A Path Toward Love (12 page)

Together they strolled outside and lingered by the deck railing that overlooked the small patch of lawn edging the water. Katherine watched the sailboats dip in the breeze and noted a few canoes and guide boats riding through the rippling waves. She spotted Papa's yacht steaming around Loon Island and heading toward the pier with a group of women on deck chairs. Aunt Letty might've been among them, but Katherine couldn't distinguish her from the others partially hidden under wide-brimmed hats.

As she waited for the yacht to draw closer, Katherine looked toward the garden and noted a gardener bending over bright yellow and red nasturtiums and black-eyed Susans. He pulled up a few weeds and tossed them in a pile. No doubt she'd often see her mother out there early in the morning tending to the blooms and humming one of her favorite Broadway show tunes.

It was good to see her mother after such a long separation, and she hoped their relationship would improve as time went by. But why did communicating with Mama always end up in a struggle? And why couldn't she herself be more like other young women who followed docilely in their mothers' footsteps, marrying their parents' choice of a partner and making their families proud? Instead, she'd run off and embarrassed her family without thinking twice. If Charles hadn't died, she'd still be trapped in a dreadful marriage of her own making. Had God brought her here to finally concede to their will? To acknowledge their wisdom, no matter how it grated?

She had the summer to find out.

The yacht pulled into the pier and the passengers disembarked and started toward Birchwood Lodge. Aunt Letty glanced in Katherine's direction and waved her handkerchief. “Woo hoo!” she called.

A sudden gust of wind pulled a few strands of snow-white hair from her bun and blew them around her pudgy neck encased in a tight collar. As she pinned back her hair, she chugged up the path that skirted the yard. She wore a fussy maroon frock with a bustle at least fifteen years out-of-date. It puffed out in the back, adding yards and yards of extra fabric to the skirt. From the looks of Aunt Letty's thick waist, Katherine suspected she didn't wear a corset.
Good for her
.

Katherine bent down to hug her great aunt and brush her withered face with a kiss. “It's so grand to see you, Auntie. You're looking remarkably fit.”

“For an old lady, you mean. Yes, I'm in fine form, thank the good Lord. No aches and pains to complain about. I hear you've agreed to come and keep me company. Thank you for your kindness. I know we'll have a lovely time together.”

Aunt Letty headed toward the cabin door. “Come inside and tell me all about your journey north. I do so love railcars, and your parents' varnish is the nicest one I've ever ridden on. We'll see you in a little while, Isabelle. I'm sure Katherine would like to freshen up now.”

Katherine held back a giggle at Mama's indignant expression over her obvious dismissal. She hurried inside after Aunt Letty and closed the door before Mama could see her smile.

Chapter Seven

A
ndrew passed through the lounge of Birchwood Lodge where the guests normally gathered at night for entertainment. He headed upstairs and then quickly settled into the bedroom he shared with his cousin Randy.

“I'm glad you're back. It's been boring without you around.” Randy thumped his cousin between his shoulder blades. Tall and thin, Randy had a luxuriant mustache he kept waxed at the tips and a pair of slightly slanted eyes as dark as hot coffee. The ladies all made a fuss over his thick eyelashes. “How was Florida?”

“Muggy. Though I wouldn't mind escaping the snow to return to it, come winter.”

“I'd like that too.” Randy nodded as he ambled over to his three-legged chair in the corner and picked up his mandolin. “I heard Mr. Flagler built a grand hotel in Palm Beach. It's called the Breakers, I think. It's right on the ocean. Or maybe we should go farther south. Come January, we could take the Florida East Coast Railway all the way down to Biscayne Bay and stay at the Royal Palm. What do you say?” Randy strummed a few chords.

Andrew opened his valise and unpacked his clothing and toiletries. “I say you must be dreaming. I have to work for a living.”

Randy wrinkled his nose. “That sounds boring. Surely you can finagle a few weeks off. Mr. Wainwright likes you. I'd say he even admires your work ethic. So I'm sure you can convince him; a hard worker such as yourself deserves a vacation.”

Andrew knew he'd need too much time off for a trip to Florida. He'd waste several days just traveling. But that was beside the point. He'd never be able to save enough money to stay in a fancy hotel frequented by the idle rich. Randy received a generous allowance from his father, but Andrew had to earn his keep.

“By the way, where's Katherine?” Randy asked.

“She went off with her mother to her cabin. I assume she'll unpack and settle in.”

“How does she look? As pretty as ever?”

“Certainly pretty,” Andrew said carefully. “But . . . changed. The years have been hard on her.”

“Then she's exactly where she ought to be. Keeping company with us at Camp Birchwood will surely bring her back 'round.” Randy sang “Wait 'Till the Sun Shines Nellie,” so popular this year. His rich tenor voice could catapult him to Broadway stardom, if he had the inclination. Of course, his social set would never approve, and Randy was far from a rebel.

Andrew changed into old clothes and pulled on a pair of worn hiking boots. “Care to join me for a walk?”

Randy shrugged and then put down his mandolin. “I suppose a bit of sunshine and exercise won't hurt—unless you mean one of your infamous ten-mile hikes up and down mountainsides.”

“Not at all.”

An hour later they were tromping through the woods beneath a leafy canopy as thick as a thatched roof. Only a few flashes of sunlight penetrated the cool shade.

Leading Randy, Andrew crashed through the brush until they came to the dirt trail that wound through the deep forest and would lead them back to Birchwood Lodge. He trod over twigs and loose pebbles, and kicked through crumbled leaves and half-crushed pinecones. A wild rabbit skittered across the path a few yards ahead and disappeared among the brambles and bushes.

Randy halted and stared at his bare arms below his rolled-up shirtsleeves. “Look at this.” He held out his arms, enflamed with ugly red bumps.

“Poison ivy,” Andrew pronounced with a grimace. “Better use some calamine lotion or Burow's solution.”

“You shouldn't have prodded me to go on
a nature walk
today. Clearly, too much fresh air and exercise isn't good for anything but a nasty rash.”

They continued on, this time with Randy in the lead.

“Don't scratch so hard. It'll only make it worse,” Andrew warned as he watched his cousin rake his skin with his fingernails.

The usually congenial Randy glared over his shoulder. “From now on I'll confine my exercise to the dance floor. Hurry up. If I don't lather myself in something soothing, the itch will drive me crazy.” He turned and strode down the path, scratching and muttering.

Andrew laughed. “Don't get testy, cousin.”

Finally they emerged from the darkness of the woods into bright light. Blinking, Andrew's eyes rapidly adjusted to the late afternoon sunshine. They hastened across the lawn toward the lodge. Andrew glanced at the cabins strung behind it and connected by the covered walkways.

He spotted Katherine leaning over the railing of the deck, staring at the lake. Even though he'd spent the last couple of weeks near her, his breath still snagged at the sight of her loveliness. The sun made her hair shine and bathed her in a warm glow like a Rembrandt painting.

“Look. Katherine's outside,” Andrew called, shielding his eyes from the sun.

“Why don't you go tell her I'll be there shortly? I'd better get this rash taken care of first.” Randy's mouth raised in a crooked smile. “You downplayed her comeliness, Andrew. She's more beautiful than ever.”

“I believe you're right.” Filled with as much admiration as his cousin, Andrew couldn't hold back his appreciation of the vision of her. “She's the prettiest girl I've ever seen,” he whispered. Even to his own ears, he sounded like a besotted boy barely mature enough to shave a few, sparse whiskers.

Randy focused suspicious brown eyes on Andrew. “Well, don't get any ideas. She's all mine, you know. Our mothers decided our fate ages ago. Not that I mind.”

In an effort to accept reality with a modicum of grace, Andrew swallowed hard to keep from spewing his true feelings. “Right,” Andrew said. The most he could aspire to was friendship with Katherine. Without a fortune attached to his name, he'd never be in the running at all.

“Good man,” Randy said, clamping him on the shoulder. “I wouldn't want you poaching on my territory.” He gave a wolfish grin that reminded Andrew of the animal heads mounted on the walls of Birchwood Lodge and recreation hall.

Andrew composed himself. “Never fear. I wouldn't dare compete with you.”

“But you'd like to, wouldn't you?” Randy jammed his hands on his hips and narrowed his dark eyes. “No matter how much you protest, I think you like Katherine Osborne. You were totally bewitched when we were young, and these last weeks with her have obviously done nothing to change that.”

Andrew shrugged, unwilling to out and out lie. “Of course I still like her, but I hold no illusions.”

Randy pounded him on his shoulder. “Excellent. I'd hate for us to vie for the same woman.” He chuckled. “You'd be sure to lose.”

“You think?” Andrew muttered jokingly, then got serious. He touched his cousin on his upper arm. “Randy, Katherine isn't the same young woman who left us years ago. She's been through a lot. Don't expect the carefree girl whom we used to know. During the time I spent with her in Florida, I realized how much she's changed.”

Randy shrugged. “It's been two years since Osborne died. I'll bet I can bring that outstanding girl we once knew back around.”

Andrew hesitated. “I'd love to see our old Katherine again, but truly, we've all changed. We're not the same boys we used to be either.”

“Speak for yourself, my man.” With that, Randy laughed, turned, and marched toward the chalet, scratching his arm.

Andrew watched him go, agitated that Randy wasn't willing to see Katherine as anything but a conquest, revisited.
He doesn't deserve her,
Andrew thought as he strode across the grass toward Katherine's cabin, annoyed he'd so easily given himself away. When it came to Katherine, it was difficult to hide his feelings.

At the sound of his approach, she partially turned. Her wide smile sped up his heartbeat. “Randy will come over to see you as soon as he douses himself in calamine lotion. He's got an awful case of poison ivy.”

“The poor man,” she said. “Some things never change, do they? He always managed to find the nearest poison ivy patch when we were kids romping through the woods.”

Andrew nodded and smiled. Leaning against the deck railing close beside her, he watched a group of her parents' friends dock the guide boats and pile out. The ladies in their plain shirtwaists and skirts held parasols above their heads while the gentlemen wore straw boaters and shirts with sleeves rolled up to their elbows. “Are you glad to be back, Katherine?”

“Yes, but it seems a bit strange after being away for such a long time. So many things are the same, yet they seem different somehow. Maybe it's because I'm different.” She hesitated. “I'm not sure I'll ever fit in again.”

He glanced at her sideways. “Is it your mother?”

“Oh, I can manage my mother. I'm up to the challenge.” Her eyes twinkled. “After all, I inherited her determination, didn't I?”

Andrew allowed a sly grin. “Yes, indeed.”

Katherine grew serious. “If you think of it, please say a prayer that I'll adjust to Birchwood and my family again. It's so peaceful here, and I have such happy memories, but . . . I don't feel as if I belong anymore.”

“I already pray for you, Katherine, and have for as long as I can remember. Maybe after you're here for a while you'll feel more comfortable. You'll find new ways you can fit.”