Until I Found You (4 page)

The more Kate read, the more she smiled. Nick had a wicked sense of humor, and she shared his “seize the day” view of life, if not his interest in bull riding. Happily amused, she skimmed through the chapters on beach activities, roller-coaster rankings, and motorcycle hangouts until she reached Chapter Fifteen, the one he said to skip. The heading read “Hot Women, Hotter Nights.” She laughed at the cheesy pickup line and wondered if the inscription to Leona was in deference to her age, or if he was a little embarrassed by the no-commitment attitude. Lots of people enjoyed that kind of social life. Kate didn’t, but she went out with her friends from work because . . . well, because they were her friends.

The music on the phone stopped midnote. The connection clicked and a rep came on the line. “Thank you for calling CalUSA Insurance. Suzie speaking. How can I help you today?”

“My car—” Kate choked on the word. Suddenly she was back in the canyon, shaking from head to foot.

“Did you have an accident?” Suzie said gently.

Pull it together,
Kate told herself. She set Nick’s book on the desk, plopped down on the chair, and described the wreck. She wasn’t sure Suzie believed her about the three-foot-tall condor, but ten minutes later Kate had a claim number.

Fortified, she hung up and decided to tackle the next item on her list:
Check the Subaru.

She snagged the keys from a hook in the pantry and headed for the stairs that connected to the garage from the back deck. The oak tree next to the house dropped thousands of acorns every fall, and it seemed to Kate every acorn in the Los Padres National Forest was outside her door. Using her feet like brooms, she swept the acorns out of the way, listening as they clattered to the edge and fell. Between sweeps, an eerie silence echoed in her ears. Her condo was considered quiet. But quiet and silent were as different as pale pink and magenta. Lately Kate had been in a magenta kind of mood—a blend of red with a dab of blue. The color captured her emotions perfectly. She yearned to experience life in all its glory, yet she wondered every day if her own life had any real purpose.

She wished she could talk to Leona. Her grandmother dispensed nuggets of wisdom like gumballs. Kate would chew on them and feel better, but today she could only stare longingly at Mount Abel. She had never been to the top, but her grandparents had often made the drive to enjoy the incredible view. On a clear day, a person could see a hundred miles to Catalina Island. Someday Kate would go—or maybe not.
The road twisted around cliffs higher than the ones in San Miguel Canyon.

Suddenly shaky, she shifted her gaze down and eastward to the Meadows business district. The rain had washed the air to crystal clarity, but sometimes clouds settled low and blocked the view of the town. Eyes closed, she relived one of those times.

“Look, Grandpa! I could
jump and the clouds would catch me.”

“No, Katie. The
clouds are nothing but vapor.”

Her grandfather explained the science to her, but even then Kate had understood a deeper truth. Life was full of illusions. Gazing at the town now, she reluctantly thought of Joel. He’d been fascinated by heights. Or more precisely, he was fascinated by falling. She remembered how frightened she was at Yosemite when he stood at the edge of the lookout on Glacier Point, his toes queued up to the edge of the granite, his arms stretched wide and his eyes shut tight.
“
Imagine, Kate, I could stand here without the railing and
not fall.”

He had tried to coax her to the edge, but she refused to budge.

“Coward,” he said, accusing her.

She had argued with him, but tonight she wondered if he was right. She was afraid of so many things—mountain roads, dark alleys, being late to work. Of losing Leona and having no one. Of ending up like her mother, alone and dying from a cancer that might have been stopped if Elizabeth Darby had done a monthly breast check. Kate placed her hand over heart in a pledge to be responsible, took a breath, and went to the garage to start the car.

The side door creaked as she propped it wide to let in light. In her mind she pictured her grandfather at his workbench, making a birdhouse for nuthatches, the quirky little
birds that ran up and down the trunks of pine trees. Garden tools lined the back wall in a testament to Leona’s passion for pretty flowers, and assorted boxes filled the corners with the clutter of a busy life.

Without thinking, she pushed the button for the automatic garage door opener. When it didn’t open, she remembered the power outage and tried to open the door manually. It didn’t budge, and she couldn’t recall how to work the manual release. Jaw tight, she tamped down her frustration and prioritized.
Item No. 1—Avoid carbon monoxide poisoning.
That meant opening the big door before she started the car, but if the car didn’t start, she didn’t have to worry about the door—yet. If the car started, she could turn off the engine.

She slid into the driver’s seat and turned the key.

Nothing.

Not even a click. Groaning, she rested her head on the steering wheel—a mistake because the position shot her back to San Miguel Canyon. As she straightened, tears flooded her eyes. Sick to death of fighting them, she gave in and sobbed into her hands. With chest heaving and nose plugged, she let out the anger, the fear, the utter frustration of being stripped of her phone, her money, her car—
her identity—
when she desperately needed to hold on to . . . something.

“I can’t stand it!” she wailed to the empty garage. With her palms hot on her damp cheeks, she cried until she couldn’t think, couldn’t see, couldn’t do anything but yearn to be a child again.

The crunch of tires on the dirt driveway shocked her into silence. She didn’t want company—not with her eyes red and her nose plugged. Maybe it was a propane delivery, or someone turning around in the cul-de-sac. Perhaps if she stayed still, whoever it was would leave. She strained to hear the sounds on the other side of the garage door—the cut of the
engine, a car door slamming, then heavy steps on the stairs . . . male steps. She wondered if Captain McAllister had decided to check on her and hoped not. Whoever it was knocked on the house door, waited, then knocked again with more force. Kate considered confronting him, but her city instincts kicked in. She didn’t know who was out there, and she had no way to defend herself. The hurried steps beat around the redwood deck to the sliding glass door, then thudded down the three stairs that led to the garage.

Knowing she was about to be discovered, she climbed out of the car and faced the door just as daylight silhouetted a familiar set of broad shoulders. Nick Sheridan had come to her rescue again, and he didn’t look pleased.

I
n the past half hour
,
Kate had worried Nick once and scared him twice. The worry started in the bottom of San Miguel Canyon when he was gathering her things. Thanks to her ringing phone, he’d found her purse and used his own phone to call Leona’s landline to share the good news. When she didn’t answer, he figured she was resting and put the missed call out of his mind. Halfway to Leona’s house, he called again. When she didn’t answer a second time, he hit the gas. He didn’t know Kate well, but she struck him as someone who answered the phone. The third scare rocked him when she didn’t respond to his knock on the door. He imagined her dizzy, falling, hitting her head in the shower.

That’s when he strode around the deck to the back of the house. The path through the acorns pointed to the garage, but why hadn’t she come out when she heard the truck? It occurred to him now that she was hiding from him. Light from the window illuminated the tears in her eyes, and her cheeks were a palette of ivory, white, and hot pink.

“Hi,” he said from the doorway.

“Hi.”

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she answered. “I came out to check the car. The battery’s dead, or it’s something else. I don’t know.”

Car trouble didn’t faze Nick in the least. Kate’s tears did. A year ago he would have crossed the garage and put his arm around her. He would have played the part of a knight in shining armor just to charm her. Now he wanted to do the right thing for no reason at all. He pushed the button for the garage door opener, but nothing happened.

“The power’s out,” she explained.

Glancing up, he walked to the overhead mechanism, raised his arm, and tugged on a short yellow rope. The lock release snapped, and he lifted the door with one swing of his arm. Cool air rushed into the garage with a burst of light that made Kate squint. The fresh air chased away the smells of grease and mulch but not her immediate need—a need Nick could meet as easily as he breathed. “I’ll jump-start the car, but first I have some good news. I went into the canyon. The roof tore off the BMW, so your stuff bounced out before the fire. It’s in the back of my truck.”

She pressed one hand against her chest. “Did you find my purse?”

“It’s on the front seat.”

“I can’t thank you enough.”

He didn’t want her to try, especially if the effort meant a hug, or if it put fresh tears in her shimmering blue eyes, eyes the color of the ocean at sunset, eyes that—
Stop it!
He gestured to his truck with his chin. “Go take a look.”

She dashed past him to the pickup, stood on her toes, and peered through the tinted window at her purse. “There it is!”

He reached in front of her and opened the door. Instead of grabbing the purse, she turned and hugged him hard. She
felt warm and soft in his arms, small but not weak, and as curvy as San Miguel Highway. His body roared to life with physical awareness, a dangerous reaction, because he and Kate would be working together. He eased out of the hug, then indicated the bed of the pickup with his hand. “I think I found everything.”

She admired him with those blue-green eyes, then turned back to the truck and touched a box marked
Treasures.
A corner was smashed, but the flaps were in place. “This one—can I look inside?”

He set it at her feet and slit the tape with a pocketknife. Kate rummaged through crumpled newspapers, then lifted a wooden box. Standing straight, she opened the lid and visibly relaxed. “Everything’s here.”

He saw a condor carved on the top of the box. Like the sign in the Clarion window, the design was hand-carved with a Dremel tool. “I recognize your grandfather’s work.”

“He loved condors.” Inhaling deeply, she hugged the box to her chest. “I swerved because I saw one eating roadkill. It scared me to death.”

“Really?” Condor sightings were special and rare. He’d written an in-depth story on the endangered species for
California
Dreaming
, and he covered the Save the Condor program for the
Clarion.
He knew from biologist Marcus Wilcox that Condor Number 53 had lost her transmitter and was missing. If Kate saw the bird, Marcus would want to know. “Did the bird have a tag?”

“Number 53,” she confirmed.

“This is important. That bird went AWOL about three weeks ago.” He took his phone out of his hip pocket and called Marcus. The call went to voice mail, so he left a message.

Kate hugged the box tighter. “I’ll be glad to tell him the whole story. I still can’t believe what happened.”

“I’ll set up a meeting.” He was about to suggest a news story for the paper when her phone interrupted with a chirp.

Kate put the box back in the carton and checked her messages. “That’s Julie. We look out for each other.”

Sam did the same for Nick. “Why don’t you call her while I haul this stuff inside?”

“I should help you.”

“No.”

“But—”

“No,” he repeated. If she helped him, they’d laugh and joke, even flirt a little. He refused to go down that road, but then how did he treat her? Like a sister? Maybe, but he didn’t have a sister. He had Sam and they ragged on each other for fun. Somehow Nick couldn’t see himself challenging Kate to an arm-wrestling contest. Before she could argue with him, he played his trump card. “Call your friend. She’s probably worried.”

“You’re right.” After another grateful smile, she trotted up the stairs and went around back to the deck.

He lugged the bags and boxes into the kitchen, then tried to jump-start the Subaru. The battery wouldn’t hold a charge, so he called the Meadows gas station and asked Hector to deliver a new one. As he approached the deck to update Kate, snippets of her conversation drifted to his ear. Rather than interrupt, he detoured to the woodpile. Without power, she’d need a fire for heat, so he carried up a load of split oak and dumped it in the woodbox. As he turned back to the door, his gaze landed on Leona’s desk and the cover of
California for Real Men.
Kate must have spotted it on the shelf and been curious.

People either loved the book or hated it. Nick hoped Kate hated it, because he wasn’t the same man who wrote it.
Pushing her out of his mind, he went to the garage to wait for Hector.

Having a friend like Julie meant the world to Kate. They finished each other’s sentences, laughed at the same jokes, and rooted for each other on every front. Kate wanted to shine at Sutton and be promoted to creative director; Julie enjoyed her work as a copywriter, but more than anything, she wanted a baby. The women were on different paths, but they shared the same basic goal—to be happy.

When Julie answered her phone, Kate blurted she had almost died. Julie consoled her and listened, even when Kate said again and again that she had almost lost her life.

“Try not to think about it,” Julie urged. “It’s over.”

“Not really.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s still so real.” Kate wandered to the railing and peered at the clouds lingering in the western sky. “Every time I blink, I see the condor on the road.”

“It’ll take time.”

“I guess.”

“So,” Julie said with too much cheer. “Tell me about Nick. Young or old?”

“Young.”

“Good-looking?”

Kate glanced toward the garage where his truck was parked close to the garage and with the hood open. He was around somewhere, so she lowered her voice. “Think tall, dark, and handsome, but don’t get excited. I’m not interested in a relationship right now, and you know it. When Eve’s Garden goes national, I want to be in the thick of it.”

“I know, but Kate?” A familiar wistfulness echoed in Julie’s voice. “Don’t wait like I did. If you want kids—”

“I know.”

At least once a week Julie urged her to have children before her biological clock made the choice for her. For a while Kate had thought she was ready—but not anymore. With Joel out of the picture, living a day at a time suited her just fine. After all, what did a person really have except a single moment, a single breath?

She turned her thoughts back to Julie. “So what’s new with you?”

“Jeff and I saw Dr. Brady—” A fertility specialist. “We start IVF next month.”

Kate’s heart hitched for her friend. IVF treatments offered hope, not a guarantee. “I’m pulling for you.”

“Thanks.”

The rumble of an approaching truck broke the mountain quiet. Curious, she walked to the front of the house where she saw a white pickup from Meadows Automotive. Nick must have ordered a new battery. “Someone’s here,” she said to Julie. “I have to go.”

“Call me later.”

“Will do.”

She detoured into the house to get her credit card, then ventured down the stairs. The driver backed away with a wave, leaving her to follow Nick as he carried the battery one-handed to the car. By the time she reached his side, he’d put the battery in place and was tightening the cables with a wrench.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“The battery was shot. I asked Hector to deliver a new one and put it on the
Clarion
account.”

She slipped her Visa in a pocket. “I’m amazed he delivers.”

“It’s a small town.”

“Even so, I’m surprised.” On a whim, she pinched Nick’s biceps. The muscle bunched at her touch, leaving no softness at all.

His brows shot upward. “What’s that about?”

“You’re too good to be true,” she said, feeling a bit sheepish. “I wanted to know if you’re real, or if I imagined you.”

“What did you decide?”

“You’re real.”

She expected a flippant comeback. Instead his face pulled into a scowl. She wished she hadn’t been so impulsive. The touch had been unnecessary, which made it too personal. She had no interest at all in flirting with him. On the other hand, they’d be working together at the paper and she wanted to be friends. With her arm loose at her side, she moved a step away from him. “I really do owe you for all this—” She swept her hand to indicate his truck, the house. “Could I take you to dinner? Just to say thank you?”

“It’s not necessary.”

No, but it would have been decent of her, especially since they’d be seeing each other at the Clarion. She didn’t understand his reluctance, but she accepted it. Besides, she had other things to do tonight—like wash her muddy clothes. Tomorrow she’d prepare the house for Leona’s return, and on Thursday she’d pick up her grandmother from rehab. On Friday she planned to meet with Maggie about the future of the paper.

Nick closed the hood with a light slam, then walked around to the driver’s seat. When he turned the key, the old Subaru purred to life.

“It sounds great,” she said when he cut the engine.

Ignoring her, he picked up the wrench and rags, put them in the bed of his truck, and faced her from ten feet away. “Call if you need anything.”

“I will. Thanks again.”

When he climbed in the truck and slammed the door, she headed to the house feeling confused by his gruff tone. When she reached the stairs, he called to her. “Kate?”

She turned and saw him standing again with the truck door open. Maybe he’d changed his mind about dinner. She hoped so, because she was a little lonely. “Yes?”

“Just so you know,” he said in a tight voice. “I’m not dating right now. If I were, I’d have said yes to dinner. It was a nice offer.”

After a casual salute, he sat back in the truck and started the engine. Kate waved good-bye and watched him back out of the driveway. Alone and a little sad, she walked into the house, saw her possessions on the kitchen floor, and thought of the bandanna he gave her in the canyon. Later she’d put it in her treasure box—a souvenir from a day and a man she’d remember forever.