Kat Attalla Special Edition (59 page)

"I thought I did."

* * * *

"Pay me!" Chloe demanded of her uncle.  She’d changed back in the peach-colored dress that her father had grudgingly let her keep. She whirled around the living room like a top, taunting Trevor with her open hand. "I told you he'd make her come."

"Were you betting on me?" Kate exclaimed in mock horror. "Or worse, betting against me?"

Trevor stood up after a glare from Jake reminded him of his southern gentlemanly manners. "I was bettin' on ya, darlin', but you cost me five dollars."

She poked her finger into his shoulder and pushed him back into his seat. "You deserve it. I gave my word. There was no doubt I'd be here."

"I knew you'd come. I just thought you'd dump the cake on his head first."

Jake scowled at the harmless banter between her and Trevor, and once again, Kate got the impression that Jake resented their friendship. Did he think she didn't notice a difference; that either twin would do? If all that attracted her was the physical appearance, she might be less inclined to butt heads with so stubborn a man.

"Have a seat. Dinner will be ready soon," Jake said, his voice clipped.

"Not yet. I have to see what you're cooking before I decide if I'm staying," Kate joked.

Chloe rushed to the door and threw herself against it. "Don't show her the peas until I bolt the door."

"Everyone's a comedian," Jake mumbled on his way to the kitchen.

Kate followed closely behind, doing a perfect imitation of his stalking steps. As Jake put the cake in the refrigerator, she hopped up on the counter next to the stove and began snooping in the pots.

"I do admire a man who can cook," she sighed, after smelling the lamb roasting in the oven. "How much longer until we eat?"

"Didn't your mama teach you any manners?" He lifted her off the counter and set her on the floor. She removed the lid from a pot of mashed potatoes and stuck her finger right inside, taking a large taste in her mouth. "I guess she didn't," he answered himself as she tried to do it again.

"It needs salt. And there was no time for good manners."

"What do you mean, no time?"

"In between the piano lessons and daily practice, I had to fit in dance lessons, singing lessons, and acting classes. Not to mention the endless rounds of auditions for commercials that I never got because I was so damned exhausted that I looked downright scrawny. If you had been through as many juvenile casting calls as I had, you wouldn't care if you offended the queen of
England
."

"And you enjoyed that?"

"I hated it," she said bitterly. Was her childhood as bad as she painted it, or had her problems with her mother clouded her judgment? Some good came of it. ''Except the music. I loved the music. I had my first crush on Mozart."

"At least I know the competition is dead."

"I thought so, too, when I discovered the Rolling Stones."

Jake threw his hand across his chest. "Rock and roll? You wound this country boy."

"Why?" she asked, feeling slightly wounded herself. "What's wrong with rock?"

"Nothing, I guess. If you like mindless, ear-breaking trash with no redeeming qualities."

He sounded so much like her grandfather that she tried not to laugh. "And I suppose that listening to a song about a horse, a pickup truck, or a train is a higher art form to you?"

"Whoa, Kate. Calm down. You're taking it as a personal insult."

"Will you two stop fighting?" Chloe called into the kitchen.

"We're not fighting," they yelled back simultaneously.

Jake smiled. "You see? We can agree on something." He slipped his arm along the back of her neck and tilted her head to rest on it.

She found him irresistible. His strong, callused fingers tenderly brushed away the strands of hair from her face. His touch could make her forget her own name, let alone the fact that he‘d behaved like a bear that morning.

But the best feelings came when he held her close enough to hear his heartbeat. It felt like home, or what she imagined home to be. She’d received some friendly warnings and some not so friendly, at church. Jake's wild reputation didn't come close to his actual life-style. His only faults were an overabundance of pride and no taste in music.

"If you kiss my dad, too, Uncle Trevor owes me another five dollars."

Kate exhaled slowly and pulled away. "I'm gonna get her for that."

"Be my guest," Jake invited, giving her a push start. "My money's on you."

* * * *

Kate couldn't remember the last time she’d laughed so much. They were the craziest family she'd ever known, and the most loving. Trevor taunted Jake by telling every dirty, rotten thing they did as youngsters. Chloe, who’d heard the stories a hundred times, added any funny detail that they left out.

Kate had never experienced that kind of unconditional love with her own family. Her childhood had been devoid of any humor. Her mother's unwavering obsession to thrust Kate into the spotlight had made them all miserable.

Nikki, who lost her own mother as a baby, resented the attention showered on Kate. They seldom saw their father when they were growing up, because he worked two jobs to pay for the special schools that Kate attended. Kate had tried to counter that by involving Nikki in her activities, but Nikki was more scholarly, preferring to put her energies into studying. When Kate entered her twenties, they finally became close as sisters, and then only because Kate began to rebel against the stranglehold her mother had on her life.

"Are you okay, Kate?" Chloe asked.

She raised her head and noticed that she had center stage. "I'm fine."

"I guess you must be homesick?" Chloe said, a sadness spreading across her face.

"No," Kate answered truthfully. "I miss Nikki, though."

Jake dropped his fork. "Who's Nick?"

She exchanged a conspiratorial giggle with Chloe. "Nikki is my sister."

"Oh," Jake mumbled, choking on the foot in his mouth.

Kate had never mentioned her sister by name before, so naturally he would assume ... No, she thought smugly, he felt jealous, and he had displayed it for the entire family to see.

"More potatoes, anyone?" Jake tried to change the subject.

Trevor laughed. "I'd like a little of the egg on your face."

"Shut up," Jake growled back. "And, Chloe, eat your peas."

"Thanks for nothing, Uncle Trevor."

Kate tried to keep a straight face through the remainder of the dinner. Jake wouldn't look at her. Chloe made faces every time she took a bite of peas. Trevor tormented Jake with his ever-present smirk. Kate had never known how much she wanted to feel like a part of a family until she met them.

After dinner they retired to the living room to watch a movie; Chloe and Trevor scrambled for the two chairs, leaving Kate to share the sofa with Jake. Kate had a sneaking suspicion that Jake had masterminded the ploy, and feigned innocence for her benefit. What he lacked in tact, he made up for in good intentions.

By nine o'clock she found that the Callahans had more in common man their blond hair and blue eyes. They were all fast asleep. Chloe and Trevor woke in separate intervals and dragged themselves off to bed. She was thankful that they were too groggy to notice much of anything.

Jake had slumped down until his head ended up in her lap. He looked sweet when he slept. Relaxed and content. This was a side of himself that he usually reserved for his daughter. Not wishing to lose the closeness, she settled in to view the remainder of the movie.

* * * *

Jake turned his head in an effort to find a more comfortable position on the lumpy pillow. He realized something was wrong when his pillow hiccupped. He raised his heavy eyelids and stared up into Kate's tear-stained face. Her fingers tightened around his hand, her gaze remained transfixed on the small screen.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Embarrassed that she'd been caught, she wiped her hand across her damp cheek and forced a smile. "Nothing."

"Why are you crying?"

"Because it was so . . . sad when Elliott said goodbye."

Is this something I'm supposed to understand? And who the hell is Elliott? "What are you talking about?"

"E.T. had to go home, and Elliott wanted him to stay."

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes to cover his smile of relief. She sobbed over a dumb children's movie! Across half of
America
tonight, ten million women cried their eyes out over the ugliest-looking creature to grace the small screen. There must be some logic he failed to grasp.

"Don't cry, Kate. He'll come back in the sequel."

"Ooh," she yelped, pushing him off the couch and onto the floor. Kate didn't like to be teased, he noted from his vantage point on the floor, although she sure had dished out her fair portion of sarcasm. "You're impossible!"

As she stood up, he grabbed on to her leg and sent her tumbling into his lap. She squirmed and wriggled with annoyance, but in the end she settled down and rested her head on his shoulder. She could bare her claws, but a gentle stroke in the right place and she curled right into him and purred.

"I should go, Jake."

"Do you want me to come?"

She hesitated, and then shook her head. "No."

"May I ask why?"

"It isn't because I don't want you. I can't explain it. I feel funny about Chloe being home. I know it doesn't make sense since we won't be in the same house, but I would rather our first time be when she's at school or somewhere else. Do you understand?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I do. That's why I didn't stay yesterday, but you got mad at me."

"All right. So you're smarter than me about these things, Callahan. No need to rub it in."

She exhaled a deep sigh and closed her eyes. She seemed to be struggling to maintain her resolve. Her heart did the right thing, but her body punished her for it. He recognized the ache of need versus conscience.

"Do you suppose we could discuss it again tomorrow over breakfast at your place?"

"I haven't got much food in my refrigerator."

"You've got exactly what I'm hungry for, Kate."

Chapter Eight

A loud crash just outside her window sent Kate flying from the bed in the very early hours of the morning. She grappled with the covers, trying to remember if she’d locked the door the evening before. She fumbled around in the dark for a pair of sweat pants, keeping as quiet as possible. The rustling continued outside her open window. She crawled along the wall and raised one hand to pull down the glass before standing to bolt it shut.

She couldn't see in the darkness, but the sound seemed to be retreating towards the back. Could it be Jake?  He had a key. He could come in through either door if he chose.

Like a cat burglar, she prowled through the halls towards the back of the house. A travel umbrella near the door was the only thing she could find to defend her maidenly virtue. She prayed she wouldn't need it.

Her heart pounded against her ribs. Beads of perspiration formed on her forehead. Calm down. This isn't
New York
. She need only scream for help, and someone next door would hear her.

She turned the handle very slowly, cringing when it gave out a squeak. With the umbrella readied in her hands, she flipped on the kitchen light with her elbow and stepped bravely outside to face her intruder.

"Moo," came the long, low cry.

She jumped back quickly and slumped against the doorframe for support. She felt like an idiot. The major threat against her life-- a loose cow, trampling her newly planted strawberry patch. Its two huge eyes shone in the light, staring sadly. All cows had sad eyes, she reminded herself, but this one seemed different. It took her only a second to realize that this was one of the pregnant cows from the barn.

She knew nothing about cow-birth, but she was half-afraid that the animal would drop a calf in her garden if she didn't get it some help.

"Don't go anywhere," she told the animal.

As she crossed the lawn, she debated about knocking on the door. She didn't need to wake the entire house when she knew they never locked the back door. Using one hand to guide herself along the wall, she made her way silently though the house without mishap.

Entering Jake's bedroom took a little more courage. She tapped lightly but received no response. She opened the door halfway and whispered his name, but he didn't stir. And he accused her of being a heavy sleeper!

"Jake," she whispered again, inching closer to the bed with her hand out to prevent herself from knocking into anything. She made contact with his leg and shook it lightly. Damn! He was comatose. "Jake, wake up."