Winter Dreams

by Robyn Neeley

  “Let me go, damn you.” Casey fought his grip in vain.

  “You’re still trying to live down what you see as your mother’s sins. I didn’t understand that five years ago. That’s why the things I said hurt you so badly that you couldn’t even write me a simple letter for five years or look me in the face.”

  “Let go of me.”

  “And you still think that if you don’t work double-time, everyone will think you’re a lazy tramp looking for a rich man to take care of you, just like your mother.”

  Casey swung at him with her open palm, but Kalin blocked her easily by tilting up an elbow.

  “It never has occurred to you that maybe what happened to your mother was more Derrick Davenport’s fault than it was hers. In fact, I’d call a man who publicly repudiated his daughter a downright bastard. The only sensible thing you’ve ever done was refuse to acknowledge him as your father.”

  Casey shoved at his chest with all her might. For all the good it did, she could just as well have shoved at the wall of Cap’n Bob’s.

  “As for your moral judgment calls on your mother, where do you get off thinking she was lazy? Most kids hate chores. As for tramp, how do you know she slept with any man other than Derrick Davenport, whom she loved?”

  “Stop it, damn you.” Casey struggled wildly and swung at him once more. “Leave me alone.”

  “I’ve designated myself your official keeper, whether you like it or not. My next step is going to be attention to your health, which appears to be in jeopardy at the moment.”

  “My health is perfect. Let go of me.”

  “Sorry. That command does not compute. Now let’s get into the subject of your physical response to me. How many other men do you go crazy for in bed?”

  “Let me go. I hate men.”

  Kalin held her still. When she tried to kick him, he jerked her into his arms and held her despite her attempts to escape.

  “Your desperation belies you, my love. Cut that out, Casey Gray, or I’ll have to prove you’re a liar. Do you know how I’ll do that? I’m so glad you asked. I’ll begin by kissing you. After you start getting interested in that, I’ll unbutton your dress.” He brought one hand around to tease the top button of her red dress. “Then I’ll touch you, and you’ll make that funny sound you always make, and the next thing I know, you’ll be all over me.”

  Casey panted and fought. “You’re mighty sure of yourself, Kalin McBryde.” Just hearing what he’d do made her feel weak.

  Kalin laughed and lifted her off her feet. “With you, I am. The bad thing is you don’t seem to understand that my physical response to you is precisely the same. For instance, if you really wanted to shut me up, you’d start by kissing me. After I got interested in that, you could unbutton my shirt and touch me. Once you had me in a thoroughly weakened condition from that — ”

  “I’ll weaken you.” She tried to hook his leg with her foot.

  “No, darling. You’re going about it all wrong.” He laughed in earnest now, and it infuriated Casey. “You’re supposed to kiss me instead of kick me. Maybe I haven’t made myself totally clear.”

  She pinched his arm.

  “You want proof? Coming right up.” He tightened his grip.

  Casey could hardly breathe. She saw his intent too late to turn her face aside. The next instant his lips covered hers. He kissed her until she forgot she wanted to kill him. A few seconds later she forgot her anger and progressed to the stage of wishing he’d touch her all over. She clung desperately to him.

  Kalin lifted his head and stared at her. “You see? This is why I can’t walk away from you, even though I know I’m courting disaster, that you’ll always find a reason to run off to work, or you’ll think the restaurant is more important than our problems. Believe me, I wish I could walk away.”

  He let go of her and stepped back.

  Stunned, Casey leaned against the wall and stared at him.

  “I’m going,” Kalin said. “Otherwise, I’ll stay and say a few more things I’m sure you’re dying to hear.” He backed slowly away. “Oh, and by the way,” he added. “Tomorrow’s a holiday. Do you know what that is? Be ready tomorrow morning. You’re due a lesson in fly casting.” He turned and walked away, down the rows of cars.

  Too late, Casey found her voice. She yelled after his departing vehicle, “I’m not going fishing with you. I’m too busy studying for law school.”

  Chapter 11

  Casey finished out the night in a daze of exhaustion — both emotional and physical — and fell into bed at dawn. After sleeping a few hours, she arose, cooked a tempting cheese casserole for her grandmother’s breakfast, and drove to the hospital.

  “How are you and that young man coming along?” Alice asked as Casey unpacked the breakfast box and arranged the items on one of Alice’s Blue Willow plates.

  Dr. Johnson had just entered the room, so Casey tried evasive tactics. “We’re just friends, Granny.”

  She carried the plate to the over-bed table and arranged it artistically before rolling it into position.

  “Hummph,” Alice grumbled. “And if that’s more custard, I’m not eating it. Cook me some of those pecan pancakes your young man used to like. If an old woman can’t eat what she wants during her last days, the world’s in a pretty mess.”

  Casey glanced up, caught the doctor’s sympathetic smile, and maintained a straight face. “Tomorrow morning, Granny.”

  “Well? Are you going to marry him or not? Half the town is laying bets on whether he can attract your attention away from that silly restaurant long enough to consider his proposal.”

  Casey almost choked. “Granny, Kalin hasn’t asked me to marry him, and I doubt if he will.”

  “I want you to live in my house,” Alice said, as if Casey hadn’t spoken. “Jack Johnson says Kalin loves this area, and I don’t like what city life has done to you.”

  Casey groaned mentally and spooned up a bite of the cheese casserole for Alice, thankful she hadn’t cooked a custard.

  “And don’t let him give you one of those frippery diamond engagement rings. The stone will wind up in someone’s breakfast biscuit one morning, and then where will you be?”

  “You’re right, Granny.”

  “If you get married in the next few days, I can tell Jack to set me up with a wheelchair so I can be at the church.”

  “Granny, I am not getting married. Besides, Kalin is pleading a case in court, so he can’t oblige you, either.”

  “I’ve already told you how I feel about couples living together.”

  “Don’t worry.” Casey laid out a napkin.

  “You’d better worry that I don’t recover the use of my good right hand, young lady.”

  Casey grinned and backed off. “If that’s what it takes to get you well, I hope you do.”

  Alice subsided, although she maintained her stern expression. “Love has to be whole-hearted if it’s going to survive the hard times.”

  “Yes, Granny.”

  Alice’s skin suddenly took on a gray tinge that frightened Casey into motioning the doctor toward the bedside.

  “If you can’t forgive him, you’re better off unmarried the rest of your days.” The old woman’s words slurred.

  “Don’t talk anymore, Granny. Just rest.”

  Alice began to cough, struggling to say something else. Dr. Johnson shooed Casey aside and pushed the call button. Casey, standing in the farthest corner of the room out of the way, felt fear clutch her heart as Alice faded into unconsciousness.

  Casey later recalled the week following as a series of vignettes: Kalin standing beside Alice’s bed in his favorite jeans and plaid flannel shirt; Kalin appearing every night with coffee in paper cups and food he’d picked up on the way over from Houston; Kalin, still wearing the suit he’d worn
in court, holding her in his lap while she dozed with her head on his shoulder.

  Dr. Johnson didn’t mince words when he told Casey that Alice had suffered another stroke, and that the old woman was now in a coma she would probably never emerge from.

  Casey closed her eyes and felt Kalin’s arms go around her. He asked the questions she needed answered when she was too stricken to ask them herself and supported her as she heard the answers.

  “I’ll bring you a comfortable chair,” Kalin said gently, as Casey stood, trembling, in his arms. “You’ll probably want to be here most of the time. You might as well be comfortable.”

  She nodded, unable to speak.

  Kalin’s hand smoothed her hair. “Did you open your Christmas present this morning?”

  Drawing in a shaky breath, Casey forced herself to speak through the closure of her throat. “I always open it at night. Thanks for the chair, by the way.”

  Last night’s gift had been an aluminum lawn chair, suitable for pier or bank fishing.

  “That’s for the fishing trip you’re going to invite me on,” he said.

  Casey smiled, suddenly feeling better. “I’ll bet I can guess what tonight’s long-skinny-package-that’s-shaped-like-a-fishing-rod contains.”

  “I’ve always said you were sharp.” He kissed her brow lightly. “I’ll bet you aced the LSAT.”

  “Don’t remind me of that stupid test. I must have been crazy to let Merrick railroad me into actually taking it.”

  His blue eyes were tender in his lean, tanned face, and his thick brows made straight, relaxed slashes across his forehead.

  She added, “I was having delusions of adequacy.”

  “What?”

  “It gave me great pleasure to daydream about outscoring you.”

  “Keep on dreaming, sweetheart. You can outscore me anytime,” Kalin said, chuckling. “When you get your law degree, you can come into my office. I need a partner like you.”

  She returned to Alice’s bedside, realizing that with Kalin sitting beside her, holding her hand and watching over her with concern, she would never feel alone.

  However, she felt like a zombie the rest of the time. She turned daily operations at Cap’n Bob’s over to Lydia, who showed surprising talent for restaurant management so long as Casey gave her detailed instructions every morning. Even with the restaurant off her mind, she found she still couldn’t rest well.

  All Alice’s friends, and many of Casey’s, shared Casey’s bedside vigil. Flowers and cards filled the small room, many mentioning things Casey had baked the senders years before.

  Kalin appeared every evening to bully her into leaving Alice’s bedside long enough to eat. Then he would sit beside her far into the night, entertaining her with tales of his practice, or just being with her.

  She read his new manuscript and wrote him a short critique on it. Reading his latest novel made her feel almost as though she had something to do with his success, and most of the two pages she wrote praised his writing and the story.

  “I never thought I’d get encouragement of this sort from you,” he said. “Are you sure it was my manuscript you read?”

  The following evening, he brought her a rough draft of his latest effort and laid it on Alice’s bedside table.

  “Tell me about your fishing trips with your grandparents,” he said. “Your grandfather told me himself that he taught you how to bait a hook and watch a cork.”

  Casey pretended ignorance. “Grandpa was a busy man. He didn’t have time to fish.”

  “The guy who won the bass tournament at Lake Sam Rayburn didn’t have time to fish?”

  Thus encouraged, Casey recounted the tale of her grandfather’s win. She loved talking about her memories with someone who comprehended that she was about to lose the bulwark of her childhood. But she could tell him almost nothing about her mother, or her mother’s childhood.

  Kalin sighed and kissed her forehead. “That’s too bad, darling. Talking to people who knew her as a child would probably give you a whole new outlook on her. I’ve always wondered if she wasn’t fighting for you when she took Davenport to court.”

  “Fighting for me?” Casey repeated, astonished.

  His brilliant eyes held hers. “I don’t think she cared two cents for the notoriety and publicity. I think she was trying to safeguard her child’s heritage.”

  Casey stared at him, startled.

  “If your grandmother regains consciousness, ask her. Ask people who remember your mother.”

  “I will. Thank you for telling me,” she said, stunned.

  One afternoon as she sat alone holding Alice’s hand, she suddenly understood what Kalin had needed from her five years ago, and why he felt hurt when she hadn’t given it.

  He had needed her to listen while he talked about his father. The more scandals and failed investments he uncovered, the more he had needed her sympathy and understanding.

  Just her presence would have been sufficient. But she had been busy thinking about cooking school, and whether she’d have enough money saved. She had lost the man she loved.

  Casey shuddered with horror at her own blind stupidity. She had thought she loved Kalin, but she hadn’t offered him a tenth of the compassion and love he had given her the past few days.

  He would never take another chance on her. Why should he? So far as he could see, she hadn’t changed a bit in five years. He’d said as much, and she knew he was right.

  Casey put her head down on the bed and wept. Soon her mild bout of tears turned into deep, wrenching sobs. No wonder Kalin had spurned her when she had begged him to come back to her. He’d probably known then that she wasn’t going to change.

  “You’re utterly worn out,” Bonnie told her that afternoon after one glance at her face. “What you need to do is go home and lie down. Everything looks better after a good night’s sleep.”

  Casey agreed and wondered just how awful she looked.

  “I’m going to stay all night,” Bonnie said. “Poor Dr. Johnson was just telling me how worried is about you.”

  “I’m never sick.” Casey studied Alice. The old woman lay much as she had for the past few days, unmoving unless the nurses turned her. “Thanks, Bonnie. I’ll go home and rest a while.”

  The cell phone Kalin had given her chimed, and she took it from her pocket, reminded yet again of his care for her. “Yes, I’m fine, Kalin. Bonnie’s here, and I’m going home to rest.”

  Bonnie tactfully went outside the room to give her privacy.

  “I’ll be tied up with a client and won’t be able to get there until later tonight,” he said.

  “Kalin, I need to tell you something.”

  “Later, darling. Go home and to bed.”

  “You were right. I was trying to prove I wasn’t like my mother. I deserved everything you said to me five years ago. I’m sorry it took me this long to realize it.”

  “If you start crying, I’ll come over there and beat you.” Kalin sounded alarmed. “What’s caused this?”

  Casey got a grip on herself. “I just wanted to tell you now, while it was on my mind.” As if it wouldn’t be on her mind for quite some time to come, she thought, with wry humor.

  “Go to bed, Casey. Now. I’ll be over later tonight.”

  “You don’t have to come tonight. It’s too long a drive.”

  “Of course I’m coming,” he said. “Now go home to bed. I want to see you looking refreshed when I get there.”

  Casey went home, shooed on her way by Bonnie, and soon found herself wandering around the house like a lost spirit. She assessed the kitchen table, loaded with food offerings. The refrigerator was full to bursting. She wouldn’t have to cook for a month. The freezer overflowed with fish, ducks, shrimp, and squirrels. The people she had baked for over the years
had returned the favor in full.

  She wandered into the living room and stared at the Christmas tree she sat gazing at every night. She had one unopened gift left, which meant — she checked her watch and smiled at the rising moon on the face — tonight was Old Christmas Eve. Still smiling, she glanced at the gifts Kalin had given her, most of them designed to convince her that fishing was good for the body and the soul.

  The last two presents had been cooking gear, a heart-shaped tart pan and a set of heart-shaped cookie cutters. Perhaps she’d use them to bake something for him.

  The final gift was a square box that had been professionally wrapped. Unlike the others, it had an envelope attached. She opened it, extracted the card it contained, and read: “Merry Old Christmas, Darling, From Someone Who Loves You.”

  She caught her breath and ripped off the green foil wrap and opened the box inside. She lifted out a framed, professionally done photograph of a young, blond woman, scarcely more than a child, whose fragile bone structure was Casey’s own.

  Casey sat back, balancing the photograph on her knees. The woman’s eyes were large and blue and gazed upon the world with an innocent vulnerability that made one long to protect her. Her blond hair was straight and thick, and her mouth was Casey’s, wide and generous.

  Casey had never seen the photograph before, and she wondered where Kalin had found it.

  He had been right, she realized. The child-woman in the picture was a woman who could easily become a victim of circumstances and her own heart. The notoriety-seeking tramp Casey had tried for years to live down had never existed.

  For the second time that day, Casey cried, this time for the time she’d wasted feeling ashamed of someone who had, as Kalin pointed out, loved her and fought for her.

  Propping the photograph beneath the tree, Casey got to her feet. She wandered into her bedroom, noting that the pale, winter sun was setting. Then she remembered it was Old Christmas Eve.

  She carried her pillow and two quilts out to the barn. There, she built up a pile of hay and spread one quilt on it, and used the other as a blanket.