The Gift of Happiness Page 8

  “Don’t give me any excuses!” Marian shushed her sternly. Her faded eyes twinkled at Katherine. “Jana and I like to fuss, so don’t let me hear anything more about it!”

  Jana bustled in busily and shrieked at the sight of Katherine’s dripping hair and streaked face. “Here!” she exclaimed, thrusting the towel into her hands. “Start toweling your hair dry.” Trying to dry her hair with the fluffy towel, Katherine listened to Marian’s happy scoldings and to the yapping puppy that was trying to climb into her lap and to the hiss of the cats as each tumbled over the other and the dog in an effort to jump up on her. She felt quite dazed.

  “Is everything always so noisy?” she asked Jana.

  She laughed. “And Marian and I thought we were having a quiet afternoon at home! No, my dear, things here are usually much worse! Here, stand up and put this round you.” She held up a heavy, terrycloth dressing gown that looked huge. Katherine stood, and Jana helped her put it on. After it was pulled round her almost twice, and belted firmly into place, Jana made her sit down again.

  Thus it was that when Luke walked quietly into the kitchen with his business suit and tie still on, he saw two cats perched precariously on Katherine’s lap, shedding hair all over his favorite blue terrycloth dressing gown and Marian and Jana chatting over a cup of tea while the younger girl listened. He looked Katherine over, from the half-damp hair that was curling at her temples to the voluminous garment she was practically drowning in, and the small stockinged feet that peeped out of her darkened and damp jeans. “Did you go walking in the rain? I like to do so myself, on occasion.”

  She brought herself to smile a little at his friendly welcome, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes, and he stared at her thoughtfully for a minute, his eyes narrowed on her. Then, he said briskly, “Do you suppose that I might be allowed a drink of something, Marian, before supper? No, not tea! Something a little more substantial, if you please. A glass of wine would be nice, thank you.” He pulled up a chair and sat for a moment exchanging pleasantries with his sister while studying Katherine. Shifting a bit under the scrutiny of his keen eyes, she pushed the two cats off her lap and stood up.

  “I think I’ll get some dry clothes on,” she murmured quietly and escaped upstairs to the emptiness of her room. Before she had changed she sat on her bed for a few minutes, wondering just why she had taken off in such a panic. Footsteps sounded in the corridor and went by her room without stopping. Roused by this, she took off her damp jeans and top, to replace them quickly with another pair of jeans and warm sweater. Soon footsteps were heading back for the stairs, but this time they stopped, and a knock sounded at her door.

  “Yes?” she called out, without opening it.

  “I have just been to my room and have changed into more casual clothes, so I know that you’ve had more than enough time.” Luke’s voice sounded deeply through the panels. “Quit hiding and come out to play, Katie-bug! Would you like some wine to sip? I want to hear about your day.”

  She could think of no excuse to give him for staying in her room, so after a moment she opened the door to stare at him expressionlessly. His black hair had just been recently brushed, and he looked fresh in faded jeans with a black sweater, long-sleeved, with the arms pulled up to his elbows showing a good amount of dark, heavy hair sprinkled over tough-looking, muscled forearms. He smiled at her easily, but she thought for a moment that she had glimpsed puzzlement deep in his eyes. Looking again to assure herself if that was what she saw, Katherine told herself that she must have been mistaken; there was nothing but a warm smile in those gray eyes. She handed him his dressing gown.

  “Thank you for the use of your dressing gown,” she said politely. “I’m sorry about the cat hairs.” Her green eyes held nothing but a careful blankness.

  “It’s all right,” he replied, taking it and tossing it over one arm. “I’ll go and drop it off in my room, if you want to go on down to the library.”

  She ran lightly down the stairs and ensconced herself in one of the comfortable armchairs, waiting patiently and quite numbly for Luke to reappear, which he did quite soon, carrying two glasses, one half empty, of wine. He handed the full one to her, sat down in a nearby chair, and sipped his wine with appreciation. She thought as she looked at him that he certainly looked full of vitality. In fact, she was sure that she looked more haggard than he did. He watched her from under thick and level brows, and smiled. “How did you spend your day?”

  “I took a nap and took a walk,” she said. He raised his eyebrows mockingly at that.

  “My! You must be as happy to sit down as I am!” She said nothing to this, merely sipping at her glass to provide an excuse for not answering his light mockery. “How are you feeling?” The question was delicately put.

  “Fine.” She refused to give anything away. It was, she thought, a matter of pride.

  “Are you?” His tone was something she wasn’t sure that she liked, and her head jerked up sharply. “And,” he continued softly, “have you figured out just what you would like to do with yourself?”

  “No.” She looked away and refused to look at him again.

  “Have you any idea as to what you might be interested in? Secretarial work? Something more physical? Something with people?”

  “No!” With an effort she controlled her rising voice. “I really don’t know. Look, can we talk about this some other time, maybe tomorrow?” She set her wine glass down and stood up, pacing the long length of the room impatiently. Away from Luke, at the other end of the room, she stood facing the wall, with her arms wrapped around herself as if in protection. “How was your day?” she asked after a moment, unable to stand the silence.

  He didn’t answer. Instead, she heard slow footsteps behind her as he came up to her and touched her shoulder gently. “Where are you, Katie?” he asked her whimsically. “I can’t seem to find you under all that expressionlessness. Why are you hiding? What are you really feeling?”

  With a suddenness that surprised them both, she broke away from his light touch, moving agitatedly away, with jerky uncontrolled movements. “I don’t know,” she blurted out, unable to stop herself. Running a rough hand through her hair and making it glint in the soft light, she whispered, “I don’t know what to feel. I don’t know what to look forward to. I don’t know what to think, or how to act!” Her voice rose in spite of herself, as all the feelings that she had kept in spilled out in a confused outcry. “I’m depressed, and I don’t know why! I don’t like it here, I don’t like it at home! I don’t want to think of the future, and I can’t help thinking about the past, and I’m…I’m—”

  “—afraid,” he finished softly, and put two big hands on her shoulders as he moved up behind her once again. She started to move away, and his fingers tightened on her. “And,” he added thoughtfully, “you’re probably confused, and most likely very bitter…” He drew her back and pulled her against his strong, supportive body. She found herself sagging almost automatically to his lean length, and he put his chin on her head.

  She was tense and shaking very slightly. “And angry,” she admitted, “and sorry, and—”

  His head lifted as if in surprise. “Sorry?” he asked quickly. “Why are you sorry?”

  She sighed. “I keep thinking about poor Misty. He didn’t deserve to die, he should have had a good long retirement with nothing to do or worry about other than how many apples he could eat in an afternoon, and I—I practically murdered him by leaving like I did…” She choked, unable to go on for a minute. She sobbed harshly but caught herself. “I—he was my only friend, a pony that was given to me when I was five, and it’s stupid to feel so badly about a crazy horse, but—he was the only happiness that I knew at home.” Her breath was coming in jagged gasps that she tried desperately to control. “And, he just reminded me of better times, and…” She was turned into his comforting arms and a hand cradled her head into his shoulders. “…and I wish I’d quit crying into your shirts!”

  At this, his chest sh
ook a bit, and he bent his head to bury his lips in her hair. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t let just anyone, but you I kind of like.”

  That had her laughing almost hysterically, and he pulled her away from him to frown into her brimming eyes. “I know,” she gulped. “I’m trying to stop, really.”

  “Good,” he told her. Leading her back to her chair, he pushed her gently into it, and handed her the wine she’d put down. “Finish it. It’ll help a bit.” He knelt beside her chair and watched her drink it in slow sips. When she seemed calmer, he started to talk. “Katie, you’ve got to stop feeling remorse. You didn’t kill that horse, your father did. I’m sorry about Misty, but from the sound of things, he was an old pony. Did he have a good life?”

  Unable to look up, she nodded slightly. A long finger came up and rubbed her nose, making her blink.

  “Don’t you think he would be better off being put to sleep, after having a good life, instead of getting so decrepit that he could hardly enjoy his oats or walk round a paddock?”

  This she refused to answer, though, and he sighed. “All right. We’ll leave that for now. Let’s talk about you. It’s perfectly understandable for you to be feeling like you are, Katie-bug! After your father’s influence for years, you can’t expect to leave and be blithely happy the next day. This is all new and probably very scary for you, isn’t it? Right?” He persisted when she wouldn’t answer.

  At last she met his eyes and she nodded faintly. “I feel like a fool,” she muttered.

  Why? Because you’re acting perfectly human? Because you’re admitting a weakness to someone else?” he asked her shrewdly.

  “Because,” she admitted reluctantly, “I’ve never cried all over somebody before this.” She wiped her eyes and stared at him in consternation as he threw back his head and laughed. “I didn’t realize that my tears were a source of amusement,” she commented acidly.

  “Love, I’m not laughing at you!” he told her, still chuckling. “If you could see Jana when she loses one of her cats! Sometimes they take off for who knows where, probably heading for home, and she cries buckets all over me and Marian and all the other nutty animals in the kitchen! I have had,” he ended mildly, “some experience, you see.”

  She was regarding him with just a hint of amusement. “You wear it well,” she remarked. His eyes danced.

  “I do, don’t I? But don’t tell Jana that I told you, all right? I’m sure that you’ll find out soon enough for yourself.”

  “Why?” she asked suddenly. She stared down into his eyes as he crouched before her. “I mean, why are you doing this for me? Why should you care? I still don’t understand you!”

  This time, it was he who lowered his eyes away from hers. He was silent as if in thought, and then he started to speak very slowly. “When I first saw you, everything about you was vibrant,” he said softly. “Your hair danced, your lips quirked in laughter at the whole stupid, boring party, and your eyes had little devils lurking in them, peeping out and making me want to laugh out loud. I hate to see anything go to waste, and your life seemed like such a special thing, that no one else was fully appreciating. Not even you appreciated it, I could see, and then I started to sense some things that made me uneasy. Can you understand when I say that suddenly I wanted nothing more than to see you happy, as everyone has a right to be? That it didn’t have anything to do with what was between your father and me? I suppose it sounds pretty lame to you, doesn’t it?”

  She gave a tiny shrug, feeling inside a special glow from his open disclosure. “If you had caught me a little while ago, when I didn’t have a clue as to any other lifestyle but the one I was leading, I would have said that it sounded lame. But Marian fusses over a complete stranger—that’s me, you know—and Jana cries over cats, and I cry for a fat old pony.” She paused. “I think that I am beginning to understand you. I’m glad I’m beginning to understand you. What I wonder is,” she continued, her eyes reflective, “just what in the world could produce anything like my father? He’s positively inhuman.”

  Luke stood and strolled over to his seat, picking up his glass and draining it. “While you’re asking that, you might as well ask why there are such selfish people as the group your father associates with, or how can a person have the disposition of a killer, and why are there wars in the world, and why not plenty of food for all the starving people?” he replied to her query. “And,” he continued mildly, “if you find out any of the answers, let me know. I’d like to hear some myself.”

  She smiled, the first smile that day, and the lighting up of her face caused him to look at her as if he could not look away. “I’ve been a foolish, immature person,” she commented matter-of-factly, “and I rather enjoyed crying on your shoulder since it was quite a novel experience for me! Now why are you laughing like that?”

  He only shook his head in reply, and asked instead, “Is your pride up to accepting the idea of a vacation until you feel ready to hunt for a job? In the meantime, I’ll be on the lookout for you.”

  She said hesitantly, “I’d like that—to have some time to think, I mean. But do you think that I might be able to borrow some money from you until I start receiving a paycheck? It would be strictly a loan.”

  A slow smile lit up his dark face. “Do you mean to tell me that you left home without a cent?” he asked.

  “I did leave my checkbook,” admitted Katherine sheepishly. “On purpose. I didn’t want to take anything from home that I didn’t absolutely need.”

  “Pride, or pique?” he enquired, watching her face speculatively. She colored under his gaze.

  “I prefer to think of it as idealism,” she murmured. “It was probably a stupid gesture, because I had quite a bit of money from last month’s allowance, but I wanted to leave and be able to say that I really did make it on my own. Of course, I’m not really. I mean, I’m staying here and eating your food, and all. But if I pay you back, then I really did make it, didn’t I?”

  At this muddied speech for some reason he looked pleased, but she refrained from asking him just what he was thinking, and after a bit he said, “We’ll consider any actual cash a loan, all right?” She nodded and he continued, “But I will not, repeat, will not accept any money for letting you stay here, do you understand? Nor do I want money for the food you’ve consumed! No—don’t argue with me, Kate! That would be an insult to my hospitality. And please don’t feel you have to look for another place to live because that is ridiculous when we have so much room here. We aren’t even taking up half of the bedrooms upstairs! If you absolutely must do something to earn your keep, then ask Marian if she needs any help with the cooking, or something.”

  “But,” she said sheepishly, “I can’t cook.”

  He laughed. “Then learn.”

  Katherine nursed her burnt fingers the next afternoon, and swore in disgust. The terrible-smelling stuff stuck in the bottom of the small saucepan was supposed to have been a cheese sauce. It in no way resembled a substance that could be construed as edible. Marian wandered over from her languid position at the table to peer enquiringly over Katherine’s shoulder. “Oh my,” she murmured, awestruck.

  “Here, dear, let me get some cream for your fingers,” she said tactfully, as Katherine’s brow began to darken. “Do you think they’ll blister?”

  “Probably,” she said gloomily. “And I’m going to be a virtual cripple, with my other hand all bandaged up!” Her face began to clear up. “Do you think that Luke’ll take us out to dinner, now that I’ve thoroughly ruined ours?”

  “You haven’t ‘thoroughly ruined’ dinner yet,” Marian grimly retorted. “Just because the pork chops are a little dark and tough, and the mashed potatoes are a tiny bit lumpy, doesn’t mean that we are giving up!”

  “Those pork chops are practically in cinders,” she grumbled, wincing at the pressure that Marian was applying to her tender fingers. “And the potatoes look ghastly. The only thing not messed up is the salad, and what can you do to ruin a salad,
for heaven’s sake? What are we going to have for dessert now?”

  Marian went to the pantry and rummaged around thoughtfully. “We could have some fruit cocktail,” she called over her shoulder. “There are several cans in here. It’s not the most elegant dessert, but if we add some freshly cut apples and some orange slices, I think we’ll make do.”

  “Couldn’t you whip up something kind of nice, and let me toss the pork chops and potatoes?” she pleaded hopefully. “I cringe at the thought of serving it to Jana and Luke!” Marian looked at her wryly. “Oh, you know what I mean! After all, you’ve messed up dinners before, haven’t you?”

  “Lord, yes,” she said calmly. “And I know that the best way to learn to cook is when you have to eat your mistakes. It makes you try harder the next time, you know. Besides, you insisted at the breakfast table this morning that you wanted to prepare dinner, and everyone agreed. So, this is dinner!” She smiled at Katherine’s hot and flushed face. “It will be edible, dear, and nobody will mind. After all, you are just learning, and everyone knows it.”

  When the four of them sat down to dinner, though, Katherine couldn’t help but feel embarrassed at the potatoes and chops. However, the salad looked attractive, with tomatoes and green peppers and freshly fried bacon bits in it, and there was a loaf of (store-bought, but good) French bread toasting in the oven and smelling aromatic, and the fruit cocktail with the fresh apples and oranges tasted delicious when she’d sampled it experimentally.

  Everyone tucked into the serving dishes: Marian wearing her dry smile, Katherine with a slight blush, and Jana and Luke making a great show of polite eagerness. The conversation was delightful, as Jana chattered non-stop about her volunteer work at the hospital. Katherine tried and tried to cut into her dark, hard pork chop, but her painful fingers and awkwardly bandaged hand prevented much success. After managing to get a few bites into her mouth, she finally said in disgust, “Marian, eating one’s mistakes may be all right when you’re talking about humble pie, but this pork chop is beyond redemption!” She looked around at everyone’s plate. Luke was struggling manfully with half of his chop to go, and Marian was caught red-handed with a piece of meat offered to the pup, Oliver, who was waiting patiently under the table. Jana’s had not been touched. In fact, as she looked around she also noticed that nobody had eaten their salad portions either.