Shades of Gray (17 page)

At least the
thundering had stopped.  She shook herself and looked around.  At the edge of
the road, Gray squatted on his hands and knees.  She hadn’t made a direct hit,
but blood trickled from his head to the ground.  His wound seemed
inconsequential to him.  He glared over at her and rose to his feet.  Fearful
that her life was within moments of its end, she scrambled to a standing
position, held the club in front of her, and waved it like a lance.

“Don’t come
near me or I’ll. . . I’ll,” she warned, not quite sure how to end her threat.

“Kat, put down
the stick.”

Stick?  She
thought it looked more menacing than a stick.  She shook her head and
contemplated the distance to the horses.  Surely she could outrun him.

“I can explain
what you saw,” Gray said, stepping closer.

“Y-you told me
your wife and child were dead.  Clearly, they are not.”  She snorted with
derision, shook the broken stub in front of him, and side stepped her way to
Polly.  “I don’t know why you feel the need to sequester them, but you have my
word.”  She touched her free hand to her heart and tried to bring credibility
to her words.  “I will tell no one what I saw.  Please, Gray.  I will tell no
one.  Just let me go.”

“Go?”  His
eyes widened and fear registered on his sallow face.  “I want to never let you
go, Kat.  I thought you knew that.”  His gaze dropped to the club she carried. 
“Is that why you ran?  Did you think I would harm you?”

The tip of the
branch dipped low, barely reaching her knees.  She placed her hand to her head
and shook it back and forth.  Surely clarity would rectify what she had seen
and what he said.  “I thought I wanted the same as you.  But your wife will
most certainly object to you being intimate with another woman.  I know I
would.”

Gray dabbed
his finger at his forehead and flicked the moisture to the side.  “You must
have hit me harder than I thought because you’re not making any sense.  Daria
is dead, Kat.  I told you that.”

Kat closed her
eyes and pressed her finger to her temple.  “You said your daughter was dead as
well, but I saw both of them, alive and being held in your arms.”

Gray’s
shoulders relaxed as though he now had all of the pieces that would allow him
to clarify the misunderstanding.  “You did not see my wife.  You saw Marta. 
She is Daria’s sister.  They look a great deal alike, especially from a
distance.  I owe a great deal to her and yes, I hugged and kissed her cheek. 
Under the circumstance, I don’t think I’ve overstepped my bounds and if I did,
I’m sure her husband would put me straight, post haste.”

The farmer had
come from the barn when the little girl had seen Gray.  He had not seemed
concerned or anxious with Gray’s presence.  Kat crossed her arms over her
chest.  “But the little girl called you, Papa,” Kat countered.  “I heard her.”

Gray shook his
head, rejecting her conclusion.  “She called Marta’s husband, Papa.”

No longer
afraid, Kat dropped her club and blinked.  “The little girl is your niece?”

Gray shook his
head and walked to the side of the path.  He pulled a few leaves from a stem
and held them to his head.  Kat wondered why he needed time to answer.  Her
question seemed to have a one word response.  Without looking at her, he moved
to a felled tree and sat down.  Kat followed and took a place next to him. 
This conversation seemed to entail a complicated reply.

Tenderness
softened Gray’s features, and he stared into the distance as though he watched
as a new rain fall on a thirsty field.  “Lily, the little girl,” he said.  “Is
my daughter, mine and Daria’s.”

Kat pulled
back.  Although he affirmed her suspicions, she did not share the same euphoric
relief in knowing the truth.

Gray’s
features darkened, and his throat worked as though he tried to swallow.  He
opened his mouth, but didn’t speak.  Closing his lips, he bit back the pain
that clearly overwhelmed him.  “Daria,” he said slowly, his voice low and
tight.  “Daria gave birth while in her delirium.  Lily was so small.  Premature
babies have such a slight chance of survival.” 

Kat’s heart
pulled toward him.  Everything inside her wanted to reach out and comfort him. 
She knew she couldn’t interrupt.  He had to continue.  Not just to share this
information with her, but for himself, to find his forgiveness. 

“Marta came to
help us.  She cared for Lily while I tended to Daria.”  Gray closed his eyes as
though the pain was as fresh today as when it had first happened.  He slowly
turned to look at her.  His red-rimmed eyes pleaded for her understanding and
begged her acceptance.  “Lily’s crying seemed to weaken Daria.  Her recovery
was so precarious.  I wasn’t sure from one moment to the next if she would
survive.  We. . . I,” he corrected.  It seemed important to him that the
distinction of who made the decision was clear.  “I decided that Marta would
take Lily to her home in Crest Ridge.  When Daria regained consciousness, she
thought she had miscarried.  Everything that had happened was too much for
her.  One day, I found her.  She had hanged herself.  By this time, Lily had
become part of Marta’s family.  I couldn’t take her from their home when the
entire town had ostracized my name.  I wanted more for my daughter.”

Kat scooted
closer to him, slipped her hand around his arm, and rested her head against
him.  She was wrong.  His pain was more than any normal man could bear.  How he
had managed to live with the events from his past was too much for her to
understand.  It was clear he loved his daughter, but she would never know this
love.  “Who does Lily think you are?” she asked.

Gray
chuckled.  “Her uncle.”  He held to Kat’s hand and looked deep into her eyes. 
She could almost see his pain, raw and vivid.  “Don’t think I’ve shirked my
duties to her,” he said.  “I provide for everything she needs.”

Kat squeezed
his hand and tried to reassure him that she didn’t condemn his actions.  “You
provide everything she needs, except for you,” she said.  She raised her hand
to his cheek and ran her fingers over the taut skin.  “Do you ever plan to tell
her the truth?  Will she ever know you are her father?”

Gray stared
off into the distance, and Kat wondered how many times he had tried to find
answers, especially to this question, this way.  “I try to not think about it,”
he answered.

Kat kissed his
arm and laid her cheek against him.  “Which torments you more than anything the
town could do.”

“It does,”
Gray admitted.  “But I don’t want Lily to know the accusations that Reece
started about her mother. . . or about her.  She is my daughter.  He has no
claims to her, and I will not let him kill her spirit the way he did Daria.”

“So you die instead?” 
Kat pulled her hand from him.  She knew what she had to do.  “Lily will grow
up,” she said.  “Your daughter will learn the truth someday.  Do you really
want to miss all of these years with her?”  Kat stared at the man who had
sacrificed so much and lifted her hand to the front of her shoulder.  She
unhinged the cameo and pulled it from her blouse.  He had given her the brooch
as a show of affection.  Whether she wore the jewel or not, she would always
have that with her.  She inhaled deeply, tears stinging her eyes, and held her
hand out to him.  “You need to build a life with your daughter, not with me,”
she said.

Gray glanced
up and shook his head.  He pushed her offered hand away from him.  “Kat, don’t
do this.  I love you.”

Kat blinked,
nearly dropping the pin.  He had not said the words aloud before now.  She had
hoped he felt the same way as her, but this was not the moment to declare such
sentiment.  The weight of the pin seemed to increase, nearly falling from her
grasp.  Gray fought unfair, but she would see that he shared these feelings
with someone who needed to know them more than her.  Reaching for his hand, she
dropped the pin in it, and folded his fingers around the carving. 

“Love your
daughter, Gray.  You owe her and Daria that much.”  Kat glanced away from him. 
Polly stood in the path.  She pawed the ground as though trying to shrink the
distance between the two of them.  Kissing his cheek, Kat walked to her.  It
had taken all the strength she had to leave Gray’s side.  She forced her foot
into the stirrup and mounted up.  Gray followed, his stride wide and hurried. 
Kat held her hand out to him, staying him from reaching for her.  “Don’t follow
me,” she said.  “Lily needs you to be her father, not her uncle.”

She clucked
her tongue and whispered to the horse.  “Hurry, Polly.  Take me away from
here.”  Her horse broke into a trot without objection.

Chapter 20

Gray shuffled
his feet down the path, holding loosely to Stonewall’s reins.  He kicked at a
stone, skipping it further down the trail.  The rock bounced against an uneven
corner, ricocheting in a variety of directions.  It was ironic the way the
small chunk imitated his life.  He swung his leg again, his boot connecting with
the pebble.  Although the clod sprang forward with a purpose, its journey
always ended the same way, off course and without direction.  Grey stepped on
the stone, crushing it into the ground.  When had his life become so complex? 

Not in any
hurry to explain Kat’s presence and hasty exit, he thought it better to walk
instead of ride back to Marta’s house.  The hike would give him time to
consider the conversation he would have later tonight with Kat.  She had asked
him not to follow her.  Maybe it was best if they both took some time for
themselves.  He would honor her request for now, but hoped she was still awake
when he returned home. 

He glanced
down at his hand, and turned the cameo right side up.  Rubbing his thumb over
the raised silhouette, he wondered if Kat realized how much her profile looked
like the image on the stone carving.  That detail was one of the reasons he had
purchased the gift.  He clinched his fist.  The jewel should not be in his
hand.  He had bought it for her.  This pin was meant to be a symbol of the
beginning of their relationship.  She should have kept it.  He shoved it in his
pocket, unwilling to be left with nothing but shattered pieces of a possible
romance and a returned brooch.  He would spend a few hours with Lily and then
return home. 

He had never
wanted to be separated from his daughter, but Reece had left him with little
option.  It had taken two years for Daria to regain the feeble amount of health
she had recovered before her death.  During that time, Gray and Laura never
knew from one day to the next what to expect from her.  She would seem coherent
and logical on one day and then on the next, she was unable to comprehend even
the simplest of explanations.  His home during that period of time was no
environment for a child, especially for an infant.

Gray
sidestepped a puddle and continued his walk to his daughter.  The house was in
view now.  He wondered how much explaining he would have to do.  Lily and her
uncle walked to the barn, the little girl skipped ahead of him.  She swung her
arms forward and back, cocking her head from side to side.  He was certain the
light voice that drifted through the air was her singing.  Always lyrical, she
seemed to have a different tune on her lips each time he visited.  He smiled in
spite of himself.  Regardless of what he faced in life, it was hard to think
about his troubles when he was with her. 

Marta carried
a pail to the well and hooked the rope handle over the spout.  She had
apparently sent Lily to play while she worked.  Her home wasn’t as large as Oak
Willow.  It was easier to complete her chores while everyone busied themselves
outside.  He owed his brother-in-law and sister-in-law as much as he did Lily. 
They had raised his daughter as their own child and encouraged him to visit her
frequently.  How could he disrupt the only family she had known?

“Let me carry
that for you, Marta,” Gray said.  He jogged over to her, and tied Stonewall to
the pump.  Lifting the pail from the hook, water splashed over the lip of the
bucket.

Marta stood
upright and pushed her fist against her back.  Wiping a loose strand of hair
away from her face with her other hand, her head pulled back and her eyes grew
wide.  She stared at a spot above Gray’s brow, and the corner of her mouth
pulled to the side of her face in a half-smile. 

Raising a hand
to his forehead, he touched the scrutinized mark.  He had forgotten about the
bleeding, but from the quick smirk on his sister-in-law's face, Marta had seen
enough to make a wide variety of assumptions.  The woman did have an annoying
way of picking up on the slightest differences about a person. 

Daria had
accused her sister of being part gypsy, but Gray knew she was merely
observant.  Without a word being uttered, she had sorted through possible scenarios
and raced to the proper conclusion.  There wasn’t a chance she thought he had
been injured due to his own carelessness.  At least, she hadn’t mocked him
openly when she noticed his wound. 

She raised her
hand to cover her mouth as though she tried to suppress a chuckle.  Gray looked
above her head and huffed.  It was comforting to know he could thoroughly
entertain his family in the midst of personal humiliation and pain.  Marta
leaned to the side and looked past his shoulder to the path.  Her brown eyes,
sparkling like a starry, night sky, darted back to Gray.  Her amusement seared
his pride hotter than a blazing poker. 

“Will your
friend be joining us?” she asked, with entirely too much levity in her voice. 

At least he
knew this was the extent of her amusement.  She had never been one to rub
someone’s face in their own misery.  Gray peered down his nose at her, seeing
so much of his wife in her sister. 

“No,” he
answered.  “She thinks it best that she return to Oak Willow while I finish my
visit with Lily.” 

The bucket
banged against his calf as he followed her up the stairs of the front porch. 
Kat had returned to Oak Willow ahead of him, suggesting he spend time with his
daughter.  How could he make a decision in a few hours when the past five years
had tormented him? 

“If you don’t
mind, I think I should leave earlier than usual.  I have an obligation at home
that needs my attention.”

Marta stopped
short of the threshold and turned to face him.  She cocked her head to a
curious angle, nodded stiffly, and then held the door open for him to enter. 
“That’s fine,” she said.  “If that’s what you’d like to do.  We can eat our
meal as soon as I finish icing the cake.”

Gray sat the
bucket on the counter and nodded.  “I would like to spend a little time with
Lily before I go.”  He lifted an apple from a bowl on the table.

“She would
like that,” Marta said and pulled a pot from the shelf next to the stove. 
“But, I would like for us to talk first.”

Gray pulled
his head up and glanced out the window, hoping to see Lily.  “She isn’t ill, is
she?  Does she need a doctor?”  Marta would give him an answer, but he needed
to see the proof dancing around the property.  He spotted his daughter’s small
form running across the yard.  She chased a kitten toward an oak tree, her arms
outstretched as she ran.  Her giggling, and the cat’s horrified hisses, carried
through the closed doors of the house.  Although Gray sympathized with the
terrorized animal, he breathed easier knowing his child was well enough to
frighten her pet.  He would speak with her later about the virtue of love and
kindness.  Hopefully, he would have a chance to replicate that conversation
with Kat when he returned home.

“There’s no
need to fret,” Marta assured him.  “Lily’s health is excellent.”  She sprinkled
a cup full of sugar over a bowl of sliced apples, poured them into a pot, and
then splashed several ladles of water over the sweetened fruit.  Giving the
mixture a stir, she sat the kettle on the stove and rattled a large lid over
the opening of the cookware.  She moved to the window and glanced through the
glass.  A soft smile pulled at the corners of her mouth.  Turning to face him,
sadness filled her eyes.  “Gray, you know that we think the world of Lily.”

No one
prefaced good news with those words.  Gray readied himself for what was to
follow. 

She pulled a
chair away from the table and sat down.  “She brings such joy to our lives, but
she’s a little girl and needs to be around other children.  As much as we would
love to offer her a playmate, living out here, we can’t provide that for her.”

Marta had been
married for seven years when he and Daria had married.  Although she had never
complained about not having a child of her own, the sadness was always with
her.  This was one of the reasons Gray had left Lily in her care.  No one would
love his daughter more than he and Daria, but Marta and Pete would care for the
girl as though she was their own child.

Gray shook his
head and looked across to his sister-in-law.  “You know what everyone in town
says about me, and what Reece told them about Daria.”

“Lily’s a
little girl, Gray.  Children will say nothing to her about insane rumors.”

“But their
parents will.”

Marta stood
and returned to the stove.  Lifting the lid from the pot, she stirred the
apples.  “One look at Lily and it’s evident who her parents are.  Except for
her stubborn streak, that little girl exhibits the best qualities of both of
you.  Lily will see it one day, too, Gray.  She will know you are more than her
uncle.”  She banged the spoon handle against the top of the pot and then moved
the fruit from the stove.  “Wouldn’t it be better for her to move home with you
while she is still young?  Do you want her to think you have abandoned her?”

Gray sighed
and rubbed his finger over a knot in the wood grain of the table.  The withered
hole wasn’t deep enough to crawl into, but it worked as a nice diversion. 
“This sounds like the conversation I just left.”

Marta
chuckled.  “Does it?  Whoever your friend is," her eyes flicked toward the
road, "I like her already.”

“So did I,” he
mumbled.

Marta turned
her attention to the right and looked at him from over her shoulder.  “Did?”
she asked. 

Gray dropped
his gaze to the floor.  There was no getting around Marta’s hearing and from
the tone she used, she was not going to let his comment go by unnoticed.  She
carried the pot to the table and tipped the edge over the cake.  Remaining
quiet, she looked up and nodded for him to continue.

He lowered his
head and looked up at her.  “My
friend
is the reason I need to
leave in a few hours.  I hope to talk sense to her later tonight.”

Marta nodded
and spread the apples over the top of the cake.  “I can understand your
frustration when trying to talk sense to someone who won’t listen.”  She peered
up at him from a tilted look and smiled.  “I know you need to go home soon, but
we need to come to a conclusion about Lily.  She needs you, Gray.”

He sighed and
lifted his hand in the air.  “I visit her as much as possible, Marta.  If I
thought it was in her best interest to bring her home, don’t you think I would
do it?”

She scraped
her spoon around the inside of the pot and drizzled the last of the sauce over
the cake.  “She needs you on a daily basis, not on an ‘as frequently as
possible’ time-table,” she said. 

She continued
to work as though he had said nothing.  From the way she presented her
argument, she would not listen to anything except what she wanted to hear. 

He had never
considered bringing Lily home today.  His heart fluttered the way it had when
he first learned he was to be a father.  Without his prompting, a smile shaped
his mouth and then slowly drooped.  Every visit to Crest Ridge ended the same
way.  Exuberance filled him while in the presence of his daughter, but then
self loathing began after he stepped into the stirrup to return home.  Even if
he wanted to bring Lily to Oak Willow, he would need time to prepare a room for
her.  He glanced up at Marta.  Before he made any plans concerning his
daughter, he needed to talk with Kat. 

Sticky syrup
drizzled down the side of the dessert.  He swiped his finger across the side of
the cake and stuck it in his mouth.  Had Marta considered what affect his
moving Lily home would have on the girl?  He needed an answer to this question
before he began redecorating a bedroom in pink and lace.

“Lily thinks
of the two of you as her parents," Gray said.  The pain of that reality
had numbed but never faded.  "What do you think will happen when she
learns the truth?” he asked.

A glimmer of
hope sparkled in Marta’s eyes.  This was not the response he expected.  She
clearly anticipated his query.  “She may be confused at first, that’s to be
expected.  But I’m certain she will accept the move without difficulty.”  She
slid the dessert to the middle of the table and out of his reach.  “Gray, you
don’t have to decide tonight.  I know you have other things on your mind, but
soon, hmm.  Please consider how much she needs to come home to you.”  Wiping
her hands on a kitchen cloth, she sat down.  “Her mother is dead, but she can
know Daria through you.  If you don’t want her to believe the rumors that Reece
started, you can tell her who her mother really was.”

Giggles grew
louder outside, and they both turned their attention to the window.  From the
nearness of her voice, Lily would be bounding through the door and into the
house any moment.

Marta’s hand
covered Gray's, seeming to offer support for a difficult task.  The care he saw
in her eyes made him aware of the amount of determination she had that they
finish their conversation before being interrupted. 

"Lily
loves you," she said.  "Help her to love her mother.”

Gray’s
shoulders sagged with his added responsibility.  He had hoped to build a
relationship with Kat and then gradually introduce her to Lily.  Not only did
he need to convince her that he was neither deranged nor a murderer, he now had
to explain why his daughter thought of him as an uncle. 

He squeezed
the fingers of the woman who sat opposite of him.  Marta would not leave the
matter alone.  This was probably the reason Pete had kept Lily outside for such
a lengthy time.  Normally, Lily remained by his side from the time he arrived
until he left for home.  He thought back to the day he had made his initial
decision to remove his daughter from her home.  As he had then, he still
thought it best that Lily remain in an environment where she would not hear the
cruel whispers concerning her parents, but Marta's argument was sound.