by Sharon Sala
She shuddered slightly, then opened her eyes, studying the hominess of the room and watching Dorothy’s fingers flying as she continued working the yarn in her lap.
A few minutes later they heard Carter come in the back door and call out, “Hey…where is everybody?”
Cat saw Dorothy’s face light up and her features soften as Carter entered the room. He walked over to where his wife was sitting, and leaned down and kissed her cheek before he did or said anything else.
“Is there some of that hot chocolate for me?” he asked.
Dorothy pointed to the tray. “Now, sugar, you know there is.”
Carter brushed a finger down the curve of Dorothy’s cheek, then picked up his cup. As he did, he turned to Cat and winked.
“You doin’ all right, missy?”
“Yes, sir.” She hesitated for a moment, then added, “It’s remarkably generous of both of you to open your house to a stranger.”
Carter glanced at his son, then back at Cat, fixing her with a studied stare.
“Well now…here’s the deal. Wilson thinks you’re something special, so that changes your status from stranger to family.”
Cat blushed. She didn’t know what to say.
Wilson rolled his eyes. “Oh great, Dad. Here I am trying not to put any pressure on her, and you go and open your mouth and set me back a good month.”
Carter looked at her and winked.
Cat grinned. Their banter wasn’t at all what she’d expected, and it took the seriousness out of the moment.
Dorothy glared at both of them. “For Pete’s sake, you two. Drink your cocoa and leave her alone.”
Wilson glanced at Cat, then lifted his cup and silently toasted her. Without thinking, she lifted hers, too. Together, they took a sip, silently sealing something that, as yet, remained unsaid.
That night they all sat at the dinner table, talking about the day and Cat’s treatment, when she needed to go back for a checkup and when she would get her stitches out. As they were finishing dessert, Wilson’s cell phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID, frowned, then got up.
“Excuse me a minute. I need to take this.”
Cat had seen the look on his face and recognized it as one of concern. She tried to listen to what he was saying as he walked out of the room but couldn’t hear enough to know who he was talking to.
Then Dorothy began cleaning up the table and shooed Cat to the living room. Carter helped her up, then offered her his arm and escorted her to the chair she’d claimed earlier.
As soon as she was seated, he took the same yellow afghan and covered her legs again.
“I don’t quite know how to take all this,” she said.
Carter stopped, then turned around and sat down on the arm of the sofa. “How so, honey?”
“I’m used to taking care of myself.”
He watched her for a moment, then folded his arms across his chest.
“That’s an admirable quality to have, but there comes a time in everyone’s life when they need a little help.”
Cat was unconsciously picking at the afghan as she answered. “I didn’t want to come here,” she admitted.
Carter nodded. “I can understand that. Hard enough meeting strangers when you’re at your best…and I’m going out on a limb here by guessing this isn’t your best.”
Cat laughed, then grabbed her ribs and groaned.
“Oh…crap…that hurt. Don’t make me laugh,” she gasped.
Carter grinned, and that was the way Wilson found them when he walked into the living room.
He’d heard her laugh and had an actual moment of jealousy that it wasn’t because of something he’d said. But when he saw the true light in her eyes and the joy on her face, he couldn’t begrudge a moment of it. Leave it up to his dad to make everything okay. He wished he could say the same about what was happening back in Dallas.
The phone call had been from John Tiger. Something was going on back at the office that had them concerned. LaQueen was getting hang-up phone calls, the tires on John’s truck had been slashed and Red Brickman’s car had been keyed while in the back parking lot. Someone was sending a message. Problem was, they only dealt with losers, so without actual contact from someone, it was going to be hard to pinpoint who it was.
Wilson was torn between wanting to get back and tend to business and an unwillingness to abandon Catherine when she was in need. Even though his parents could easily take care of her, it was the emotional abandonment he wanted to avoid. He’d told John to have video surveillance equipment installed all around the perimeter of their building and hope for the best. But if things persisted, he would be forced to return.
Cat saw movement from the corner of her eye and realized Wilson had come into the room.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
“Not exactly, but we’re working on it,” he said.
“What’s wrong?” Carter asked.
Wilson shrugged. “Just a little harassment at the office. Nothing that hasn’t happened before. It will work itself out. Don’t worry about it.”
Cat didn’t say anything more, but she knew better. Harassment at a bail bond office was unusual. Perps didn’t want to alienate the very people who were responsible for bailing them out of jail time and time again. The knowledge that someone had a personal interest in causing trouble for Wilson made her nervous.
A short while later Dorothy joined them, dragging over a card table and a deck of cards.
“Who’s up for a game of cards?” she asked.
“Hey, great idea, sweetheart,” Carter said, and began setting up the card table for her, pushing it right up in front of Cat so that she wouldn’t have to move her seat.
“What are we playing?” Wilson asked.
“Poker okay with you guys?” Dorothy asked.
Cat stifled a grin. She beat Art on a regular basis when work was slow at the office. It remained to be seen if her skill carried over to other players, but she wasn’t going to give herself away. She allowed Wilson to plump up some pillows behind her, then watched without comment as the cards were shuffled and dealt. Dorothy pulled out a large stack of plastic chips, sorted them and doled them out.
Cat picked up her cards. Her heart skipped a beat as she laid them down on the table in front of her and waited for the others to bet. Carter tossed in a chip, as did Dorothy and Wilson. Cat added her chip to the pot.
Wilson pulled three cards out of his hand and laid them aside.
“I’ll take three,” he asked. Dorothy gave him three new cards.
She dealt two for herself, and two for Carter, as well.
“Cat? Any for you?”
“I’m good.”
The others paused, gave her a calculating look, then eyed each other and grinned.
“Dang, Wilson…looks like you brought a ringer to the table,” Carter said.
Dorothy looked a little nervous. “Are you sure, dear? Do you know how to play the game?”
“Yes, ma’am, I know the rules.”
“It’s Dorothy, not ma’am,” Dorothy reminded her, then giggled nervously.
Wilson didn’t take his eyes off Cat, but he didn’t challenge her. Instead, he added another chip to the pot.
Carter laid his cards down on the table. “I’m out,” he said.
Dorothy fiddled with her cards and chips, then tossed two chips into the pot.
“Oh…I’m in and I’ll raise you,” she said, then smiled apologetically.
Cat met the ante, then upped it without saying a word.
Wilson’s eyes narrowed. He met the ante and upped a chip.
Dorothy fussed and then giggled, and laid down her cards.
“I’m out, too,” she said.
Cat looked up. Wilson was staring at her. She stared back without flinching. He looked down at his cards, then up at her. He couldn’t tell if it was the bruising on her face that was rattling him, or if it was because she had yet to blink.
“Call,” Wilson said,
and laid down his cards. He had a pair of twos.
Cat laid down her cards. She was holding three aces.
“Damn,” he muttered, as Cat pulled the pot toward her, then began stacking the chips. He looked at his mother. “Did you shuffle that deck at all?”
“Now, Wilson, don’t be a sore loser,” Dorothy said. “You saw me. It’s just luck of the draw.”
“Some luck,” Carter said, and winked at Cat.
Cat waited for them to deal the next hand. She folded for two hands in a row, then, on the third hand, anted up once before calling and losing to Carter.
Then they dealt another hand, and just like the first, Cat stayed. No extra cards, no nothing. Just that flat expression on her face.
Wilson grinned. She must have a hell of a hand. Unfortunately, he did not, and quickly folded, as did Dorothy. Carter stayed in for another round, upping the ante by four chips.
“Here’s your four and two more,” Cat said.
Carter stared at his cards, then shook his head and laid them down. “I’m out,” he said.
Cat laid her cards face down on the table and reached for the pot.
“Just out of curiosity,” Wilson said, and turned over her cards before she could stop him.
“Hey,” Cat said, but it was too late.
Wilson stared at the cards for a few seconds, trying to wrap his head around what he was seeing, and then looked up at her and grinned.
Carter’s mouth dropped.
Dorothy stared at the cards, then looked up at Cat and giggled.
“You bluffed,” she said.
Carter frowned. “That wasn’t a bluff. That was a damn massacre.”
“You quit fair and square, Dad,” Wilson said.
Cat stacked up her chips, then leaned back, exhaling carefully.
Carter looked at her for a few more moments, then started to grin. “You are something, missy, and that’s a fact.”
Cat arched an eyebrow, then picked up her five cards, none of which matched, and tossed them toward Dorothy.
“Where did you learn to bluff like that?” Carter asked.
An odd expression came and went on Cat’s face. “Life,” she said, and then looked to Wilson to be rescued from having to say any more.
Wilson read the plea in her eyes and got up from the table.
“I’m going after a Pepsi. Anyone else want something cold to drink?”
“I would,” Cat said, and then smiled at Carter and Dorothy. “Deal me out, okay? I’m going to go get my pain pills.”
“I’ll get them,” Dorothy said, and jumped up.
“They’re on the table beside the bed,” Cat said, as Dorothy hurried from the room.
Carter picked up the cards and began shuffling them absently, eyeing Cat every now and then as he did.
Cat knew he was thinking about her. She just wasn’t sure if it was good or not.
Carter laid the cards down on the table and then leaned forward. “Cat…Catherine.”
Cat met his gaze. “Yes?”
“You’re the first female Wilson ever brought here.”
Cat’s eyes widened. “Oh.”
“I think that life you spoke of a while ago has dealt you some really bad hands, hasn’t it?”
Breath caught in the back of Cat’s throat as her eyes began to blur. She took a breath, then looked away.
“It’s okay, kiddo,” Carter said softly, then laid a hand over hers. “If you’re looking for a soft place to fall, we’ve got arms to catch you.”
The offer was staggering. The only other people who’d been this kind to her were both dead. Cat closed her eyes, then covered her face with her hands.
Carter scooted his chair back from the card table, then paused beside Cat and patted her head before leaving the room.
By the time everyone came back, Cat had her emotions back under control. She sipped her Pepsi while they played a few more hands of poker, listening to the friendly banter and adding a few comments to the conversation.
When the game finally broke up, Cat was exhausted. Carter and Dorothy left, carrying the card table and cards to be put away, leaving Wilson and Cat alone. When Cat stood, she swayed on her feet.
“You’re worn out,” Wilson said. “I should have put you to bed hours ago.”
“I’m fine. I had that nap, remember?”
“You’re not fine,” Wilson said, and picked her up and carried her down the hall. He toed the door open and carried her into the bedroom, then set her down beside the bed. “Sit down, baby. I’ll pull off your shoes and socks.”
Cat was too tired to argue. She sat, then braced herself against the pain as Wilson began pulling off her shoes and socks. The next thing to come off was her sweater. He pulled it over her head, then laid it aside.
“You go to the bathroom. I’ll turn back the bed and get your flannel PJs.”
Cat didn’t even bother to ask how he’d managed to pack what she’d needed as she staggered into the bathroom. She came out a few minutes later with her hair in a ponytail and her jeans undone.
Wilson handed her an old T-shirt. “This will be softer against your skin than the buttons on your pajama top,” he said as he helped her put the shirt on.
She nodded gratefully, letting him pull the rest of her clothes off for her, then help her into the pajama bottoms. She crawled in between the covers, groaning with relief as she finally settled.
Wilson watched the changing expressions on her face while thinking how stunningly beautiful she really was.
“Catherine?”
The serious tone of his voice got Cat’s attention.
“What?”
“Are you sorry you came?” he asked.
“No.”
A small grin tilted one corner of his mouth. “Still mad at me?”
“No.”
“What do you think of my parents?”
She thought of what Carter had said to her, and of the love that Wilson professed to have for her. If she had the guts to trust her heart instead of her instincts, she might let herself love them back.
“I think…if I let them…they would be a soft place to fall.”
Wilson’s eyes widened as a lump came into his throat. “And if you trusted me…?”
“I can’t wrap my head around that kind of joy.”
“Because you don’t trust me?” he asked.
She reached for his hand. “No, Wilson, you’ve proven yourself worthy of trust. Far more than I deserved.”
“Then what can I do to make this all right for you?”
“I think…maybe…I just need some time.”
His nostrils flared, but he didn’t argue. “I can give you that, too.”
“Thank you, Wilson…for everything.”
“You’re welcome. So…is there anything I can get for you before I go shower?”
“No. I’m fine.”
He bent down and kissed her cheek, then groaned and gently kissed her lips, careful not to hurt the cuts and bruises.
“Sleep well, my love,” he said, and then he was gone.
The room was in shadow, with the light in the adjoining bathroom left on so that she would be able to see should she need to get up in the night.
For a while she lay with the echo of Wilson’s words ringing in her ears, listening to the sounds of people readying for bed, and then, afterward, the silence as the house settled for the night.
Finally Cat slept.
Less than an hour later, Wilson came into the room, pulled the covers back and slipped into the bed beside her. When the nightmares began, he was there, pulling her back from the darkness. She rolled onto her side with a pillow clutched to her chest, her voice heavy with sleep.
“Wilson…?”
“What, baby?”
She sighed softly. “Nothing…just…Wilson.”
He caressed her face, then smoothed her hair away from her forehead “Rest now,” he said quietly.
So she did.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
It was Sunday, and the everyday routine of the McKay family was undergoing a drastic change from what Cat was just getting used to after three days. Sunday, she’d been told, was also family day, which meant that, after church, all the grown children and their families came home for dinner.
She was trying not to be nervous all over again.
She had been at the McKay house long enough that she was actually starting to think there might be life after revenge. Being brought here under duress had seemed like a slap in the face at first, but Wilson had ignored her demands to be taken home, and now she was glad he had.
In just the short time she’d spent with Dorothy, she’d come to understand what she’d lost when her mother had died. So much of a woman’s confidence came from the example her mother set, she realized. A woman learned by observation that when a crisis occurred, instead of tearing a family apart, it brought them closer together. Learned that, when the world was falling down around your ears and you were positive you’d made the worst mistake of your life, your mother would still be there—loving you, forgiving you, on your side no matter what.
Cat had missed that part of childhood. She’d grown up fast and hard, and never let anyone see her cry. After a while, she hadn’t even bothered to cry for herself. Weeping didn’t change a damn thing about the miserable hand she’d been dealt, so why bother?
Then Wilson McKay had come out of nowhere, wanting something from her that she didn’t know how to give. It was her good fortune that he’d refused to give up. And it was a blessing that he’d loaded her up and brought her to his childhood home. This was not only a place of unconditional love, but a place where she could feel herself healing in body and soul.
However, in a short while she was about to meet the adult versions of the kids she’d seen in the pictures lining Dorothy’s walls. She’d also been told that between them, they had given Dorothy and Carter twelve grandchildren, all under the age of fifteen. She didn’t know whether to be worried or just plan on losing herself in the crowd.
Dorothy had opted out of church services and had been cooking since daybreak, yet she had still managed to serve waffles with blueberry sauce for breakfast. Cat was in awe of Dorothy’s multitasking abilities. And there was another thing through which they’d connected. Cat had been mesmerized by Dorothy’s skill at crocheting, and Dorothy had seen it. Two days ago, Dorothy had produced another crochet hook and a fresh skein of pink yarn, and begun teaching Cat how.
