A Path Toward Love

by Cara Lynn James

  Katherine shook her head at his melodrama and giggled. “Even though I said earlier we hardly know each other anymore, you’re really just the same, Randy. You can still make me smile.”

  He dipped his head. “My pleasure.”

  “Tell me, what have you been doing in the last eight years?”

  Randy shrugged and then scrunched his face in a wince. “If you mean ‘what have I accomplished,’ I’m afraid if I tell you, you’ll think less of me. If you ask my father, he’ll say nothing at all. But I’ve enjoyed myself, so in my own mind I’ve achieved everything I set out to do.”

  Randy was very much like Charles when it came to work. But Randy didn’t have a mean side or fearsome temper. And his fortune was so vast, it’d be difficult to gamble away. He merely wanted life to swirl around him in an endless party. Not a very ambitious goal, to be sure, but at least he was honest about it. Many young men of their generation seemed at loose ends, she mused. Their fathers or grandfathers had made the family fortunes, and now there was little for them to do except spend the spoils.

  He gently kicked away a twig and then dug the heels of his shiny boots into the dirt. “While I was learning the intricacies of bridge and idling away my time, you were running a company. I can hardly believe the girl I dreamed about all these years managed citrus groves. It’s astonishing, what you’ve had to bear.”

  She doubted Randy ever pined away for her, or ever would. He was merely being charming. A gust of wind lifted her skirt a few inches. She held it down as best she could while Randy’s gaze strayed toward her ankles and lingered.

  “I miss working and the feeling of accomplishment at the end of the day,” she said, making him look her in the eye again. “You should try it sometime. It truly is a fulfilling sort of life.”

  He shook his head, clearly bewildered. “My goodness, Katherine. I can’t believe you actually enjoy working. I can tell you, your mother certainly disapproves. Most mothers would, of course. No woman of status should have to go through such things.” He let out a laugh. “Few men of status should do so either.”

  Katherine fought back a frown. “So you disapprove as well?” She pulled off a maple leaf and slowly shredded it.

  He shrugged, peering at her, clearly gauging her reaction. “I’ve never considered a woman working before, except for those who haven’t a choice. But whoever heard of a society girl wanting to work? No one, I’ll wager.”

  Katherine breathed deeply to relax the tightness building in her chest. “Perhaps I don’t belong in society anymore.”

  His eyebrows raised. “Nonsense! You did once and you will again. Just forget about your groves and concentrate on having fun with me. I’ll show you the way back. I know the path well.” He cocked a brow and gave her a flirtatious grin.

  “Randy, I think you misunderstand. I truly enjoy working. As much as I love it here, I miss my business.”

  “And you are not understanding me. You had another life, a different life, in Florida. But you’ve returned, to the life you were born to.” He reached out and placed a gentle hand on hers. “Undoubtedly, you’re confused. A bit lost, really. But take heart, Kat. You’re not alone. I’ll show you the way. Shall we begin with a boat ride? This time without a tragic, stormy culmination?”

  She forced a smile and took his arm. But his words rolled around in her head. Was she truly missing her life in Florida? Or was she merely lost, a boat without an anchor? She owed it to Randy, and her parents, to at least give this life a chance again. He was right—she’d been born into it. God never made mistakes. But after the boat ride, she decided to slip in a telegram to Stuart, to find out just how the groves were faring in Florida without her. The letter she’d sent him might not receive a response for a week or more. If she were to concentrate on her life here in New York, she had to know all was well in Florida. Until that day, she’d simply rock back and forth between them in her heart and mind.

  Chapter Eleven

  Late the next morning Andrew completed his work for Mr. Wainwright, and his boss dismissed him for the day. Given the gathering clouds, he couldn’t head out in a sailboat as he had done the day before. The perfect solution was a hot cup of tea, a crackling fire, an overstuffed chair, and his copy of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.

  Andrew slid his book out of a lower desk drawer and headed toward the lodge library. But when he arrived, he found Katherine and her great-aunt already settled in. He paused, considering other places he liked to read, but Katherine caught sight of him and smiled. She put her finger to her lips, gesturing toward Letty. Asleep in the corner, snoring softly, Mrs. Benham still held a magazine in her hand.

  To leave now would be awkward, he decided, so he tiptoed over to the chair by the fire and settled in. At least with Letty sleeping, he could be near Katherine, but it appeared entirely innocent. He opened his book and attempted to focus on the words, not on the pretty young woman so close to him on the leather sofa. She was working at attaching a feather to the brim of another hat. Who was that one for? Another for Letty? A friend? Herself?

  Andrew bit back a whispered question and tried to find his place in his book, but he couldn’t keep from taking surreptitious glances at Katherine and Letty. For a moment he allowed himself to relish the quiet scene, wishing the three of them sat in the house he hoped to have someday, albeit a small place with less expensive furniture and fewer servants. Both those things wouldn’t matter as long as Katherine sat beside him . . .

  He watched her adjust the frills on the hat and then smile with obvious satisfaction at her handiwork. He let out a long breath and returned to his book. Reality was impossible to ignore. This was Mr. Wainwright’s lodge, he was a guest, and Katherine had been declared out-of-bounds, at least for the time being. If he waited, another opportunity might present itself. At least, he hoped it would.

  The butler entered the library with mail for Katherine a short time later. He bowed slightly and extended the silver salver. She glanced at each envelope, frowned at one for several seconds, and then accepted the letter opener. With a slight tremble in her hand, she slit the crease and stood to read it with the aid of the light seeping through the window. Her color faded. Two sheets of paper fell to the bearskin rug.

  “What’s the matter?” Andrew jumped up, retrieved the letter, and placed it in her hand again.

  She dropped into one of the wooden chairs, gripping the papers so tightly they crumpled. He knelt down in front of her chair, wanting more than anything to pull her into his arms and comfort her. For a long while she sat silently, without moving. “Katherine?” He waited helplessly, glancing over to Letty to see if she might be of assistance, but the old lady snored on.

  “Can I get you something? A glass of water? Or perhaps tea?”

  She shook her head, responding as if she wasn’t quite aware of his presence.

  “Katherine, I don’t wish to interfere. But if you need something, I’m here to help.”

  She lifted a grateful smile. “You’re most considerate, Andrew. Please stay. I don’t want to be alone.”

  Her words struck deep. More than anything, he wanted her to need him.

  Gradually she emerged from her shock, still pale, and handed him the letter. “Please read this. I think I may need your legal opinion.” Her eyes rapidly blinked back unshed tears.

  Andrew glanced at the envelope addressed to Katherine before he looked through the sheets of paper. He read the feminine looking script and felt a twinge of anxiety.

  Dear Mrs. Osborne,

  I’m sorry I must write to you because I fear it will cause you great distress. I’m afraid there’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just begin and hope you’ll try to understand. Forgiveness is more than I can possibly wish for.

  Charles Osborne and I had a son together several years ago. Although we didn’t marry, we continued to love each other until Charles’s death. If you didn’t know about us or even suspect, I’m truly sorry to bring you news that you’ll most likely find pai
nful.

  Charles protected me from vicious gossip in Florida, but after he passed on, I was ostracized and penniless. So I returned to my family in New York City and found a job. I wouldn’t write except that I’ve lost my position and have no prospects for employment. I need support for my child or we will soon be without food and shelter since my relations can no longer provide for us.

  If you are a good Christian woman, I pray you will take pity and send us funds so Charles’s son won’t suffer. Please believe me, I wouldn’t ask if I weren’t desperate.

  I have letters from Charles expressing his love for me and acknowledging the paternity of my child, whom we named Zeke. I’m enclosing one of the notes so you’ll see for yourself I’m telling the truth. You’ll recognize his handwriting, I’m sure. I’d like to settle this with you in a civilized way, so please write back at the below address as soon as possible.

  Sincerely,

  Harriet Roles

  Andrew glanced at the next sheet of paper penned in a bold, masculine writing. Beginning with “My dearest Harriet,” it was signed “Your loving Charles.” Our little boy stood out on the paper. Anger flared in Andrew’s chest as he scanned the note. He glanced at Katherine. As he expected, her face glowed red with humiliation as she sat clutching her hands on her lap.

  “I’m so sorry, Katherine. This must be a terrible blow, her coming after you for anything. Not after . . .”

  She shook her head without glancing up. “I should have known I couldn’t escape the past.”

  “If you’d like, I can contact a friend who’s an investigator in the City. He can check on Harriet Roles.” Andrew fought the urge to offer anything but formal empathy. “Do you believe what she says is true? About the child being Charles’s, as well as her present circumstances?”

  “Yes, I’m sure it’s all true. He mentioned their son in another letter too. And it is Charles’s handwriting.” Her head still bowed, she rose and paced the length of the bookshelves. “You told me he was a cad and I should run from him as fast as I could. But I didn’t believe you. I loved him so much I couldn’t see the truth, even though it was staring me right in the face. I should’ve listened to you, Andrew, but I wanted Charles so badly. I—I adored him. But I was completely mistaken about his character.”

  Andrew stepped toward her. “I’ll help you in any way I can.”

  “Thank you.”

  He cleared his throat. “I suppose Charles didn’t provide for the boy in his will.”

  “No, of course not.” Katherine’s voice faltered, and she swallowed hard. “He never could see anything through to completion in any part of his life.” She stopped and leaned back against a bookcase, as if her spirit had drained out of her. For a moment she seemed to wobble and he thought she might collapse. But instead, she gripped the back of a nearby chair and steadied herself.

  Andrew drew closer. “Maybe he didn’t want you to find out about the affair. Maybe he hoped to spare your feelings.” Andrew didn’t believe a word he said, but possibly Katherine would.

  She snorted, her anger spurting to the surface. “If he hadn’t died, he would have left me, gone to live with Harriet and the boy. He probably assumed he had time enough to get his affairs—all his affairs—in order. And then he didn’t.”

  She looked so stricken that he searched for words to lessen her pain, but all that came to mind were platitudes so trite they’d be far worse than sympathetic silence.

  “I need some air. I’m going for a walk. Would you come with me?” she asked, already headed for the hallway.

  “I’ll be glad to.” He glanced around, making sure none of the other Wainwrights were around, and then followed her down the paneled hallway and out the side door.

  The clouds had blown away and the sky had brightened to deep blue. They strode around the grounds and then across the gently sloping lawn toward the bridge that led to a gazebo jutting into the glistening lake. Katherine sat down on a bench beneath the branches of a red maple and stared out at the lake. Andrew unbuttoned his coat and then dropped down to the bench beside her, unsure of what to say.

  Katherine buried her head in her hands. When she looked up, she tried gamely to keep her emotions under control. “I didn’t expect Harriet would ask for money. She must be very worried.” Glancing at the blue water lapping the shore, Katherine bit her trembling lower lip. “I don’t feel a personal responsibility for Charles’s child, but as a Christian, I won’t let them starve. I can’t blame a child for the sins of his parents.”

  A dragonfly flitted by. She looked out over the glassy lake smoothed by the still air, her lips compressed as she turned his way. “But Harriet stole my husband, and I can’t forget that.” She breathed deeply, obviously trying to stave off her tears.

  He couldn’t deny it or even downplay Charles’s despicable behavior. What could he say to ease the raw pain in her voice? She pitied Harriet and her son but hated the woman’s adultery.

  Pausing for what seemed like hours, she finally looked up at him. “During the first year of our marriage, Charles and I were happy. But then for some reason I never understood, he didn’t want me anymore. When his father died, he obviously went back to her. He loved her, not me. Maybe he never loved me, not really.”

  Fury swelled in Andrew’s chest. He could only imagine the hurt she must feel. But if she didn’t forgive Harriet and Charles, the pain might linger for years.

  “I wanted to be wrong about him, you know,” he said at last. “I always hoped you’d live happily ever after.”

  At least after she’d eloped. Before then he’d prayed she’d see Charles for the scoundrel he was. But the Lord had failed to answer his prayer, at least in the way he expected. How could a kind, loving God let Katherine make such a horrible mistake? He still didn’t know the reason, but he’d learned to live with unanswered questions. It was part of trusting the Lord.

  Katherine sighed. “I was so sure Charles loved me. I wouldn’t listen to anyone who said otherwise. But apparently, I am to continue to pay a heavy price for my foolishness.” She grimaced. “Andrew, would you write to Harriet for me? I couldn’t bear to contact her myself.”

  “Yes, of course. As I’ve said, I have a friend in New York, Marston Voyles, who can track down information about Harriet Roles, just to make sure everything she claims is actually true. Don’t contact her until we hear from Marston.”

  “All right. If you think that’s the wisest course of action. Thank you.”

  Andrew fought off the desire to touch her. “Are you going to talk to your parents about Charles’s affair? Your mother might understand why you’re so reluctant to rush into another marriage if you shared it with them. And perhaps she’d let you alone, at least for the time being.”

  He waited while she apparently mulled over his suggestion.

  Her words rushed out. “I already told both my parents that I was mistaken about Charles, and I don’t want them to have to bear this burden too. Besides, Mama still thinks I lack good judgment, and I should rely upon her to make any future choices; this would only strengthen her resolve to see me married off as soon as possible.”

  He fought a sardonic grin. Katherine’s judgment wasn’t so bad; she definitely understood her mother.

  “Is she truly pressuring you to marry again?” He could scarcely breathe in the warm, stifling air.

  Katherine gazed deep into his eyes and for a long moment he knew his heart had stopped beating. Her calm voice prickled the hairs on his arm. “She says she’s not trying to rush me. But unless I want Papa to call my loan on the groves, I must do as she asks during my time here. And that means keeping company with Randy.”

  His heart thudded painfully in his chest. “If she insists, will you marry him?” He had to know the answer, no matter how awful.

  Katherine shook her head. “My plan is to stay a widow, despite Mama’s badgering.”

  He could see that she and Randy made a lukewarm match at best. But would she also reject a man she truly
loved because she feared another failure? Her defenses were too strong for love to crack open her heart. Poor Katherine was sentencing herself to a lonely life she might regret someday.

  He folded her small hands into his own and was pleased when she didn’t pull them away. “Katherine, hear me out. I think you’re making a terrible mistake shutting yourself off from genuine love. You’ll get through this if you open yourself to what the Lord has in store for you. You’re a warm, caring woman. Don’t settle for the appearance of love when you can have the real thing.” Blood rushed to his face. He hadn’t meant to divulge his feelings. Yet he couldn’t stay silent.

  She shot him a searching look. Then, clearly panicked, her eyes pleaded for understanding. “Please, Andrew, it’s all too much. Let’s not speak of this again.”

  He drew out a frustrated sigh. “All right, as you wish.”

  “I’m sorry, Andrew. I need your friendship most of all. Will you kindly pray for me?”

  “Of course I will.” A lump the size of a rock wedged in his throat. Pray for her? That was easy. He’d do anything she asked. The problem was that she seemed unready to do the one thing he needed from her—love him in return.

  Chapter Twelve

  Startled, she stood, and Andrew rose with her. It was as she feared; Andrew had developed true feelings for her, beyond friendship. Much as she cherished him as a friend—her dearest friend—she couldn’t offer him love, at least not the kind he apparently wanted.

  In Andrew’s eyes she found genuine passion, unlike the selfish lust she’d often seen in Charles’s face. In Andrew she saw real affection and kindness. No half-curled, mocking lips. No anger sizzling just beneath the surface. But acknowledging the stark differences between them terrified her.

  She’d never love anyone again, even a man as thoughtful and deserving as Andrew. No matter how much the romantic yearnings still smoldering deep inside threatened to flare up. No matter how much she desired him now. She shouldn’t indulge herself by offering a kiss, even a platonic one. Her heart, rubbed raw from Charles’s treachery, would never completely heal. No one else should suffer because of it. Harriet’s emergence was merely the latest rap of the judge’s gavel, wasn’t it? She’d made her decision long ago. And she’d need to learn to live with the consequences.