One Special Christmas & Home for the Holidays (9 page)

She picked up her purse and walked slowly back down the hall, trying vainly to curb the uncomfortable hammering of her heart. When she stepped back into the living room, her gaze immediately sought Eric's. She searched his eyes, but it was impossible to tell if he'd been as deeply affected by the look that had passed between them as she had been. He seemed as calm and at ease as always. Good. At least one of them was in control.

“Now you two take off,” Anna instructed. “And don't hurry. I'm deep into a mystery that will keep me entertained for hours after Sarah goes to bed.”

“Ready, Kate?”

Did Eric's voice sound deeper than usual, Kate wondered? Was it slightly uneven? Or was it only her imagination?

“Yes.” Her
own
voice was definitely unsteady, she noted with chagrin.

He stepped aside to let her pass, and when he dropped his hand lightly to the small of her back she knew that her last reply was a lie. She wasn't ready at all. Not for tonight. Nor for whatever lay ahead in her relationship with this man.

But then she remembered Amy's comment about the ship. And Amy was right, she told herself resolutely. It was time to chart a new course and set sail.

A
s they drove to the downtown hotel where the banquet was being held, Eric could sense Kate's tension. It mirrored his own. To pretend that nothing had happened just now in her apartment would be foolish. To acknowledge it would be dangerous. There was clearly only one way to deal with it: stay away from situations where it might happen again. Frankly, he didn't need the temptation. And she didn't need the stress. His earlier decision to make this their last social excursion was clearly the right one, he told himself resolutely.

However, they still had to get through tonight. He risked a sideways glance at her. She was staring straight ahead, her brow marred by a slight frown, the lines of her body taut with strain. Not good, he concluded. He had been hoping for a repeat of their first outing, when she had relaxed and laughed and had seemed, at least for a little while, less weary and burdened. But tonight they were definitely not off to a good start. This might be their last pseudo “date,” but he wanted her to enjoy it. She deserved a pleasant evening. He needed to distract her, introduce a subject that would take her mind off the
unexpected chemistry that had erupted between them a few minutes before.

“You know, Mom already seems more like her old self in just the two weeks she's been watching Sarah,” he said conversationally.

Kate turned to him. “Does she? I'm glad. It's worked out well for us, too. Sarah looks forward to the time she spends with Anna. What a difference from our brief day-care-center experience!” She sounded a bit breathless, and her tone was a little too bright, but Eric persisted.

“I know there are cases like yours where mothers have to work, but I often think it's a shame that so many of today's kids are being raised by strangers just so the parents can bring in two incomes to support a more extravagant lifestyle. I really think kids would rather have time and attention from their parents than material things.”

Kate nodded eagerly, warming to the subject. “You know, that's exactly how Jack and I felt! We waited a long time for Sarah, and we decided that if the Lord ever blessed us with a child, he or she would have at least one full-time parent. That's why I quit my job when she was born. Jack had a good job—he was an engineer—so he was able to provide for us comfortably. Nothing lavish. But then, we didn't need ‘lavish.' We just needed each other.”

She sighed and turned to stare out the front window, but her eyes were clearly not focused on the road ahead of her. “It was the way I was raised, I guess. We never had a lot when I was growing up,” she said softly. “But we never felt poor, either. Because our home was rich in love. That's what Jack and I wanted for our child. A home filled with love. You know, it's too bad more parents don't realize that kids would rather have your
time on a daily basis than a week at some fancy tennis camp in the summer. Sometimes I think parents today spend so much on material things for their children out of guilt—as a way to appease their conscience for the
time
they should have spent instead.”

“I couldn't agree more.”

Kate looked at him curiously. “I hope you don't think I'm prying, Eric, but… Well, you obviously like kids. And they just as obviously like you. Yet you never had your own.”

A flicker of pain crossed his face, but he hid it by turning briefly to glance in the rearview mirror as he debated how to answer Kate's implied question. Hedge or be frank? It was a painful subject, one he'd discussed with only a few trusted, longtime friends. Kate was new in his life. Yet he trusted her. And so he chose to be frank.

“You're right about my feelings with regard to children,” he said quietly. “I always assumed that if I ever got married, I'd have my own family. And I guess I also assumed that most people felt that way. Cindy and I somehow never discussed the issue directly. I tried a few times, but as I recall, her answers were always a little vague and noncommittal. I should have pursued it, but I suppose I was afraid of what I'd hear if I pressed the issue. And I didn't want to risk hurting our relationship by upsetting her. I'd figured that once we were married it would just be a natural next step, and any reservations she might have had would evaporate.

“As it turned out, I was wrong. About a lot of things, actually. Cindy didn't want kids, period. They would have ‘cramped her style,' as she so succinctly put it. And as much as I wanted children, I didn't want them to have a mother whose heart wasn't in the job. Besides, as she
often reminded me, if I was too busy with my career to spend time with her, how would I ever find time to spend with children? And I suppose she had a point,” he conceded wearily. “But I still wanted children. Giving up that dream was very difficult.”

Kate thought about all the joy Sarah added to her life; how even in her darkest hours, when her heart grieved most deeply for Jack, her daughter had always been the one bright ray of sunlight able to penetrate to the dark, cold corners of her soul and remind her that joy and beauty still lived. But on Eric's darkest days he had struggled alone, not only with disintegration of a marriage but also with the loss of a dream for a family. And now he would always be alone. It was such a waste, she thought, her heart aching for him.

“You would have made a good father, you know,” she said gently.

He gave her a crooked grin. “You think so?” His tone was light, but there was a poignant, wistful quality to it that tugged at her heart and made her throat tighten with emotion.

“Yes. As my sister Amy would wisely say, you can tell a lot about a man by the way he treats children. And you can tell a lot about a man by the way children treat
him.
According to her, children have almost a sixth sense about people. Using Sarah—who's generally very shy around strangers—as a yardstick, you stand pretty tall. So, yes, I think you would have made a great dad.”

Eric felt his neck redden at the compliment. Very few things made him uncomfortable, but praise was at the top of the list. So he quickly refocused the attention on Kate. “I can hear the affection in your voice when you mention your sister. I take it you and she are close?”

“Yes. It's too bad she lives in Tennessee. We have to
be content with weekly phone calls,” she told him with a sigh.

“Tennessee isn't too far. Don't you visit occasionally?”

“Not as often as we'd like. Her husband, Cal, is an attorney
and
a part-time ranger in Great Smoky Mountains National Park, so his busy season is summer. They can never get away then, and I'm teaching the rest of the year. Besides, it's tough traveling with three small children—four-year-old twins and a six-month-old.”

He gave a low whistle. “She
does
have her hands full.”

Kate smiled. “That's putting it mildly. She also hosts a bi-weekly program on a Christian cable station in Knoxville. Anyway, Sarah, Mom and I always went down in the spring, and then again at Thanksgiving. But that's about it.”

“Thanksgiving in the Smokies sounds nice,” he remarked with a smile.

“It is. Especially at Amy's. She's become quite the earth mother. They live in a log cabin, and she makes quilts and bakes homemade bread and cans vegetables. It's an amazing transition, considering that in her twenties she was an absolutely gung-ho career woman who liked bright lights and traveling in the fast lane and thought life simply ceased to exist outside the city limits.”

“What happened?”

“Cal.”

“Ah. True love.”

“Uh-huh. It wasn't that she changed for him. She just discovered that all that time she'd been living a lie. Somewhere along the way she'd bought into the notion that success is only measured in dollars and prestige and
power. But she was never happy, even though she had all those things. It took Cal to make her realize that.”

“That's quite a story, Kate. Sort of reaffirms your belief in happy endings.”

She smiled softly. “Yeah, it does. They're a great couple.” As Eric turned into the curving drive of the hotel, Kate sent him a startled look. “You mean we're here already?”

“See how times flies when you're having fun?” She smiled, and he was gratified to note that she now seemed much more relaxed. “Shall we go in and be wined and dined?”

“I think that's what we're here for,” she replied.

Eric didn't have Kate to himself again until after dessert. As a board member, he knew many of the guests and it seemed that all of them wanted to spend a few minutes talking with him during the cocktail hour. Throughout the meal Kate was kept occupied by an elderly man seated to her right. Only when their dinner companions rose to mingle with other guests did Eric have a few minutes alone with her.

“You seem to have made a friend in Henri,” he remarked, nodding toward the older man who was now greeting some guests at a nearby table.

Kate followed Eric's glance and smiled. “He's a fascinating person. You'd never guess by looking at him that he was an underground fighter with the French Resistance in World War II, would you?”

Eric stared at Kate. He'd known Henri Montand, a major contributor to this event, for ten years. But it seemed that Kate had learned more about his background over one dinner than he had in a decade.

“You're kidding!”

“No. You didn't know?”

He shook his head ruefully. “Speaking of having a way with people… I may be pretty good with kids, but you obviously have a knack with adults.” Kate flushed at his compliment, and he found that quality in her endearing—and utterly appealing. “So, are you having fun?” he asked, trying unsuccessfully to minimize the sudden huskiness in his voice. Fortunately, Kate didn't seem to notice.

“Oh, yes! This is a lovely event.” She glanced around appreciatively at the fresh flower arrangements on the tables, the crystal chandeliers and the orchestra just beginning to tune up.

“The fund-raising committee generally does a nice job. But most importantly, the organization does good work. Abused kids need all the help they can get.”

“You really take your commitment to children seriously, don't you? On and off the job.”

“It's pretty hard to leave it at the office,” he admitted. “But I do too much sometimes, I guess. That's what Cindy always said, anyway. And since the divorce, I've gotten even more involved. Frank's always saying that I'm a driven man. Even Mom's been telling me to get a life. And they're right. My terms on two boards are up at the end of the year and I've already decided not to renew them. But I'll stay involved with this one. I've been on the board for almost ten years and—”

“Eric! Kate!”

They glanced up, and Kate recognized the man bustling toward them as an energetic, fortyish board member Eric had introduced her to earlier. “Listen, help us out, will you? We need some people to kick off the dancing. I think if I get five or six of the board members out on the floor, everyone will loosen up. Thanks,
guys.” Without giving them a chance to respond, he hurried off.

Kate stared after him, then glanced at Eric uncertainly. “I haven't danced in years.”

“Neither have I.”

She gave a nervous laugh. “Honestly, Eric, I don't even think I remember how. That was about the only thing Jack couldn't do. I haven't danced since my wedding.”

“I haven't danced in six or seven years.”

“So should we just pass? I mean, I'd like to help out, but…” She lifted her shoulders helplessly.

Eric looked at her thoughtfully. It would be easy to agree. And probably wise. But as he gazed at Kate, bathed in golden light from the centerpiece candle, the creamy skin of her neck and collarbone glowing warmly, the delicate curve of her neck illuminated by the flickering flame, he was suddenly overcome by a compelling need to hold her in his arms and sway to romantic music. It would be a memory of their brief time together that he could dust off when the nights got long and he was in a melancholy mood, or on those rare occasions when he let himself indulge in fantasy and wonder how differently his life might have turned out if he'd met someone like Kate a dozen years ago.

“I'm willing to give it a try if you are.”

Her eyes grew wide. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“But I'm really not very good, Eric. I'll probably step all over your feet.”

“I'm more worried about stepping on yours. Come on, we'll muddle through.” He stood and held out his hand.

Kate hesitated. It was true that her dancing skills
were extremely rusty. And it was also true that she was worried about looking awkward and embarrassing Eric. But she was even more worried about the close proximity that dancing entailed. It was one thing to sit next to this virile man in the car or at the table, and quite another to be held in his arms. She wasn't exactly sure how she would handle the closeness. But there seemed to be no way to gracefully decline. So she took a deep breath and placed her hand in his.

“You may be sorry,” she warned, her voice not quite steady.

“I don't think so.”

As he led her out to the dance floor, the orchestra began playing “Unforgettable.” He glanced down at her and grinned. “You know, if we're both as bad as we claim, that's exactly what this dance might be.”

Her insides were quaking, but she managed to smile. “You could be right.”

As it turned out, the dance really was unforgettable. In every way.

From the moment he drew her into his arms, she felt as if she'd come home. They danced together perfectly, moving effortlessly to the beat of the music. And once she realized she didn't have to worry about her feet, she was able to focus on other things—the spicy scent of his after-shave, the way he tenderly folded her right hand in his left, tucking it protectively against his solid chest, and the strong, sure feel of his other hand splayed across her back, guiding her firmly but gently.