so hard that he’d imagined it?
It doesn’t matter, he told himself. Katherine seemed happy, and even though he might never have her love, her good spirits had lifted his own. His fate, and Katherine’s, was in the Lord’s hands. If it were to be, it would be, despite her father’s veiled warning. Was he merely an incurable optimist when it came to Katherine? Or would “fool” more aptly describe him?
“Good morning, Andrew.” Katherine’s voice brought him out of his thoughts of last night, and he glanced up in gleeful surprise. She met him on the walkway leading to the dining hall. “Are you on your way to breakfast?”
“I am. Care to join me?” he asked.
She nodded. As they entered the building they found it nearly deserted, typical at this hour. “Do you always rise at this time?”
“I like to get to work at the crack of dawn so I can have part of the afternoon to myself.” He couldn’t imagine an employer nicer or more considerate than Mr. Wainwright, allowing him a flexible schedule here at camp. “How about you? You’re to be on vacation. Why up so early?”
She shrugged. “I’m used to business hours, up with the sun and dead-asleep by moonrise.”
They served themselves sausage and eggs, toast and blueberry muffins from the sideboard. A maid delivered cups of steaming coffee and a small pitcher of fresh cream.
“If you have the afternoon off, maybe we could play tennis together. I haven’t played in years, and I’d like to try again,” Katherine said.
Andrew hesitated. As much as he wanted to jump at the chance of being with her, he knew he shouldn’t. He didn’t wish to annoy his hostess, his aunt, or more importantly, his boss. And playing tennis would be awfully . . . public. “That would be wonderful, but let’s wait and see how the day progresses. I might have more work than I expect.”
From her frown, he could tell she didn’t believe a word he said. “All right. But you’re not trying to avoid me, are you?” She seemed genuinely puzzled, though she shouldn’t be.
“No, but judging from last night, things are unfolding nicely for you and Randy. I shouldn’t interfere.” He tossed it out, disliking his own petulant tone. But he couldn’t stop himself. He’d been enraptured by the return of her girlhood smile last night, as well as eviscerated by her attention toward Randy.
Irritation flickered across her face. “Randy is Mama’s idea, not mine. We’re nothing but dear friends.”
He glanced at her, considering her words. Did that mean she might consider Andrew her own idea? He couldn’t risk everything before he knew for sure. And yet, what if she felt the same way about him? Only friendship? His appetite gone, he excused himself just as Mrs. Wainwright, Aunt Georgia, and Randy entered the dining hall. He greeted the three, falsely cheerful. “Please excuse me. Time to get to work.”
That afternoon Katherine helped Aunt Letty arrange photographs in her leather album as she listened to her rambling but fascinating tales of days long gone. They emptied two more boxes of loose photographs on the sofa and discarded a few blurry and faded ones before Mama burst through the door.
Without pausing for pleasantries, she came straight to the point. “Katherine, I’m glad to see you assisting Aunt Letty, but you mustn’t stay cooped up all day. Randy is resting in the hammock by the lake, and I thought you might join him. Make sure you wear your hat to shield your face from the sun.”
Katherine understood an order when she heard one, though she had already spent a considerable amount of her time in the outdoors, canoeing. But I promised Papa . . . “Yes, of course, Mama, if you’d like.” It took every ounce of her strength to smile, to rise, and to obey. Regardless of her agreement with Papa, if Mama decided she didn’t show enough interest in Randy, she’d leave Katherine with no measure of peace.
Mama pursed her thin lips, not fooled. “I do so wish you’d show more enthusiasm for socializing. Randy can be great fun.”
Katherine beat down the anger flaring in her chest. “I don’t know why you’re agitated, Mama. I’m off to see Randy, as you’ve suggested.” She turned hopefully to her aunt. “Unless you mind my absence?”
But the elderly lady was so engrossed in her pile of photos of Norman that she merely lifted a hand. “Go right ahead, my dear. I have to decide which of these to get rid of, though I doubt I can part with any. I’m a sentimental old fool, you know.” Her eyes glistened with a teary smile. She belatedly looked from Isabelle to Katherine, understanding too late. But Katherine’s mother was already on the move, opening the porch door and waiting for her to pass. Aunt Letty gave her a little shrug of apology.
Katherine sighed and headed out to the backyard studded with white birch, quaking aspen, white pines, and several full-skirted sugar maples as Mama returned to the lodge, a self-satisfied prance to her step. Sunshine had chased away the chill and gray skies of morning and filtered through the canopy of greenery arching above the yard.
She thought back to her breakfast with Andrew. She wished he’d agreed to her suggestion of a tennis match. He wasn’t working this afternoon—she could see him on the beach, launching a small sailboat into the water. So why had he dodged her? Her eyes moved to Randy, and she remembered how Andrew had hung back last night, and then disappeared as they went on singing. Might he be . . . jealous? Or was her father warning Andrew to stay away from her?
Letting the clear air sweep away thoughts of Andrew helped her focus on her mother’s request. Stretched out on the canvas hammock, Randy let his straw hat slip down and cover most of his face. She shoved down a wave of irritation, wishing he’d read a book, for once, rather than while away the hours napping. Focus on the good things, she reminde
d herself. The fine things about him. He wore dark trousers, a soft collared white shirt open at the neck with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The rash on his arms looked more pink than red, a sure sign the calamine lotion was working.
At her approach, he lifted his hat. “Well, good afternoon, Katherine.” He made a move to arise, but she motioned him to stay still.
“Don’t let me disturb you. You look quite comfortable.”
“Come sit beside me.” He patted the canvas as he righted himself.
She tilted her head. “I hardly think so. We’d slide to the middle and I’d end up in your lap.”
“That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?”
She had to grin at the twinkle in his dark eyes. “Hardly proper,” she answered with a crooked smile. “I’ll just stand here by the tree, if you don’t mind.” She leaned against the trunk and stared out at the lake, trying to keep her eyes from a small sailboat bobbing in the waves.
But Randy did the gentlemanly thing and got out of the hammock, edging near her. He pulled the hat off his head and twisted it in his hands, rolling his foot idly over a tree root. “You know, Katherine, I’m really glad you’re back. Nothing’s been the same since you married and left the rest of us behind.”
She raised her eyebrows. “That’s certainly an exaggeration.”
“Well, for me it’s true. You broke my heart when you ran off with one of my best friends. I never quite recovered from your defection.” He shot her a wide, friendly grin. “What? Must I prove it to you?” he said dramatically. He staggered backward and then to the side, one hand clutching his heart, the other hand to his head. “See? Still I yearn so for my sweet Katherine, ’tis as if I ail! ’Tis as if I still bear an arrow through my heart!”
A Path Toward Love Page 12
