Country Brides (15 page)

N
o emotion revealed itself on Clay's face, but Rorie could sense the tight rein he kept on himself. Dan's words had dismayed him.

“Is that true, Rorie?” he said after a moment.

Dan's fingers tightened almost painfully on her shoulders. “Just tonight we were talking about getting married. Tell him, darling.”

Her eyes refused to leave Clay's. She
had
been talking to Dan about marriage, although she had no intention of accepting his offer. Dan knew where he stood, knew she was in love with another man. But nothing would be accomplished by telling Clay that she'd always love him, especially since he was marrying Kate in a few weeks. “Yes, Dan has proposed.”

“I'm crazy about Rorie and have been for months,” Dan announced, squarely facing his competition. He spoke for a few more minutes, outlining his goals. Within another ten years, he planned to be financially secure and hoped to retire.

“Dan's got a bright future,” Rorie echoed.

“I see.” Clay replaced his coffee cup on the tray, then glanced at his watch and rose to his feet. “I suppose I should head back to the Cow Palace.”

“How…how are you doing in the show?” Rorie asked, distraught, not wanting him to leave. Kate would have him the rest of their lives; surely a few more minutes with him wouldn't matter. “Kate wrote that you were going after several championships.”

“I'm doing exactly as I expected.” The words were clipped, as though he was impatient to get away.

Rorie knew she couldn't keep him any longer. Clay's face was stern with purpose—and resignation. “I'll see you out,” she told him.

“I'll come with you,” Dan said.

She whirled around and glared at him. “No, you won't.”

“Good to see you again, Rorie,” Clay said, standing just inside her apartment, his hand on the door. His mouth was hard and flat and he held himself rigid, eyes avoiding hers. He stepped forward and shook Dan's hand.

“It was a pleasure,” Dan said in a tone that conveyed exactly the opposite.

“Same here.” Clay dropped his hand.

“I'm glad you came by,” Rorie told him quietly. “It was…nice seeing you.” The words sounded inane, meaningless.

He nodded brusquely, opened the door and walked into the hallway.

“Clay,” she said, following him out, her heart hammering so loudly it seemed to echo off the walls.

He stopped and slowly turned around.

Now that she had his attention, Rorie didn't know what to say. “Listen, I'm sorry about the way Dan was acting.”

He shook off her apology. “Don 't worry about it.”

Her fingers tightened on the doorknob, and she wondered if this was really the end. “Will I see you again?” she asked despite herself.

“I don't think so,” he answered hoarsely. He looked past her as though he could see through the apartment door and into her living room where Dan was waiting. “Do you honestly love this guy?”

“He's…he's been a good friend.”

Clay took two steps toward her, then stopped. As if it was against his better judgment, he raised his hand and lightly drew his finger down the side of her face. Rorie closed her eyes at the wealth of sensation the simple action provoked.

“Be happy, Rorie. That's all I want for you.”

The rain hit during the last week of September, and the dreary dark afternoons suited Rorie's mood. Normally autumn was a productive time for her, but she remained tormented with what she felt sure was a terminal case of writer's block. She sat at her desk, her computer humming merrily as she read over the accumulation of an entire weekend's work.

One measly sentence.

There'd been a time when she could write four or five pages a night after coming home from the library. Perhaps the problem was the story she'd chosen. She wanted to write about a filly named Nightsong, but every time she started, her memories of the real Nightsong invaded her thoughts, crippling her imagination.

Here it was Monday night and she sat staring at the screen, convinced nothing she wrote had any merit. The only reason she kept trying was that Dan had pressured her into it. He seemed to believe her world would right itself once Rorie was back to creating her warm, lighthearted children's stories.

The phone rang and, grateful for a reprieve, Rorie hurried into the kitchen to answer it.

“Is this Miss Rorie Campbell of San Francisco, California?”

“Yes, it is.” Her heart tripped with anxiety. In a matter of two seconds, every horrible scenario of what could have happened to her parents or her brother darted through Rorie's mind.

“This is Devin Logan calling.”

He paused, as though expecting her to recognize the name. Rorie didn't. “Yes?”

“Devin Logan,” he repeated, “from the Nightingale, Oregon, Town Council.” He paused. “I believe you're acquainted with my daughter, Kate.”

“Yes, I remember Kate.” If her heart continued at this pace Rorie thought she'd keel over in a dead faint. Just as her pulse had started to slow, it shot up again. “Has anything happened?”

“The council meeting adjourned about ten minutes ago. Are you referring to that?”

“No…no, I mean has anything happened to Kate?”

“Not that I'm aware of. Do you know something I don't?”

“I don't think so.” This entire conversation was driving her crazy.

Devin Logan cleared his throat, and when he spoke his voice dropped to a deeper pitch. “I 'm phoning in an official capacity,” he said. “We voted at the Town Council meeting tonight to employ a full-time librarian.”

He paused again, and, not knowing what else to say, Rorie murmured, “Congratulations. Kate mentioned that the library was currently being run by part-time volunteers.”

“It was decided to offer
you
the position.”

Rorie nearly dropped the receiver. “I beg your pardon?”

“My daughter managed to convince the council that we need a full-time librarian for our new building. She also persuaded us that you're the woman for the job.”

“But…” Hardly able to take in what she was hearing, Rorie slumped against the kitchen wall, glad of its support. Logan's next remark was even more surprising.

“We'll match whatever the San Francisco library is paying you and throw in a house in town—rent-free.”

“I…” Rorie's mind was buzzing. Kate obviously thought she was doing her a favor, when in fact being so close to Clay would be utter torment.

“Miss Campbell?”

“I'm honored,” she said quickly, still reeling with astonishment, “truly honored, but I'm going to have to decline.”

A moment of silence followed. “All right…I'm authorized to enhance the offer by ten percent over the amount you're currently earning, but that's our final bid. You'd be making as much money as the fire chief, and he's not about to let the Council pay a librarian more than he's bringing home.”

“Mr. Logan, please, the salary isn't the reason I'm turning down your generous offer. I…I want you to know how much I appreciate your offering me the job. Thank you, and thank Kate on my behalf, but I can't accept.”

Another, longer silence vibrated across the line, as though he couldn't believe what she was telling him.

“You're positive you want to refuse? Miss Campbell, we're being more than reasonable…more than generous.”

“I realize that. In fact, I'm flattered by your proposal, but I can't possibly accept this position.”

“Kate had the feeling you'd leap at the job.”

“She was mistaken.”

“I see. Well, then, it was good talking to you. I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to meet while you were in Nightingale. Perhaps next time.”

“Perhaps.” Only there wouldn't be a next time.

Rorie kept her hand on the receiver long after she'd hung up. Her back was pressed against the kitchen wall, her eyes closed.

She'd regained a little of her composure when the doorbell chimed. A glance at the wall clock told her it was Dan, who'd promised to drop by that evening. She straightened, forcing a smile, and slowly walked to the door.

Dan entered with a flourish, handing her a small white bag.

“What's this?” she asked.

“Frozen yogurt. Just the thing for a girl with a hot keyboard. How's the writing going?” He leaned forward to kiss her cheek.

Rorie walked into the kitchen and set the container in the freezer compartment of her refrigerator. “It 's not. If you don't mind, I'll eat this later.”

“Rorie.” Dan caught her by her shoulders and studied her face. “You 're as pale as chalk. What's wrong?”

“I…I just got off the phone. I was offered another job—as head librarian…”

“But, darling, that's wonderful!”

“…in Nightingale, Oregon.”

The change in Dan's expression was almost comical. “And? What did you tell them?”

“I refused.”

He gave a great sigh of relief. His eyes glowed and he hugged her impulsively. “Does this mean what I think it does? Are you finally over that cowpoke, Rorie? Will you finally consent to be my wife?”

Rorie lowered her gaze. “Oh, Dan, don't you understand? I'll never get over Clay. Not next week, not next month, not next year.” Her voice was filled with pain, and with conviction. Everyone seemed to assume that, in time, she'd forget about Clay Franklin, but she wouldn't.

Dan's smile faded, and he dropped his arms to his sides. “I see.” Leaning against the counter, he sighed pensively and said, “I'd do just about anything in this world for you, Rorie, but I think it's time we faced a few truths.”

Rorie had wanted to confront them long before now.

“You're never going to love me the way you do that horseman. We can't go on like this. It isn't doing either of us any good to pretend your feelings are going to change.”

He looked so grim and discouraged that she didn't point out that
he
was the one who'd been pretending.

“I'm so sorry to hurt you—it's the last thing I ever wanted to do,” she told him sincerely.

“It isn't as if I didn't know,” he admitted. “You've been honest with me from the start. I can't be less than honest with you. That country boy loves you. I knew it the minute he walked across the street without even noticing the traffic. The whole world would know,” he said ruefully. “All he has to do is look at you and everything about him shouts his feelings. He may be engaged to another woman, but it's you he loves.”

“I wouldn't fit into his world.”

“But, Rorie, you're lost and confused in your own.”

She bit her lower lip and nodded. Until Dan said it, she hadn't recognized how true that was. But it didn't change the fact that Clay belonged to Kate. And she was marrying him within the month.

“I'm sorry,” Dan said, completely serious, “but the wedding's off.”

She nearly laughed out loud at Dan's announcement. No wedding had ever been planned. He'd asked her to marry him at least ten times since she'd returned from her vacation, and each time she'd refused. Instead of wearing her down as he'd hoped, Dan had finally come to accept her decision. Rorie felt relieved, but she was sorry to lose her friend.

“I didn't mean to lead you on,” she told him, genuinely contrite.

He shrugged. “The pain will only last for a while. I'm ‘a keeper' as the girls in the office like to tell me. I guess it's time I put out the word that I'm available.” He wiggled his eyebrows, striving for some humor.

“You've been such a good friend.”

He cupped her face and gently kissed her. “Yes, I know. Now don't let that yogurt go to waste—you're too thin as it is.”

She smiled and nodded. When she let him out of the apartment, Rorie bolted the door then leaned against it, feeling drained, but curiously calm.

Dan had been gone only a few minutes when Rorie's phone rang again. She hurried into the kitchen to answer it.

“Rorie? This is Kate Logan.”

“Kate! How are you?”

“Rotten, but I didn't call to talk about me. I want to know exactly why you're refusing to be Nightingale's librarian—after everything I went through. I can't believe you, Rorie. How can you do this to Clay? Don't you love him?”

“K
ate,” Rorie demanded. “What are you talking about?”

“You and Clay,” she said sharply, sounding quite unlike her usual self. “Now, do you love him or not? I've got to know.”

This day had been sliding steadily downhill from the moment Rorie had climbed out of bed that morning. To admit her feelings for Clay would only hurt Kate, and Rorie had tried so hard to avoid upsetting the other woman.

“Well?” Kate said with a sob. “The least you can do is answer me!”

“Oh, Kate,” Rorie said, her heart in her throat, “why are you asking me if I love Clay? He's engaged to you. It shouldn't matter one little bit if I love him or not. I'm out of your lives and I intend to stay out.”

“But he loves you.”

The tears in Kate's voice tore at Rorie's already battered heart. She would've given anything to spare her friend this pain. “I know,” she whispered.

“Doesn't that mean anything to you?”

Only the world and everything in it. “Yes,” she murmured, her voice growing stronger.

“Then how could you do this to him?”

“Do what?” Rorie didn't understand.

“Hurt him this way!”

“Kate,” Rorie pleaded. “I have no idea what you're talking about—I'd never intentionally hurt Clay. If you insist on knowing, I do love him, with all my heart, but he's your fiancé. You loved him long before I even knew him.”

Kate's short laugh was riddled with sarcasm. “What is this? First come, first served?”

“Of course not—”

“For your information, Clay isn't my fiancé anymore,” Kate blurted, her voice trembling. “He hasn't been in weeks…since before he went to San Francisco for the horse show.”

Rorie's head came up so fast she wondered whether she'd dislocated her neck. “He isn't?”

“That's…that's what I just told you.”

“But I thought…I assumed…”

“I know what you assumed—that much is obvious—but it isn't like that now and it hasn't been in a long time.”

“But you love Clay,” Rorie muttered, feeling light-headed.

“I've loved him from the time I was in pigtails. I love him enough to want to see him happy. Why…why do you think I talked my fool head off to a bunch of hardnosed council members? Why do you think I ranted and raved about what a fantastic librarian you are? I as good as told them you're the only person who could possibly assume full responsibility for the new library. Do you honestly think I did all that for the fun of it?”

“No, but, Kate, surely you understand why I have to refuse. I just couldn't bear to come between you and—”

Kate wouldn't allow her to finish, and when she spoke, her voice was high and almost hysterical. “Well, if you believe that, Rorie Campbell, then you've got a lot to learn about me…and even more about Clay Franklin.”

“Kate, I'm sorry. Please listen to me. There's so much I don't understand. We've got to talk, because I can't make head or tail out of what you're telling me and I've got to know—”

“If you have anything to say to me, Rorie Campbell, then you can do it to my face. Now, I'm telling Dad and everyone else on the council that you've accepted the position we so generously offered you. The job starts in two weeks and you'd damn well better be here. Understand?”

Rorie's car left a dusty trail on the long, curving driveway that led to the Circle L Ranch. It'd been a week since the telephone call from Kate, and Rorie still had trouble assimilating what the other woman had told her. Their conversation repeated itself over and over in her mind, until nothing made sense. But one thing stood out: Kate was no longer engaged to Clay.

Rorie was going to him, running as fast as she could, but first she had to settle matters with his former fiancée.

The sun had begun to descend in an autumn sky when Rorie parked her car at the Logan ranch and climbed out. Rotating her neck and shoulders to relieve some of the tension there, Rorie looked around, wondering if anyone was home. She'd been on the road most of the day, so she was exhausted. And exhilarated.

Luke Rivers strolled out of the barn, and stopped when he saw Rorie. His smile deepened. It could've been Rorie's imagination, but she sensed that the hard edge was missing from his look, as though life had unexpectedly tossed him a good turn.

“So you're back,” he said by way of greeting.

Rorie nodded, then reached inside the car for her purse. “Is Kate here?”

“She'll be back any minute. Usually gets home from the school around four. Come inside and I'll get you a cup of coffee.”

“Thanks.” At the moment, coffee sounded like nectar from the gods.

Luke opened the kitchen door for her. “I understand you're going to be Nightingale's new librarian,” he said, following her into the house.

“Yes.” But that wasn't the reason she'd come back, and they both knew it.

“Good.” Luke took two mugs from the cupboard and filled them from a coffeepot that sat on the stove. He placed Rorie's cup on the table, then pulled out a chair for her.

“Thanks, Luke.”

The sound of an approaching vehicle drew his attention. He parted the lace curtain at the kitchen window and looked out.

“That's Kate now,” he said, his gaze lingering on the driveway. “Listen, if I don't get a chance to talk to you later, I want you to know I'm glad you're here. I've got a few things to thank you for. If it hadn't been for you, I might've turned into a crotchety old saddle bum.”

Before Rorie could ask what he meant, he was gone.

Kate burst into the kitchen a minute later and hugged Rorie as though they were long-lost sisters. “I don't know when I've been happier to see anyone!”

Rorie's face must have shown her surprise because Kate hurried to add, “I suppose you think I'm a crazy woman after the way I talked to you on the phone last week. I don't blame you, but…well, I was upset, to put it mildly, and my thinking was a little confused.” She threw her purse on the counter and reached inside the cupboard for a mug. She poured the coffee very slowly, as if she needed time to gather her thoughts.

Rorie's mind was whirling with questions she couldn't wait for Kate to answer. “Did I understand you correctly the other night? Did you tell me you and Clay are no longer engaged?”

Kate wasn't able to disguise the flash of pain that leaped into her deep blue eyes. She dropped her gaze and nodded. “We haven't been in weeks.”

“But…”

Kate sat down across the table from Rorie and folded her hands around the mug. “The thing is, Rorie, I knew how you two felt about each other since the night of the Grange dance. A blind man would've known you and Clay had fallen in love, but it was so much easier for me to pretend otherwise.” Her finger traced the rim of the mug. “I thought that once you went home, everything would go back to the way it was before….”

“I was hoping for the same thing. Kate, you've got to believe me when I tell you I would've done anything in the world to spare you this. When I learned you and Clay were engaged I wanted to—”

“Die,” Kate finished for her. “I know exactly how you must have felt, because that's the way I felt later. The night of the Grange dance, Clay kept looking at you. Every time you danced with a new partner, he scowled. He might have had me at his side, but his eyes followed you all over the hall.”

“He loves you, too,” Rorie told her. “That's what makes this all so difficult.”

“No, he doesn't,” Kate answered flatly, without a hint of doubt. “I accepted that a long time before you ever arrived. Oh, he respects and likes me, and to Clay's way of thinking that was enough.” She hesitated, frowning. “To my way of thinking, it was, too. We probably would've married and been content. But everything changed when Clay met you. You hit him right between the eyes, Rorie—a direct hit.”

“I'm sure he feels more for you than admiration….”

“No.” Kate rummaged in her purse for a tissue. “He told me as much himself, but like I said, it wasn't something I didn't already know. You see, I was so crazy about Clay, I was willing to take whatever he offered me, even if it was only second-best.” She swabbed at the tears that sprang so readily to her eyes and paused in an effort to gather her composure. “I 'm sorry. It's still so painful. But you see, through all of this, I've learned a great deal about what it means to love someone.”

Rorie's own eyes welled with involuntary tears, which she hurriedly brushed aside. Then Kate's fingers clasped hers and squeezed tight in a gesture of reassurance.

“I learned that loving people means placing their happiness before your own. That's the way you love Clay, and it's the way he loves you.” Kate squared her shoulders and inhaled a quavery breath.

“Kate, please, this isn't necessary.”

“Yes, it is, because what I've got to say next is the hardest part. I need to ask your forgiveness for that terrible letter I wrote after you left Nightingale. I don't have any excuse except that I was insane with jealousy.”

“Letter? You wrote me a terrible letter?” The only one Rorie had received was the chatty note that had told her about Mary's prize-winning ribbon and made mention of the upcoming wedding.

“I used a subtle form of viciousness,” Kate replied, her voice filled with self-contempt.

Rorie discounted the possibility that Kate could ever be malicious. “The only letter I got from you wasn't the least bit terrible.”

Kate lowered her eyes to her hands, neatly folded on the table. Her grip tightened until Rorie was sure her nails would cut her palms.

“I lied in that letter,” Kate continued. “When I told you that Clay wouldn't have time for you while he was at the horse show, I was trying to imply that you didn't mean anything to him anymore. I wanted you to think you'd slipped from his mind when nothing could have been further from the truth.”

“Don't feel bad about it. I'm not so sure I wouldn't have done the same thing.”

“No, Rorie, you wouldn't have. That letter was an underhand attempt to hold on to Clay…I was losing him more and more each day and I thought…I hoped that if you believed we were going to be married in October, then…Oh, I don't know, my thinking was so warped and desperate.”

“Your emotions were running high at the time.” Rorie's had been, too; she understood Kate's pain because she'd been in so much pain herself.

“But I was pretending to be your friend when in reality I almost hated you.” Kate paused, her shoulders shaking with emotion. “That was the crazy part. I couldn't help liking you and wanting to be your friend, and at the same time I was eaten alive with jealousy and selfish resentment.”

“It's not in you to hate anyone, Kate.”

“I…I didn't think it was, either, but I was wrong. I can be a terrible person, Rorie. Facing up to that hasn't been easy.” She took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Then…a few days after I mailed that letter to you, Clay came over to the house wanting to talk. Almost immediately I realized I'd lost him. Nothing I could say or do would change the way he felt about you. I said some awful things to Clay that night…. He's forgiven me, but I need your forgiveness, too.”

“Oh, Kate, of course, but it isn't necessary. I understand. I truly do.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, dabbing her eyes with the crumpled tissue. “Now I've got that off my chest, I feel a whole lot better.”

“But if Clay had broken your engagement when he came to San Francisco, why didn't he say anything to me?”

Kate shrugged. “I don't know what happened while he was gone, but he hasn't been himself since. He never has been a talkative person, but he seemed to draw even further into himself when he came back. He's working himself into an early grave, everyone says. Mary's concerned about him—we all are. Mary said if you didn't come soon, she was going after you herself.”

“Mary said that?” The housekeeper had been the very person who'd convinced Rorie she was doing the right thing by getting out of Clay's life.

“Well, are you going to him? Or are you planning to stick around here and listen to me blubber all day? If you give me any more time,” she said, forcing a laugh, “I'll manage to make an even bigger fool of myself than I already have.” Kate stood abruptly, pushing back the kitchen chair. Her arms were folded around her waist, her eyes bright with tears.

“Kate,” Rorie murmured, “you are a dear, dear friend. I owe you more than it's possible to repay.”

“The only thing you owe me is one godchild—and about fifty years of happiness with Clay Franklin. Now get out of here before I start weeping in earnest.”

Kate opened the kitchen door and Rorie gave her an impulsive hug before hurrying out.

Luke Rivers was standing in the yard, apparently waiting for her. When she came out of the house he sauntered over to her car and held open the driver's door. “Did everything go all right with Kate?”