The Gentling (3 page)

Katy released her hold on her father. Politeness demanded that she see Trace to the door. She was a step behind him when he paused with his hand on the knob and looked down at her, smiling.

"By the way, Katy darlin'," he murmured softly, giving an excellent imitation of her father's Irish brogue. "My name is Trace. Remember that."

As Katy lifted the tiny blond mite, chubby arms encircled her neck and the child planted a moist, smacking kiss on her cheek.

"Bye, Miss Katy."

Katy smiled and hugged the warm little body to her for a second. "Good-bye, Millie. I'll see you tomorrow."

Still holding the child close, she opened the passenger door of the waiting car and bent over. She smiled at the woman behind the wheel as she sat the little girl on the seat and fastened the safety belt around her. "Millie has had a very big day, Mrs. Carter. At play period she built a sand castle all by herself."

A ferocious frown darkened the little girl's brow. "Yes. An' that rotten Jeff kicked it down," she complained petulantly.

Both women laughed at the expression of pure fury on the cherubic little face.

"Sorry about that." Katy's grin was rueful. "I'm afraid Jeffrey Bond has a bit of a crush on Millie, and like most four-year-old boys, he has a rather strange way of demonstrating his affection."

"Oh, believe me, Miss Donovan, I know how it goes," Millie's mother replied, still laughing. "Millie is the last of my brood, so I've been through it all before. Love among the pre-school set can sometimes be rather violent."

"Yes, but it all worked out. After he apologized, Jeffrey helped her rebuild her castle, and it was a beauty."

Refusing to be mollified quite so easily, Millie stuck out her bottom lip. "But it wasn't as good as the first one. Jeff don't know how to build a castle." She sniffed disdainfully, turning up her tiny nose and dismissing the little boy's efforts with the haughty superiority of a very young female.

"Well, never mind, angel. Tomorrow you can build another one, and I'll see that Jeff doesn't bother you." Katy smiled at Mrs. Carter and planted another quick kiss on Millie's forehead. "Bye now, sweetheart. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon." Straightening, she closed and locked the passenger door and stepped back. As the car pulled away Millie waved furiously, and Katy laughed and waved back.

She watched until they were out of sight, then turned back to the nursery school entrance. A satisfied smile eased the tiredness from her face.

Katy entered the small office and locked the door behind her. After closing the draperies, she turned and stepped through the door to the right of the desk and walked down the long hall, stopping several times along the way to pick up the stray toys that littered the floor. By the time she reached the end of the hall her arms were full. The door to the playroom was slightly ajar. Giving it a nudge with her hip, she pushed it open and walked inside, then stopped short at the sight that greeted her.

Her friend and employer, Jane Cawley, was down on her hands and knees, her jean-covered behind stuck up in the air as she wriggled the upper half of her body under one of the large, extremely low tables.

"What on earth are you doing?" Katy laughed openly at her friend's undignified position.

"I'm . . . trying ... to clean up this . . . gooey . . . mess," Jane gasped, groping still farther under the table. "There . . . I've got it!" Grunting with every move, she began to wriggle backward, and Katy laughed harder as Jane crawfished from under the table. When she extricated her head, Jane turned and flopped down on the floor. Her face was beet red. The short, brown hair that normally hugged her face, pixie fashion, was sticking up at all angles. Still panting from her exertions, Jane lowered her gaze to the squashed peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich in her hand and made a face of utter revulsion. "Yuck! Would you look at this revolting mess."

Jane pushed herself up from the floor and walked over to the sink in the corner, depositing the mangled sandwich in the trash before washing the sticky remains from her fingers. "How 1 stand the little monsters for eight hours every day, I don't know. I need to have my head examined."

"Oh, come on now. Who are you kidding?" Katy gave her friend a reproving look. "You love every minute of it, and you know it."

"I know, I know," Jane conceded with a rueful grin, as she turned to help Katy with the chairs. "I just have to complain now and then or people really will think I'm crazy. But you're right. I do love taking care of children. I thought I'd go bonkers when my own became teenaged and got involved in so many outside activities that I hardly ever saw them. I was suffering from what is commonly known as the empty nest syndrome. The smartest thing I ever did was to open this nursery school." She smiled at Katy and winked. "And the second smartest thing I ever did was to hire you."

Katy returned her friend's smile but made no comment. Funny how things work out, she mused. She had taken this job but of desperation, and it had turned out to be one of the best things that had ever happened to her. It didn't pay much, but she enjoyed the work, and she absolutely adored each and every one of the pint-sized tyrants. An added bonus was the close friendship that had developed between herself and Jane during the year she had worked at the nursery. Due to her reserved nature and the demands that had been made on her time during her teenage years, Katy had not developed any close friendships, and therefore valued this one all the more.

Jane was a small, vivacious woman in her late thirties. An eternal optimist, she bounced through life thoroughly enjoying each day, intensely interested in everything and everyone. Though she was not particularly pretty, no one ever noticed. She had laughing eyes and an incandescent smile that made you feel good just to be around her. She was a bubbly, outgoing extrovert, the direct opposite of Katy.

When the chairs were stacked, Jane turned toward the kitchen. "Come on. Let's have a cup of coffee and prop our feet up for a few minutes before we leave."

In the kitchen Jane poured out two mugs of coffee and handed one to Katy. Kicking off her shoes, she curled herself into the corner of the battered old couch that occupied one wall and tucked her feet under her. She looked at Katy and patted the adjacent cushion. "Come sit down. I'm dying to know what's going on at the farm. I heard only this morning that Trace has inherited Green Meadows. Is that true?"

Katy almost laughed aloud at the avid curiosity written on Jane's face. She knew she really shouldn't be surprised that news of Henry Barnett's will had already spread. It was next to impossible to keep anything a secret in Tyler. The city had grown to a respectable size, but in many ways had retained its small town attitude. As the richest, most powerful family in that part of Texas, the Barnetts had always been the subject of a great deal of speculation and gossip. The fact that Trace had inherited the farm was bound to start tongues wagging.

Katy sat down on the couch. "Yes. It's true."

"Ooohhh, isn't that delicious!" Jane squealed with delight. "I'll bet that witch, Saundra, is ready to have a stroke. The only reason she married Henry Barnett was to get her greedy little hands on his money. And now she's been left high and dry."

"Not quite. Though she'll have no share in the farm or any of the other family holdings, I believe she inherited a modest amount in cash." Katy took a sip of coffee, then smiled wryly. "Of course, what the Barnetts call a modest amount would probably be a fortune to other people."

"Mmmmm. Is she going to stay on at the farm, do you think?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. I make it a point to stay as far away from the Barnetts as I possibly can."

"Humph! I can't say that I blame you. Henry was a first-class snob, and so is that high-and-mighty alley cat he married," Jane burst out indignantly.

Jane and Saundra Barnett were the same age and had attended school together, but that was the only thing they had in common. Saundra was a brittle, sophisticated woman. She had thoroughly enjoyed the affluence and social position her marriage provided, while making no pretense of caring for her elderly husband. Her frequent, passionate affairs were common knowledge.

In one of her lightning-quick changes of mood, Jane's anger disappeared, and her face lit up with a smile, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Tell me, is Trace still the gorgeous hunk he was four years ago?"

Katy's eyes grew round in feigned shock. "Why, Jane Cawley! And you a married woman! Whatever would Frank say?" She gave her a stern look and shook her head. "Gorgeous hunk, indeed!"

"I may be married but I'm not blind. And Frank wouldn't care. He knows he's the love of my life," her friend answered pertly. "So come on, tell me about Trace. Is he still as sinfully attractive as he was?"

Katy looked down at the mug of coffee she held in her hand and slowly traced one finger around the rim. She didn't want to talk about Trace. She didn't even want to think about him. It tied her insides up in knots. "Yes, I suppose you could say that he's attractive ... if you like the type."

Jane looked amused. "And just what type is he?"

"Dangerous."

The word slipped out before she thought, and Katy was instantly appalled that she had voiced her feelings aloud.

The blank astonishment on Jane's face slowly faded as she stared at Katy's bent head. She pursed her lips together thoughtfully. "Now that's a very revealing reaction. Don't tell me. Let me guess. Trace made a pass, didn't he?"

Katy looked up and smiled weakly, her cheeks pink. "No. It's not that."

"Then what is it? You don't usually react so violently toward a man. You just look right through most of them, as though they didn't exist."

"Oh, I don't know." Agitated, Katy waved her hand in the air in a vague, frustrated gesture. "It's just that he's so—so ..."

"Sexy?" Jane's eyes were dancing as she asked the provocative question.

"Yes. I guess so." The agreement was given begrudgingly. Katy stood up and walked to the sink and rinsed out her cup. Just thinking about Trace made her feel quivery. Turning, she leaned back against the counter and gripped the edge with both hands. Her troubled expression revealed her inner confusion. "I don't know. Maybe it's just my overactive imagination, but he makes me so nervous and jittery. The way he looks at me . . . the things he says. It gives me this crawly sensation. I get the overpowering feeling he's up to something."

"Oh-ho! And I can just imagine what! Listen, honey. I wouldn't doubt my instincts if I were you. Trace has always had an eye for good-looking women, and I somehow can't see him passing up a gorgeous thing like you, especially since you live practically on his doorstep."

Katy pushed away from the counter and stooped to pick up her purse from beside the couch. "I'm afraid this is one woman he'll just have to pass up. I want no part of him ... or any man."

"Oh, Katy, don't say that," Jane replied sadly. "Marriage with the right person can be wonderful. And, besides, you were born to be a mother. Why, you love every one of the little imps who comes here."

The words sent a wave of longing through Katy, so strong it was almost a physical pain, but she gritted her teeth and fought it down. "That's right. I do. And for me, they'll just have to be enough." She had abandoned all hope of having a family of her own three years ago. For her it was impossible. She knew Jane was puzzled by her attitude, but it couldn't be helped. She couldn't explain, not even to her.

"Katy Donovan! I swear, sometimes you make me so mad I could—"

"My, my. Don't tell me you two are having an argument?"

The two women jumped, then laughed as they turned to see Frank Cawley standing propped against the door frame. A pleasant man with average features, he was the calm, pipe-smoking type, and the perfect counterbalance for Jane's bouncy, effervescent personality. Outside of her parents, they were the most ideally suited couple Katy had ever known.

Jane catapulted herself off the couch straight into her husband's arms, giving him a hard kiss on the mouth, which he returned with enthusiasm. "Hi, darling." She sighed happily, leaning back within his embrace.

"Hello, crazy lady." Frank gave her an affectionate squeeze and ruffled her short-cropped hair, then turned his direct gaze on Katy. "Now, tell me, beautiful. Why was this wife of mine lighting into you like a shrew?"

"Oh, it's the same old thing," Jane spat out disgustedly, before Katy could answer. "She absolutely refuses to have anything to do with men, especially Trace Barnett." Spinning around, she planted her hands on her hips and glared. "You know, Katy, you could do a lot worse."

"Honestly, Jane! Even if he is interested, which I seriously doubt, you don't really think marriage is what he has in mind, do you? People like the Barnetts don't marry farm workers' daughters."

"Mary Kathleen Donovan! Don't you dare let me hear you say such a stupid thing again! You're just as good as anyone. And a lot better than most. Certainly better than that bitch, Saundra, and she married a Barnett, even if it was that old snob, Henry."

Katy laughed nervously. Her friend's vehemence startled her. "Jane, for heaven's sake! Don't get so upset over nothing. I merely said the man makes me nervous, and now you're screaming at me because I won't marry him." She turned bewildered blue eyes on Frank. "Does she always jump to conclusions like this?"

He grinned. "Always. Especially when she's defending someone she loves. A regular little tigress, that's my Jane."

"Yes, well. Sorry, love. I didn't mean to get so carried away." Jane smiled ruefully. "It's just that you're one of my very favorite people, and I'll not let anyone run you down. Not even you."

"And I have to say, Katy, I think you're wrong about Trace," Frank added softly, as he took his pipe and tobacco pouch from his pocket. He dipped the bowl into the pouch and filled it, carefully tamping down the loose tobacco with his thumb. "When a young woman is as warm and sweet and lovely as you, all other considerations fade in importance."

Katy gave him a bitter smile. She liked Frank. He was a good friend, and one of the few men with whom she felt at ease. But he was still a man. "Well, this is all rather academic, isn't it? I've only talked with the man once since he returned."