Now and Always (26 page)

“Yes. I can offer my home as collateral.” She'd promised Grandpops to never risk the home unless hell froze over. She was pretty sure they were wearing overcoats down there today.

“Well, I don't see any reason why we can't help. When will you need the money?”

“As soon as possible. We have an expectant mother who is due anyday. The house is really cold and drafty for a newborn. We needed a new roof yesterday.”

“I understand.”

Katie left the bank with the promise of a loan and renewed hope. One thing left to do — no, two things. She had to arrange for a new roof and call Warren and tell him she'd decided to stay. Tough it out.

Bite the bullet.

Grab the bull by the horns, and pray it didn't gore her to the ground.

Do what God had called her to without fear.

Test Warren's true feelings for her.

December wasn't ideal roofing weather, but on the positive side, the roofers weren't busy. Milder weather created puddles of melting slush, but the roof was clear. With a promise to “get right on the job,” Katie left the contractor's office feeling pretty good about the whole thing.

On the way home, she phoned Warren. “Hey.”

“Hi. What's going on?”

She told him about the loan and imminent roof repairs.

“You added another bill?”

Yes, Katie, that is irritation in his tone
. But repairing the roof was hardly a frivolity.

“I have no choice, Warren. The women are cold — I'm cold — and we can't bring a newborn home to a frigid house. Besides, the gas bill is climbing sky high.”

“I would have helped nail shingles over the hole.”

“When I called to ask, you were too busy.”

“I can't help my time schedule.”
Oh yes, definite irritation,
but she wasn't backing off of this. The spine that had been missing, hers, had been implanted.

“That's the problem. There have been too many shingles nailed over too many holes over the years. A new roof is the only sensible answer.”

“That's why you'll never have one red cent. Why? I don't understand you — do you thrive on trouble? Do you enjoy hardship? Do you have a brain in your head?”

She noted he didn't even bother to say “pretty head.” “I do the best I can.” That's all God asked of anyone, their best.

In the end he agreed it was her call. Financial suicide, but her call.

She knew that. She'd made her share of bad choices, but like Grandpops would say, in for a penny, in for pound.

Katie was no quitter.

Thirty-One

Katie had planned to spend the time between dinner and bedtime typing. She had put out feelers, trying to drum up more work. The bank had mentioned grants, and she needed to find one. Somewhere there was a source to keep her afloat until donations picked up again. If she could expand her transcript-typing business, maybe branch out into other types of at-home work, she might avoid taking a second job. She needed to be available to the women whatever their needs.

They had just finished clearing the table when someone knocked on the door. Katie opened it to find Warren standing there. He grinned sheepishly. “I was pretty hard on you today. How about going out for a latte?”

She didn't feel the immediate elation she usually felt, but she never passed up a latte. Going out would mean staying up later to finish her work, but the idea was doable. “Let me grab my coat.”

She disappeared to her room where she changed to black pants and a sweater, combed her hair, and slapped on lipstick. He was in the living room with the women when she returned. When she appeared he was on his feet and urged her out the door. She barely had time to say good-bye to the others. He was never at ease around the shelter women.

“Are we in a hurry?”
she asked as they quickstepped to the truck.

He slowed the pace. “Sorry. Just anxious to get you to myself.”

Somehow she doubted that. “They won't bite, you know.”

He looked down at her. “Who?”

“The women. They're just ordinary people who need help.”

“If you say so.”

“If you got to know them, you would understand their problems a little better.”

“I don't want to get to know them.”

They had reached the truck, and she let him open the door and help her inside. Topic closed for now. She had no desire to spoil the evening by arguing over the shelter. In the short time it took to reach Little Bush, they talked about the weather, the horses — safe stuff. At the coffee house he led her to a back booth that allowed more privacy.

Latte for her, coffee for him, he reverted back to the earlier subject. “Tell me you haven't changed your mind about keeping the shelter open.”

Katie sat her cup down. “Call me the typical woman, changing her mind, and then changing it back. I can't ignore the feeling that I'm where God wants me to be, so I'm not going to close the shelter. It's a challenge, but one I can't abandon.” At this point, she didn't care about his reaction. Her mind was made up, and nothing he said would change it. “The house wouldn't sell without a new roof anyway.”

He shoved his cup back, slopping coffee over the rim. “You can't be serious. What are you doing, waiting until you go bankrupt and lose your grandfather's land?”

“My land now,” she corrected. “I know it seems insane, but the shelter is
me
, Warren. Women deserve a safe haven from abuse, and they deserve to have a chance to develop job skills and start over. Someone has to do it, and I want to be a part of that movement.”

Warren reached to take her hands. “Listen to me. I met a woman. Her name isn't important, but it's enough to know that I fell for her, fell hard. I thought we would have a life together.”

Katie heard the pain in his voice, and she felt tears forming. After all these weeks, he was opening up to her. “I'm listening.”

“I trusted her. I'd have given her anything she wanted; she had no reason to treat me the way she did.”

He released her hands and picked up his coffee cup. “She charged thousands on my credit cards, costing me a fortune. Once she had the material things, she drained me emotionally. She ran off with a man I'd considered my friend. I got a phone call from her in Belize warning me not to come after her. It was over.”

Katie shook her head. She suspected as much, but he'd never said and she'd never asked. “I'm so sorry.” This time she reached out for his hand, holding tight. “Women sometimes do hateful things, but not all women. You're a victim, much like the shelter women.”

His eyes hardened. “I'm not a victim of anything other than stupidity.”

She couldn't argue. Why would a man turn his credit card over to a woman he was dating? Warren appeared to have more savvy.

“I loved her. You know how I was in school, Katie, the nerd. She was the first woman to make me feel important. I had just started on Wall Street and was still learning the ropes. It was like I owned the world when I was with her, but then after several years she walked away. The nerd struck out again.”

Katie leaned forward, her eyes locking with his. “Don't give her the satisfaction of ruining your life.”

He nodded. “I know I have some serious hang-ups because of her, but I'm working on overcoming them. In the meantime, I need your patience. I feel something between us, Katie. I know you've felt it. I've tried to ignore it, tried to keep you at arm's length, but it isn't working. That's why I'm asking that you reconsider and close the shelter. Give us a chance. The shelter may be your calling, and it may be a worthy one, but it isn't my calling.” His gaze held hers. “Won't you reconsider? Give us a chance to find solid footing?”

Her heart sank. Well, here it was — what she'd hoped and prayed for. A chance with a man. A few days earlier, she'd been so certain he was
the
man. The shelter was threatening him and undermining their future. What did she do now?

She did the only thing she could think to do. She made a promise that she knew she wouldn't, couldn't keep. “I'll reconsider, but Warren, the shelter is my life. I'd be lost without it.”

“Is it more important than us?”

It was a question she wasn't prepared to answer because never in a million years had she expected this reaction.

They sat for another half hour, Katie drinking another latte and Warren an equal amount of coffee, before returning to the pickup. Warren was the ultimate suitor, attentive, polite, and tonight, affectionate. Katie felt her resolve weakening. Shelters all over the USA would lend hope to the abused; Candlelight was only one in thousands.

But it was hers.

Then suddenly he took her into his arms and lowered his mouth to kiss her. Her fingers traced the outline of his rugged features, features she knew so well, or did she? Did she really see behind his mysterious façade? Her senses told her he was a man, a handsome complex man. She explored his high cheekbones, skin exposed to Wyoming's rough winters. As the kiss became deeper, she relaxed, threading her fingers through thick dark hair that faintly smelled of shampoo. Maybe this would work — this odd thing between them. Not love — not yet and not fully on her part, but a lingering hope that maybe, in time, she would be his healing source. This was not a relationship with absolutes. Only time would tell if it would survive its rocky course.

Later they passed Ben parked in front of the bank on traffic duty. As they drove by he pulled out and followed them down Main Street. At the city limits, Katy expected him to turn around and go back to Little Bush, but instead he kept following them at a distance, never closing the gap, but never falling behind, either.

Warren kept an eye on the rearview mirror. “What does the creep think he's doing?”

She flinched at the word “creep.” Ben was anything but a creep, and she owed him a debt of gratitude she could never repay. “He's probably on traffic duty. I'm sure he doesn't spend all of his time stalking speeders.”

Warren flipped the night visor on the mirror. “He better get off my tail.” Warren increased his speed, whipping into a narrow lane. “Hold on. I'm going to lose this hotshot lawman.”

“Hey!” The exclamation came out stronger than she intended, but Warren was whipping down a narrow road like a crazed gazelle. Katie braced her hand against the dash and held on.

“Warren! This is insane. Stop it! You're going to get a ticket.” He'd be lucky if Ben didn't throw him behind bars. The speedometer registered sixty, sixty-five. Seventy. Seventy-five. Ben stayed on his tail. She had a sense both Warren and Ben enjoyed the contest — that they were egging the other one on.

Warren spared a glance in her direction. “You ever stop to think maybe lover boy is the one who tried to hassle you? Ever think of that, Katie? Well I have, and believe me, if he's responsible . . .”

The unspoken threat settled around her heart like a noose as the chase continued. She had thought of that — she didn't want to, but . . .

Katie, listen to you. You don't have a clue who was causing
you trouble. You've suspected Neil Townsend, Ben, who else?
Maybe it was one of them, or maybe it was someone you haven't
even considered. Why not Meg? Why not Janet or Ruth? Or throw
the cats and dogs in — Goldie and Fritz harassing you.

As quickly as the race began, it
ended. Ben turned off on a side road, and the squad car disappeared. Katie sat back, mentally mopping perspiration off her brow. Men. They could be insane!

When they drove into the farm lot, Warren stopped the pickup and turned to face her.

“I'll take my good-night kiss here. I don't care for an audience.”

“Neither do I.” She gripped the door handle and got out. He'd had his kiss.

He rolled down his window. “It's not your job to save the world!”

The roofers arrived early in the morning, bringing chaos — pounding hammers, debris from the old roof, men running up and down ladders carrying bunches of shingles. Katie was thankful there wasn't a baby in the house, though one better show up soon, or the drama would suffer.

The women bore the noise well, with only occasional outbursts of hammer fatigue. Meg was stoic, determined not to bother anyone. The expectant mother was practically living in a fishbowl, every eye tuned on her.

Forty-eight hours later, a new roof covered the shelter, and the house warmed again. Katie spent a lot of time talking to God, thanking him for his blessings. She didn't know how she'd pay for the thing, but it was good to know there was something stronger than a tarp between her and the sky.

Thirty-Two

Christmas Day steadily drew closer and still no baby in the manger. The drama had been rehearsed so many times, excitement waned. The only missing prop was a baby. The women were on point, ready to make a hospital run day or night.

Any disturbance caught Katie's attention, and Fritz barking late one night woke her instantly. The dog's protective instincts rarely proved wrong. Slipping from a warm bed, Katie stepped into her slippers and then pulled on her housecoat. She knew the deal between her and Tottie — no one goes out at night alone, but she didn't intend to go outside. She'd just peek out the window and see what had the dog so upset.

Easing aside the lace sheer in the front room, she came face to face with a man peering back at her.

Yelping, she sprang back, heart hammering in her throat.

He rapped on the frosted pane.

Did intruders announce themselves? No. Slowly easing the curtain back, Katie recognized Ben.

Whirling, she marched to the front door, undid the chain, hit the safety lock, then the door lock. When she opened the screen, she was prepared to throttle him. Was he nuts? Creeping around the premises at this time of night? If Tottie had heard him, he'd be quickstepping buckshot right now.