“No. It’s just the truth,” he said quietly.
She stood, hung her purse on her shoulder. “I guess that’s clear enough for me.”
She walked out of the room then, the front door clicking closed behind her a few seconds later.
From the living room window, Owen watched her get into her car, remorse stabbing at him. Not for the end of their relationship. Right or wrong, he felt relief in that. But for not admitting sooner what a mistake they would have made in staying together for any other reason than the only one that mattered. Love.
* * *
FRESH FROM THE SHOWER, Katie dried her hair and shrugged into a pair of blue jeans and a slim-fitting white T-shirt. She slipped on a pair of sandals, and headed downstairs, hoping to run into Cline.
That afternoon, she’d gone with Jake to pick up a mare and foal from a local veterinary hospital where they had been for the past week after complications during the delivery.
Katie had been fascinated by the place, taking in the sights and sounds, the words of the veterinarian explaining the mare’s case to Jake.
When she’d been a little girl, Katie had dreamed of becoming a vet. She loved animals and couldn’t imagine a better way to make a living than by taking care of them. But that was before she’d decided to major in flunking out of school. Such options were now long lost to her.
She found Cline at his computer, a couple of hefty textbooks open on the desk.
She stopped in the doorway, suddenly unsure of interrupting. “Hey,” she said.
He looked up, smiled as if he were glad to see her.
She smiled back.
“Where you been?” he asked. “Thought you might come out for a swim this afternoon.”
“I went with Jake to the vet hospital.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Bore you to death?”
“No. Actually, I loved it.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Hidden aspirations?”
She bit her lip, shrugged, not a yes, not a no.
“A vet, huh?”
She shook her head. “I don’t have the grades.”
“A little early to throw in the towel, isn’t it?”
“At school, I’m what’s known as a lost cause.”
He gave that some consideration, biting his lower lip. “Come here,” he said.
She walked over to the desk, cautious. “What?”
He moved the mouse to his computer, tapped on the keyboard for a few moments, and then pointed at the monitor. “See that?”
She looked at the screen, read out loud. “Genetic Engineering and the Intrinsic Value and Integrity of Animals and Plants. Wow. Is this the kind of stuff you’ve been looking at?”
“It’s what I want to do when I grow up,” he said, a smile in his voice.
“Aren’t there all sorts of ethical questions to consider in a field like that?”
“That’s one of the things that makes it fascinating. It seems really important that people with the right motivations get into it.”
“Cool,” she said, impressed.
“I think so.”
“It must be a good feeling, to set your sights on something in the future and want to be a part of it.”
“I didn’t say I was going to make it. Who knows? But I’m going to give it my best shot.”
“You’ll make it,” she said.
“No reason you can’t do the same,” he said softly.
She shoved her hands in her pockets. “Sometimes, it’s just too late.”
“Jeez,” he said. “Sixteen, and you’re writing off life. Look at this.”
He typed in a phrase in the search engine, hit enter and sat back. A few seconds later, a home page booted up. Virginia-Maryland Regional College of Veterinary Medicine. He clicked on Admissions. Then Admission Requirements. “That could be you,” he said. “And that’s just one school. Happens to be a good one. You could go there.”
She began to shake her head. “I couldn’t—”
“Why not?” he interrupted. “Katie, I’m not much older than you. When I first became paralyzed, I pretty much decided I was going to spend the rest of my life being bitter. Wishing for what was, what could never be again. That got old fast. I decided I needed to find something else to put all that energy into.”
She didn’t say anything for a moment. “And you chose the future.”
“So can you,” he said, his eyes shining with certainty.
For the first time in her life, Katie believed it might just be true.
* * *
KATIE CAME UPSTAIRS around ten-thirty, and Willa went over to say good-night. Her sister’s response was distracted, but without its normal edge. When Willa asked what she’d been doing, she said, “Hanging out with Cline.”
She left it at that and went back to her room where Sam lay on the rug, snoring softly. She sat on the bed and tried not to think about what had happened downstairs with Pamela, about the fact that she and Owen might be making up at that very moment.
She reached for the journal she had left on the nightstand earlier, sat back against the pillows and began reading.
For the next couple of hours, she absorbed herself in the words on the page, discovering that her father had indeed given in to pressure from his family and decided against medical school.
At certain points, his regret was palpable, and Willa felt its echo within herself.
The entries were sporadic, sections of time where he wrote something nearly every day, and then others where entire months were skipped. It was an odd feeling to witness the unfolding of a person’s life, her father’s life, the ordinary with the extraordinary.
The sight of her mother’s name against a yellowing page sent a start of adrenaline through her veins, and she realized she had been waiting to reach this point with a mix of anticipation and trepidation.
The entry was marked: Tanya, August 1, 1977.
She drank in the words without being aware of breathing. The night they met. The quick attraction that flared between them. The postponing of his trip home, and the ensuing two days they had spent together.
She read on, transfixed by the chance meeting that had led to her very existence. In the pages that followed were evidence of Charles’s regret, and it was double-fold for the pain he had caused Willa’s mother, and the pain he had caused Natalie, his fiancée.
Not wanting to read anymore, Willa closed the journal, sat with her hand on its leather cover, wondering if this had been the turning point for her mom, if bitterness had seeped into every relationship that had followed the disappointment of this one.
A knock sounded at the door. She put the journal on the nightstand and said, “Come in.”
Owen stepped into the room. He looked tired. “Hi.”
“Hi,” she said, her heart picking up tempo at the sight of him.
Sam opened his eyes, wagged his tail, then went back to sleep.
“Can we talk?” Owen asked.
“I—sure.” She slid off the bed and stood, straightening her clothes.
He tipped his head at the journal lying beside the lamp. “How’s it going?”
She lifted her hands. “It’s a little unsettling, seeing what happened back then, but now I understand my mother’s disillusion a bit better.”
“I guess people don’t always meet at the right time in their lives.”
“No. But they still have to think about who they might hurt.”
The parallel to what was happening between the two of them hung like a tangible presence in the room. They said nothing for a few moments, and then Owen spoke. “What happened downstairs. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
He nodded once. “Well, I better let you get some sleep.”
“Yeah. It’s late.”
He walked to the door. Hand on the knob, he turned back. “It’s over between Pamela and me.”
Willa glanced away and then met his gaze. “Are you all right with that?”
He didn’
t answer for a moment, and then said, “I should have ended it a long time ago. When something’s not right, it’s not right. I owed it to her to be honest about that.”
“Fair enough,” she said quietly.
He let himself out of the room, the door clicking closed behind him.
She didn’t move until she could no longer hear his footsteps in the hall.
* * *
NATALIE CALLED on Friday morning.
Louisa handed Willa the phone in the kitchen where she stood pouring a cup of coffee.
“Sorry to be calling so early,” Natalie said. “But I’ve thrown together a small dinner party tonight for some of Charles’s friends. I’m hoping you can come.”
The invitation caught Willa off guard. “Oh. Well. That sounds nice.”
“Wonderful. Bring Owen. And Cline and your sister, too.”
“Okay,” Willa said, unsure about going, but equally certain she couldn’t say no.
“I’ll see you then,” Natalie said.
Owen called later that day from an auction where he planned to bid on a very desirable mare he had been hoping to purchase for some time. When Willa told him about the dinner, he said he would meet them there.
That evening Cline offered to drive them in his customized van. Katie sat up front, wearing a light blue sleeveless dress that looked great on her. Willa, in the back seat, looked down at her own peach linen skirt and top, hoping it would be appropriate.
The house was lit up, a dozen or so cars lining the cobblestone courtyard. Cline parked, and they all went in, Willa’s stomach tipsy with nerves.
Natalie greeted them at the doorway, kissed Cline on the cheek, then took Willa’s arm and looped the other through Katie’s. She led them to the edge of the living room. “Excuse me, everyone,” she said.
The crowd grew quiet, all eyes focused on them. “I would like to introduce Willa Addison, Charles’s daughter. And this pretty young girl is her sister, Katie. I hope you will all make them feel welcome this evening.”
People nodded in their direction, offered curious smiles.
Willa talked with Natalie for a while about the journals, the older woman appearing to enjoy hearing some of the things she had learned about Charles. The year-long excursion he had made across Europe in his twenties with nothing but a backpack and a rail pass. The time he had decided to grow his own garden and planted so much squash, he’d had to give bushels of it away.
Natalie’s smile was wistful. “Hearing you talk about him brings a little piece of him back.”
Owen arrived just as everyone sat down for dinner. “I’m sorry for being so late,” he said, kissing Natalie on the cheek.
“Don’t be,” she said, indicating the empty chair next to Willa. “We saved you a place.”
Willa glanced up at him, her smile faltering. He looked devastating in a dark suit and light blue shirt. His tie, a bright green with flecks of navy, managed to take the seriousness out of the look.
“Hey,” he said, ducking his head close to hers.
She toyed with the stem of her wineglass, dropping her gaze. “Hey.”
“The trick is,” he said, sitting down beside her, “to picture them all doing something that makes them just as human as the rest of us.”
Willa smiled. “I’m afraid to ask for suggestions.”
He tipped his head at the other end of the table, where Cline and Katie were engrossed in what looked like a debate of some sort. “Those two doing all right?”
“Seems so. They were actually talking about colleges on the way over here. I’ve never heard Katie mention the word.”
Owen looked impressed. “Maybe she’s turned a corner.”
“I don’t know, but if so, Cline’s had a lot to do with it.”
“I suspect Katie’s been good for him as well.”
Dessert and coffee were served in the living room. Willa poured herself a cup while Owen chatted with one of Charles’s former business partners.
Natalie touched a hand to her arm and said, “Was it as bad as you thought?”
“No.” Willa smiled. “Thank you for this. It’s beyond generous.”
“But my dear, selfish, too. In you, part of Charles still lives.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
OWEN ASKED IF Willa would like to ride back with him, freeing Cline and Katie to leave a little earlier.
They drove most of the way in silence.
In the driveway of his house, Owen turned off the engine to the Rover, dropped the keys on the dashboard. “Are you all right?”
“A little tired, I guess,” she said.
“Feel like a walk?”
“I should go on in—” she began.
“A short one?”
“Okay. A short one.”
They headed toward the barn, the moon lighting the way like an enormous lamp. Owen opened the big sliding center doors, and they stepped inside. A horse halfway down the aisle whinnied in greeting.
Owen opened a smaller door to one side of the main entrance, flicked on the light. Saddle racks lined one entire wall of the room, bridles hanging on an adjacent wall. It smelled of leather. A sofa sat in the middle of the floor, a coffee table in front of it. In the far corner was an old drink cooler, the kind with the slide-top lid.
“Coke?” Owen offered.
“Sure.”
He crossed the pinewood floor and pulled out two glass bottles, popped the tops on the opener hanging from the wall and handed one to her.
She took a sip, wiped a finger at the corner of her mouth. “They just taste better in bottles, don’t they?”
He smiled. “I always thought so.”
Willa found herself caught up in that smile, wondered how he managed to use it so effectively. But then that wasn’t really fair because there was nothing fake about Owen’s charm.
“You were a hit tonight,” he said.
“Everyone was very kind.”
He sat down on the sofa and waved a hand for her to join him. She rested an arm against the back, angled a knee in his direction.
“You said that as if you deserve something less,” he said softly.
“Did I?”
He held her gaze, warm interest flickering in his eyes. “I know I’ve said it before, but Willa, you have a right to everything you’re getting from Charles.”
She rubbed a finger across the condensation building on the Coke bottle. “That’s the part I’m having trouble with. How a girl like me can go from famine to feast in the span of a few weeks.”
“Life can change fast. Not always for the better.”
She heard the sudden note of disquiet in his voice, knew he was thinking of Cline. “I’m sorry. I must sound petty.”
“No. Actually, you’re pretty amazing.”
“Cowards aren’t amazing.”
He blinked wide. “What makes you a coward?”
She looked down at her lap. “Giving up.”
“On what?”
“Things I wanted.” She was silent for a moment and then said, “I wanted to be a doctor. Did you know that’s what Charles wanted to be?”
“He told me once. Said he regretted not following through with it.”
“That’s kind of sad, don’t you think?”
“Yeah. I guess it is. But who says it’s too late for you, Willa?”
She shook her head. “Sometimes, it just is.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“My mama always said the higher you reach, the farther the fall. That’s kind of how she lived her life, I guess. Not reaching.”
“Is that how you want to live yours?”
She wanted to say no, but wasn’t that exactly what she had done?
They looked at each other for a few moments, a new intensity charging the air between them.
She should look away. Break the moment. She should. But she didn’t.
He ducked in then, fast, as if not wanting to give either of them a chance to change their minds.
The
kiss was sweet, unrestrained. Willa closed her eyes and kissed him back, closing off thoughts of anything but the rush of pleasure heating her blood.
They kissed for a good long while, the kind of kisses that clouded what had previously been clear thinking. Made nonsense of any argument impertinent enough to raise a cautionary red flag.
He smoothed a thumb across her bottom lip, the action rawly sensual. “Here we go again,” he said.
“Um,” she said, eyes closed.
“Should I apologize?” His mouth now found her ear, the words barely audible.
“Ah, no,” she murmured with irony.
“All right if we try it again then?”
She didn’t answer, but this time, leaned in and kissed him.
With a hand at the back of her neck, he deepened the kiss, the only sounds in the room the quickening of their breaths, the rustle of clothing against the leather couch, the scent of hay drifting through from the barn.
He took her Coke, set it on the coffee table. They changed leads, and he leaned into her, settling her against a pile of pillows, then stretching out alongside her, one hand firm along the outside of her thigh.
She dropped her head to one side.
With the back of his fingers he brushed her hair away, kissed her neck. Ah. Hot summer day. First plunge off the dock into cool lake water. Erupting back to the surface, exhilarated. Kissing Owen was like that. The best sensations she had ever known rolled into a single moment.
His mouth found hers again. His hands, purposeful, knowing, explored the length of her arms, the back of her knee, the curve of her calf. He said words she could have listened to for the rest of her life, words every woman wants to hear said of herself, never quite imagining they would actually come from a man like him.
He touched her as if he wanted to know all of her, as if she were something he might have once hoped for, but never really believed he would find.
She ran her own hands across the width of his shoulders, down the carved muscles of his arms, settled on his strong back.
Being with Owen made her realize how much she had missed having a man in her life, missed this, touching and being touched, wanting and being wanted. And yet, even as the thought crossed her mind, she corrected herself. Not just any man. But this man. How easy it would be to lose herself in him.
The Lost Daughter of Pigeon Hollow Page 14
