He snapped up his hat and turned toward the door. "I wish to God I'd never laid eyes on you. It wasn't worth it." He jerked open the door, giving her one final glare. "Let me know what you decide."
Feeling as if the bones had been stripped from her body, Kate numbly sat down on the bench, her whole body trembling. She didn't understand why he had attacked her that way. Locking one arm around her middle, she covered her eyes, despair washing over her. She had to be honest. She did know why. Because she realized what he'd said was absolutely true. She was still running. Maybe she'd been running all her life.
* * *
Kate didn't go to bed at all that night. She'd remained in the tack room for a long time after Tanner left, too fragmented to pull herself together. By the time she made the long walk back up the hill, the sky had lost its color and the stars were starting to poke through. She found a note from Mark, explaining that Tanner had told him it was all right to go to bed, that Tanner would check Burt.
Kate checked on Burt and Scott, then went upstairs to kiss Mark good-night. Tanner's door was closed, and there was no light under it. Kate peeled the quilt off her own bed and went back downstairs. She curled up in the corner of the sofa, feeling raw, as if some protective outer layer had just been peeled away. She had challenged Tanner about not sharing himself with her, but what she'd been doing was even worse. She'd skirted the truth. She'd never been forced to recognize that, but she'd been doing it for a long time, skirting the truth about herself. The truth was that she was a coward. She had never seen herself in that light before. Because of the way she'd grown up and the things she'd done with her father and grandfather, she'd always thought she had a fair amount of backbone. But she had let Roger bully her because she was afraid of the consequences if she fought back. She'd convinced herself that she'd come to the Circle S so she would have time to get herself together, but the truth was that hiding from him was easier than confronting him.
And Tanner was right: she hadn't made even the most casual reference to the future, not even once. Nor had she ever once indicated that she planned on staying. She hadn't even told him that she loved him. It was her way of being cautious. But it wasn't being cautious. It was her way of skirting the truth. No wonder Tanner expected her to walk. She'd given him nothing to indicate otherwise.
But then, Tanner hadn't mentioned love either – or anything about the future. Except with Tanner, it was different. He had told her about his past, and for him to do that, he would have had to see their future as a given. And she knew he loved her – and she also knew that he would never put those feelings into words until he was absolutely sure of her.
Feeling alone and more miserable than she had ever thought possible, she couldn't stop the tears. Finally she developed such a headache that she couldn't have slept if she'd wanted to. She watched the first fingers of dawn creep above the eastern horizon.
The sky turned from midnight blue to flame and coral, the bellies of the clouds brushed with indigo and pink. It was so beautiful – and after a little over a week, she might never see it again. That thought set off a new rush of tears, and she brushed them away with the side of her hand. Her eyes nearly swollen shut and her nose plugged solid, she pulled another tissue from the box, then tugged the quilt back around her shoulders. God, but she had royally screwed up – and she had no one to blame but herself. And she didn't have a clue how to fix it.
"It's five o'clock. Why aren't you in bed?"
Her heart lurching in fright, Kate whirled, her stomach dropping like a rock when she saw Tanner standing at the bottom of the stairs. She hadn't heard a sound. Not a single sound. Remembering the mess her face was in, she turned back and faced the windows, quickly wiping her nose. She was afraid that if she tried to say anything, she would start crying again, and that would only make matters worse. If they could get worse. Swallowing the clog in her throat, she made a motion toward the windows. "I was just watching the sunrise," she said, her voice thick.
He came over and lifted the corner of the quilt, then released it and dragged his hand down his face. Jamming his hands on his hips, he stared out one of the windows; then with a heavy sigh, he sat down on the coffee table and hunched over, his forearms resting across his thighs. Finally he raised his head. "You haven't been to bed, have you?" he asked gruffly.
Unable to meet his gaze, Kate shook her head.
He fingered the edge of the quilt, his expression somber; then he reached out and took her hand.
Grateful for that one small gesture, Kate locked her jaw against the intense ache filling her chest, her eyes welling up again. Tightening her fingers around his in a death grip, she nearly broke down when he folded her hand between both of his. His head bent, he rubbed his thumb across her nails in solemn preoccupation. "I don't know what to say, Kate," he said, his voice uneven.
Kate wiped her face with the heel of her hand, knowing she was only going to get one chance to make things right. Struggling against the unrelenting cramp in her throat, she tightened her grip on his hand and spoke, her voice shaking. "You were right, Tanner," she whispered brokenly. "I haven't talked about us or the future. I didn't realize until last night that that's my defense mechanism, just like aloofness is yours." Afraid she was going to start crying in earnest, she forced down a deep breath, fresh tears slipping down her face. She balled up the damp tissue in her free hand, then looked up at the ceiling, reaching deep down for control. Finally she was able to will away the awful constriction. "I never told you how much this means to me. And I never told you how much I never want to leave here." Her voice broke, and she waited for a moment, waited until she knew she could get the words out without coming completely apart. Tightening her fingers around his, she took a tremulous breath and continued, her voice fragmenting. "And I never told you how much I love you. But that was also part of my defense mechanism." She squeezed his hand, silently imploring him to look at her, and when he raised his head, she could barely see him. "I can't promise you much," she whispered unevenly. "But one thing I can promise you is that I will never just disappear. When I get my life figured out, you will be the first to know."
The need to cry disabling her, and unable to see, Kate started to wipe her face on her sleeve, but Tanner brushed her hand away, wiping away her tears with his hand. That almost finished her off, and a sob nearly escaped, but she clenched her jaw, swearing she would suffocate before she broke down in front of him. He leaned over and pulled another tissue from the box, then caught her nose. "Blow," he commanded gruffly.
Caught completely off guard by his actions, she gave a surprised little laugh and caught at his wrist. "Tanner—"
"Blow," he instructed again. He met her gaze, a tiny flicker of humor appearing in his eyes, and her heart lifted just a fraction. Feeling a little foolish and a little bit forgiven, she complied. He dropped the tissue on the pile at her elbow, then brushed the tangle of hair back off her face. "Better?" he asked, his tone still gruff.
It was better – not because she'd blown her nose, but because he was there, and because he was being kind to her. But she couldn't tell him that.
He rose, pulling her upward. "Come on."
Kate shed the blanket and untangled her feet, giving him a bewildered look.
He waited until she was standing, then he swept up the quilt. "You're going to bed," he said in response to her silent query.
She resisted the tug of his hand. "I can't, Tanner. The boys and Burt—"
"I can take care of Burt and the boys. You're going to bed."
He went with her upstairs, and Kate fought more tears with every step. He was being kind. But he didn't look at her, and she knew just how far he'd withdrawn when he didn't stop at his door but led her across to her room. He closed the blind and pulled the quilt over her, then went to the bathroom and got a cold compress for her face.
His expression drawn, he crouched down by the bed and pulled her hair out of the way, then wiped her face. Another huge wave of despair rolled through her.
Her vision blurring, she caught his hand. "I'm so sorry, Tanner," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I didn't see what I was doing."
He finally met her gaze, his expression solemn. "I know you didn't." He leaned over and pulled the quilt over her shoulders. "Now go to sleep," he said, his voice strained.
Feeling as if her heart were in tatters, Kate closed her eyes, more tears seeping out from beneath her lashes. She heard the door close behind him, and she pressed the cold compress over her face. God, she didn't know what she would do if he shut her out.
* * *
Chapter 14
«^»
The next week was a bad one for Kate. Tanner remained distant, almost as though he had physically separated himself from everyone, but in other ways there was a new level of carefulness between them. As if they both recognized the fact that they were on shaky ground, with neither of them wanting to cause any more damage. Kate couldn't define it, really, but it showed up in a dozen little ways, like when she'd mended several of his shirts, and he made a point of thanking her. And when he took a basket of laundry upstairs, she made sure she let him know she appreciated it.
But their conversation was always strained and meager, as if they were skirting a danger zone – and Kate had slept alone ever since the phone call. She often lay awake, listening for sounds from his room, hoping that something, anything, would bring him to her. But she knew that wouldn't happen, and she missed him so much that she felt as if someone had torn her heart out. But then she would catch him watching her, his eyes so stark and somber, and she would have to go upstairs and lock herself in the bathroom. She hadn't cried as many tears in her whole life as she cried in that one week.
She stood at the kitchen sink, scrubbing new potatoes that Cyrus had got from the Hutterites, her expression pensive. It was Friday, exactly one week since the hospital had phoned, but it felt like an eternity. She hadn't been sleeping that well, and even scrubbing potatoes seemed to take an enormous amount of effort. And she hadn't even thought about what she was going to do now. Burt had made it plain that he expected her to be there when he came home, and Kate wanted to be there. But she didn't knew how to undo the damage she'd done without it seeming like a blatant attempt to do just that. It had to be honest…
"Cyrus is cheating at cards."
Kate looked down at Scott, who was standing watching her. "Pardon?"
He reached into the sink and took one of the carrots she'd already cleaned. "Cyrus is cheating at cards."
Kate dropped the potato she'd just cleaned in the pot, then gave him a scolding look. "Who told you that?"
"Burt." He took a bite, then connected drops of water on the counter. He didn't say anything for the longest time; then he spoke, his voice uneven. "Will Burt be scared in the hospital?"
Kate dried her hands, then crouched down in front of him, taking him by the shoulders. "No, honey," she said quietly. "He's net going to be scared. He might get lonely, and there will be times when he'll be discouraged, but he won't be scared."
"Will we be able to go see him?"
She wiped a smudge of dirt off his cheek. "I don't know if we'll be able to go see him or net, but we'll be able to phone him." She lifted his chin and made him look at her. "He's going to be fine, Scotty. Honest. He might even make some new friends."
He looked at his mother, his small face solemn. Then his eyes filled up, and his mouth started to tremble. "I just wouldn't want him to be sad," he whispered.
Kate hugged him, cuddling him close, not wanting to break down in front of her small son. She couldn't do that to him. Struggling against the awful pressure in her chest, she smoothed down his hair. "I think you need to talk to Burt about this, Scott," she said, her voice unsteady. "It'll make you feel better. Honest."
She felt him dash away his tears; then he pulled out of her arms. Wiping away a smear of moisture on his cheek, she lifted his face again. "Okay?"
He nodded.
Kate watched him return to Burt's room; then she turned and headed for the stairs, unable to hold back the tears. God, she wished she would quit feeling so damned wretched. She locked herself in the bathroom and had a good cry, then used the toilet, giving a sigh of resignation when she saw the dime-size stain in her panties. No wonder she was feeling so moody. She reached for the supplies under the vanity, then went stock-still, a fizzling sensation coursing through her. She counted back in her head, then closed her eyes, the fizzling sensation turning into a cold rush. Tired. Tears. A rusty colored stain. She should have known.
She numbly attended to herself, suddenly so shaky, she wasn't sure her legs were going to hold her. She was pregnant. As sure as anything, she was pregnant. Suddenly too shaky to stand, she sat down on the edge of the tub, trying to remain rational. Except for that very first time, he had always been adamant about using something. But obviously something had gone wrong at least once. Lord, she couldn't believe it. She was going to have Tanner McCall's baby. Elation washed through her in one fantastic rush, and she started to tremble all over. Sliding to the floor, she drew up her knees and rested her forehead against them, so weak from shock that she felt light-headed. A baby. She couldn't be more thrilled – or more scared. She couldn't tell Tanner – not now. Not after this past week. Not until she put her own life in order. Which meant she was going to have to deal with Roger, and she was going to have to face him soon. Locking her arms tighter around her legs, she raised her head and stared into space, wondering how Tanner would react when she told him she would be leaving, that she was going back to settle her life.
Kate stopped, a shock of realization blossoming in her.
That was what he'd needed her to do all along. He needed her to make the conscious decision to shed her past, to get on with her life. More than that, he needed to know that she was here not by accident, but by choice.
At first it was all so simple, but the more Kate thought about it, the more complex it became. And by late that afternoon she was having such an attack of self-doubt that she changed her mind a dozen times about what to do. The only thing she was sure of was that whatever action she took, it was going to have to be quick. She could not continue to do this to him, keeping him hanging the way she had.
When he came in for supper, his expression strained, she felt even worse. She had been so unfair to him. Somehow she got through the meal and the rest of the evening, but as soon as it was humanly possible, she went to bed, feeling wretched and miserable and unhappy, and like such a traitor. She'd been so blind to what she'd been doing to him. So blind.
She spent most of that night worrying about it, but by morning she'd come to at least one decision. She was not going to tell Tanner that she was certain she was pregnant – not before she dealt with Roger. If Tanner knew, he would insist on going with her. Without question, his presence would make things a hundred times easier for her, but for her own self-respect, she had to do this on her own. No one else could do it for her.
But that wasn't the only reason why she didn't want to tell him. She wanted to wait until she had absolute medical confirmation that she was pregnant. But more importantly, she wanted to tell him when all this was behind them, when they were able to go on without looking back.
She knew it was going to be hard to face him, so she put it off until Saturday night. She probably would have put it off longer, but Tanner had made arrangements to check Burt into the hospital on Sunday evening, which meant they would be leaving the Circle S sometime the next afternoon.
Finally it was time to talk to him alone. She put the boys in bed and got Burt settled for the night, then she stood out in the kitchen, her heart hammering and her stomach in a mess. All she had to do was explain that she was going back to B.C., and that she wanted to go, while Burt was in the hospital, when she wasn't needed here. It was straightforward and direct, and it shouldn't have scared her to death. But it did. God, but it did.
Tanner was at his desk going over a long column of figures, a cold cup of coffee by his elbow, the ang
le of the banker's lamp obscuring his face in shadows. She paused, nearly paralyzed with doubt. Knowing she could not put this off any longer, she spoke, her voice unnatural. "I need to talk to you, Tanner."
He glanced up, stared at her for an instant, then looked back down. "Then talk."
Not sure how long she could keep herself together, she reached down and touched the base of the lamp, then folded her arms. "I think I'd better go back to B.C. while Burt's gone. I've got to put an end to this mess with the boys' father."
Tanner didn't even look up. His voice had a hard edge of finality to it when he responded. "Fine."
Feeling as if solid ground was slipping away from beneath her, Kate hugged herself and swallowed hard, knowing she had to reach him, to make him understand – or she wouldn't be coming back at all. "I know I let you down," she whispered, her voice breaking. "And I know you don't have a whole lot of faith in me, but I'm trying, Tanner. You've got to believe I'm trying." She looked away, clenching her jaw until the awful contraction eased, trying to will away the swell of tears. There was a long strained silence, then she quickly wiped her face and huddled in the warmth of her arms. "I've got to go back and do this. I've got to deal with Roger, and I've got to make sure my divorce gets finalized. I've got to settle it once and for all."
He didn't respond. He continued to check figures on the list as if he hadn't heard her, and fear swept through her. Nothing. God, nothing. Her breath jammed up in her throat. "Or don't you care?" she whispered, fear making her voice tremble.
He didn't move; then he slammed the pencil down and rose abruptly from his chair, his sudden action making her heart lurch. He went over to the door leading to the veranda and braced his hand on the frame, staring out through the screen. He didn't say anything for a moment, then he spoke, his tone low and vehement. "After you settle all this, are you coming back here, or is that up for grabs, too?"
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