A Path Toward Love (19 page)

Mama pursed her thin lips, not fooled. “I do so wish you'd show more enthusiasm for socializing. Randy can be great fun.”

Katherine beat down the anger flaring in her chest. “I don't know why you're agitated, Mama. I'm off to see Randy, as you've suggested.” She turned hopefully to her aunt. “Unless you mind my absence?”

But the elderly lady was so engrossed in her pile of photos of Norman that she merely lifted a hand. “Go right ahead, my dear. I have to decide which of these to get rid of, though I doubt I can part with any. I'm a sentimental old fool, you know.” Her eyes glistened with a teary smile. She belatedly looked from Isabelle to Katherine, understanding too late. But Katherine's mother was already on the move, opening the porch door and waiting for her to pass. Aunt Letty gave her a little shrug of apology.

Katherine sighed and headed out to the backyard studded with white birch, quaking aspen, white pines, and several full-skirted sugar maples as Mama returned to the lodge, a self-satisfied prance to her step. Sunshine had chased away the chill and gray skies of morning and filtered through the canopy of greenery arching above the yard.

She thought back to her breakfast with Andrew. She wished he'd agreed to her suggestion of a tennis match. He wasn't working this afternoon—she could see him on the beach, launching a small sailboat into the water. So why had he dodged her? Her eyes moved to Randy, and she remembered how Andrew had hung back last night, and then disappeared as they went on singing. Might he be . . . jealous? Or was her father warning Andrew to stay away from her?

Letting the clear air sweep away thoughts of Andrew helped her focus on her mother's request. Stretched out on the canvas hammock, Randy let his straw hat slip down and cover most of his face. She shoved down a wave of irritation, wishing he'd read a book, for once, rather than while away the hours napping.
Focus on the good things,
she reminded herself.
The fine things about him
. He wore dark trousers, a soft collared white shirt open at the neck with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The rash on his arms looked more pink than red, a sure sign the calamine lotion was working.

At her approach, he lifted his hat. “Well, good afternoon, Katherine.” He made a move to arise, but she motioned him to stay still.

“Don't let me disturb you. You look quite comfortable.”

“Come sit beside me.” He patted the canvas as he righted himself.

She tilted her head. “I hardly think so. We'd slide to the middle and I'd end up in your lap.”

“That wouldn't be so bad, would it?”

She had to grin at the twinkle in his dark eyes. “Hardly proper,” she answered with a crooked smile. “I'll just stand here by the tree, if you don't mind.” She leaned against the trunk and stared out at the lake, trying to keep her eyes from a small sailboat bobbing in the waves.

But Randy did the gentlemanly thing and got out of the hammock, edging near her. He pulled the hat off his head and twisted it in his hands, rolling his foot idly over a tree root. “You know, Katherine, I'm really glad you're back. Nothing's been the same since you married and left the rest of us behind.”

She raised her eyebrows. “That's certainly an exaggeration.”

“Well, for me it's true. You broke my heart when you ran off with one of my best friends. I never quite recovered from your defection.” He shot her a wide, friendly grin. “What? Must I prove it to you?” he said dramatically. He staggered backward and then to the side, one hand clutching his heart, the other hand to his head. “See? Still I yearn so for my sweet Katherine, 'tis as if I ail! 'Tis as if I still bear an arrow through my heart!”

Katherine shook her head at his melodrama and giggled. “Even though I said earlier we hardly know each other anymore, you're really just the same, Randy. You can still make me smile.”

He dipped his head. “My pleasure.”

“Tell me, what have you been doing in the last eight years?”

Randy shrugged and then scrunched his face in a wince. “If you mean ‘what have I accomplished,' I'm afraid if I tell you, you'll think less of me. If you ask my father, he'll say nothing at all. But I've enjoyed myself, so in my own mind I've achieved everything I set out to do.”

Randy was very much like Charles when it came to work. But Randy didn't have a mean side or fearsome temper. And his fortune was so vast, it'd be difficult to gamble away. He merely wanted life to swirl around him in an endless party. Not a very ambitious goal, to be sure, but at least he was honest about it. Many young men of their generation seemed at loose ends, she mused. Their fathers or grandfathers had made the family fortunes, and now there was little for them to do except spend the spoils.

He gently kicked away a twig and then dug the heels of his shiny boots into the dirt. “While I was learning the intricacies of bridge and idling away my time, you were running a company. I can hardly believe the girl I dreamed about all these years managed citrus groves. It's astonishing, what you've had to bear.”

She doubted Randy ever pined away for her, or ever would. He was merely being charming. A gust of wind lifted her skirt a few inches. She held it down as best she could while Randy's gaze strayed toward her ankles and lingered.

“I miss working and the feeling of accomplishment at the end of the day,” she said, making him look her in the eye again. “You should try it sometime. It truly is a fulfilling sort of life.”

He shook his head, clearly bewildered. “My goodness, Katherine. I can't believe you actually
enjoy
working. I can tell you, your mother certainly disapproves. Most mothers would, of course. No woman of status should have to go through such things.” He let out a laugh. “Few men of status should do so either.”

Katherine fought back a frown. “So you disapprove as well?” She pulled off a maple leaf and slowly shredded it.

He shrugged, peering at her, clearly gauging her reaction. “I've never considered a woman working before, except for those who haven't a choice. But whoever heard of a society girl
wanting
to work? No one, I'll wager.”

Katherine breathed deeply to relax the tightness building in her chest. “Perhaps I don't belong in society anymore.”

His eyebrows raised. “Nonsense! You did once and you will again. Just forget about your groves and concentrate on having fun with me. I'll show you the way back. I know the path well.” He cocked a brow and gave her a flirtatious grin.

“Randy, I think you misunderstand. I truly enjoy working. As much as I love it here, I miss my business.”

“And you are not understanding me. You had another life, a different life, in Florida. But you've returned, to the life you were born to.” He reached out and placed a gentle hand on hers. “Undoubtedly, you're confused. A bit lost, really. But take heart, Kat. You're not alone. I'll show you the way. Shall we begin with a boat ride? This time without a tragic, stormy culmination?”

She forced a smile and took his arm. But his words rolled around in her head. Was she truly missing her life in Florida? Or was she merely lost, a boat without an anchor? She owed it to Randy, and her parents, to at least give this life a chance again. He was right—she'd been born into it. God never made mistakes. But after the boat ride, she decided to slip in a telegram to Stuart, to find out just how the groves were faring in Florida without her. The letter she'd sent him might not receive a response for a week or more. If she were to concentrate on her life here in New York, she had to know all was well in Florida. Until that day, she'd simply rock back and forth between them in her heart and mind.

Chapter Eleven

L
ate the next morning Andrew completed his work for Mr. Wainwright, and his boss dismissed him for the day. Given the gathering clouds, he couldn't head out in a sailboat as he had done the day before. The perfect solution was a hot cup of tea, a crackling fire, an overstuffed chair, and his copy of
The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes
.

Andrew slid his book out of a lower desk drawer and headed toward the lodge library. But when he arrived, he found Katherine and her great-aunt already settled in. He paused, considering other places he liked to read, but Katherine caught sight of him and smiled. She put her finger to her lips, gesturing toward Letty. Asleep in the corner, snoring softly, Mrs. Benham still held a magazine in her hand.

To leave now would be awkward, he decided, so he tiptoed over to the chair by the fire and settled in. At least with Letty sleeping, he could be near Katherine, but it appeared entirely innocent. He opened his book and attempted to focus on the words, not on the pretty young woman so close to him on the leather sofa. She was working at attaching a feather to the brim of another hat. Who was that one for? Another for Letty? A friend? Herself?

Andrew bit back a whispered question and tried to find his place in his book, but he couldn't keep from taking surreptitious glances at Katherine and Letty. For a moment he allowed himself to relish the quiet scene, wishing the three of them sat in the house he hoped to have someday, albeit a small place with less expensive furniture and fewer servants. Both those things wouldn't matter as long as Katherine sat beside him . . .

He watched her adjust the frills on the hat and then smile with obvious satisfaction at her handiwork. He let out a long breath and returned to his book. Reality was impossible to ignore. This was Mr. Wainwright's lodge, he was a guest, and Katherine had been declared out-of-bounds, at least for the time being. If he waited, another opportunity might present itself. At least, he hoped it would.

The butler entered the library with mail for Katherine a short time later. He bowed slightly and extended the silver salver. She glanced at each envelope, frowned at one for several seconds, and then accepted the letter opener. With a slight tremble in her hand, she slit the crease and stood to read it with the aid of the light seeping through the window. Her color faded. Two sheets of paper fell to the bearskin rug.

“What's the matter?” Andrew jumped up, retrieved the letter, and placed it in her hand again.

She dropped into one of the wooden chairs, gripping the papers so tightly they crumpled. He knelt down in front of her chair, wanting more than anything to pull her into his arms and comfort her. For a long while she sat silently, without moving. “Katherine?” He waited helplessly, glancing over to Letty to see if she might be of assistance, but the old lady snored on.

“Can I get you something? A glass of water? Or perhaps tea?”

She shook her head, responding as if she wasn't quite aware of his presence.

“Katherine, I don't wish to interfere. But if you need something, I'm here to help.”

She lifted a grateful smile. “You're most considerate, Andrew. Please stay. I don't want to be alone.”

Her words struck deep. More than anything, he wanted her to need him.

Gradually she emerged from her shock, still pale, and handed him the letter. “Please read this. I think I may need your legal opinion.” Her eyes rapidly blinked back unshed tears.

Andrew glanced at the envelope addressed to Katherine before he looked through the sheets of paper. He read the feminine looking script and felt a twinge of anxiety.

Dear Mrs. Osborne,

I'm sorry I must write to you because I fear it will cause you great distress. I'm afraid there's no easy way to say this, so I'll just begin and hope you'll try to understand. Forgiveness is more than I can possibly wish for.

Charles Osborne and I had a son together several years ago. Although we didn't marry, we continued to love each other until Charles's death. If you didn't know about us or even suspect, I'm truly sorry to bring you news that you'll most likely find painful.

Charles protected me from vicious gossip in Florida, but after he passed on, I was ostracized and penniless. So I returned to my family in New York City and found a job. I wouldn't write except that I've lost my position and have no prospects for employment. I need support for my child or we will soon be without food and shelter since my relations can no longer provide for us.

If you are a good Christian woman, I pray you will take pity and send us funds so Charles's son won't suffer. Please believe me, I wouldn't ask if I weren't desperate.