The Homeplace

by Janet Dailey

  "He kissed me, too, Clay. And it wasn't the first time." The two bright spots of color on her cheeks didn't appear because she was embarrassed about telling him what had happened; they were there because of the way she had responded to those kisses. Her head lifted boldly to meet his gaze. There was surprise on his face, not anger or jealousy. "You aren't even upset now, Clay."

  Inhaling deeply, he turned away to tap the steering wheel with his fingers, finding a lot of unanswered question in himself that suddenly needed answering. They were so close, Cathie thought to herself as she watched the silent soul-searching Clay was going through. She did love him deeply, but she knew that it was more the love of a sister or a friend.

  "Have you fallen in love with Douglas?" Clay asked quietly.

  "At the moment I don't even think I know what love is," she replied with bitter amusement, resting her tense neck against the back of the seat. "I'm learning what it isn't. We've been so close all our lives, Clay. It seemed so natural and right that we get married. Now, I'm beginning to wonder if we both reached that conclusion for the wrong reason."

  "I care about you more than any woman I've ever met. I love you, Cathie," Clay declared earnestly.

  "I feel the same." Pain tightened its hold around her throat. "We both need time to think this over. We're too confused to be sure of our own emotions and what we really feel."

  He eagerly seized on her implied suggestion to postpone the discussion. He needed time to think coherently over these sudden doubts. "It's late," he agreed, not seeing the cynical smile that turned up the corners of Cathie's mouth. · "Things will look different after a night's sleep. All this talk will turn out to be premarital nerves, a lot of smoke without any fire."

  "I hope you're right," she said, opening her car door and climbing out. "Don't bother to see me to the door, Clay. Let's just call it a night."

  Cathie was in the house with the door closed and locked behind her before she heard the car motor start. She glanced down at the ring on her finger and knew she wouldn't be wearing it much longer.

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  Chapter Ten

  CATHIE'S PREMONITION had proved correct. Her finger was bare. Clay's attempts on the evening following the Fourth to dissuade her from returning it had been halfhearted and lacking conviction.

  The termination of her engagement was a mixed blessing. Now Cathie was free, but free to do what? To fall in love with Rob Douglas? When she had been engaged, her thoughts had never been far from him. Now, they were always centered on him. Besides, Rob had made it clear the night at the lake that he didn't enter into her life at all. She had been a method of amusement for him, a mild flirtation.

  Over a week had passed, a week of staring into space while the minutes dragged by, a week of being the object of understanding looks from the people she knew. They thought her melancholy abstraction was caused by her broken engagement. They couldn't know that Cathie was seeking ways to bump casually into Rob and inform him of the current change. That desire was mixed with dread. Rob had been the one to point out the error of her emotions. Would he applaud her break with Clay or mock her inability to make the discovery on her own?

  Her heavy sigh broke the stillness of the room as she turned her gaze away from the window and the golden twilight signaling the approach of night. The coo of a mourning dove matched the sad, silent sounds of her own heart. Andy glanced sympathetically in Cathie's direction before returning her attention to the book on her lap.

  Clay had wanted to keep on seeing Cathie, but she had been adamant in her refusal. There was the fear that because Rob didn't care, she and Clay would drift back together in their old pattern and they would both suffer from it. But right now, Cathie would have been glad of his company. Anything to relieve these tortuous moments of wanting to see Rob and not having the courage to carry out her desire.

  The shrill ring of the telephone was a welcome interruption and Cathie sprang to her feet to answer it. Perhaps it was Clay. If it was, she would invite him over for coffee and they would talk over old times and alleviate this tormenting thought of Rob. With that occupying her mind, it was a shock to hear Mrs. Carver's voice on the other end of the line.

  "Is that you, Cathie?" Rob's housekeeper demanded.

  "Yes. What's wrong?" she breathed quickly.

  "My daughter Sharon just called me. They've rushed my grandson to the hospital with an appendicitis attack," she explained with a rush. "She wants me to come just as soon as I can."

  For one terrifying minute Cathie had thought something had happened to Rob before she soberly realized that Mrs. Carver wouldn't have thought to notify her if there had. "Do you need a ride? I'm not busy. I can be out there in a few minutes."

  "No, I have a car. I called because Mr. Douglas had to drive to Omaha and won't be back until late this evening. And I can't go off and leave Tad here alone. As late as it is, I can't take him to the hospital with me because heaven knows what time I'll be back. I didn't know of anyone else other than you I could call on the spur of the moment to stay with Tad. The two of you are quite good friends and he trusts you."

  Cathie paused. "You want me to stay with Tad?"

  "Until Mr. Douglas comes back or I come back from the hospital. Would you, Cathie? I'd feel so much easier knowing you were with Tad. I'm sure Mr. Douglas wouldn't object."

  "Of course, I'll come," Cathie agreed, her spirits lifting at the prospect of possibly seeing Rob. Besides, the need for her to go to the farm was genuine. There was nothing engineered about it. And Cathie knew she was the likely choice to watch Tad. She was in full agreement with Mrs. Carver that he shouldn't be left alone or carted off to the hospital.

  "Thank you." The housekeeper's gratitude flooded over the line. "I'll ring Sharon at the hospital and let her know I'll be leaving as soon as you get here."

  "I'll leave immediately," Cathie assured her before exchanging goodbyes.

  As Cathie walked into the door of the farmhouse, Mrs. Carver walked out. Tad was quite delighted at the change, finding Cathie a willing listener to the tales of his escapades with Charlie Smith, who was now both playmate and bosom friend, Patience, Tad's half-grown yellow kitten, had become a house guest and Cathie was duly introduced to him.

  Although she tucked Tad into his bed at the top of the stairs at ten o'clock, it was a half hour later before he actually fell asleep. The last program on television didn't interest her. Cathie's thoughts were too preoccupied with Rob's eventual return to become interested in the simple plottings of an old movie. At last she flicked the set off, her gaze shifting to the closed parlor doors. She couldn't help wondering how much further Rob had got in his remodeling of the room into a den.

  Opening the heavy walnut double doors, Cathie gasped at the complete transformation of the room. The satiny sheen of the walnut paneling and shelves gave the room a rich glow, echoed by the vibrant gold carpeting. The two overstuffed chairs that had been previously hidden by protective sheets were covered in a rich gold and brown plaid that fitted so well in the masculine room. Books lined the shelves and as her fingers trailed over the titles, Cathie saw they ranged from reference books to reading material.

  Her glowing eyes roamed admiringly over the room. There was no remorse over the loss of the parlor; the room that had been used only once a year at Christmas time. This was a room a person would want to be in all year through, a cozy snug room that beckoned one to come and sit. As she lifted a mystery book from the shelves bearing the author's name of Robert Douglas, Cathie longed to do just that, but she decided to forgo that pleasure in favor of the sun porch where she could view Rob's eventual arrival.

  The night was sultry with heat lightning dancing across the southern skies. Although the walls of the old farmhouse were thick to keep the house cool in the heat of the summer and warm in the cold of the winter, the sighing south-east breeze that filtered through the open windows of the sun porch was a refreshing addition. Cathie propped herself on the blue-flowered chaise longu
e, flicking on the switch of the overhead reading lamp.

  With each page she turned, she became more and more engrossed in the suspense-filled mystery. The fluttering of a moth outside the window as it beat its wings futilely against the screen was unnoticed. The rasping screech of the crickets' song was ignored along with the drone of the cicadas. Not even the eerie hooting call of a hunting owl drew her attention away from the printed pages.

  It was two in the morning when Cathie finished reading the book, the closed pages remaining in her lap. Stifling a yawn, she glanced at her watch, surprised by how quickly the time had passed and understanding why she had such difficulty focusing her eyes on the last pages. She gazed out the window at the galaxy of stars sprinkled over the blue-velvet sky and wondered how much longer it would be before Rob came home.

  The merry songs of sparrows, robins, flickers and thrushes all blended together, their melodic sounds broken by the crowing of a rooster. Cathie's eyes opened slowly to focus on the golden kiss of dawn. Morning—it couldn't be! Cathie blinked the last of the sleep from her eyes. Her blond head turned swiftly away from the windows as she realized that Rob hadn't come back.

  A momentary shaft of fear struck her until she saw the man sleeping in the chair, his feet stretched out on an ottoman and his head propped against his arm in an uncomfortable position. A blue sports jacket lay over the back of the matching wicker chair while his tie remained loosely knotted around his neck and the white shirt unbuttoned revealing the smooth column of his throat. Rob looked so peaceful, his hair attractively disheveled as if he had raked his fingers through it before falling into an exhausted sleep. Cathie had no idea what time Rob had got back. Not a sound had disturbed her sleep, yet the light above her head had been turned off.

  Very quietly she rose to her feet, setting the book that had been on her lap on a nearby table, and tiptoed into the kitchen. The wall clock showed it was a few minutes before six o'clock. Making as little noise as possible, Cathie put the coffee on before making her way to the bathroom. After sleeping in her blue slacks and the yellow and blue striped top, she knew she was a rumpled mess. She washed the remnants of the sandman's visit from her face and applied the lipstick and mascara from her purse to her mouth and lashes before running a comb through her tousled short curls. Already the wrinkles were beginning to disappear from the synthetic material of her clothes.

  Pleased by her reflection in the mirror, Cathie walked back into the kitchen, her steps as lighthearted as her spirits. There was supreme contentment in knowing Rob was in the next room. The electric percolator was just emitting its last sighing pop when she walked in. She sniffed appreciatively at the fragrant steam as she filled a mug from the cupboard.

  "Would you pour me a cup of that coffee, too?"

  A wild leaping of her heart followed Rob's words as she spun around to stare at the tall, imposing figure framed in the kitchen doorway. "I… I didn't mean to wake you," Cathie stumbled before recovering her poise.

  "You didn't." He smiled, walking farther into the room. "It was the aroma of that coffee. It sends out its own wake-up signals.

  "She reached in the cupboard for another over-sized mug and filled it with coffee, then carried both to the dinette table where Rob was now sit-ting. "I didn't hear you come in last night."

  "I know." His brown eyes moved lazily over her face with that velvet quality that was soothing yet so disturbing. "What happened to Mrs. Carver?"

  "Her grandson was rushed to the hospital last night with an appendicitis attack, and she asked me to stay with Tad," Cathie explained, choosing a chair opposite Rob.

  She was hesitant to meet his eyes squarely, afraid that her inner excitement would be revealed. No other man had ever been able to make her senses so conscious of his presence the way Rob did. This was love and not fleeting physical attraction. And there was the realization, as she sat across the table from him with the dawn just breaking outside, that she had always loved him, almost from the first day she had met him. A fine line divided love and hate, two equally explosive emotions. Cathie had looked on Rob as an enemy, a usurper, but with a secret smile she knew it was because he was stealing her heart and not the Homeplace. Still, it was impossible to admit any of this to Rob.

  Her gaze moved unconsciously from the dark liquid in her cup to the equally dark but shadowed and enigmatic expression in Rob's eyes. It was then that she realized a silence had descended on them. The unreadable look in his eyes made her uneasy.

  "It must have been quite late when you got back," she said, wrapping her trembling fingers around the cup. "I know it was after two when I dozed off. You should have wakened me when you came in." Although she was unutterably glad he hadn't.

  Rob sipped his coffee, lowering his gaze from her face. "It was nearly four in the morning. It didn't make any sense to wake you from a sound sleep to send you home to try to go back to sleep."

  There was such a natural vitality and alertness about him that Cathie found it hard to believe that he had only had two hours' sleep himself. Yet he looked refreshed and rested. She wanted to suggest that he catch a few more hours of sleep, but she didn't know of any way to word it without sounding over-solicitous.

  "I don't need any more sleep." A crooked smile touched his mouth as he perceptively read her thoughts. "But I could eat some bacon and eggs. How about you?"

  With a self-conscious laugh, Cathie agreed, assuring him that she wasn't a novice in the kitchen. Once she had the bacon sizzling in the pan, she began setting the table while Rob excused himself to wash up.

  "You didn't mention how you liked the book," Rob commented, walking back into the room with his hair combed and in place and bringing the clean scent of soap.

  "Oh, I enjoyed it," she said fervently, then laughed. "That sounds off hand, doesn't it?" she asked, tossing him a smiling glance over her shoulder. "I just realized how hard it is to sound sincere when you're talking to the person who actually wrote the book you just read. But it's true. I honestly couldn't put it down until I'd read the last page."

  "That's sufficent praise for anyone." He stood near the stove watching as Cathie broke two eggs and slid them into the hot melted lard in the pan. "I like my eggs over easy with toast and jam on the side."

  Over their breakfast meal, Rob explained that he had driven to Omaha to meet a representative from his publishing firm who had stopped over en route to Los Angeles. Cathie received the impression that this representative was also a personal friend, but Rob didn't reveal if it was a male or female. She shifted the conversation to his past life, lightheartedly matching reminiscences of their childhood growing up on a farm.

  "How did you get that scar near your eye?" Cathie asked when Rob mentioned his tour of duty in the armed forces.

  "The truth?" His eyes gleamed with wicked mischief. He touched the scar lightly as he grinned. "I received this when I fell off my bicycle at the age of six. Not a very adventurous story, is it?"

  Cathie laughingly agreed, and began the task of clearing the table. It was a pleasant surprise when Rob joined her. With the two of them, it took almost no time at all to wash up.

  "What time does Tad get up?" Cathie asked as she put away the dish cloth and hung up the dish towel Rob had been using.

  "Around eight. Luckily he's not like me. A bowl of cereal and some juice can carry him until lunchtime," Rob said, shrugging and pouring them each a cup of coffee and carrying it onto the sun porch. After they were both comfortably seated in wicker chairs, he turned his gaze toward her with bland watchfulness. "What have you been doing with yourself lately?"

  Cathie took a deep breath. This was her chance to tell him she had broken her engagement to Clay. "Not really very much. I'm getting kind of anxious for school to start again so I can have something to do." There was a pause while she stared at the shimmering liquid in her cup as it caught the sunlight that streamed through the window. "Clay and I broke up."

  "I know you did," he said, meeting her startled look easily. "You forget t
his is a small town. The local grapevine passed that message around the day after you gave him his ring back."

  A very small "oh" came from her lips.

  "What now? Are you trying to find someone else to fill the empty niche in your fantasy?" There was a sharp, biting note in his voice.

  "What do you mean?" Cathie asked in a tight voice made weak by the constriction in her throat.

  "You don't have Clay around any more. Surely you must be looking for another partner to act out your childhood dream. I imagine as the new owner of the Homeplace I would be a likely candidate." His gaze was penetrating and harsh. Cathie couldn't meet it squarely.

  The Homeplace. How strange! A few months ago it was all so important to her. Every room held some precious memory, and yet last night the only thing she had been conscious of was how much of Rob's presence was in every room. From the outside, it still looked like the farm home of her grandparents, but on the inside where the living was done, the house was unmistakably Rob's. No, Cathie could honestly say to herself that Rob's ownership of the Homeplace had nothing to do with her love for him. One look at the grim expression on his face told her that he didn't believe her.

  "You would be a perfect choice," she agreed, pride making her lift her chin, forcing her to ignore the tears rising to intensify the green of her eyes. "Except that I've made a pact with myself that I'll only marry the man I truly love."

  One eyebrow flickered into an arch before settling back to match the other. "Do you mean you've given up your dream so easily?" The disbelief in his voice mocked her.

  "It wasn't easy." Gratefully she let her gaze slide from his to glance around the room and outside to the cornfields at the edge of the lawn and garden. "I'll miss this place. Some of my happiest moments were here." Including those with you, she added silently. "But I think I have my priorities in the right order now, and it doesn't include a marriage of convenience anymore."

  "That's good." Cathie felt his gaze narrowing on her as she continued to look away. An indignant anger and hurt pride were making themselves felt, generated by the pain in her heart. "You wouldn't have found me to be an amenable suitor like Clay."