Waiting for the Wedding

by Carla Cassidy

  Again pain soared through her—this time not a reflection of his pain, but rather her own. It was the deep anguish of her love for him, a love that forever would remain locked in her heart where it couldn’t flourish, would never be shared.

  She knew she would probably live the rest of her life loving Clint. And he would end up spending the rest of his life with some lucky woman, making babies and fulfilling his dreams without her.

  Tears burned in her eyes, and she averted her gaze out the passenger window and sneaked a hand up to swipe them away. She’d meant what she said. She would remain in his house for as long as Kathryn needed her.

  But when Kathryn’s mother came to get her, when Kathryn was no longer a part of their lives, Sherry knew one of the changes she would have to make in her life was to see less of Clint. With her love for him so strong, so alive inside her, she knew she had to make a difficult resolution. She had to let go of their friendship, because she knew she couldn’t stand to remain his friend and know she’d never, ever be his future.

  “I have a confession to make,” Clint said as he pulled into his driveway.

  Sherry swallowed the last of her tears and looked at him in surprise. “What kind of a confession?” she asked.

  “I haven’t really aggressively pursued finding out who Kathryn is. I was so certain that she was Candy’s I haven’t expended much energy seeking any other answers.” He shut off the engine and raked a hand through his hair.

  “So what do you have in mind?”

  “Maybe I need to check with the hospital here in town, see what babies were born five to seven months ago and who the parents are. It makes sense that Kathryn’s mother lives right here in Armordale.”

  “Why does that make sense?” Sherry asked.

  “The mother apparently knew I was the sheriff. It’s obvious she left Kathryn here because she thought I could protect her from whoever is after her.” He frowned thoughtfully. “It’s possible what we’re dealing with here is a custody issue. Maybe it was Kathryn’s father who tried to break into the house and snatch her.”

  “That makes sense,” Sherry agreed. Somehow it seemed less horrific to think that it was somebody who loved Kathryn who might have tried to take her.

  “I think I’ll spend the afternoon making some calls, see what I can find out,” Clint said. He got out of the car, then opened the back door and unbuckled the car seat. Kathryn woke up, and instantly her face was wreathed in a toothless, happy grin.

  Sherry saw the spasm of pain that tightened Clint’s features. She followed them inside the house, wondering how on earth either of them would survive loving Kathryn, then losing her.

  The afternoon was somber. Clint spent the rest of the day on the phone while Sherry tried to soothe an unusually fussy Kathryn.

  It was as if the little girl sensed the gloom that had overtaken the atmosphere in the house and had picked up on the sadness of her two caretakers.

  Sherry tried to give her a bottle, then attempted to rock her to sleep. She walked with her, sang to her, but nothing seemed to soothe her.

  Finally Sherry sat down on the living room floor and tried to play with Kathryn, but Kathryn was having nothing to do with it. She pushed away the toys Sherry offered, her lower lip quivering with the threat of tears.

  Sherry looked up as Clint came into the room, a piece of paper in hand. “Well, I talked to the hospital and got the names of all the women who had children in or around the right time period.” He sat down at the sofa, then frowned as Kathryn screwed up her face and started to cry in earnest. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “I don’t know,” Sherry admitted. She stood, then leaned down and picked up the crying baby girl. “I can’t seem to do anything to make her happy.”

  Appearing reluctant, Clint held out his arms. “Let me try,” he said. Kathryn went willingly into his arms and snuggled against his broad chest as if that was where she belonged. With a sigh of resignation, Clint patted her little bottom and when he looked at Sherry, his dark-blue eyes radiated anguish.

  “I really believed she was mine,” he said, his voice husky with suppressed emotion.

  Sherry sat down next to him. “I know.” She stroked a finger down his strong jawline, wishing there was some way she could ease his pain, so similar to the one she’d lived with for the past five years.

  He put his arm around her and drew her against his side. There was nothing even vaguely threatening about his embrace, no hint of the fire and desire that had flamed between them when they’d kissed. They were two friends, silently sharing emotions, silently offering comfort.

  Kathryn slept against his chest, each slumbering breath puffing out her chubby cheeks. Sherry closed her eyes and existed only for the moment, with his warmth and familiar scent surrounding her.

  She didn’t want to think about what would never be, didn’t want to contemplate the fact that when everything was resolved with Kathryn, she intended to get on with her life, without Clint’s friendship to sustain her.

  She lost track of time, thought perhaps she might have fallen asleep, safe in the shelter of his arms. “Want to take another ride with me?” His deep voice pulled her from her drowsy state.

  “Where?” she asked. She sat up, the side of her body cooling with the absence of his.

  “Check out the people on this list, make sure they all have their babies with them.”

  “Okay,” she agreed. She had the feeling that now he’d discovered Kathryn wasn’t his child, the reluctance he’d felt before in searching for her parents was gone.

  It didn’t take them long to load back into the car. Sherry read the first name on the list aloud. “Betty Miller.”

  “Cross her off,” Clint instructed. “I just saw her and her husband pushing their baby down Main day before yesterday.”

  Sherry dutifully crossed a line through the name. “Rita Clemmons. Isn’t that Pastor Clemmons’s wife?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  Sherry frowned. “Surely they wouldn’t abandon their baby on your doorstep.”

  “Maybe not. But we aren’t leaving any stones unturned. We’ll swing by their house and make sure their little girl is still in their custody.”

  All trace of any former emotion was gone from him. It was as if he’d successfully removed himself from all feeling. A wave of envy swept through Sherry. How she wished she could do the same—not only remove herself from the heartache of loving Kathryn, but from the bigger anguish of loving Clint.

  The answer to whether the Clemmonses had their baby with them or not was answered easily. When they drove by the tidy home, the family was in the front yard. Rita Clemmons held her daughter while Pastor Clemmons worked in a flowerbed.

  Sherry and Clint waved to the couple as they drove by, then Sherry looked at the last and final name on the list. “Molly Ketchum.” Sherry frowned. “I don’t think I know her.”

  “She’s only eighteen and was the only unmarried person to have a baby in that particular time frame. She lives with her parents over on Oak Street.”

  “How do you know all that?” Sherry asked.

  He grinned. “When I called the hospital, I spoke to Tracy Witfield.”

  Sherry laughed and held up a hand. “No further explanation is necessary.” Tracy Witfield was Armordale’s biggest gossip. Somehow she managed to know all the business of every person in the small town, whether it was public or private.

  “Apparently, you living in my house the past couple of days has generated a bit of gossip,” he added.

  Sherry groaned inwardly. She hadn’t thought of what everyone must be saying.

  “Tracy told me that Fred is running a pool down at his barber shop. Whoever guesses the exact date we get married wins a lifetime of free haircuts.”

  “Well, that’s one pool Fred won’t have to worry about paying out,” she replied lightly, and tried to ignore the heart pang her words evoked.

  “Yeah…I guess so.”

  He didn’t look at he
r, but she thought she’d heard regret in his voice. Regret about what? That they weren’t really ever going to get married? Clint didn’t love her, not really. He hadn’t even tried to kiss her again after the kiss they had shared the day of the break-in.

  She wondered if he’d ever really loved her as she wanted, needed to be loved. After all, it had always been Clint who had managed to call a halt to their kisses and caresses. It had always been Clint who had maintained control and stopped any real lovemaking before it really began. He’d known how important it was for her to be a virgin on her wedding night.

  Maybe he’d never really loved her as desperately, as passionately as she’d loved him. Again she told herself how necessary it was that when this was all over, she leave him behind.

  Their friendship had become a crutch, making it easy for her not to get on with her life. The friendship and companionship had eased her loneliness and filled empty hours. She hadn’t needed to date or find a boyfriend while she had Clint in her life.

  Kathryn had somehow managed to open her heart, melt away the icy barrier she’d erected long ago, and what Sherry was left with was a heart that loved Clint. But she knew it was finally time to move on.

  They arrived at the Ketchums’, and Clint explained the situation to Molly’s mother. The older woman called to Molly, and the eighteen-year-old mother came out of her bedroom carrying a dark-haired, dark-eyed little girl about Kathryn’s age.

  Clint thanked them for their time, then he, Sherry and Kathryn once again were in the car heading back home.

  “So what do we do now?” Sherry asked.

  Clint shrugged. “I guess we just keep Kathryn safe and wait to see what happens next.”

  During the next couple of days they once again fell into a routine of sorts. Clint went to work each morning while Sherry took care of Kathryn, then in the evenings they shared the responsibility of the little girl.

  It was much the way it had been before they’d gone to see Candy, but with some change. Sherry tried to maintain as much emotional and physical distance between herself and Clint as possible.

  And she watched as Clint tried futilely to distance himself from the little girl who’d captured his heart. He would come home from work and she’d fuss until he picked her up and played with her.

  Sherry had never loved him as much as when he was rocking Kathryn or making silly faces just to hear her giggle. The love that rocked through her only managed to reconfirm her decision to eventually cut him completely out of her life.

  As soon as Kathryn was back with her family, Sherry would start being unavailable to Clint. She’d be busy when he invited her over for pizza, have something else to do when he wanted her to meet him for lunch. Eventually he’d stop calling, stop asking her to do things with him. Eventually they would just become nodding acquaintances who had once shared a past.

  But even knowing this didn’t stop the fluttering of her stomach each time she looked at him. If only he wasn’t so darned handsome, if only those deep-blue eyes of his, the strength of his jawline, his soft, smiling lips didn’t stir her so. If only his shoulders weren’t so broad, his hips so lean. If only he didn’t cause her head to spin and her body to tingle each and every time she looked at him.

  She’d been angry with him when he’d first asked for her help, afraid that she wouldn’t be able to stand the grief of caring for a child, loving a child and knowing she’d never belong to her. Sherry hadn’t considered the real torture would be caring about Clint, loving him and knowing he would never belong to her.

  It was early evening on Wednesday, and as usual they were all in the living room. Clint had brought home from work a package of large, stuffed blocks, and he sat in the middle of the floor, building a tower of the blocks for Kathryn’s delight.

  Kathryn eyed him with watchful eyes, not attempting to join in the process but waiting…waiting. And when the tower tumbled to the floor, her giggles filled the room, mingling with the deep, robust laughter of Clint.

  Sherry wondered if it were possible for her to love Clint any deeper. She thought not. Her love for him transcended anything she’d ever before experienced. Her love for him knew no boundaries or conditions. It was just there…inside her, filling her up with both joy and aching sorrow.

  It was easy for Sherry to imagine a lifetime of nights just like this one, watching Clint and Kathryn together; nights of tucking her in and singing her lullabies; nights of Clint and her going to bed together, renewing their passion and love for each other.

  Maybe Kathryn’s mother will never come back for her, she thought. Then Clint and I can keep her, raise her as our own, share not only in her life but in each other’s lives.

  It was a stupid fantasy. If Kathryn’s mother didn’t eventually turn up, then Clint would turn her over to Social Services. He had told her he’d never consider adopting a child, so he wouldn’t want to keep and raise Kathryn, which in effect would be the same as an adoption.

  She’d never understood his views on the adoption process and had never been able to make him explain in depth the reason for his adamant negative feelings. He’d made it clear to her that he didn’t approve, but had never gone into the reasons why he felt that way.

  Still, the adoption issue alone spoke volumes about why they could never, would never be together as a romantic couple.

  It was just a little after eight when Sherry fed Kathryn some cereal and gave her a bottle. When she finished, Clint took the drowsy child from her. “I’ll put her to bed,” he said.

  Sherry nodded, knowing that meant Clint would spend the remainder of the evening in his room. They were still sticking to the rule that Kathryn didn’t remain anywhere alone. Neither of them had forgotten that somewhere, somebody seemed to want the little girl.

  As Kathryn and Clint disappeared into his bedroom, Sherry settled back on the sofa and turned on the television. She’d watch a little TV until she got tired enough to sleep, tired enough not to dream of Clint.

  She had just gotten interested in a medical drama series when the doorbell rang. Sherry jumped up off the sofa, wanting to hurry to answer before whoever it was awakened Kathryn.

  She opened the door to find a petite, youthful blond woman. Vivid-blue eyes widened as the woman stared at Sherry. “Who…who are you?” she asked. “Where is Dave?”

  “There’s no Dave here. You must have the wrong address.”

  “It’s not the wrong address.” Tears filled her eyes. “Oh, my God, what’s happened? Where’s Kathryn? Where’s my baby girl? Oh, dear God, what have you done with her?”

  Chapter Eight

  C lint heard the doorbell and opened his bedroom door to listen as Sherry answered. The moment he heard the woman at the door say Kathryn’s name, he knew who she was and why she was here.

  He looked at the little girl, who slept peacefully in her crib. What he didn’t intend to do was simply hand Kathryn over without some sort of explanation from the woman who had left her behind. Kathryn’s mother had abandoned her baby, and he’d have a damned good reason from her or she wouldn’t get Kathryn back easily. That sweet little baby girl deserved nothing less.

  He left the bedroom, leaving Kathryn sleeping in the crib, relatively certain she would be safe. The window was still boarded over, making it impossible for anyone to get into the room.

  “We have your daughter,” Sherry explained to the weeping woman. “She’s in the other room.”

  “Oh, thank God. Is she all right?” The woman grabbed the sleeve of Sherry’s pale-blue blouse. “Please get her for me,” the woman exclaimed.

  “Sherry, I’ll handle this,” Clint said.

  He opened the front door wide enough for the woman to enter the living room. “Have a seat,” he said, and pointed to the sofa.

  “I don’t want to sit down. I just want my daughter.” The woman swiped at her eyes, a glint of impatient anger shining through the tears. “I don’t know what’s going on, what you’ve done with Dave, but I want my daughter back righ
t now.”

  “You are in no position to make demands. Now, sit down,” Clint thundered.

  To his surprise, both Sherry and the woman sat on either end of the sofa. For a long moment he stared at Kathryn’s mother.

  She was small and thin, with huge blue eyes and light-blond, shoulder-length hair. She looked young, and he noted that she wore no wedding ring.

  He walked over to the small table just inside the front door, picked up his badge, then tossed it on the coffee table in front of her. “I’m Clint Graham, Sheriff of Armordale. I’ll tell you right now, lady, unless you have some good answers, that baby isn’t going anywhere with you. Now, let’s start with your name.”

  “Mandy…Amanda Jenkins.” She looked at Sherry, then back to Clint. Once again her eyes filled with tears. She wrapped her arms around herself as if in an attempt to soothe an ache inside her. “I’m from Kansas City.”

  A sob escaped her, and she opened her arms, as if to show how empty they were. “Please…could I just see her…just hold her. This last week without her has felt like an entire lifetime.”

  Before Clint could reply, Sherry stood. “I’ll be right back,” she said, then disappeared down the hallway. Clint knew she was going to get Kathryn, and if she hadn’t, he would have. Mandy’s aching need was visible, tangible in the room.

  It took several minutes before Sherry returned, hugging the sleeping Kathryn against her heart. Sherry’s eyes were huge and glassy with the threat of tears.

  Clint knew how difficult this was for her, and he cursed himself for ever getting her involved in the first place. The last thing he’d ever wanted to do was cause Sherry pain.

  “Oh…oh,” Mandy said, obviously speechless as Sherry gently transferred the baby to her. She clutched Kathryn against her, rubbing her hand across her head, down her little back. Tears once again fell from her eyes as she hugged Kathryn close as if afraid Clint and Sherry might try to take her away.

  “Now, explain to me, who is this Dave you keep asking about?” Clint asked after he’d given her several moments to revel in her daughter’s return. Sherry sat back down on the sofa, her features reflecting the haunting of a woman who had just lost something precious.