Authors: Jessica Nelson
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
He’d meant to
soothe her, but it was she who comforted him. She fit neatly in his arms, as if
she belonged there. As though they’d been carved together, two pieces meant to
join as one.
He slid his cheek
against hers. Like velvet. Softer than any rose petal he’d ever felt. His lips
found the delicate line of her jaw. Tasted it in ragged whispers of breath. Her
hands clutched at him, pulled him closer.
And then his lips
found her mouth and she was no longer soft, but hot, a raging fire that
devoured his very soul. He groaned, raked his fingers through her hair as he
took her passion and stoked it, as she reciprocated, until he thought he might explode.
All the women
he’d ever been with, touched, kissed, no one had been like this.
He would never
let her go.
Someone pounded
on the front door. The sound of it broke their embrace.
Katrina stepped
away, her eyes bright, her lips swollen.
Had it been like
this in high school? He didn’t remember, and that made him think it hadn’t. Feeling
uncharacteristically lighthearted, Alec winked at her before going to the front
of the store. He felt Katrina at his back. He flipped the lock and Rachel
pushed in, grabbing Katrina in a hug.
"I just
heard! That maniac." She pulled away and eyed Alec with suspicion. "What’s
he doing here?"
"Helping.
Who told you?" She let Rachel guide her to a stool, sliding him an
apologetic smile.
He lifted his
shoulders as if he didn’t care. He stayed by the door because there were only
two stools behind the counter.
"Grant
called. He said you might need me and so I rushed over. You’ve been crying."
Her eyes narrowed. "And you look … different. Why?" Rachel sent Alec
an accusing glare.
Katrina leaned
back against the wall. "That was thoughtful of Grant."
"Did Alec
make you cry? Why is your face so pink?"
Katrina flipped
him a quick glance, the color on her face deepening. She looked back to Rachel.
"Alec didn’t make me cry." She grimaced. "A crazy guy barged
into my store and terrified me. Please quit looking at Alec as if he’s a serial
killer."
Alec felt the
muscles at the base of his neck unknot at Katrina’s defense of him. Between his
rough past, exposing Carmichael, and leaving her, he sometimes thought the
whole town was against him. He needed Katrina to stand with him in the way she
couldn't ten years ago. Their fights, her endless distrust, made leaving their
wedding easier than it should’ve been. Her acquiescence to the things
townspeople said about him and Carmichael had disgusted him and in his quest to
punish her, he’d wounded himself.
*****
While Rachel
grilled her for details, Katrina never forgot that Alec stood near the door,
watching and listening. She could still feel the heat of his skin, the movement
of his mouth against hers, enrapturing her.
She struggled to
focus on what Rachel was saying. She stood beside Katrina, hands on her hips,
the scent of Chanel #5 clinging to her suit.
After several
minutes of Rachel’s spouting off, Katrina stood up and put her hand gently on
Rachel’s arm. "Okay, you can chill out now."
To her surprise,
Rachel burst into tears. "He could’ve hurt you," she wailed.
"No, no, I’m
fine." Katrina bit her lip and smoothed her palm in circles across
Rachel’s back. Rachel never cried and here she was, sobbing like a baby. Alec
crossed the room and went into the office. He came back and Katrina took tissues
from him gratefully.
Despite all of
the character traits that had strengthened or changed in Alec, one remained the
same. His compassion.
She’d never seen
him turn his back on someone in need. He kept his emotions carefully masked but
beneath the veneer of cold reason beat a tender heart. She gave Rachel the
tissues.
Rachel,
sniffling, wiped her eyes. "Do I look like a raccoon?"
Katrina chuckled.
"Worse."
"That horrible
man! What was Sharon thinking?"
"To leave?"
Alec asked.
"No."
Rachel’s brows drew together angrily. "To marry him in the first place. He
might’ve killed her or Katrina. Grant said they’ve been looking for him for
weeks."
Rachel sniffled
again and began to look around. Katrina saw Kat’s Korner through fresh eyes.
Two shelved walls stuffed with books. The front wall with the window bared and
lonely. Because she loved her store, it felt like home. But looking at it this
way reminded her that to others it appeared cold and impersonal.
"I’m
planning a few more things," Katrina explained when Rachel’s eyes widened
at the empty space at the front of the store.
"You
should’ve left the couches."
"I’m using
that space for something."
"What could
be that big?"
"Yes,
Katrina, what?" Alec crossed his arms and leaned back against a bookshelf,
utterly male.
She couldn’t help
the breath that caught in her throat. He looked strong and masculine, a man who
would protect and care for his own. But wasn’t that what had drawn her to him
so long ago?
"Katrina."
Rachel poked her. "What are you putting in?"
"Uh, a
surprise. I haven’t gotten a firm answer yet, but when I do I’ll let you know."
She pulled herself away from thoughts of Alec and smiled at Rachel. "As
you can see, I’m fine. A little shaky, but fine."
"Good."
Rachel finished drying her face and resumed her usual straight-backed stance. "I’m
flying to New York tomorrow morning."
"Business?"
Alec arched a brow.
"Yes,"
Rachel answered coolly. Directing her gaze to Katrina, she said, "I think
you’ll find the results interesting." She hugged Katrina one more time and
then marched to the door. "I’ll call you next week, after Thanksgiving.
You might want to keep some Mace behind your counter."
"Thanks."
Katrina flashed a feeble smile and then fiddled with the stapler. The door
snapped closed behind Rachel.
"Why would
you find something Rachel is doing interesting?" Alec studied her.
Katrina placed
some receipts to the side and then turned to face him. He might as well know. "When
you first came I was suspicious of your motives." She shrugged. "So I
asked Rachel to check up on you."
A slow smile
spread across Alec’s face. "That’s it?"
"Yes."
"So this
trip to New York is only to make sure that I’m what? A law-abiding citizen?"
"Something
like that," she mumbled. It seemed silly now.
Alec straightened
and walked to her. "I’ll see you in church tomorrow. Tell Rachel to have
fun."
"You’re
leaving?"
"My
secretary, Marta, faxed some paperwork to me this morning that I need to
review."
"Aren’t you
upset?"
"Because
you’re still the same?" He shook his head, the smile fading. "Trust
is something that has to be built. It takes time. In some ways you’ve changed.
But the walls you’ve built around your heart are still solid stone."
He ran his hand
across her hair, down her cheek, then turned around and left. Katrina slumped
onto her stool. Was he right?
Ten years ago
she’d left a boy at the altar and blamed it on a kiss he hadn’t wanted. Now she
wondered if she would have run anyway.
*****
Thanksgiving arrived
with a rush of warm weather and clear skies.
Katrina sent
those skies one last, longing glance before lugging her grocery bags into the
church reception hall Thursday morning.
The annual
Thanksgiving dinner for widows and widowers started in three hours and she had
a lot of setting up to do. Becky, the youth pastor’s wife, wouldn’t be able to
help because she’d gone into labor that morning and Rita, the church secretary,
had backed out at the last minute, citing family circumstances.
That left
Katrina, Joe, and Mrs. Moore, the elderly cook. She’d been preparing the annual
turkey for twenty years and as Katrina rushed into the kitchen, she realized
Mrs. Moore would need a replacement soon.
"Let me
help." She stashed the bags on the island and took the oven mitts from
Mrs. Moore’s trembling hands. After checking the turkey’s temperature, she left
it in and turned down the heat. Mrs. Moore waddled to the far side of the room
and sank into an old recliner set against the wall.
"I’m here."
Joe burst into the kitchen, loaded down with bags. "I’ve got a recruit
outside. Hey, Katrina, you brought dessert right?"
"Yeah."
Katrina winced but Joe left too quickly to notice. As soon as he disappeared
she ran to the bags and stuck the melting gallons of ice cream into the
freezer.
A snore, guttural
and long, filled the kitchen. Katrina swallowed her laugh. Mrs. Moore stretched
in the recliner, her glasses slipping down her nose as she snoozed.
Ha. At least no
one would ever know she’d almost ruined dessert. She closed the freezer door.
"Caught you."
Katrina whirled
around, hand to her chest.
"Joe said
you had dessert. I said it was probably melting." Alec sent her a
disarming smile that made her heart flutter like a schoolgirl who’d just gotten
winked at by the hot quarterback.
"It’s not
melting anymore. Are you the recruit?" She walked to the table, unable to
stop the silly grin spreading across her face.
She hadn’t seen
him in a few days. He wore a lazy smile and well-fitting jeans. She’d missed
him. The feeling hit her like a sledgehammer and, to cover, she began unloading
the bags.
Alec helped. "He
woke me up at seven this morning and talked me into it."
"It’s very
kind of you. We definitely could use the extra hands."
"I like to
make myself useful."
"This is
more than useful. Thank you."
"You’re
welcome." He trailed his forefinger down her jaw line and she almost
shivered. A wink, and then he turned back to the table.
They unpacked
everything and started to organize food according to categories. Dessert,
vegetables, bread, and so forth. Alec followed her lead.
"Ready to
deal with a whole bunch of grumpy men and flirty women?" Katrina slung a
grin his way.
"No problem.
I deal with that in the business world all the time."
She chuckled. "Bet
the flirts don’t have gray hair and hobble around on canes."
"You’d be
surprised. Shelby Laurence thought I’d marry her if she put me in her will."
"The toilet
paper heiress?"
"That’s the
one. I’m surprised you know her name."
"Of course.
She’s like an elderly Paris Hilton."
"True. Where
do you want me to put this?"
"The plates
get stacked at that end of the table." Katrina began rolling silverware
into special Thanksgiving napkins.
"You
could’ve sat with me last Sunday," she said after a moment of silence.
Alec looked up
from the napkins he was rolling. "Wanted to. Thought I’d keep the gossip
down, though."
"You already
sat by me once before." She concentrated on the rolling and hoped he
hadn’t heard the hurt.
"Actually, I
sat by you and Rachel. Big difference. Katrina, look at me."
She lifted her
chin, thankful that her emotions were well buried.
"I kissed
you. I asked you to marry me." He cocked his head. "You’re the one
backing off, not me."
"I guess I
just don’t know what to expect." She kept her voice low, even.
"Expect
commitment. I want you in my life and I don’t know what it’ll take to convince
you."
She didn’t know
herself. He tossed his rolled silverware to the side, not even glancing her
way. She returned to her rolls. Trust was one thing, marriage another. She
needed time before committing to the covenant of marriage. And she wanted forgiveness.
Spoken.
Understanding rushed
through her and she paused with rolling the silverware. He’d said he wanted to
forgive her, but he’d never actually said he did. Just like his love. She
couldn’t ask for him to say these things but neither could she marry him with
the weight of their absence bogging her down.
But she didn’t
want to hurt him and she didn’t want him to feel like he was on an emotional
roller coaster with her. It was a fine line.
"Don’t be
too surprised if a few of our guests give you looks," she said, trying to
lighten the sudden tension.
"The Hawk
serving food." To her relief, Alec smirked. "Got a camera?"
"It is
funny. Smart-mouthed, motorcycle riding rebel serving cranberry sauce."
The memories warmed her. "You were the first in Manatee Bay to own a bike,
weren’t you?"
"Nope. Old
Rob, down on the other side of the track was. He’d fly off on that Harley to
Sturgis and I’d just ache. I wanted to go so bad. Saved my money and bought a
bike for myself."
"We all had
crushes on you."
He winked at her.
"Bikes are good for more than one thing."
"Adventure,
speed, and girls." Katrina laughed and Alec’s hands stilled.
"What?"
Her nose crinkled at him while her eyes shone with mirth.
"You laugh
like Julia Roberts."
"So I’ve
been told. Get to rolling. What time is it?" She peered at his waist. He
twisted the iPhone on his hip towards her, fighting the impulse to grab her and
hug her forever.
He hadn’t
forgotten her laugh, but the way it made him feel had slipped away. Now it
punched him in the gut. It stirred his blood and his ears rang with the beat of
his pulse.
Despite the rusty
quality of it, her laugh still sang warm and clear.
For a quiet
woman, she laughed louder than anyone else he’d known.
And he liked it.
CHAPTER
TWENTY
Who invited the
devil? Alec scowled as he dumped a spoonful of mashed potatoes onto an elderly
man’s plate. In line behind the man, Widow Carmichael studiously avoided his
gaze. Apparently she didn’t feel like casting her stones in a church hall.
He nodded a smile
to the man but his hands tightened around the ladle as the widow stopped before
him. He scooped up the potatoes and clacked them against her plate, teeth
grinding. It wasn’t right to hate someone so much, to loathe her for her cruel
gossip, for making him an outcast in a town that had mothered him better than
his own mom.
At least Ms.
Lincoln hadn’t been swayed by the widow’s words.
Widow Carmichael
moved ahead in line without sparing him a glance. His jaw clenched but he
served the rest of the line with a tight smile.
After the
majority of people were seated and prayers had been said, he took the tray of
sweet tea and lemonade pitchers Joe gave him and made the rounds at the tables.
Spotting one in
the corner that looked low on drinks, he headed that way. A grin worked itself
across his face. This reminded him of waiting tables in the early years, after
he’d left Manatee Bay to go live with his uncle, and how he’d struggled to earn
enough for his first big investment.
Seventy hours a
week and corns on his toes, but he’d done it, much to Uncle Jim’s pride.
Nothing like
success to put a man in a good mood. His grin widened as he approached the
table. "Drinks, anyone?"
"I’ll have
more sweet tea." The old man, whose mustache twitched like a curious cat’s
tail, regarded him above square-framed glasses. "Young man, I recognize
you."
Alec nodded to
the gentleman, feeling a faint ping of recognition. "I grew up here."
"High
school?"
The other
attendees at the table watched them, clearly interested in how Alec would
respond. "Most of high school." Manners kicked in. He set the tray on
the table, careful to not let the drinks slosh over the rims of the pitchers,
and held out his hand. "Alec Munroe."
"Blake
Murray."
"Coach?"
"That’s me.
Are you that Munroe boy? I couldn’t get you to do much." He grinned. "Too
busy with Miss Kitty over there." Coach’s chin pointed to where Katrina
bustled across the room, arms loaded with dishes.
She must’ve felt
their gazes because she looked over and saw them staring at her. The world spun
when she smiled at him. For a second he almost walked to her, wanted to put his
arm around her and show the room whom she belonged to, but a gentle touch on
the elbow brought him back to sanity.
"You still
love her." The words were not a question.
Slowly, Alec
nodded. Was it possible to both love and hate someone at the same time?
Granted, the hurt seemed to be easing, but would it flare up later? Damage
their progress?
"Son." The
coach cleared his throat. "I’ve been wanting to tell you something a long
time now."
Alec glanced
around the table. Wrinkled faces turned towards him, expressions blank, though
one elderly lady with springy white curls smiled at him and nodded, as though
urging him to hear the coach’s words.
"Sure."
Alec gestured to the man’s glass. "Want more tea first?"
"No, no."
Coach waved at his glass and then caught Alec’s gaze. "This is important.
Ever since I flunked you in gym class I’ve felt bad."
"I’m sure I
deserved it." Alec’s lips twisted wryly. He remembered sweating in gym,
and it hadn’t been over a missed ball.
"You didn’t.
I was so upset over Paul—"
"Carmichael?"
"Well, yes.
Listen, he was the best teacher there was, his aptitude tests were through the
roof, and he was funny. The man made everyone laugh."
Alec swung the
tray off the table, back stiff. People in this town refused to accept
Carmichael as the monster he’d been. Too fooled by the white of his teeth and
the scope of his brain. "The man you’re describing was nothing but a
costume."
Prepared to leave
the table before his temper got the better of him, he froze when Coach hooked
his pocket with a finger.
He glared down at
the older man, not caring what the others at the table thought. "You gave
me trouble because you grieved the loss of a pedophile."
Coach released Alec’s
pocket. His expression fell. "That’s what I’m trying to tell you." He
scooted back and the chair’s scrape across the floor was lost beneath the
swelling chatter at other tables.
Coach stood. His
head reached Alec’s nose. Frowning, Alec set the tray back on the table. This
time liquid splattered but no one seemed to notice.
"I’m standing
here, face to face, man to man, to tell you I was wrong." The coach’s feet
shuffled, his chin trembled.
It was a humbling
sight and Alec felt the muscles in his shoulders ease downwards. "What’s
changed? Why now?"
"After you
left that year, rumors started. Ms. Carmichael’s family stopped going to the
church. People started talking. Her daughter wouldn’t have anything to do with
the widow. She’s been coming to this Thanksgiving dinner since before me. She’s
alone and we all figure it’s because what you said was true, but she won’t
admit it."
The widow’s
family refused to see her. Unbidden, sympathy snuck up on him. He gulped back
the unwelcome feeling and kept his gaze trained on the coach’s face, refusing
to look for the widow’s sour face.
"I was a foolish
man." Coach shook his head. "Please forgive me." The words
didn’t look right, coming from Coach’s mouth like that, but they had, and they
hung suspended between them.
Alec hadn’t
considered forgiving the people involved in shunning him. Hadn’t realized the
extent of his bitterness until this very moment, until the Coach stood before
him and uttered his apology.
Throat stinging
and tight, Alec gave the retired teacher a curt nod. "I forgive you."
Coach inclined
his head, then looked up at him, eyes gleaming. "Thank you."
Alec scooped the
tray off the table and shifted for Coach to sit back down. Curious eyes watched
him. He looked up and met five gazes, some looking guilty, others merely
perplexed.
"I’ll have
more sweet tea," Coach said.
"Sure."
Alec filled his glass. "Anyone else?" Some nods and he emptied the
pitcher. "Enjoy your food."
An inane thing to
say but for the life of him he couldn’t explain the coach’s apology. It made no
sense. After all these years, what had possessed the coach to lay down his guts
like that in front of onlookers? Extreme guilt, maybe.
Still, Alec
couldn’t shake the sense of unreality that followed him as he brought beverages
to different tables. When Ms. Meisenheimer apologized in his ear, when Mr.
Furtelli called him a good boy, he accepted the comments with a dazed nod. What
else could he do?
As the evening
wore on, not even Widow Carmichael’s glares could pop the strange lightness ballooning
in his chest. Oddly enough, he couldn’t stop smiling.
*****
The event ended well.
A few complaints from the habitual grumps but otherwise dinner sailed smoother
than a kayak on the river in summer. Katrina caught several curious glances
aimed at Alec, no doubt speculating on why he’d returned to a town that showed
him its back a long time ago.
By five o’clock
the kitchen sparkled like new and all the tables and chairs sat against the
wall once again.
"It went well,
huh?" Joe came over and helped Katrina hoist one last chair onto an
already tipping stack.
"Better than
I thought. We couldn’t have done it without Alec." He’d been everywhere at
once, charming little old ladies while they waited for their food, trading
business secrets with the older men. More than one senior citizen had advised
Katrina to snag him while she could.
"About Alec."
Joe cleared his throat. "I owe you an apology."
Katrina felt her
brows shoot up but she said nothing.
"Seeing you
guys now, hanging out, exploring your feelings, I really wish I hadn’t
interfered."
"You don’t
owe me anything," she said, feeling awkward. She could hear Alec vacuuming
the reception hall entryway and hoped he didn’t finish too soon.
"I do. You
guys had something special. Ten years later and I see it. Rachel and I, we
should’ve waited to say something about Maggie until we knew for sure."
Poor Joe.
Carrying the world on his shoulders as usual. She took his hand and covered it
with her other. "It doesn’t matter, Joe. You guys wanted to protect me.
But I loved Alec and I should’ve known him better."
She let go of his
hand and reached for her purse. As Joe turned out the lights in the kitchen and
walked into the hall, Katrina sent up a little thank you to God. Surprisingly,
the prayer didn’t feel as though it bounced back against the ceiling. The
longer Alec was here, the more she started to believe God hadn’t abandoned her
after all.
She swung the
purse over her shoulder and followed Joe into the main hall of the church. The
afternoon had gone well.
Her gaze skipped
to where Alec bent, winding the cord to the vacuum. Joe stood near the door,
waiting patiently, dependable and likable. They contrasted, one light, one
dark, and yet both endless wells of compassion.
They locked up
and walked to their cars. Her Mazda, Joe’s Ford pick-up, and Alec’s Mercedes.
"Katrina,"
Joe called as he opened the door to his truck. "You’re welcome to come to
my family’s for dinner."
"Thanks, but
I’m good."
Joe glanced over
at Alec and laughed. "She always says no. I don’t know why I ask."
Alec nodded, the
wind whipping his hair. He held out his hand. "Thanks, Joe, for the
opportunity to help."
"No problem."
Joe shook his hand, nodded to Katrina, and then, jumping into his truck, drove
out of the parking lot.
Katrina didn’t
move. Should she invite Alec over? Who did he have to spend this holiday with?
"Cousins,"
he said, striding towards her.
"Oh, how did
you know?"
He laughed and
cupped her face, smoothing a wind-blown tendril away from her eyes. "You
were doing that thing with your cheeks again." He leaned forward and
brushed her mouth with his lips.
"You’ve been
eating peppermints," she murmured, enjoying the taste against her skin.
He chuckled and
pulled her close to him for a hug. Warmth and fresh mint surrounded her and for
an agonizing instant, Katrina never wanted him to let go.
And fear struck.
Joey had been
taken, her mother and her father were dead. If she allowed this to go on with
Alec, would she lose him too?
She pulled away
from him. "Have a good Thanksgiving." Offering a polite smile, she
turned to the car, slid in and without looking back, drove off.
*****
Alec watched Katrina
zoom out of the parking lot before getting into his car. But he didn’t start
the engine.
Katrina didn’t
know his cousins had moved away or she would’ve invited him over.
He didn’t want to
go. He needed space, time to think. Deciding to come to Manatee Bay had
appeared simple in the beginning. A business deal that involved a nice chance
to get back at a mean and spiteful woman, Kitty’s mom. Show her he became more
than the punk she’d always called him. He could’ve backed out when he saw Kitty
owned the store. Was thinking of it, until she told him about Joey.
Just remembering
that night did strange things to his gut. Oh, he’d wanted to hurt her for what
she’d done. The feeling warred with his desire to recapture the closeness of
their youth. But the more time he spent with her, the more he admired her.
The timid kitten,
too selfish and insecure to give of herself, had turned into a daring cat with
claws of selfless kindness.
The elderly
guests of today’s meal had laughed with her, talked to her, respected her.
And so did he.
The lonely life
was getting old, the emptiness wearing thin. Life with Katrina would be special,
if he could get her to trust him. There was only one thing which might drive
her away. That reminded him of Rachel. Had she dug anything up on him yet?
He pulled out his
cell phone and hit the one. Marta answered on the first ring.
"It’s me. A
redhead might come by, digging for information."
"No
redhead’s been here, Mr. Munroe."
"If she
shows up, don’t talk about Manatee Bay." Alec heard the subtle, telling
intake of breath on the other end. He waited.
"Is that
order just for the redhead?"
He heard the hope
in her voice and his teeth pressed together. "No."
"It might be
too late then." Marta’s voice became brisk. "A half-hour ago a woman
called claiming to be a reporter wanting to do a special piece on you. She
asked about your business plans."
"We never
talk business to reporters."
"Now, Mr.
Munroe, sometimes we do." She coughed. "Nothing specific, of course.
We moved on to personal matters." Another cough, followed by a long
silence. "I may have mentioned, sir, your desire to expand your hometown’s
restaurant choices, but I didn’t tell her the location."
"Don’t talk
to anyone else," he snapped. Then, as an afterthought, "Did the
reporter give her name?"
"Jane Smith."
Well, that was
obvious.
"Thanks
Marta." He flipped the phone closed and tried to relax his jaw. The
muscles in the base of his neck felt tighter than a rubber band. Rachel wasn’t
even trying to cover her tracks. She would call Katrina, and then Katrina would
wonder why he hadn’t said anything. Any trust she might’ve been cultivating
would, like a flower in a hurricane, be crushed.
He needed her. If
she refused to see him, the emptiness would be unrelenting.