"You can use the phone in the office," Kate told him, gesturing toward the main building.
"Unless it's an emergency, I'll be back," he promised.
He left an oddly tense silence behind. Kate folded the yellowed leaf she held and didn't look at Nick.
"What kind of tree am I supposed to be looking at?" he asked, and the prosaic question made her realize how foolish she was being. Why should she feel uncomfortable about Nick seeing her kiss his brother? She dropped the mangled leaf and gave him a bright smile.
"We just got in a couple of bauhinias. I think one of them would look great on the west side of the gazebo."
"The gazebo that's falling down?" Nick asked politely.
"It's not falling down. It just needs a little attention."
"Preferably from a wrecking ball," he murmured as he followed her down the far row of trees.
'It's a wonderful architectural feature, perfectly in keeping with its surroundings."
"You mean it's suffering from years of neglect, just like everything else."
"Well..." Kate slanted him a look that was half reproach, half laughter. "I guess that pretty much sums it up."
Nick grinned. "So, let's see this Bohemian that's going to make the whole place look new again."
''Bauhinia," Kate corrected him. "And I didn't say it was going to work miracles, just that I thought it would look good next to the gazebo. It's a fairly small tree—around twenty feet or so at maturity. It blooms in the spring and the flowers look a little like orchids. This is bauhinia blakeana. The flowers are larger than the ones on the forflcatas and the tree itself is more umbrella shaped, which I think would be good for that spot."
Nick looked at the slender sapling next to her. It looked pretty much like every other tree in the place—scrawny trunk, skimpy leaves, no sign of flowers and nothing to indicate any future tendency toward looking like an umbrella. She was looking at him, obviously waiting for him to express an opinion.
"Looks great," he said. To show his sincerity, he reached out to tug at a branch. "Really great."
"That's a pomegranate," she said dryly. She pointed to the tree on her other side. '''This is the bauhinia."
"Ooops." Nick grinned sheepishly. He shrugged. "They all look great. Who can tell the difference?"
"Let me pull this out so you can get a good look at it. Not that you can really tell all that much, I suppose." She crouched and took hold of one side of the tapered wooden box that held the tree's roots.
"Here. Let me help you." Nick crouched next to her and reached for the box. "This looks heavy."
"I'm used to maneuvering them," Kate said. Uncomfortably aware of his closeness, she grabbed the comer of the box too quickly and then jerked away with a gasp of pain as something tore into the tender flesh at the base of her thumb. "Ouch!"
"Let me see." Nick moved so quickly that she caught only a glimpse of blood welling against her skin before his hands closed over hers, blocking her view.
'^It's not bad," she said automatically, though it was already throbbing.
"Let me see," he said again, cupping his hands around hers.
His voice sounded oddly distant, as if he was a long way off. He was looking at her hand but Kate had the feeling that he was seeing something else entirely. Then the thought drifted away and she became aware that her hand felt warm where he was touching her. It was a deep, soothing kind of warmth that rolled over the pain, a part of it even as it soothed it.
Time seemed to hold its breath, slowing the moment so that Kate could count each beat of her pulse, could feel Nick's pulse beating in rhythm with hers. The gentle warmth spread up her arm and crept through her body, sinking into her bones. She felt a sense of contentment, a sense that all was right with the world.
Her breath slipped from her in a soft sigh and she had to force open eyes she hadn't even been aware of closing. Nick lifted his head and looked at her, and Kate thought it just might be possible to lose herself in his eyes. For a moment—less than a heartbeat—she felt as if she saw directly into his soul, just as he saw into hers.
Then he looked away and the moment was gone, leaving her with an indefinable feeling of loss.
"You're right. It isn't that bad," he said, his voice husky.
"What?" Kate blinked and shook her head as if to clear it. She looked at her hand as he released it and felt the sense of unreality deepen. Where there had been a cut was...nothing.
"Barely even a scratch," Nick said as he stood. She thought he swayed a little but she couldn't be sure. At the moment, she felt as if she couldn't be sure of anything. She rose slowly, her eyes still on her hand.
"There was a cut." She looked at him as if demanding confirmation. "I saw blood."
Nick looked surprised, but Gareth's return prevented him from saying anything.
"I'm going to have to go in early," Gareth said as he approached them. "I guess it's just as well you couldn't make lunch." His smile faded as he looked from Kate to Nick. "What's wrong?"
"I... I cut myself," Kate said, holding out her uninjured hand as if offering evidence. "At least, I thought I did."
Gareth's breath hissed between his teeth and his eyes shot to his brother's face. Nick met the look impassively.
"It must have felt worse than it was," he said. His shoulders lifted in a shrug. "Probably a splinter just jabbed against the skin."
"But..." Kate's voice trailed off. What was the point of continuing? She could have sworn she'd cut her hand. She'd seen blood—she knew she had. Except that she obviously hadn't. Because if she'd seen blood, there would be a cut and there was no cut— just a faint pink mark, hardly enough to be called a scratch.
"This tree looks fine," Nick said, nodding to the sapling. "On Harry's behalf, I'll give my approval."
Kate looked at the tree without seeing it She felt vaguely disoriented, her head spinning, as if she'd just stepped off a merry-go-round.
"I. ..I'll arrange to have it delivered," she said at last.
"Great." Nick smiled but the expression didn't seem to reach his eyes. "I need to get going. Unless you need something else."
"No. No, that's all." Unless he could explain what had just happened. Except that, obviously, nothing had happened. Just her imagination working overtime, making her see cuts that weren't there, making her think—but she didn't know what to think.
"I'll walk out with you," Gareth said, watching his brother with cool, dark eyes.
Kate turned her head to watch them leave, absently rubbing her fingertips against the cut that wasn't there. Almost...almost she could feel it. Only there was nothing to feel. Nothing except the lingering warmth and the sense that something—something extraordinary—had just happened.
❧
"Why do I feel like a prisoner being marched to the guillotine?" Nick said as he and Gareth stepped out the front door and into the sunlight.
"You want to tell me what happened back there?" Gareth's expression was grim.
"Why should I? You obviously think you already know." Nick headed for the parking lot with long, ground-eating strides.
"Am I wrong?" Gareth kept pace with him easily.
"Aren't you supposed to read me my rights before you interrogate me?"
"Dammit, Nick!" Gareth drew a deep breath and continued in a calmer tone. "I'm not interrogating you. I'm just concerned about what Kate is thinking right now."
Nick stopped next to the Harley and reached for his helmet. His anger was gone as quickly as it had come, leaving him drained and weary to the bone. He turned and looked at his brother, his eyes carefully emptied of expression.
"Kate isn't thinking anything at all except that she thought she'd hurt herself worse than she did." His mouth twisted in a bitter half smile as he mounted the bike and reached for the key. "You don't have to worry about explaining any skeletons in the family closet."
"I didn't mean it that way," Gareth protested.
''Didn't you?" Nick turned the key, letting the roar of the
engine drown out any reply his brother might have made.
Without looking at Gareth again, he put the bike in gear and backed out of the parking space. When he reached the street, he glanced in the rearview mirror and saw his brother standing in the same place, looking after him. His jaw tightened and he gunned the engine, sending the big bike roaring into the street.
❧
"Did I just see Gareth and Nick go through here?" Brenda asked as soon as Kate stepped through the door.
"They just left," Kate agreed absently.
"I was going to say hello but they looked like they were in a hurry, I haven't seen much of Nick since he got back, and it seems like Gareth has been spending most of his free time in L.A.'' When Kate didn't answer, Brenda prompted her. "Hasn't he?"
"Hasn't who what?"
"Hasn't Gareth been spending a lot of time in L.A.?" Brenda's eyebrows rose in surprise.
"Oh." Kate struggled to put off the lingering sense of disorientation and focus on the conversation. "Yes, he has been. He's very enthused about this program he's working on. Something that's aimed at helping kids stay out of gangs."
"He's always been good with kids," Brenda said. She leaned one hip against the counter. When Kate had sent the elderly Jim Miller home, she'd called Brenda and asked her to come in and run the register, the only task for which Brenda—in her own words— was even marginally qualified. At the moment, there were no customers and Nancy Morgan, the only other employee, was outside somewhere, so they were alone.
"Gareth likes children."
"He'll be a good father," Brenda said. At another time, Kate might have noted the wistfulness in her friend's voice but she was still distracted by whatever had—or hadn't—happened with Nick.
"I'm sure he will be."
Brenda's brows rose again. "You sound like you're talking about someone you hardly know. This is Gareth, the guy you're engaged to marry. Remember him?"
"Of course." Kate forced a smile and raised her left hand, wiggling her ring finger. "I'm not likely to forget, am I?"
"I wouldn't think so, but you sound a bit out of it." Brenda looked concerned. "Are you sure you're okay? You look a little pale."
"I'm fine."
"I wonder if there's some kind of flu going around. Nick looked a little... off when he came through here."
"Did he?" Kate rubbed her fingers across the base of her thumb. Was it her imagination or was there a faint tingling there?
Brenda stretched one hand in front of her and frowned at her fingernails. "You know, I'm not too sure about this nail polish. The color looked good in the bottle but I think it makes my skin look like I'm in the last stages of yellow fever. Maybe I should—"
"Brenda, what happened to his wife?"
It was difficult to say who was most surprised by the question. The last thing Kate wanted to do was talk about—or think about—Nick Blackthorne, but she couldn't call back the words.
"Nick's wife?" Brenda stared at her in surprise.
Kate nodded. Now that she'd asked the question, she wanted to know the answer. "What happened to her? And to their child? Was there an accident?"
Brenda looked uneasy. "Haven't you asked Gareth about it?"
"The only time he mentioned it, he just said that Nick's wife and child were dead. It was obvious that the subject was painful so I didn't ask for details."
And heaven forgive her, she hadn't cared enough to ask, hadn't wanted to know anything that might spoil her picture-perfect image of the Blackthornes. Besides, Nick hadn't been anything but a name to her. His past—his loss—hadn't seemed significant.
"It's not exactly a secret," Brenda said, still looking uncomfortable. "It was in the papers at the time and, God knows, half the town was talking about it. I always thought that was one of the reasons Nick left—to get away from all the whispers and stares."
She paused, her teeth tugging at her lower lip as she debated with herself. Kate waited, and after a moment she sighed. "She killed herself and the baby."
"What?" Kate felt as if she'd been kicked in the stomach. She reached out and braced her hand on the counter, as if she needed actual, physical support to stay upright. "Nick's wife committed suicide? And she killed— How could she— How could anyone —" She stopped and stared at Brenda in shock. "I don't understand."
"I don't think anyone can really understand something like that," Brenda said, shaking her head.
"But... what happened?''
"I don't know exactly. I only met Lisa a few times." Brenda frowned thoughtfully. "She wasn't beautiful but there was a kind of sweetness in her expression that made you think she was prettier than she really was. She seemed...I don't know, fragile somehow. There was something about her that made you think she wasn't very strong." She shrugged. "I guess she really wasn't."
'There are a lot of people who aren't strong," Kate said, thinking of her father. "But that doesn't mean they...do something like that."
"True. I really only know what I read in the paper. I'd just married Larry and was in the throes of early marital bliss." Her mouth twisted ruefully. "I didn't keep in close touch with a lot of my friends so I don't know much. They called it postpartum psychosis. I guess after the baby was born, Lisa kind of... flipped out."
"How did she..." Kate let the question trail off, not sure she wanted to know the answer.
"She closed up the garage and turned on the car engine." Brenda's mouth tightened and she swallowed before continuing. "She had the baby with her. Nick...Nick found them."
"Oh, God." Kate turned away, her chest aching. She was sorry she'd asked. Maybe Brenda hadn't told her anything that hadn't been public knowledge at the time but she still felt as if she'd pried into Nick's past and pulled out a very private pain.
She didn't want to feel for him like this. It made him too human, too real...too sympathetic. She didn't want to care about what he'd gone through. She didn't want to care about him.
Chapter 7
The sensation of being watched was familiar. Kate's shoulders slumped and she released her breath in a soft sigh. She knew what she'd see if she turned around. Laura and Leroy had become her shadows whenever she worked at Spider's Walk. Though she wouldn't have believed it possible when she first met the pair of them, Leroy had turned out to be friendlier than the little girl who was his constant companion.
As if on cue, the small voice came from behind her. "What are you doing?"
I'm not working for her, Kate reminded herself. She straightened her shoulders and turned to face her small inquisitor.
"Hello, Laura."
" 'Lo. What are you doing?" When it came to changes at Spider's Walk, Laura had a one-track mind.
"I'm planting a tree."
''How come?"
''Because a tree will look nice here. You like trees, don't you?"
"Yes." The admission was grudging, as if Laura hated to concede even that much. "There's already lots of trees around, though."
"But there isn't a tree here." Kate kept her smile in place with an effort. "I think one will look nice here. When it's grown up, it will shade the gazebo. Won't that be nice?"
Laura's narrow shoulders lifted in a shrug as she glanced at the young tree behind Kate. "I suppose it will be okay."
Kate's teeth ground together. "I'm glad I have your permission," she said sweetly and then was ashamed of herself for allowing her temper to override her common sense—getting sarcastic with a six-year-old, for heaven's sake! But Laura took the comment at face value.
"I don't mind if you put a tree there," she said graciously, and Kate's molars scraped together.
She's just a child.
"Don't you have something you need to do at your own house?"
"Nah." Laura threw one arm around Leroy's sturdy neck and looked as if she planned to stay put.
"It looks like it's going to rain soon," Kate said, glancing at the gray clouds that pressed down above them. "Maybe you left some toys out that need to be brought inside?"
> "Nope."
"I really need to get this tree planted before it starts raining," Kate hinted.
"Okay." Laura's big blue eyes remained fixed on her.
With a sigh, Kate turned to the tree and tried to put her audience out of her mind. She shouldn't have tried to do this today. Not only had the weather report predicted rain, but Jim Miller's grandson, who worked part-time at the nursery and usually helped with the heavy work, had called in sick. A smart woman would have paid attention to the signs and postponed the job. But this was her first major addition to Spider's Walk and she'd been anxious to see it in place.
If the rain would just hold off a little while longer... As if in answer to her silent plea, a sudden breeze swirled around her, rustling the leaves on the little tree and bringing with it the cool smell of rain. Muttering under her breath, Kate dropped to her knees and leaned forward to take hold of the tree's trunk. As long as Laura insisted on watching her every move, maybe she could make herself useful, she thought.
"Does it look straight?"
"Nope."
Kate waited but Laura didn't add anything.
"Which way should I move it?"
"That way."
That way? Kate rested her forehead against her outstretched arm and wondered if she'd committed a crime in a former life for which she was now being punished.
"Do you know your left and right?" she asked in a voice that strained for patience.
"Yep."
"Do you think you could tell me whether the tree needs to be moved right or left?"
"Kinda left," Laura said thoughtfully. Kate started to shift the tree toward the gazebo only to stop when the child continued. "But a little right, too."
For just a moment, Kate considered beating her forehead on the ground in frustration but she refused to give her small tormentor the satisfaction of seeing her break.
"It can't go left and right," she pointed out. "It's got to be one or the other."
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