Barri Bryan - Return to Paradise.html

by Return to Paradise (NCP) (lit)

  "Two-headed calf?" Kate shook her head in disbelief. " I don't think such a creature exists."

  "Such a skeptic," York teased. He was still holding onto her hand. "Let's go."

  They made their way through the crowds of people. The trip was faintly reminiscent of her journey through the booths at the auction with Hank. Hank had inspired friendly hello's, good-natured slaps on the backs, and breathless feminine hello's. York commanded deference, and esteem coupled with respect. Hank had appeared to be on a first-name basis with half the residents of Atascosa County. York was greeted with courteous, Mr. Taylor's and respectful, sir's.

  He led her to the far end of the grounds, past the carnival rides, to the line of tiny trailers that held the side show attractions. "Over there. See?"

  The sign emblazoned across the top of the trailer cried silently: SEE THE TWO HEADED CALF.

  "That thing is not alive." Kate stared at the crude drawings of a calf with two heads. "That's not real." She then questioned, with much less assurance, "Is it?"

  "Occasionally such a creature is born," York said with gravity. "but I think what that trailer holds is nothing more than a taxidermist's nightmare. Do you want to see it?"

  Kate shuddered. "No."

  "Then let's have our picture made." York pointed to a booth that housed a tiny studio and countless costumes. They rummaged through the costumes, trying to decide what to wear for a portrait. Finally, York announced, "I think I'll be a bandit."

  "A bandit?" Kate laughed. "Why?"

  "It's as far from reality as I can get."

  Kate held up a spangled costume replete with ruffles. "Then I'll be a cancan dancer. Pure fantasy has it's merits."

  They laughed at the picture, then posed again, this time in attire resembling costumes out of Gone With the Wind.

  "Do you think I make a fair Rhett Butler?" York asked, as he put two of the pictures in his inside coat pocket, and offered the other two to Kate.

  Kate studied his sharp, patrician features. "You make a better Ashley Wilkes."

  "Would you consider being my Melanie?"

  Kate could think of no appropriate answer to that. "Thank you for the pictures," She said, primly.

  York smiled, and changed the subject. "Now we have a memento of this day."

  "I think I will remember, anyway, but thank you." Kate tucked the picture into her handbag.

  York offered her his arm. They began to move through the crowd. "I need proof," He smiled down at her. "Otherwise, I may think that I dreamed you. The picture proves you aren't an illusion."

  "How sweet you are." Kate smiled back, directly into his eyes.

  "That's not a well-known fact. If the truth ever got out, my image might suffer. Most people think of me as a shrewd, calculating opportunist."

  "I'll guard your secret." Kate met his bantering tone with flippant ease. Thinking as she did so, that here was a man who denied, perhaps, even to himself, the depths of his own emotions.

  After throwing balls at bottles, stacked pyramid fashion, and missing, they tossed darts at balloons. Kate was no good at that, either, but York hit with deadly accuracy, several times.

  They ate spun sugar candy from cardboard cones, and laughingly agreed that they had more of the sticky stuff on the outside than they had managed to put inside.

  As they passed the shooting gallery, York said, "My forte. I can hit a bull's eye at forty paces."

  The proof of his proficiency was a huge stuffed panda with a gigantic red ribbon around its neck. Kate hefted the well-padded creature onto her hip. "What am I supposed to do with him?"

  "Is he a him?" York patted the stuffed animal on its head. "He's wearing a ribbon. Maybe he's a she."

  "So she is," Kate agreed. "I'll see that she has a good home."

  Kate stopped to admire a bright blue dress hanging on a rack in a little stand that looked as if it had been lifted from the market square in Mexico City. "Look at the embroidery around the neck."

  York offered, "Let me hold Gertrude while you look."

  "Gertrude?" Kate questioned.

  "Your newly acquired stuffed monstrosity." York held out his arms.

  With a smile, Kate surrendered Gertrude, and began to inspect the garment. Temptation overtook her. She bought the blue dress.

  "I can't believe I did this," she told York, as they moved back into the flow of people. "I have no place to wear such a colorful creation."

  "I thought you were buying it for the street dance tonight. Do you want to carry Gertrude?"

  Kate sank down on a bench, and held out her arms. "We're leaving after the old fiddler's contest. Cody and Mamma have baby chicks at home."

  York sat down beside her and looked at the expensive watch strapped around his wrist. "Have lunch with me." Her puzzled look caused him to explain. "We can go to the steak house behind the auction arena. Have you ever been there?"

  "Yes." That was the place she had gone with Hank the day he took her to the First Monday sale. "I didn't realize we were so near the auction barn."

  "The barn abuts the fair ground." York stood, and held out his hand. "Are you and Gertrude interested?"

  "I can't believe it, but I'm hungry. And Gertrude is starved."

  As they entered the steak house, Kate spied Mindy across the room, and waved.

  Mindy turned away. It was reasonable to assume that Mindy didn't remember her, Kate decided. It was better to believe that than to think she was being snubbed.

  "You certainly got the VIP treatment," Kate said as a hostess bypassed several waiting customers to immediately show them to a table. She put Gertrude in the empty chair beside her, and looked across the table at York. "All this 'yes, Mr. Taylor', and 'no, Mr. Taylor'. I'm impressed."

  From over the top of his menu, York smiled. "I do hope so. Do you want coffee?"

  "Yes, please, and a steak."

  Mindy appeared, pad and pencil in hand, to take their order. "Good day, Mr. Taylor. May I help you?"

  "Hello, Mindy," Kate greeted, "Remember me? I met you some time back."

  Mindy studied the point of her pencil, refusing to look Kate's way. "Yes ma'am, I recall."

  Kate wondered if she did. "You commented on my red hair."

  "I hope you didn't think I was being impolite, ma'am."

  "Well, of course, I didn't." What was wrong with this girl? Quite suddenly, the light dawned. The difference was the man Kate was with. The last time it had been 'ole Hank.' Today it was Mr. Taylor. Kate studied her menu and shut her mouth.

  They had finished their salads, and were waiting for steaks to arrive when Kate looked up to see Hank coming through the entrance with Gina on his arm. She waved. "There's Hank."

  York's head swivelled to look behind him. "And his current woman."

  Hank was bearing down on them, with Gina hanging onto his arm as if he were her own private possession.

  York reached across the table and touched Kate's hand. "You look as if you have seen a ghost."

  "Not a ghost, an angry man, and he's coming to our table."

  York's facial muscles tightened. "Pay him no mind."

  Hand came to stand between Kate and York. Without so much as a hello, he glared down at Kate. "I've been looking for you."

  Kate couldn't imagine why. "Is something wrong?"

  Hank pushed Gertrude toward York, then yanked a chair from the table behind him and sat down next to Kate. Nodding toward Gina, he bit out, "Get lost."

  "I'll wait here." Gina cast a nervous glance in York's direction, as she let her hands rest on the chair across from Hank.

  "Suit yourself." Hank shrugged.

  Gina pulled the chair out and sat down.

  "You are interrupting our meal, Sinclair." York's voice was a knife slicing the tense air.

  "This won't take long, and it has to be said." Hank never took his eyes off Kate. "The sooner I get this off my chest the sooner it will stop gnawing at me."

  Kate glanced around the restaurant. Many curious eyes were tur
ned in her direction. "This is not the place, Hank, please, not now."

  "You could have told me days ago that you wanted to come to the festival. Why didn't you?" His smooth voice carried a razor sharp edge.

  Before Kate could answer, York intervened. "You're out of line, Sinclair. Kate is with me, and I will not stand by and let you intimidate her."

  Kate didn't need this, not now, not when everything was going so well. She kept her voice firm. "It's all right, York. Hank has every reason to be angry. I should have told him days ago I wasn't going to make my ride today, and I didn't."

  Shifting her gaze to Hank, Kate forced herself to say. "I'm sorry. It was a thoughtless thing to do." Maybe her apology would placate him.

  Again, York intervened. "How often do you make this ride, Kate."

  For the first time, Hank looked in York's direction, the green in his eyes shot glints of fire. "Stay out of this, Taylor. It's none of your business."

  "Kate?" York demanded an answer.

  Kate swallowed over the lump in her throat. "Every day."

  Mindy was suddenly at the table, carrying two platters, and greeting Hank and Gina with good humor. "Hi, you all. Do you want to order?"

  "Later, Mindy." Hank waved the request aside.

  The tension around the table snapped like an exposed electric wire. Mindy was no fool. She sat the platters on the table, and sped away.

  "Don't you think that asking Kate to work seven days a week, fifty-two weeks a year, is expecting too much, Sinclair?" York pulled his platter of food toward him, and began to cut his steak into small pieces. "I warned you, Kate. Your duties should have been explicitly stated."

  Hank looked across at Gina who was listening with avid interest to every word spoken. "Get out of here, Gina. Go to the powder room, or somewhere."

  "But Hank," Gina's pretty face screwed up in a frown.

  "Make yourself scarce."

  Gina stood and slammed the chair under the table, then with a look over her shoulder that warned of some future retaliation, she flounced away.

  Only after she was out of ear shot, did Hank speak again, and in a voice so bland, yet so fraught with venom, that Kate felt the skin on her neck crawl. "Butt out,

  Taylor."

  If she had not been looking directly into York's face, she would have missed it, That shadow that danced across his granite countenance, then disappeared in the cold light of his chiseled smile. But she had seen it, a brief reflection of hate so intense it caused Kate's blood to run cold. "I only want to act as a mediator in this dispute. I believe I can offer a solution."

  Hank pushed his hat back. "That will be the day, Taylor, when you and I can settle a dispute."

  "I can spare a cowhand to make Kate's ride when she wants a day off. Kate could inform me, and the day before would be soon enough." York paused, then brought his fork toward his mouth, and held it in mid air. "Well?"

  Hank laughed, an ugly sound from deep in his throat. "Go to Hell, Taylor. I shouldn't have mentioned this in front of you." His spurs made little jangling sounds as he stood to his feet. "I'll talk to you later, Kate."

  "One of these days," York warned, "that temper of yours is going to get you into trouble, Sinclair."

  Hank narrowed his eyes. "You may be right. If I ever decide to settle old scores, you are at the top of my list, Taylor."

  A white line traced itself around York's mouth. "Are you threatening me?" He could not disguise the tremor that threaded itself through his inquiry.

  Watching the bitter confrontation between these two, Kate thought, York is afraid of Hank, actually, literally, petrified. She wondered why. Hank seemed the last person in the world to cause bodily harm to anyone. "Good-bye, Hank." Kate hoped her casual farewell would send Hank on his way.

  Hank stood and hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans. "We can settle this later. So long Kate, see you around."

  Kate sighed her relief, as she watched Hank collect Gina, and sit down in a booth across the restaurant.

  "I'm sorry, York. I had no idea Hank would come here and make a scene."

  "He has a vicious temper, Kate. You don't know the man." York laid his fork on the table. "Let's talk of more pleasant things."

  Kate was more than happy to do that.

  As they were finishing dessert, York asked, "What would you like to do this afternoon?"

  Surprise brought Kate's head up. "Find Mamma, find a bench. I'm tired."

  "You do look a little weary. I have a town house here in St. Agnes. Let me take you there. You can rest, maybe take a nap."

  Caution took over. "I think I'd better find Mamma."

  "I own an apartment complex over on Grant Street." When Kate opened her mouth to protest that he didn't have to explain, York, held up his hand and hurried on. "I kept the place for Carol. Toward the last, even a trip to town was too much for her. She needed to rest before we started home again. I'll give you the key, and drive you there."

  The best Kate could offer was a little grunt. "Oh."

  An array of emotions skipped across York's face. "You thought I was asking you to go there with me?"

  "The thought crossed my mind."

  "I seldom go there. I...It's difficult to explain. Some of Carol's things are still there."

  "You don't have to explain. I understand." Kate held out her hand. "I think I will go. Maybe I can I take a shower. I'm wearing a film of funnel cake with an overlay of cotton candy."

  York laid the key in her hand. "Will you wear that dress you bought today, and stay for the dance tonight? I can drive you home afterward. It's on my way."

  "I don't know. Mamma and Cody..."

  "Please, Kate, it would mean so much to me. I haven't been to a street dance

  since..." His voice broke. "Carol died."

  Kate closed her hand over the key. "I'd love to go to the dance with you."

  CHAPTER NINE

  "You can't stop smiling, can you?" Kate sat beside Belle in the second row of the outdoor contest pavilion.

  Belle cut her eyes in Kate's direction, then stood to her feet. "I have plenty to smile about."

  Kate moved her legs to let Belle pass. "Cody was wonderful."

  "I told you he'd win." Belle clapped her hands together. "He's a born musician."

  "I agree, Mamma, he was absolutely superb." The moment Cody had lifted his bow, the fiddlers' contest had ceased to be a contest. "Maybe you'd better go rescue him." Kate nodded toward the stage where a group of well-wishers had collected around a smiling Cody, offering congratulations.

  "Cody can manage." Pride beamed golden on Belle's face. She collected her handbag and a large shopping bag, stuffed to overflowing. "Are you ready to go home?"

  "What did you buy?" Kate eyed the bulging shopping bag. "That's quite a load. Can you manage?"

  "I can manage. Can you manage, Katie baby?"

  "Manage what?" Kate began, then stopped to heave a long breath. There was no mistaking that particular tone of voice. "Don't start with me, Mamma."

  "We can talk about it on the way home."

  "I'm not going home with you, Mamma. York has asked me to stay and go to the street dance with him." Kate waited for some reaction from Belle, and got none.

  "Cody was the winner, hands down. The decision was unanimous." Belle hooked her handbag over her arm and picked up her shopping bag. "Five judges agreed that Cody was the best. Not that I'm one bit surprised." She began to make her way to the end of the row of chairs.

  Kate followed along after. "Mamma, did you hear me?"

  "I heard you. What did you say?"

  "I said," Kate enunciated each word. "I'm staying in town. I'm going to the street dance with York." She wanted to give Belle a good shake. "You heard me the first time."

  Belle set her shopping bag on the vacant chair at the end of the row. "That's a pretty dress, Kate. Did you buy it here?"

  "No, Mamma, I bought it in Paris, France." On the end of an exasperated snort, Kate fumed. "Of course, it came fro
m here. I found it in a little booth..." On a sudden burst of insight, Kate asked, "Who told you, Mamma?"

  "Told me what?" Belle asked with child-like simplicity.

  Don't start," Kate warned, "Who told you I was with York Taylor?"

  "Were you?" Belle turned her head to one side, and smiled. "That's interesting."

  "We went shopping and to lunch, then..." Suspicion narrowed Kate's eyes. "You know already, don't you?"

  "Know what?" There was a hint of a smile behind Belle's ingenuous gaze.

  Kate reminded herself that patience was a virtue."Who told you I went to York's town house?"

  "Did you do that, Kate? I'm surprised." Belle succeeded in looking properly dismayed. "If I were going to shack up with a man, I'd sneak around, not just go to his town house in the bright light of day for all of St. Agnes to see."

  Kate exploded. "Look whose talking about shacking up."

  "Did you say Paris? It looks more like Mexico City." Belle reached out and touched the lacy collar on Kate's dress. "Is this lace handmade?"

  "Mamma, damn it, don't try to change the subject." Kate dropped into the chair next to Belle's shopping bag. "Somebody has a big mouth. I want to know who. And for your further enlightenment, York didn't stay. I was there alone."

  Belle had the decency to look chagrined, Moving her shopping bag to the floor, she sat down beside Kate. "And you told me you grew up last night."

  Kate fought to keep her voice low. "Aren't you going to tell me not to swear?"

  "I guess I could." Belle's guilty conscience was making her too agreeable. "Don't swear, Kate. Are you satisfied? Or do you want an apology too?"

  "Do you want to apologize, Mamma?" Kate stared toward the group of people on the elevated stage.

  "I think I should." Belle studied her daughter's grim profile. "I'm sorry your man got away."

  "Good Lord, Mamma!" Kate's head swung around with lightening speed. "What a thing to say!"

  By now Cody had broken away from the last well-wisher, and was descending the steps along the side of the stage. "Two hundred dollars. Think of it, Kate." He called out as he came down the aisle.

  "That's wonderful, Cody."

  "That's a lot of money, and I've already spent a part of it." He came to stand beside Belle's chair. "Just this afternoon Hank offered to sell me one of his Hampshire shoats and a brood sow."