A Path Toward Love (38 page)

Best to take a walk and pray for her. Please, Lord, cover Katherine .
. .

Rowing eased some of Katherine's pent-up agitation. By the time she arrived at the Wayside Inn, her nerves had steadied and her mind felt clear. Over the years she'd tackled many disagreeable tasks, but this was undoubtedly the worst.
Lord, please help me to get through this with grace and charity
.

She beached the rowboat on a thin strip of sand, hauled it completely out of the water, and glanced at the small, rustic inn. The Wayside was a respectable but unfashionable establishment, catering to the middle class. It was built in the rustic style of most of the Adirondack camps. Hurrying down a path, she made her way to the back veranda. Several guests rocked rhythmically on painted rocking chairs while their knitting needles
click-clacked
; others watched the boats float by or read books and newspapers. A few gave her a disinterested glance as she approached the porch steps.

A young woman with a boy at her side stood and came forward from the opposite end of the long porch. She walked slowly, her shoulders square, her face impassive except for a kink at the corner of her wide mouth.

“Mrs. Osborne?” she called hesitantly as Katherine paused at the back door.

Katherine nodded. “Yes, I am. I presume you're Miss Roles.” Raising a reserved but polite smile, Katherine's gaze swept the young woman. She looked to be about her own age, maybe a few years older. Anger, mixed with anxiety, tugged at Katherine's heart.

If she discounted the faded plaid dress and severe bun, Charles's mistress was attractive—in a washed-out sort of way. But she was hardly the beautiful vixen Katherine had imagined. Her features were sharply chiseled, and her skin so pale she seemed almost colorless. She wasn't any taller than Katherine, and so slight she looked like she could be blown away in a brisk autumn breeze.

Harriet rested her hand protectively on the boy's thin shoulders. Her dark eyes locked with Katherine's. “This is Zeke, Charles's son.” Harriet glanced proudly at the boy with a mother's fierce love. When she turned back to Katherine, she held her head a bit higher. The little boy grasped his mother's hand and stared at Katherine with unabashed curiosity. The obvious bond between mother and child made Katherine cringe from sadness too deep to endure. In all fairness he should've been hers. But then she pulled herself together and smiled at Zeke.

“Hello, Zeke,” Katherine said.

He responded in the childish voice of a nine-year-old. “How do you do, Mrs. Osborne?”

Even without an introduction she knew the boy belonged to Charles. The resemblance was striking: hazel eyes flecked with gold; thick, chestnut hair that curled around his square face; and a strong, prominent jaw. He seemed serious, like his mother, giving Katherine the impression he might not grow up to be a dashing scoundrel like his father.

“Why don't you go into the dining room, Zeke?” Harriet said. “The cook promised me she'd give you milk and cookies. Mrs. Osborne and I need to talk privately.”

He vanished in an instant. Katherine eyed Harriet, waiting for her to begin.

The woman led her toward the deserted end of the porch where the view of the lake was obscured by clumps of white birch, hemlock, and evergreens. They settled side by side in wooden rocking chairs away from the other hotel guests.

“As I said in my letter, I'm sorry to distress you with the news of Zeke—and of Charles and me. But I lost my factory job and I haven't any prospects for employment. I'm afraid I'm not much good at sewing or any of the domestic arts.”

Katherine nodded.

“I'd like to be a governess again, but I can't take a position that requires me to leave my son. None of my relatives are able or willing to bring him up.” Harriet bit her lip. “And I wouldn't want them to anyway. I couldn't bear to leave him with others.”

Katherine understood. If she had a child . . . “Were you a governess in Florida?”

“Yes. I used to take care of the Hall children in Brooksville. I accepted the position when I lived in New York City with my aunt and uncle. After Mr. Hall bought citrus groves in central Florida, we all moved south.”

“And that's where you met my husband?” Katherine asked, her throat so constricted she sounded hoarse.

Harriet lifted her chin. “Yes, only he wasn't your husband then.”

Blushing, Katherine continued, “Yes, I understand. When I married Charles I didn't know he'd had a previous relationship—and a child.” She'd never have married him if she'd learned he and his mistress had an affair, let alone one that produced a son. She wasn't at all surprised Charles hadn't bothered to tell her. “Miss Roles, I think I'd like to speak to you about Zeke's support now.”

Harriet nodded, the muscles in her face tightening.

“I have no obligation to turn over any funds, as you know. Charles never made any provision for the boy's welfare. So the decision falls to me.”

Harriet tensed and waited, wringing her hands. Katherine noted the desperation in her eyes and felt an unexpected surge of grudging sympathy for the woman. Taking a deep breath, Katherine cleared the emotion from her voice. “You may not know this, but Charles left me almost no money. He squandered everything we had on gambling and what I can only assume was support for you. So to help, I'd need to give you something from my own savings, which I assure you, at this point is extremely limited.”

Harriet's eyes widened with disbelief. “Oh, I didn't know that. But what about your family? Surely they could help.”

Katherine gave a dry laugh. “Miss Roles, if my father thought you suggested he contribute even a penny, he'd use his considerable influence against you. He'd be unhappy to know I'm here speaking with you.”
Furious, in fact
.

Harriet's shoulders slumped and she seemed to wilt. “I see. I didn't mean to imply he ought to help me. But I'm down to my last few dollars, and as I said, I have no job prospects. Maybe you don't think I deserve anything, but surely you'd like Charles's son to have a roof over his head.” She sighed softly. “I have no idea how much money it will take to raise Zeke, but I'm sure two thousand dollars should be enough to see us through his childhood.”

Katherine gaped at the woman, dumbstruck. That wasn't a fortune for most of her contemporaries at Camp Birchwood, but for her it was totally impossible. Especially on top of meeting the bank's demand at month's end. But if she refused? “That's a large sum. But I'll consult with my attorney and get back with you as quickly as I can. I'm sure you must be eager to return to New York as soon as possible. Please excuse me, Miss Roles. I must be on my way.”

Katherine rose on shaky legs and hurried to her rowboat, anxious to leave Harriet far behind. The woman had a terrible nerve asking for an enormous sum of money when she'd ruined Katherine's life. It would serve Harriet right if she didn't give her a cent. Katherine stumbled as she scrambled into her boat, her only thought that she had to talk to Andrew as soon as possible.

After half an hour passed, Andrew gave up his struggle to focus on his upcoming trip. What was the point of reading the same words over and over without comprehending them? He had plenty of time to go through these papers again. As far as he knew, he could still leave any day.

Finding the backyard deserted except for Aunt Letty resting in a Muskoka chair, he strolled in her direction. “May I join you, Aunt Letty?”

“Yes, yes, my dear.”

He sat down beside her, pleased with the view of the wooded lawn, pier, and lake before them. They'd see Katherine as soon as she arrived.

The elderly lady chuckled. “I must have dozed off. I'm so glad you happened by. I've been meaning to speak to you.”

“About Katherine? I was shocked she turned down the loan. It appears she's decided she'd rather marry Randy than return to her business.”

Letty tilted her head and glanced at Andrew with questioning eyes. “She feels she must work her own way out of her mess. And I'm afraid we weren't very convincing.” She shook her head dolefully and then looked out to the lake. “Tell me, Andrew. Does she confide in you?”

He nodded. For good or for ill, she told him much of what lay on her heart. More than she should, though certainly not everything. “Yes. I try to help her sort things out, but as you mentioned, for the most part, she wants to make her own decisions.” He shrugged. “Maybe it's from running the citrus groves on her own these last years. She's accustomed to keeping her own counsel.”

“Doesn't that strike you as odd?”

“Which part?”

Aunt Letty stared deep into his eyes, and he feared even deeper into his heart. “Don't you think she ought to confide in her fiancé? It's Randy's place to help her now, not yours, my dear friend.” Aunt Letty spoke softly and gently, but her words stung because Andrew knew she was right.

It was time for him to abdicate his role as advisor. It would hurt like crazy to back away when she sought him out, but he would. And he'd try to do it with a measure of grace.

“Yes, I see she should confide in Randy, not me.”

“But she doesn't wish to, does she?” Aunt Letty asked, lifting an eyebrow.

Andrew shook his head. “Apparently not.”

Letty gripped his hand. “Don't you see? She's so in love with you, it never occurs to her to talk to Randy about her troubles. Katherine instinctively runs to you. Or perhaps she just won't admit to herself that you're the one who listens to her and cares for her. Admitting she relies on you would throw her life into total chaos, and she doesn't want any more turmoil after all she's endured.”

Andrew didn't trust his voice. “Do you really believe she loves me?” he whispered. Just as he expected, he sounded lovelorn and pathetic. He couldn't conceal his feelings on this matter, no matter how hard he tried.

“I do, indeed. And I think you should pursue Katherine and convince her to marry you. Oh, I know you're afraid she'll turn you down. Don't look so skeptical. I can tell you're about to list all the reasons why marriage to Katherine can't work out. But I'm here to tell you, it can if you both want it enough.”

Speechless at her encouragement, he sat still, mouth agape. She was the first and only one in the Wainwright family to offer any support.

Thoughts of Isabelle Wainwright and his aunt filled his head. He'd hate to cross swords with either of those formidable matrons, let alone Mr. Wainwright. He knew he was right on the verge of losing his position, given that he continued to see Katherine every time he could. A cold chill ran through his veins. He'd never been a fool, and he wasn't about to start being one now—at least not without a word of encouragement from Katherine herself.

Chapter Twenty-Four