She smiled. “And modest, too.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “So what’d you do?”
She rubbed her left elbow, hesitating. “I think I’ll keep that a secret.”
“Even if I promise not to tell anybody?”
“Even if.” She held his amused gaze and felt something flicker inside her.
“That’s a shame. I bet it’s interesting. Whatever you did.”
Boys had never been an issue with Katie. Flirting came as naturally as breathing. But all of a sudden, she felt gawky and awkward, and her palms were damp. She stepped a little closer to the desk. “What’s so interesting on that computer?”
“Lots of stuff,” he said.
“You don’t look like the computer type.”
“Oh, yeah? What type do I look like?”
“I’m hoping the type that might know how to get me out of this house.” Okay, so she did have a few ounces of flirtation left in her. She smiled, starting to enjoy herself. She moved around the corner of the desk. “Show me what’s so interesting.”
He sat back, and a glint of metal caught her eye. She looked down. A wheelchair. He was sitting in a wheelchair. Shock rippled through her. She stepped away, nearly tripping over a stack of books tucked beside the desk.
She stared at him for a moment, completely at a loss for words. He couldn’t be…a young guy like him? “You’re—”
“Yeah,” he said, his chin lifting a fraction. “I am.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know.”
“Is there any reason why you should have?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I just—”
His smile wasn’t quite as bright when he said, “The kitchen. Take a right out of here. You’ll run right into it. Tell Louisa I suggested you try some apple butter with that bread she’s baking.”
Katie backed up, one hand to her chest. “Thanks,” she said. “I will.” And with that, she turned and fled from the room.
CHAPTER SEVEN
HE TOLD HIMSELF it didn’t bother him.
Cline had long ago pegged the two basic reactions girls had to his useless legs. Run like hell. Or fall all over him with motherly goodwill.
Of the two, he preferred Katie’s reaction.
At least it was honest.
For a few minutes there, he’d felt like a normal guy. Understood what it would be like to meet someone cute and feel a zing of attraction. Know that it was returned without any assessment of his handicap.
Of course, he’d realized right away that she hadn’t noticed the wheelchair. But it had been nice to have a girl look at him, just him, without seeing all the blaring warning signs surrounding him: Beware! Invalid ahead! Sign on for a lifetime of caretaking!
Most days, Cline did not feel sorry for himself. Even with his paralyzed legs, he managed to have a stimulating life. Once he’d finally decided to get over the self-pity, he’d realized there were things he could do, things he could be. But it wasn’t ever going to be the same as his old life. And there was one truth he couldn’t deny. Girls like Katie weren’t interested in a guy like him. That was a cold, hard fact.
He looked at the computer screen, and with a few swift keystrokes, clicked out of the page he’d been working on.
People were people. They couldn’t help themselves.
* * *
WILLA OPENED THE DOOR to the hospital room and stuck her head inside.
Charles lay against the stark white pillows. His eyes were closed.
Mrs. Hartmore sat in the chair by the window, a magazine on her lap. She glanced up at Willa, her lips thinning. “What are you doing here?”
“I wondered if it would be all right if I spoke with him once more.”
“He’s sleeping,” she said with restrained impatience. “And I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to barge in here anytime you feel like it.”
“Natalie.” Charles was awake now, his gaze locked with that of his wife. “Please, dear.”
“You need your rest,” she implored.
“And I will get it. I’d like a few minutes with Willa first.”
Mrs. Hartmore raised her chin, settled a level glare on Willa, then left the room, shoulders stiff.
“I’m sorry,” Willa said once the door had closed.
“Don’t be. Natalie—”
“You don’t have to explain.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, as if waiting for a wave of pain to pass.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes,” he said.
“I can come back later.”
“Please. Stay for a bit.”
“I don’t know what to say,” she said. “This…everything is—”
“I know. You don’t have to say anything, my dear. I just want you to believe how much I regret not knowing you. If I could change anything in the way I’ve lived my life, it would be that.”
“We should talk about this when you’re better. You really should rest,” she said.
His eyes grew heavier. She stepped toward the bed, stood for a moment. His right hand lay palm up, his fingers splayed. She reached out and placed her own hand on his.
He turned it over, intertwined their fingers, holding on tight. His grip went suddenly lax. The machine beside his bed sounded an alarm. Willa jerked her hand back.
Footsteps echoed in the hall. A nurse pushed open the door, called out for assistance, then rushed to the bed.
“You’ll have to excuse me, miss,” she said.
Willa stepped away, heart pounding. A doctor and two more nurses ran into the room, pushing carts, throwing out orders.
Mrs. Hartmore appeared in the doorway, her expression frozen in shock. “My God. What did you say to him?”
“He was fine,” Willa said, a tremble in her voice. “He closed his eyes and then he just—”
“I want you out of here!” Natalie screamed. “This is all your fault. You never should have come here!”
Owen stepped up behind Natalie, a hand on the woman’s shoulder. He glanced at the bed where the doctor and nurses worked in frantic synchronicity over Charles. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
One of the nurses moved away from the bed. “Could you all please wait outside?”
Mrs. Hartmore turned and walked out.
Owen took Willa’s arm and led her from the room.
In the hallway, she stood with her back against the wall, her whole body throbbing with a quiet hurt that did not seem reasonable considering she had not even known of her father’s existence mere days ago.
The three of them stood like statues, Mrs. Hartmore staring at her clasped hands.
And then a sudden quiet erupted from the room’s open door.
“That’s it. Call it,” a male voice said in resigned tones.
Mrs. Hartmore turned her face into Owen’s shoulder, her slim body now shaking with heavy sobs.
Willa’s chest felt too tight, as if she couldn’t breathe. She turned and walked toward the elevator, her steps quickening until she was running.
* * *
OWEN FOUND HER in the small park outside the hospital. He’d stayed with Natalie until her sister had arrived and then he’d left in search of Willa.
She sat on a bench just ahead, her back straight. He stopped behind her. “Hey,” he said.
“Hi,” she responded without looking at him.
“I was getting a little concerned about you.”
“I’m fine.”
He walked around the bench and sat down beside her. He didn’t say anything for a few moments, his own grief a knot in his throat. “I’m so sorry,” he said finally.
She started to speak, closed her mouth and then said, “I feel this incredible sadness. And yet, it doesn’t seem like I have a right to it. I didn’t know him.”
He turned her face to him. “Of course you have a right. I wish things had been different, that you’d had some time together. But that wasn’t to be. I think he must have known that. And you’re enti
tled to feel sad about it.”
Her green eyes welled with tears. He brushed them away with a thumb. They looked at each other for a few long moments, caught in a swirl of mixed emotions. Primary among his was a sudden desire to kiss her, wipe away the shock on her face, merge his own grief with hers.
Inappropriate. For a dozen different reasons. And so, instead, he pulled her against him and rubbed her shoulder, offering sympathy as a new friend would.
* * *
AN HOUR LATER, Willa sat submerged in a warm bath. She closed her eyes and rested her head against the back of the tub, every muscle weighted with fatigue.
Sam lay on the rug just inside the room, head on his paws, asleep.
Once they’d arrived back at the farm, Owen had directed her to the room where she had left her stuff earlier, suggesting that she relax for a while against her protests that she needed to talk to Katie. He had promised to check on her sister.
Everything that had happened last night now seemed a thousand years ago. She felt numb. How could so much take place in such a short time?
In less than twenty-four hours, she’d learned of a father she had not known existed, met him and lost him. The twist of that seemed impossibly cruel. And yet, even with sadness pressing against her chest, she could not regret coming here.
As far as the future was concerned, it changed nothing. But at least she knew. At least they’d had those few minutes together.
There was no reason for her to stay any longer. She knew what kind of a reminder she must be to Natalie Hartmore. For everyone concerned, she would go.
* * *
AFTER HER BATH, Willa got dressed. As much as she would have liked to climb in the four-poster bed and sleep a solid eight hours, she needed to find Katie. They had a lot to talk about. At the very least, Willa owed her an explanation.
She knocked at the bedroom door where they’d left Katie earlier that morning. When there was no answer, she turned the knob, but the room was empty. With Sam at her heels, she went downstairs and poked her head inside a few doorways until she found Owen in a study off the main living room. What looked like a stack of work sat on the desk in front of him. She rapped lightly at the half-open door.
He looked up, then stood. “Come in.”
“Sorry to bother you,” she said, clasping her arms across her chest.
“No bother. Feel better?”
She nodded. “The bath helped.”
“Good.”
The silence between them felt awkward, as if they’d reached a new turning point, and neither had any idea what to say to each other. He looked freshly showered, his dark hair wet, his face clean-shaven. “I was looking for Katie,” she said. “And I wanted to tell you we’ll be leaving right away. I can rent a car so you don’t have to drive us back.”
He stepped out from behind the desk. “But what about the funeral?”
She linked her hands together. “I don’t think it would be such a good idea for me to be there.”
He moved across the floor, stopping close enough that she could smell the faint lemony scent of his aftershave. “Why?”
“I don’t want to make Mrs. Hartmore any more uncomfortable than she already has been.”
“Willa, you have every right to be at that funeral,” he said in a quiet, convincing tone.
She shook her head. “Maybe it would be better to just let this go.”
“Is that what you really want?”
She glanced down, unable to meet his discerning gaze. Was it? The truth? No. She wanted to know more about this man who had been her father. What his life had been like. Who he was. She felt as if she’d been given this incredible gift, and just as she began to let herself believe it might be real, it had been yanked away.
“Charles has asked for your place in his life to be recognized,” Owen said. “Natalie will respect that.”
Willa stood, running a hand up one arm. “I need some time to think. And I need to talk to Katie. Do you know where she is?”
“She went with Jake to the barn. I’ll walk you down.”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to her by myself.”
He nodded. “But at least stay tonight. Sleep on it.”
That much she could agree to. And maybe a good night’s rest would help her to see things more clearly. “Okay.”
“Good,” he said. “Dinner’s at seven.”
“Thanks. I’ll see you then.”
* * *
OWEN HAD JUST heard the front door close behind Willa when Cline rolled into the room.
He stopped short of the desk and said, “Filling our house up with good-looking women. That’s a change for the better.”
Owen raised an eyebrow at his brother. “You met them then?”
“Katie. Haven’t met the sister yet.”
“So what did you think?”
“Other than the fact that she’s looking for somebody to be mad at?” he asked, wheeling across the floor to pull a book off the shelf by the window. He appeared immediately engrossed in the title.
“Cute, though,” Owen said.
“Yeah.” With indifference.
“I have a feeling she could use a friend.”
Cline looked up then. “So what’s her story?”
“Kind of a bad news boyfriend.”
He flipped through the book on his lap. “Afraid I can’t do much for her in that department.”
“Cline—”
He held up a hand. “That wasn’t a cry for help, big brother.”
An old knot formed in Owen’s gut. There was so much he wanted to say, but he forced himself to offer only, “You’re almost eighteen, Cline. You should be dating.”
Cline put the book back and turned his chair toward the door. “I’m focused on other things right now. Like making grades. You should be happy I’m not giving you gray hair with my need to rebel.”
He was right. Cline was a good kid. But Owen feared that he had talked himself into settling for a life that did not include girls. “At your age, there should be more,” he said quietly.
“I am a little bit of an exception though, aren’t I?” And with that, he took off.
* * *
THE BARN WAS INCREDIBLE. Thirty stalls or more, and long as a football field. The exterior was white with open Dutch doors over which horses hung their heads, looking out across the fields.
Willa stepped inside the big center-aisle doors, the sweet smell of hay filling her nostrils. Sam trotted off on a scent, tail wagging. Horses moved restlessly in their stalls, a chorus of nickers sounding out.
She found Katie inside what looked like a feed room, filling red buckets with scoops of grain. “Hey,” she said.
“Hi,” Katie replied without looking up.
“It looks like someone put you to work.”
“Beats being bored out of my skull.”
Willa watched for a moment, impressed by the careful precision with which her sister measured out the amounts. When was the last time she’d seen Katie act like she cared about anything? “I guess you’re wondering what this is all about.”
“The question crossed my mind.” Sarcasm coated the words.
Willa sat down on a stack of red Purina feed bags, elbows on her knees. “Owen came to Pigeon Hollow to find me. At the request of—”
Katie looked at her, for once not hiding her curiosity behind a mask of rebellion. “Yeah?”
Willa glanced down at her hands, linked her fingers together, then met her sister’s questioning gaze. “My father.”
“What?” Katie’s eyes widened. She dropped the feed scoop and wiped her hands on her jeans.
“I know. It’s pretty shocking.”
“How—who is he?”
“His name is Charles Hartmore.” Willa drew in a deep breath. “Was.”
“What do you mean, was?”
She didn’t answer for a few moments, the words sticking in her throat. “He died this morning,” she said softly.
Again,
Katie looked as if she had no idea what to say. “Man. That’s a drag.”
“Yeah,” Willa said, rubbing her arms, feeling suddenly cold. “It is.”
They said nothing for a few moments. Outside the room, a radio played a country tune. A cat meowed.
“So what about what Mom said?” Katie shook her head. “That your dad was dead?”
“I don’t know. But this man…Charles…had no reason to lie.”
“And Mom did?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, it is kind of weird, don’t you think? She made sure I knew all about my father. What a lousy creep he was, anyway.”
“Katie—”
“Don’t deny it, Willa. You know it’s true.”
Willa pressed her lips together. The truth was their mother had said way too much about Katie’s father, made way too many comparisons between him and her daughter. So many that at some point, Katie had begun to put up protective barriers around herself, and they were still in place today.
“So is he rich like our friend Owen?”
Willa frowned. “Does it matter?”
“Of course it matters. Maybe your Prince Charming finally rode in to town. Isn’t that what you’ve been waiting your whole life for? Someone to rescue you?”
Willa flinched beneath the slap of her sister’s words. “Do you intend to be as cruel as you are, Katie?”
A shadow of regret flashed across the younger girl’s face, then quickly disappeared. “Sometimes the truth is cruel. You had all these plans for your life, Willa. You wanted to be a doctor. And what have you been doing? Focusing so hard on running my life that you don’t have to look at your own.”
“I’m not unhappy, Katie.”
Katie waved a hand. “Right. You’ve had approximately three dates in the last how many years?”
Heat flooded Willa’s face. “Where you’re concerned, Katie, I’ve done what I wanted to do.”
“You did what you thought you needed to do.” Katie turned her back, filling another bucket. “I hate that you feel sorry for me.”
Willa reached out and put a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “Why would you say that?”
Katie stepped away from her touch. “Because Mama wished I’d never been born, and you know that.”
Willa closed her eyes, bit her lip. And then in a soft voice, “Katie, Mama said a lot of things I know she never meant.”
The Lost Daughter of Pigeon Hollow Page 7
