Considering Kate

by Nora Roberts

  Natasha picked up the dinosaur, smiled as she turned it in her hands. “I know what it is to fall in love with a child who didn’t come from you. One who walks into your life already formed and makes such a difference in your life. I don’t question that you would love him as your own, Katie.”

  “Then why are you worried?”

  “Because you’re my baby,” Natasha said as she set the toy aside. “I don’t want you to be hurt. You’re ready to open your heart and your life. But that doesn’t mean Brody is.”

  “He cares for me.” She was sure of it. She couldn’t be mistaken. But the worry niggled at her. “He’s just cautious.”

  “He’s a good man, and I have no doubt he cares for and about you. But, Katie, you don’t say he loves you.”

  “I don’t know if he does.” Frustrated, Kate got to her feet. “Or if he loves me, if he knows it himself. That’s why I’m trying to be patient. I’m trying to be practical. But, Mama, I ache.”

  “Baby.” Murmuring, Natasha drew Kate into her arms, stroked her hair. “Love isn’t tidy. It won’t be, not even for you.”

  “I can be patient. For a little while,” she added on a watery laugh. “I’m going to make it work.” She closed her eyes tight. “I can make it work.”

  It was hard not to go over to the job site. She’d had to stop herself a half a dozen times from strolling over and seeing the progress. And seeing Brody. She made it easier on herself by spending part of the afternoon making and receiving calls in response to the ad she’d taken for her school.

  The Kimball School of Dance would open in April, and she already had six potential students. There was an interview scheduled for the following week for an article in the local paper. That, she was sure, would generate more interest, more calls, more students.

  A few more weeks, she thought as she pulled up behind Brody’s truck in his driveway, and a new phase of her professional life would begin. She didn’t intend for the next phase of her personal life to lag far behind.

  He came to the door in his bare feet and smelling of crayons. The fact that she could find that both sexy and endearing in a grown man showed her just how far gone she was already.

  “Hi. Sorry to drop by unannounced, but I have something for Jack.”

  “No, that’s okay.” He wiped at the magic marker staining his fingertips. “We’re just in the middle… In the kitchen,” he said, gesturing. “But it isn’t pretty.”

  “The process of school projects rarely is.”

  It surprised him that she’d remembered the project. Had he talked about it too much? Brody wondered as he followed her back to the kitchen. He was pretty sure he’d only mentioned it—maybe moaned a little—in passing.

  She stepped into the kitchen ahead of him. Surveyed the scene.

  Jack was kneeling on a chair at the kitchen table, hunkered over a sheet of poster board and busily applying his crayon to the inside of an outline that resembled a large pig—as seen by Salvador Dalí.

  Several picture books on dinosaurs were open on the table, along with illustrations probably printed off the computer. There was a scatter of plastic and rubber toys as well, and a forest of crayons, markers, pencils.

  A pair of work boots and a pair of child’s sneakers were kicked into a corner. A large pitcher half full of some violently red liquid sat on the counter. As Jack’s mouth was liberally stained the same color, Kate assumed it was a beverage and not paint.

  As she stepped in, her shoe stuck to the floor, then released with a little sucking sound.

  “We just had a little accident with Kool-Aid,” Brody explained when she glanced down. “I guess I missed a couple spots on the cleanup.”

  “Hi, Kate.” Jack looked up and bounced. “I’m making dinosaurs.”

  “So I see. And what kind is this?”

  “It’s a Stag-e-o-saurous. See? Here he is in the book. Me and Dad, we don’t draw very good.”

  “But you color really well,” she said, admiring the bright green head on his current drawing.

  “You gotta stay inside the lines. That’s why we drew them really thick.”

  “Very sensible.” She rested her chin on the top of his head and studied the poster.

  She saw the light pencil marks where Brody had drawn straight lines for the lettering of the header. Jack had titled his piece A Parade Of Dinosaurs. She found it apt, as his drawings marched over the poster in a long squiggly dance.

  “You’re doing such a good job, I don’t think you’re going to need the tool I brought along for you.”

  “Is it a hammer?”

  “Afraid not.” She reached into her bag, pulled it out. “It’s a deadly predator.”

  “It’s a T-Rex! Look, Dad. They ate everybody.”

  “Very scary,” Brody agreed and laid a hand on his son’s shoulder.

  “Can I take it into school? ’Cause look, its arms and legs move and everything. His mouth goes chomp. Can I?”

  “I think it’d be a good visual aid to your project, don’t you, Dad? And there’s this little booklet here that talks about how he lived, and when, and how he ate everybody.”

  “Couldn’t hurt. Jack, aren’t you going to thank Kate?”

  “Thanks, Kate.” Jack marched the dinosaur across the poster. “Thanks a lot. He’s really good.”

  “You’re welcome a lot. How about a kiss?”

  He grinned and covered his face with his hands. “Nuh-uh.”

  “Okay, I’ll just kiss your dad.” She turned her head before Brody could react and closed her mouth firmly over his.

  He avoided kissing her, touching her, when Jack was around. That, Kate decided, deliberately sliding her arms around Brody’s waist, would have to change.

  Jack made gagging noises behind his hands. But he was watching carefully, and there was a funny fluttering in his stomach.

  “A woman’s got to take her kisses where she finds them,” Kate stated, easing back while Brody stood flustered. “Now, my work is done, I have to go.”

  “Aw, can’t you stay? You can help draw the dinosaurs. We’re going to have sloppy burgers for dinner.”

  “As delightful as that is, I can’t. I have an appointment in town.” Which was true. But she thought the ambush—the drop-by, she corrected—would be more effective if she kept it brief and casual. “Maybe, this weekend if you’re not busy, we can go to the movies again.”

  “All right!”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Brody. No, no,” she said when he turned. “I know the way out. Get back to your dinosaurs.”

  “Thanks for coming by,” he said, and said nothing else, not even when he heard her close the front door.

  “Dad?”

  “Hmm.”

  “Do you like kissing Kate?”

  “Yeah. I mean…” Okay, Brody thought, here we go. Because Jack was watching him carefully, he sat. “It’s kind of hard to explain, but when you get older… Most guys like kissing girls.”

  “Just the pretty ones?”

  “No, well, no. But girls you like.”

  “And we like Kate, right?”

  “Sure we do.” Brody breathed a sigh of relief that the discussion hadn’t deepened into some stickier area of sex education. Not yet, he thought. Not quite yet.

  “Dad?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you going to marry Kate?”

  “Am I—” His shock was no less than if Jack had suddenly kicked his chair out from under him. “Jeez, Jack, where did that come from?”

  “’Cause you like her, and you like kissing her, and you don’t have a wife. Rod’s mom and dad, sometimes they kiss each other in the kitchen, too.”

  “Not everybody…people kiss without getting married.” Oh, man. “Marriage is a really important thing. You should know somebody really well, and understand them, and like them.”

  “You know Kate, and you like her.”

  Brody distinctly felt a single line of sweat dribble down his spine. “Sure I do. Yeah. But
I know a lot of people, Jacks.” Feeling trapped, Brody pushed away from the table and got down two clean glasses. “I don’t marry them. You need to love someone to marry them.”

  “Don’t you love Kate?”

  He opened his mouth, closed it again. Funny, he thought, how much tougher it was to lie to your son than it was to lie to yourself. The simplest answer was that he didn’t know. He wasn’t sure what was building inside him when it came to Kate Kimball.

  “It’s complicated, Jack.”

  “How come?”

  Questions about sex, Brody decided, would have been easier after all. He set the glasses down, came back to sit. “I loved your mother. You know that, right?”

  “Uh-huh. She was pretty, too. And you took care of each other and me until she had to go to heaven. I wish she didn’t have to go.”

  “I know. Me, too. The thing is, Jack, after she had to go, it was really good for me to just concentrate on loving you. That worked really well for me. And we’ve done all right, haven’t we?”

  “Yeah. We’re a team.”

  “You bet we are.” Brody held out his hand so Jack could give him a high five. “Now let’s see what this team can do with dinosaurs.”

  “Okay.” Jack picked up his crayon. His eyes darted up to his father’s face once. He liked that they were a team. But he liked to pretend that maybe Kate was part of the team, too.

  Chapter Eight

  Brody set the first base cabinet in place, checked his level. He could hear, if he paid attention, the whirl of the drill from downstairs as one of his crew finished up the punch-out work on the main level. Up here there was the whoosh and thunk of nail guns and the whirl of saws, as other men worked in the bedroom of Kate’s apartment.

  It was going to be a hell of a nice space, Brody thought. The perfect apartment for a single, or a couple without children. It was a little too tight to offer a family a comfortable fit, he thought as he crouched to adjust his level.

  Then he just stayed there, staring into space.

  Are you going to marry her?

  Why the devil had Jack put that idea into the air? Made everything sticky. He wasn’t thinking about marriage. Couldn’t afford to think about it. He had a kid to consider, and his business was just getting off the ground. He had a rambling, drafty old house that was barely half finished.

  It simply wasn’t the time to start thinking of adding someone else to the mix by getting married.

  He’d jumped into that situation once before. He didn’t regret it, not a minute of it. But he had to admit the timing had been lousy, the situation difficult for everyone involved. What was the point of heading back in that sort of direction when his life was still so much in flux?

  Just asking for trouble, he decided.

  Besides, Kate wouldn’t be thinking about marriage. Would she? Of course not. She’d barely settled back into town herself. She had her school to think about. She had her freedom.

  She spoke French, he thought irrelevantly. She’d been to France. And England and Russia. She might want to go back. Why wouldn’t she want that? And he was anchored in West Virginia with a child.

  Anyway, he and Connie had been stupid in love. Young and stupid, he thought with a gentle tug of sentiment. He and Kate were grown-ups. Sensible people who enjoyed each other’s company.

  Too sensible to get starry-eyed.

  The hand that dropped on his shoulder had him jerking and nearly dropping the electric drill on his foot.

  “Jeez, O’Connell, got the willies?”

  Hissing out a breath, Brody got to his feet and turned to Jerry Skully. Rod’s father had been a childhood pal. Even though he was over thirty Jerry maintained his cheerfully youthful looks and goofy smile. It was spread over his face now.

  “I didn’t hear you.”

  “No kidding. I called you a couple of times. You were in the zone, man.”

  Jerry put his hands on his hips and strutted around the room. Put a suit and tie guy in a construction area, Brody thought, and they looked like strutters. “Need a job? I got an extra hammer.”

  “Ha ha.” It was an old joke. Jerry was a whiz with math, great in social situations and couldn’t unscrew a light bulb without step-by-step written instructions.

  “You ever get those shelves up in the laundry room?” Brody asked with his tongue in his cheek.

  “They’re up. Beth said elves put them in.” He cocked his head. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

  “I don’t hire elves. Their union’s a killer.”

  “Right. Too bad, because I’m really grateful to those elves for getting Beth off my back.”

  It was all the acknowledgment and thanks either of them required. “Downstairs is looking real good,” Jerry went on. “Carrie’s driving Beth and me crazy about starting up with this ballet stuff. I guess it’s going to get going next month after all.”

  “No reason it can’t. We’ll be up here awhile longer, and there’s some outside work yet, but she’ll have the main level ready.” Brody started to set the next cabinet. “What’re you doing hanging out in the middle of the afternoon? Banker’s hours?”

  “Banker’s work a lot harder than you think, pal.”

  “Soft hands,” Brody said, then sniffed. “Is that cologne I’m smelling?”

  “Aftershave, you barbarian. Anyway, I had an outside meeting. Got done a little early, so I thought I’d come by to see what you’re doing with this old place. My bank’s money’s getting hammered and nailed in here.”

  Brody tossed a grin over his shoulder. “That’s why the client hired the best.”

  Jerry said something short and rude that symbolized the affection between two men. “So, I hear you and the ballerina are doing some pretty regular dancing.”

  “Small towns,” Brody said. “Big noses.”

  “She’s a looker.” Jerry wandered closer, watched Brody finesse the angle of the cabinet. “You ever seen a real ballet?”

  “Nope.”

  “I did. My little sister—you remember Tiffany? She took ballet for a few years when we were kids. Did the Nutcracker. My parents dragged me along. It had some moments,” Jerry remembered. “Giant mice, sword fights, big-ass Christmas tree. The rest was just people jumping and twirling, if you ask me. Takes all kinds.”

  “Guess so.”

  “Anyway, Tiffany just came back home. She’s been down in Kentucky the last couple of years. Finally divorced the jerk she married. Going to stay with the folks until she gets her feet back under her.”

  “Uh-huh.” Brody laid his level across the top of the two cabinets, nodded.

  “So, I was thinking maybe, since you’re back in the dating swing, you could take her out sometime. Cheer her up a little. A movie, maybe dinner.”

  “Mmm.” Brody moved the next cabinet to his mark where it would sit under the breakfast bar.

  “That’d be great. She’s had a tough time of it, you know? Be nice if she could spend some time with a guy who’d treat her decent.”

  “Yeah.”

  “She had a little crush on you when we were kids. So, you’ll give her a call in the next couple of days?”

  “Sure. What?” Surfacing, Brody glanced back. “Give who a call?”

  “Jeez, Brody, Tiff. My sister. You’re going to give her a call and ask her out.”

  “I am?”

  “O’Connell, you just said—”

  “Wait a minute. Just a minute.” Brody set down the drill and tried to catch up. “Look, I don’t think I can do that. I’m sort of seeing Kate.”

  “You’re not married to her or living with her or anything. What’s the big deal?”

  He was pretty sure there was one. Being out of the stream for a few years didn’t mean he didn’t remember how it was supposed to work. Moreover, he didn’t want to ask Tiffany, or anyone else out.

  But he didn’t think Jerry would appreciate him saying that. “The thing is, Jerry, I’m not into the dating scene.”

&
nbsp; “You’re dating the ballerina.”

  “No, I’m not. That is… We’re just—”

  Perhaps it was best all around that while he was fumbling for an excuse, he looked away from Jerry. And saw Kate in the doorway.

  “Ah. Kate. Hi.”

  “Hello.” Her voice was cool; her eyes hot. “Sorry to interrupt.”

  Recognizing a potentially sticky situation, Jerry flashed his smile and prepared to desert his old friend on the battlefield. “Hey there, Kate. Good to see you again. Gosh, look at the time. I have to run. I’ll get back to you on that, Brody. See you later.”

  He made tracks.

  Brody picked up his drill again, passed it from hand to hand. “That was Jerry.”

  “Yes, I’m aware that was Jerry.”

  “Setting your cabinets today. I think you made the right choice with the natural cherry. We should have the bedroom closet framed in, and the drywall set with the first coat of mud by the end of the day.”

  “That’s just dandy.”

  Her temper was a live thing, a nest of vipers curling and hissing in her gut. She had no intention of beating them back to keep them from sinking their fangs into Brody.

  “So, we’re not dating. We’re just…” She came into the room on the pause. “Would that have been sleeping together? We’re just sleeping together. Or do you have a simpler term for it?”

  “Jerry put me on the spot.”

  “Really? Is that why you told him—so decisively—that you and I are ‘sort of seeing each other’? I didn’t realize that defining our relationship was such a dilemma for you, or that whatever that relationship might be causes you such embarrassment with your friends.”

  “Just hold on.” He set the drill down again with an impatient snap of metal on wood. “If you were going to eavesdrop on a conversation, you should have listened to the whole thing. Jerry wanted me to take his sister out, and I was explaining why that wasn’t a good idea.”

  “I see.” She imagined she could chew every nail in his pouch, then spit them into his eye. “First, I wasn’t eavesdropping. This is my place and I have every right to come into any room in it. Whenever I like. Second, in your explanation of why going out with Jerry’s sister isn’t a good idea, did the word no ever enter your head?”