The Best-Made Plans

by Leigh Michaels

  “So what’s brought it up now, Kaitlyn? Are the letters after my name so important to you?”

  “No,” she said slowly. “I wish you’d told me, that’s all. I don’t like looking like a fool.”

  He darted a glance at her and turned back to the water, without any indication of a desire to answer.

  “Obviously whether I look a fool doesn’t bother you, does it? I suppose I deserve that.” She had to take a deep breath and hold it for a moment to steady herself before she could go on, but there was no stopping now; painful as it might be, she could not simply walk away from this. “Why didn’t you correct me when I said you didn’t have any ambition and you were really just a lazy bum without even a steady job?” Her voice almost cracked at the end, under the strain of repeating those stupid, silly charges. Then all the vibrancy died out of her tone, and she shook her head wearily. “Don’t answer. I know. It didn’t matter.”

  He drew the line back in, checked the lure and cast it again. “You didn’t show any interest in what I might be doing.” His voice was a little gentler, but he didn’t look at her. “You’d already made up your mind about me and you didn’t seem to want the facts to interfere. So I didn’t bother you with them.”

  She chewed the tip of her little finger. It was no harsher a judgment than she deserved. But now that it was no longer true, was there any way to convince him of her change of heart?

  “I’m sorry,” she said almost under her breath. “Of course I care, Penn.”

  It had a harsh ring of truth — too much truth, she realized abruptly, after it was too late to take it back. If he began to wonder just what she had meant…

  She hurried on, almost stumbling over her words. “Why architecture, anyway? You started out to be a mechanical engineer.” Would he even bother to answer? She doubted it.

  Penn reeled his line in again, replaced the bait and cast it once more. Then he shrugged. “Architecture is the best part of engineering, with a whole lot of practical problem-solving mixed in. I hated dealing with nothing but abstractions.”

  She slowly released the breath that until then she hadn’t known she was holding. “Is that why you build the houses yourself? Every board — every nail?”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  She nodded, her eyes fixed firmly on his face.

  He was still staring out over the water. “Because I can point to it and say I did it all myself. I’m not just one cog in a machine.”

  Far out in the water something struck the lure, and Kaitlyn pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them and watched while he landed a big catfish.

  “That’s a beauty,” he said. “Do you feel like catfish for dinner?”

  And just like that the subject of architecture and house-building was closed. But at least it had been opened; for a couple of minutes there she had almost been able to peer inside him.

  It would probably be better if she said no to the dinner invitation. There were Kathy’s invitations to finish, and now that her conscience was clear and she could concentrate, the job wouldn’t take long.

  “I’d love catfish for dinner,” she heard herself saying. “I’ve got all the stuff for potato salad.”

  Penn smiled, and Kaitlyn felt a tiny little quiver that began in the pit of her stomach and radiated out till every cell was tingling.

  You’re a fool, she told herself. You are most truly a fool, if you think there is any future in this. Nothing has changed.

  *****

  She kept telling herself that for the next three days — long, lazy summer days. She felt as if she was trapped on a balance beam, forced to walk back and forth with no way to get off. Every time she caught a glimpse of Penn she felt as if she was doing a headstand; one false move, she knew, and she would crash. And it became more and more difficult to keep her balance as time went on, though not even the wishful longings of her own heart could convince her there was anything serious about the time they spent together.

  Penn was bored and restless, that was clear; while he waited for word on the Delaney property, he wanted something to do, and Kaitlyn was handy. So he invited her to swim with him, and skip rocks across the water in the twilight, and walk up to the meadow to see the nest of baby rabbits he’d discovered.

  It was plain, however, that she was no more than idle entertainment. Though he seemed to enjoy her company, it was painfully clear to Kaitlyn he didn’t need it, for when she refused his invitations he simply went off alone. His cheerful whistle disappearing along the path would haunt her, reminding her that he didn’t miss her much — if at all.

  So she would sit over a pile of unaddressed envelopes and tell herself that there was no future in this sort of casual friendliness and she’d do far better to cut things off right now.

  But her heart rebelled at the idea of giving up all hope. Surely she was being too pessimistic to think there was no future for them.

  Not the kind of future I want, she thought. Not the kind I need.

  But since she couldn’t have what she wanted, perhaps having anything was better than having nothing at all. And what was the big excitement about the future, anyway? The future was really only a hope, an ephemeral ideal — a tomorrow that might never come to be. Surely it would be far better to truly savor the joys that were possible today.

  She grasped at that tiny gleam of comfort. “And if I’m lucky,” she whispered, “there might still be a succession of todays that I can store up to sustain me through a whole lot of empty tomorrows.”

  What was the alternative? The only one she could see was to waste today, as well — and she had done that quite long enough.

  She was not a girl with stardust in her eyes anymore. She was a woman who had learned the difference between reality and dreams. She was not going to get caught up in that confusion again.

  So when Penn knocked at her door with a bucket in his hand and asked if she would like to come with him to the far end of the lake to see if the raspberries were ripe, she didn’t hesitate for an instant.

  It was breathlessly hot, and the boat’s motion made a welcome breeze against her face and whipped her hair into tangles. The roar of the outboard motor made it impossible to talk, but she was almost grateful for that. The raspberry patch was not only at the far end of the lake, but it lay on a hillside well above the water, in the softly-filtered shade where the woods thinned gradually into meadowland. The bushes were thickly tangled and bristly, but the berries were plump and sweet and perfect, and Kaitlyn waded straight into the middle of a thicket, heedless of the thorns.

  They ate more berries than they put in their buckets and finally sat down, replete, on a warm stretch of meadow grass. Kaitlyn hadn’t felt this contented in years. “You’ve got raspberry juice on your face,” she accused him, and raised a finger to brush at Penn’s chin.

  “You can’t get it off that way.”

  She smiled sweetly up at him. “Who said I was going to try to get it off? I was planning to rub it in and see what you look like when you’re purple all over.”

  He seized her hands, but instead of the pull she expected, he gave her a gentle push. Off balance, she sprawled on her back full-length on the grass. He was hovering over her an instant later, an elbow planted in the grass on each side of her, holding her hostage. “Then let’s share the fun, shall we?” he suggested and brushed his chin against her cheek, her throat, her ear.

  She shrieked resistance to the scratchy caress. “Didn’t you bother to shave, Penn?”

  “This morning. But I had no idea I was going to be doing this, or I wouldn’t have.”

  “Well, stop it!”

  “How do you ask nicely, Kitten?”

  She fluttered here lashes at him. “Please, Penn—”

  He pulled back for a second, and she saw the turbulent gray of his eyes. I could drown myself in those eyes, she thought.

  The laughter died, and very slowly he lowered himself closer yet. There was no force in his touch, and yet there was a s
trength within him that was more frightening than violence would have been — and even more completely irresistible.

  There was not even a hint of playfulness left by the time his lips met hers, just an insatiable hunger that seemed to reach down to her core and fill her heart with love for him. She gave a soft little sigh, knowing that she was practically melting against him, and not caring.

  Then he pulled away, and Kaitlyn almost cried out; it was as if he had wrenched the very marrow from her bones as he tore himself from her.

  Why? she wanted to scream. Why?

  “Damn,” he said, almost under his breath. “Where the hell did that blow in from?” He leaped up and stood with feet planted firmly, hands on hips, as he stared at the sky.

  “What?” Kaitlyn said feebly. “I don’t—”

  Two huge cold raindrops hit her face, and one more drove through the thin cotton of her shirt like a knife blade against her overheated skin. She scrambled to her feet in shock. The sun was gone and the western sky was suddenly full of tumbling clouds, huge masses of gray that seemed to be going all directions at once. The light of afternoon had faded to a pale gray dusk.

  “I think we can make a run for it,” Penn said. “There’s lightning, but it’s a long way off.”

  She was standing stock-still, staring at the clouds. “There wasn’t supposed to be a storm!”

  “So call the weather bureau and file a complaint.” He grabbed the buckets and pulled her down the hill. “In the meantime, let’s just head for the boat before it washes away and we have to walk all the way around the lake, all right?”

  The raindrops had been only the first isolated messengers — a nasty wake-up call from Mother Nature, Kaitlyn realized uneasily. The wind had come up, too, and the lake surface was increasingly choppy as the minutes went by. Penn pushed the engine to maximum speed, racing the storm.

  Kaitlyn’s stomach was threatening to desert her altogether by the time they reached the dock. Penn waved aside her offer of help with the boat and motor, and she decided there was no advantage in being a martyr, so she dashed for the cabin.

  The rain came down with a sudden hiss, and by the time she reached her own door she was drenched. Her cotton shorts and shirt were plastered to her body, and her hair streamed rivulets down her face and neck. The wind sliced through her wet clothes like razor blades, and she shivered uncontrollably under the assault.

  She might as well be naked in the middle of a blizzard, for she couldn’t be any colder.

  She stumbled into the cabin, almost tripping over Schnoodle, and grabbed a pile of towels from the bathroom. But even a vigorous rubdown didn’t help much; she was still shaking. So she knelt beside the fireplace and touched a match to the neatly built stack of kindling and logs.

  She huddled beside it as the flame licked greedily at the dry wood and grew into comforting warmth. Was this what it would be like to spend the winter at Sapphire Lake? She found herself shivering again, not sure if it was in reaction to the drenching or to the idea of being marooned up here.

  Had Penn thought it all out? Had he truly considered the isolation, the difficulty of getting supplies, the loneliness of being the only person within miles?

  Or perhaps that was what he liked about the idea. Being entirely alone. It didn’t seem to bother him, being able to depend only on himself.

  Schnoodle’s ears perked and he started to whine just as the unmistakable sound of a fist hitting the door made Kaitlyn leap to her feet. It couldn’t be Penn, could it? He wouldn’t knock. Not unless he was afraid she might have walked in and stripped straight down to bare skin.

  She flung the door open. “Don’t just stand there in the rain getting — Marcus? What are you doing up here?”

  He stepped across the threshold, holding a dripping umbrella. “I need to talk to you, Kaitlyn.” He took in her drenched costume and towel-wrapped hair in one long glance. “What on earth have you been doing to yourself?”

  “It wasn’t an intentional shower, that’s sure.” She was shivering again from the breeze. “I’m just drying off by the fire. Come in.”

  “Thank you; I will. I was playing golf this afternoon when a subject came up that I felt I should discuss with you.”

  Marcus took his trench coat off and draped it neatly across the back of a straight chair, and set his umbrella safely out of the range of sparks. He was playing golf, Kaitlyn thought in disbelief, but he was still prepared for a storm like this? There wasn’t a wet spot on the man except at the cuffs of his neat golf slacks.

  “—a great deal of talk,” he was saying, “and I thought you should know what’s being said.”

  “Said? About what?”

  He looked a bit put out. “About you, Kaitlyn, and this Caldwell character. The entire town thinks you’ve moved up here to live with him.”

  That was no surprise. The big shock was that she hadn’t anticipated the gossip herself. “The entire town?” She shook her head. “Oh, I think you must be wrong. It’s probably not more than two-thirds. But thanks for the information, Marcus.”

  “Kaitlyn.” Marcus’s voice was grim. “You really must take this seriously.”

  “Why? Because you do?”

  Marcus’s lips set into a firm, thin line. “It doesn’t help that you didn’t see fit to tell me you were engaged to him once.”

  “I didn’t tell you that because I wasn’t,” Kaitlyn said crisply. “And for your information, I’m not involved with him now, either. We’re neighbors and that’s all.” Her conscience gave her a twinge, but she stilled it firmly. “For heaven’s sake, Marcus, the man who lived next to Mother’s house on Belle Vista Avenue could have modeled for the fashion magazines, but I didn’t notice you getting upset about him.”

  “That,” Marcus said sternly, “was different. I still care about you, Kaitlyn, and I don’t like to see you make a public scandal of yourself like this.”

  The front door banged. “I’m not saying it’s raining hard out there, but I saw a duck go by wearing a life jacket,” Penn said. “Throw me a towel, would you, Kitten? Thanks — Oh, you’ve already built a fire, too.” He mopped at his hair and dried his feet on the rug by the door, but didn’t bother with the rest of him before crossing the room to the warmth of the blaze. “Hello, Wainwright.”

  He held out a large, wet hand; Marcus looked it over warily as if for telltale smears of oil and gasoline before halfheartedly extending his own.

  Then Penn leaned over Kaitlyn, huddled on the brick hearth by the fire; she tried to send him a warning, but he seemed oblivious. She couldn’t even duck away when his hand, still cold and wet, cupped her chin. He placed a long and leisurely kiss on her lips. “I left the berries on the porch. They’ve already been washed.”

  “Thanks,” she said gloomily. “For nothing,” she added under her breath.

  Marcus stood up. “I see I’ve wasted my time,” he said coldly as he reached for his raincoat.

  “Oh, don’t run off,” Penn cajoled. “You must? Then let me walk you out, at least. It’s no trouble — I can’t possibly get any wetter.” He draped a companionable arm across Marcus’s shoulders and Kaitlyn heard him say just as the door banged behind them, “I understand you’re to be congratulated for escaping a fate worse than death.”

  Suddenly so furious that she couldn’t bear it, Kaitlyn kicked the antique coal hod beside the fireplace. It was full of kindling and not as heavy as it looked. Still, her bare toes connected solidly with the iron, and she sat down abruptly, holding her foot between her hands and trying not to howl.

  It would only make things worse if Penn came back in and found her sobbing, for it wasn’t the ache in her foot she was crying about — and it wasn’t because she was the subject of gossip back in Springhill, either.

  A fate worse than death.

  Those few words drove home to her as never before that nothing was going to change. If he had felt the least bit serious about her, Penn wouldn’t have said them. He obviously knew — and had known
for some time — about her broken engagement. But he’d never even mentioned it, as he would have if he had any desire for a long-term relationship. Congratulating Marcus on escaping...

  She ought to have kicked Penn instead of the coal hod. Or perhaps she should have kicked herself.

  For no matter how sensible she’d told herself she was being, still she had hoped that someday things would be different — and now those hopes had been crushed once more, with cruel finality.

  “Well, that takes care of him,” Penn said, cheerfully. “The fire was a lovely idea, Kitten. Let’s—”

  Kaitlyn wheeled on him. “Did you have to do that?”

  His eyebrows lifted slightly. “Did you really want him to stay to dinner?”

  “For all you know, I did!”

  “Really?” He sounded perfectly pleasant. He crossed the room and picked up his towel again. “I thought it was safe to assume that when a woman tosses an engagement ring into a jelly dish she doesn’t want the man in question hanging around anymore.”

  She bit her lip, hard. So he not only knew the fact of her broken engagement; he knew the details, too. “And what would you know about the rules concerning engagement rings?” she said coldly.

  There was a flicker, behind his eyes. “Not much, I admit. Nevertheless, I didn’t exactly want him hanging around.”

  “Oh?” Kaitlyn’s voice was dangerously quiet. “Well, if that isn’t just like you, Penn. A dog in the manger. You didn’t want me ten years ago, and you don’t want me now. You just want to cause trouble!”

  He stopped massaging himself with the towel and said, very smoothly, “Did I say I didn’t want you?” He tossed the towel aside and took a step closer to her. “Foolish me.”

  Suddenly he seemed very big — not threatening, exactly, but overwhelming. There was no place to go to avoid him; he seemed to be blocking her path.

  “And foolish you,” he went on, softly. “After that roll in the raspberry bushes this afternoon, how could you doubt it? It was you who started it, if you remember — or do you need a reminder?”