He grabbed her wrist. "Are you sure?"
"No, but let's do it anyway."
She pulled his shirt apart and stroked his chest with her fingers, eyeing him like some kind of dessert. Ryan suddenly wondered if he could satisfy her. He had never doubted his ability to please a woman before now, when it had suddenly become important to please this woman.
The rain came down harder, slicking her hair against her head, running in rivulets down the side of his face and chest. Kara unfastened her bra, letting the edges dangle teasingly against the sides of her breasts. She watched Ryan's face, taking delight in the way he let her control the pace. He met each of her moves with one of his own, but he didn't toss her on her back, didn't roll on top of her and take her before she was ready. He waited and watched, moving his fingers, then his mouth against her breasts.
Ryan's hands worked at her blue jeans, unfastening her belt, the snaps, pushing them down over her hips while he tortured her breasts with his mouth.
She pressed down on him, not wanting his jeans between them either. Not wanting anything between them. But he made a liar out of that thought when his fingers came between them, and she could think of nothing but his stroking fingers, his teasing mouth, the pressure building within her. She cried out his name as her body shuddered and shook with the force of her desire until she finally came to rest on top of him.
He gave her a wicked smile. "You called?"
"That wasn't fair. I wanted to do it together." She tugged on his jeans.
"Kara." His voice turned serious.
"What?"
"I don't have anything with me. No protection," he added when she gave him a blank look.
Protection? Damn. Kara suddenly realized what she was doing. "Oh. But -- "
"It's okay." He pulled the edges of her bra back together and fastened the clasp.
"It's not okay. Unless you don't -- " She couldn't finish the sentence out loud. All her doubts and insecurities came back to haunt her. Michael had never been satisfied with her. Maybe Ryan wouldn't be either.
Maybe he didn't even want her to begin with. She had practically attacked him.
Kara got up abruptly, pulling up her jeans and reaching for her waterlogged sweater, which was now covered in pine needles. Apart from Ryan she felt the cold run right through her.
"I do want you," Ryan said as he stood up. "More than you can imagine."
"Obviously not enough to throw caution to the wind."
"Is that what you want? Because we can do it right here, right now, and to hell with the consequences. That's how I've lived most of my life. But I don't think it's the way you live your life, is it?"
"No."
"We can go back to the house," Ryan said. "We can go up to my bedroom and take up exactly where we left off."
They could, but she knew they wouldn't. The moment had passed. Back at the house she would be reminded of everything she was supposed to be -- mother, niece, innkeeper, girlfriend, community leader, and everything that she wasn't supposed to be -- sexy, free spirited, and completely uninhibited. Maybe that's why she was attracted to Ryan. She wanted what he had. She wanted it so bad she could almost taste it. She could almost taste him.
Then the rain came down in a torrent and washed away the lingering scent of his mouth on hers.
"I remember the first time I parked at this spot with Brian Sayers," Loretta said, rubbing the steam off the front window of Andrew's truck so she could see the river again. "Just like last time, everything's all fogged up."
Andrew smiled at her. "But we're not having as much fun."
"We could be."
"I'm not seventeen anymore." Andrew finished off the last bit of beer and stashed it in the now empty lunch box. "That was good."
"You look tired," Loretta said. "Rough night?"
"Rough weekend. I had another round with Ryan this morning. He got my father out of the hospital."
"I figured Jonas wouldn't stay put for long." She paused. "Do you think Ryan could have stopped him from leaving?"
"He could have tried harder."
"You can't give him a break, can you?"
"Why should I? All these years he..." Andrew's voice drifted away. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, debating his options. He needed to talk to someone about the letter, someone who would be on his side. Finally he reached into his pocket and pulled out the folded piece of paper. He held it up in front of Loretta's curious eyes. "Ryan gave me this. It's a letter my mother wrote to my father twenty-five years ago. Take it."
"I couldn't. That's private. Between a man and a woman."
"I want you to read it. I want you to help me understand it."
Loretta took the paper out of his hand and opened it. She sat back in her seat as she read the words of passion and despair, the words his mother had penned so many years earlier. Andrew could almost see her sitting at the desk in her bedroom, the tip of her pen pressed against her lips as she looked out the window and thought about what she wanted to say.
Had she been thinking of him at all? Or had all her thoughts been of Jonas and her lover? The word tore him apart. He felt incredibly jealous of that lover, of the man she had wanted more than Jonas, more than Ryan, more than himself. Why couldn't his mother have loved him the way he loved her? What had he done wrong?
Loretta's hand shook as she lowered the letter to her lap. Tears gathered in her eyes, and a look of pain and understanding spread across her face. "Oh, Andrew. That's so sad. To love someone and not have them."
"But she had us." Andrew couldn't believe how bitter he sounded, how hurt and disappointed. "I guess we weren't enough."
"She loved you, Andrew. Didn't you read that part?" Loretta glanced down at the letter again. "Didn't you hear her talking to you in her sweet voice as she wrote the words, 'I love my children more than life, how can I be parted from them? Please, Jonas, I beg you not to separate me from the boys.'" Loretta paused. "She didn't want to leave you, Andrew."
"But she did. You can tell me it was Jonas's fault. But dammit, Loretta, she had a choice, and she made it."
"Yes, she did."
Loretta ran her hand down the side of his face, a loving, poignant gesture that reminded him of his mother, of all the touches he had missed. He grabbed her wrist, not wanting to be reminded, not wanting to need that affection again. "Don't," he said.
"I feel so bad for you, Andrew. I remember losing my mother, but that was different. She was so sick at the end, it made it easier to let her go. Pop, too. But the way you lost your mother, so sudden, in such an unexplainable way. How you must have hurt."
He had hurt deeply, silently, unable to share his burden with anyone, not his brother, not his father, not even Becky Lee. But with Loretta he suddenly felt he could let it out. He could tell her the truth.
"She just didn't love me -- enough," Andrew said, his voice catching on the last word.
Loretta threw her arms around his neck, put her head on his chest, and began to cry. Her sobs tore at his heart. And suddenly he was crying along with her, silently shaking as the tears ran down his face, releasing the pain of a lifetime. They stayed that way for a long time until they were both spent, until the rushing sounds of the river calmed them both.
"I can't be with Kara," Andrew said. "Not after this. Not knowing it was her father who ..."
"This letter has nothing to do with Kara. She was a child at the time."
"It was her father who broke up my family."
"Maybe she's the one who can bring you back together."
Andrew thought about that for a moment. "Maybe," he said somewhat reluctantly. It was hard to think of Kara while he held Loretta in his arms.
Loretta grimaced and put a hand to her stomach. She sat back and took a deep breath.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"Nothing. Just false labor. I'll be okay."
That's right. She was having a baby. How could he keep forgetting that?
"We better go," Andrew said.
"Wait." Loretta suddenly looked nervous. "I want to tell you something."
"Okay."
Loretta didn't speak for a long moment.
"What is it?" he encouraged.
"I want to name the baby Andrew if it's a boy."
Loretta's words shocked the hell out of him. "Why? You should name the kid after someone you love -- I mean, someone in your family or something."
"I love you, Andrew."
She said the words with such stark simplicity that he couldn't believe he had heard her right.
"What?"
Loretta's eyebrows drew together in a serious frown as she stared out the window. "It's okay. You don't have to say it back. I know you want Kara. You want the kind of life that she can give you. But I won't pretend anymore."
"You can't love me. We've never even been together."
"Maybe that's why I love you." She took in a deep breath. "It's funny, really. All those years I kept looking for love in sex. I thought that was the only way to get it. But I never really felt anything. Never. Not even with this baby's father. I tried so hard to feel something, Andrew, but it never came. The other night when you kissed me, and when you held me in your arms just now, when you trusted me enough to cry, I knew that I had found what I have been missing all these years."
"Loretta, you don't know what you're saying."
"It's okay, Andrew. I'll probably regret this in the morning." She tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a sob. "Like I've regretted so many things in the morning. I know you can't love a woman like me. Anyway, that's it. I want to name the baby Andrew, but I won't," she added. "Because then everyone would think -- well, you know what they would think."
That he was the father. Suddenly that didn't seem so bad.
"Anyway, end of confession," Loretta said with determined cheerfulness. "Let's go back."
Andrew started the car. He wanted to say something to fill the silence between them, but he was truly lost in his emotions, torn between the woman he wanted and the woman he knew he should want more.
"I'm afraid of making another mistake," he said as he pulled out onto the highway.
"I'm not Becky Lee."
"No, but you're like her. I was a big disappointment to Becky Lee. She couldn't wait to get away from me. I expect you would feel the same soon enough. Becky Lee probably would have left earlier if it hadn't been for the baby. Of course, she probably wouldn't have married me in the first place if it hadn't been for Billy."
"She was pregnant?"
"Yeah." The word fell out of his mouth like a lead weight. "She was pregnant and scared and madly in love with my brother."
"Then why did you marry her?"
"Because it was the right thing to do." His hands gripped the steering wheel as he turned toward Castaway Park. "I did care for her. And when Billy was born, I fell in love with both of them. I wanted to be a good husband and father, but she didn't give me a chance."
"You are a good father."
"No, I'm not. I'm turning into Jonas, a man who has no idea what to say to his son. And it's worse now with Ryan here. I wish he would leave. I want Ryan out of this town and out of my life and as far away from Billy as I can get him. I can't lose my son, too."
"Why would you?" Loretta asked. "What would Ryan want with your son?"
Andrew didn't answer her. He couldn't say it out loud, not even to Loretta.
She didn't say anything more until they reached the park, and he turned off the engine. "Billy is your son, isn't he?"
"Of course Billy is my son." Andrew threw her a quick glance and saw the doubt in her eyes. "He is. Becky Lee told me I was the father."
"But she was sleeping with both of you. How could she know for sure?" Loretta asked with piercing logic.
"She knew."
"Maybe she lied."
"Why would she do that?"
Loretta sat back in her seat. "We both know the answer to that." Subconsciously she put a hand to her belly. "Some women can't stand the thought of being pregnant and alone."
Andrew heard the fear in her voice and knew she was relating Becky Lee to her own situation. But he also knew that Loretta had more courage than Becky Lee. She would never tell someone he was the father of her child if it wasn't true.
"Ryan isn't stupid, you know," Loretta continued, turning to face him. "The longer he's in town, the more he's going to think about things, the more he's going to question."
"All the answers died with Becky Lee."
"He could force DNA testing."
Andrew felt the sweat bead along his brow. "I won't allow it. I am Billy's father. End of story."
Loretta sighed. "Oh, Andrew, somehow I don't think this story is anywhere near the end."
Kara went to bed that night wondering where Ryan had disappeared after the picnic, wondering why he had missed dinner and still hadn't returned home when it was past eleven. There weren't many places open this late, except Loretta's bar.
Maybe he had gone to Loretta's. Maybe he had sought comfort with some other woman, someone who knew the score, who knew to carry condoms in her purse and ...
Tears welled in her eyes. She had kept them away for so many hours; there was no stopping them now. She cried for a missed opportunity. She cried for a man she shouldn't want and for every stupid mistake she had made in her life. The list seemed to go on forever. Most of all she cried because she felt helpless.
The river was rising. Ryan was leaving. Angel was growing up. Andrew was pulling away from her. Kara couldn't stop any of it. She felt powerless. So she did the only thing she could do; she pulled the covers over her head and tried to pretend the outside world didn't exist.
By morning the outside world was back again. A call from the mayor awoke Kara at 7 a.m. By 8 a.m. she had canceled the pancake breakfast. By nine she had organized groups of volunteers to start sandbagging around the library and the civic center, and called off the Centennial Parade.
By eleven she had set up a command post in the rec center, called the Red Cross to find out their procedures should the river actually flood, and by twelve she had poured more cups of coffee than she could count. So much for a leisurely Sunday.
Ryan spent the morning taking photographs. He had already caught her on film a few times, once with a bullhorn to her mouth acting incredibly bossy, and a second shot of her pouring coffee like a happy home-maker.
For some reason that thought irritated her. She untied her apron. Ryan snapped her photo again. She glared at him. He took another shot.
"Stop it already," she said with annoyance. "Take some pictures of the real workers."
Ryan raised an eyebrow. "What happened to Miss Congeniality?"
"She's tired." Kara pulled the tie out of her hair so the waves fell loosely against her shoulders. She rolled her neck to one side, then the other.
"Why don't you take a break?"
"I'm planning to do just that."
Ryan followed her over to a bench just outside the library. She scowled at him. "I thought you were leaving."
He sat down next to her. "I've got all day. Anything I can do to help?"
"Just hold the river back, Superman."
His expression sobered. "I tried that once, remember? It didn't work."
She put her hand over his, suddenly feeling guilty. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
"I'm sorry, too -- for yesterday."
"You were right. It would have been a mistake."
They sat in quiet for a while. Ryan played with her hand, teasingly, caressingly, like a lover. She pulled her hand away and slid down to the end of the bench.
"Are you sure you're far enough away?"
"I need space, Ryan. I feel claustrophobic."
The edges of her life were closing in on her, not just the water but Ryan and Andrew and Angel and the townspeople, all with their own demands, their own needs, their own desires. How could she hope to please everyone when she couldn't even make herself happy?
"Why don't you come with me?" Ryan said suddenly. "We could go anywhere you want. You could be anyone you want to be -- bad girl, nice woman, whatever."
"It's tempting, but no."
"Why not?"
"Because you can't chase happiness. My mother did that. We moved every other year. I've lived in big cities, Ryan. Oh, I haven't been to Paris or the wilds of Africa, but I've been to L.A."
"Which is close."
She smiled reluctantly. "Besides, I like the sense of community and family that we have here. I don't want to leave."
"Not even now with the river threatening to destroy everything in its wake?"
"River people are tough. They're survivors. They stand up and fight, and even when they lose they get back on their feet and rebuild. They start over, no matter how many times the river comes up -- "
"Because living by the river is worth the risk of losing everything," Ryan finished bitterly. "Spare me, Kara. I've heard it before, many times."
Kara fell silent, knowing there was nothing she could say to change his mind. Ryan had spent more of his life here than she had. If he didn't know what the town had to offer by now, then he never would.
Ryan leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees. "What if you fell in love with someone, Kara? Someone who didn't want to live here? Would you go with him? Hypothetically speaking, of course."
Kara glanced down at her hands, at the tan line that still reminded her of her wedding ring. She had promised to love Michael through better or worse, in sickness and in health. And she had broken those vows. The good hadn't been good enough and the bad had been much worse than she could handle.
But even though her first marriage had ended in failure, she knew that someday she would try again, that being married and loving one man for the rest of her life were exactly what she wanted. Could she give up this place, this haven she had chosen for herself and Angel? Could she put it all aside for the love of one man?
"Well?" Ryan prodded.
She sighed. "Would I follow the man I loved to the ends of the earth? Is that what you're asking?"
"At least down the road and onto the highway?"
"I'm not sure. I would be afraid, Ryan, to love someone more than he loved me. I know Michael turned out to be big loser, but I did love him once, more than I had ever loved anyone. I went wherever he wanted. I tried to make a home in every dreary little apartment he took me to. I don't want to do that again. I don't want to be dependent on a man for my happiness."
"Then you wouldn't go. Of course, you don't have to go. We both know Andrew would rather die than leave this place. And you and Andrew are a couple, right?"
"Right." Kara could not look him in the eye, not after yesterday, not after she had practically seduced him by the river.
"But you haven't slept together."
Kara cleared her throat. "I don't think that's any of your business."
"You made it my business yesterday. Has Andrew seen you naked? Does he know about that cute freckle just above your left breast?"
"Stop it, Ryan."
"How can you marry him when you want me?" Ryan shook his head in complete bewilderment. "What does the guy have that I don't?"
"Staying power."
"Sweetheart, you don't know anything about my staying power."
Kara couldn't stop the flush from spreading across her cheeks. "I'm not talking about sex. I'm talking about staying here."
"And that's enough for you?"
"Yes. Besides, what about you? Would you stay in a place you hated if the woman you loved didn't want to leave? Hypothetically speaking, of course."
His lips curved into a regretful smile. "No -- for the same reason. I would be the one who loved more."
"We're both cowards."
"I guess."
Kara stood up. "We might as well say good-bye now." She stuck out her hand. Ryan reluctantly shook it. But when she opened her mouth to say the words, he shook his head, his expression suddenly pained.
"I hate good-byes," he said. "I take after my mother. She couldn't say good-bye either. You know, Kara, this town has broken up a lot of marriages. My parents', your parents'. Are you sure this is where you want to be?"
"I think so."
"This isn't a Norman Rockwell painting. The people here are real, and they can be nasty as hell. When you get past the cozy shops on Main Street and the friendly diner down the road, you'll find the same problems in this town as anywhere else. Serenity Springs is not a quilt you can pull over your head to make your problems go away."
"But that's what I want it to be," she whispered. "I can't help it."
"What are you so afraid of facing?"
"Look, this isn't getting us anywhere. Thank you for coming to the centennial. I hope you enjoyed yourself. Maybe you could send me some of the photos, if you want to, that is."
His face tightened with anger at her cool tone. "Of course. That's why you invited me, isn't it?"
Ryan dug his hands into his pockets. Kara shifted her feet.
"Well, see you later," she said.
"Later."
As Kara turned her head, she suddenly became aware of a woman staring at them from the library steps. It was Margaret Woodrich.
Ryan stiffened. Kara could feel his tension. When he moved, she impulsively put a hand on his arm. "Don't," she said.
"I have to talk to her. I have to set her straight before I go."
"She won't listen. She doesn't want to understand."
"Too bad. I've spent the last twelve years being the bad guy. I think I deserve a chance to tell the truth."
"Which is what?"
"I didn't kill Becky Lee."
"You weren't driving the car, but she was going to see you."
"I know, but that wasn't my fault. I didn't ask her to come." Ryan looked at Kara in desperation. "What do I say? How do I convince her?"
"Maybe you could start by saying that you loved Becky Lee," Kara suggested. "You did, didn't you?"
"For a few months, more than life itself."
"Then tell her that. It won't be enough, but it will be something."
Something, Ryan thought as he walked over to Margaret Woodrich. He did owe this woman something. An explanation at the very least. Margaret stiffened, but she didn't walk away. One good sign.
"Mrs. Woodrich." Ryan stopped in front of her. She was smaller than he remembered, and older. Becky Lee and her mother had always been close, like sisters, and Margaret had never been able to say no to her only child. Even when Becky Lee missed curfew or cut school, her mother always gave in.
"Go away," Margaret said. "I have nothing to say to you." Ryan put a hand on her shoulder. She jumped. "Don't touch me."
"I'm sorry." Ryan hesitated, wondering if he shouldn't just leave, but he had been running for so long. His feet were tired of moving. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry Becky Lee died so young. She deserved a lot more."
Margaret's eyes came alive with anger and pain. "She deserved more than you."
He winced at the direct hit. "You're right, she did, and she got it. She got Andrew. The better brother, the better son, and the better husband. I don't know why she left him. He would have done anything for her."
Margaret's mouth dropped open, obviously surprised by his attitude. "She didn't love Andrew," Margaret said. "She loved you. God help her."
"And I loved her. But we were young. We knew nothing of life. I couldn't stay here and marry her."
"Why not?"
"Because I wanted to see the world. And I couldn't take her with me. I had no money, no job. I had nothing."
"You had my daughter. You slept with her. She told me," Margaret said bitterly. "What kind of a man are you -- to sleep with a young girl, then walk away from her?"
Ryan felt as if she had kicked him in the stomach. "I was the same age as Becky Lee. I wasn't taking advantage of her. We did what we did together."
"I have her diary, you know. She raved about you, the first time you spoke to her at school, the first time you kissed her." Margaret's voice caught on the word. "I tried to tell her you were no good, but she wouldn't listen."
"Of course she wouldn't. Becky Lee listened to only one person, and that was herself."
"How dare you criticize her?"
"I dare because I loved her, too. Okay? I loved her. How do you think I felt when she chose Andrew, when she agreed to marry my brother? I couldn't stick around and watch that. It hurt too much."
"Hurt? What do you know of hurt? You didn't lose your child. You didn't bury a beautiful young girl behind the church. You didn't hold her baby in your arms and listen to the pitiful cries of a child wanting his mother."
Ryan felt as if she were ripping him apart with each word. She was right, so right. He had photographed all the events she was describing, other people's pain, other people's misery. He had hidden behind his camera, playing it safe, staying objective, but now it was hitting him in the face. Actually Margaret was poking him in the chest with the tip of her finger, emphasizing each point.
"You didn't read her letter where she told of her deep unhappiness, her longing for a man she couldn't have," Margaret continued. "You didn't watch Becky Lee's father fade into a shadow. You didn't see the empty place at our dining room table. You don't know what hurt is. You have to love someone to feel pain. But what do you know of love? What do you know of anything?"
Margaret left, but her words stayed with him for a long time.
Kara turned away as Ryan and Mrs. Woodrich finished their conversation. She had no idea what had been said, but judging by the expression on Ryan's face, it was obviously painful. She wanted to go to him but didn't. They had said good-bye. It was time to move on.
In her hurry to get away, she stumbled and ran into someone's chest. She lifted her head in surprise. "Andrew." It seemed like ages since she had spoken to him.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
"Yes, I'm fine. I'm just taking a break."
He nodded, his expression strained. He looked at her as if she were a stranger, someone he had never seen before. "Is something wrong?" she asked.
"No, of course not."
"Are you sure? I didn't get a chance to talk to you at the picnic yesterday."
"It was crowded. I couldn't get to you."
Kara nodded, knowing deep down they were both lying. What had happened? When had things changed? When had they become so distant?
Andrew shifted his gaze, focusing on the volunteers shoveling sand into burlap bags that would be used to protect their homes and their lives.
"It's going well," Kara said. "People seem to have forgotten their differences and are pulling together as one team. Of course, we're barely making a dent. I'm hoping we won't have to do more."
"So am I."