Ryan's Return (12 page)

Take her home? Run away from this disaster of a dinner? No way. She hadn't done anything wrong, and if she had learned one thing from her failed marriage, it was to stop taking the blame for things that were not her fault.

"Are you kidding? This is my party. Let's eat," she said defiantly. "Aunt Josephine, please tell the caterers to serve."

"Atta girl," Josephine said.

"Now, are you and Ryan capable of sitting at the same table without insulting each other or dishing out miscellaneous black eyes to anyone who happens to come between you?" Kara asked bluntly, looking from one to the other.

Ryan smiled at her candor. Andrew scowled. Neither one said a word, but she took that for agreement and led the way to the head table. She put Ryan on one side of her, Andrew on the other.

After a moment Hannah Davies, the librarian, came over to sit next to Ryan, then the mayor and his wife, then Loretta, and Will and his wife, until the head table was full and dinner was served.

When the band began playing just after nine, Kara let go of the last bit of her tension. The people who had stayed at the dinner seemed to be having a great time. Harrison Winslow had pulled her aside to tell her that his plan for building a resort in the north woods was moving along nicely, and he would have a proposal on the table by the following week.

In addition to Harrison's support, some of the other developers Kara had invited to the party had also stopped by to let her know that they were interested in the future of Serenity Springs and would be in touch. Of course, it helped that most of the town's progressive supporters had stayed at the dinner while the detractors had left. Little did Beverly Appleborne realize that by leaving she had actually made the centennial dinner an even bigger success.

The developers didn't care about Ryan's infamous past, so his presence at the dinner made no difference to them. The local reporters did care, but the father-son scene had only added more color to their stories. In fact, they had all taken photos of Ryan and interviewed him about everything from his recent trip to Bosnia to his love life and his relationship with his father.

Ryan parried their questions with ease and confidence, telling them just enough to satisfy without giving away anything deeply personal.

Kara would have felt ecstatically happy if Andrew hadn't spent most of the evening by her side, stoically silent. When anyone made an attempt to engage him in conversation, he simply refused to say anything more than "no comment."

In fact Andrew's response had become so rote that when Kara asked him what he thought of the music, he said, "No comment," not realizing his mistake until he caught her staring at him in amazement. Then he stammered out an inconsequential answer that left Kara wondering what he was thinking about. It certainly wasn't her.

Men. She wondered if she would ever figure them out. "I need some air," Andrew said as her gaze drifted over to him. "I'll catch up with you later."

"All right."

"I don't get it," Angel said with a sigh, slumping down into the chair next to Kara's as Andrew excused himself.

"What's wrong, honey?" Kara asked as she smoothed an errant strand of hair behind Angel's ear.

"Billy hasn't asked me to dance. And I even practiced." Her sigh spoke a volume of disappointment.

Kara rubbed her shoulder. "Maybe he hasn't had a chance yet."

"He has already danced with Melissa twice and Paula once. He must think I'm stupid or ugly or ..."

"Now, stop that, you're beautiful."

"You have to say that because you're my mother."

"I'm saying it because it's true."

But Angel didn't believe her. Her face was as long as the day. Kara wanted to say the right thing, but it was obvious that Angel needed a boost from someone besides herself.

As Kara looked around the room, she noticed Ryan dancing with Loretta. His arms were around Loretta's waist. Loretta's arms were around his neck. They were smiling at each other. It wasn't the first time they had danced that evening either. Of course, Ryan had barely stopped dancing.

He had some nice moves, Kara grudgingly admitted. And he had a way of looking at people as if they were special. Like now, like the way he was looking at Loretta.

Kara felt a sharp stab of anger. It wasn't right, Ryan flirting with Loretta. Although why it wasn't right she couldn't quite define.

Angel sighed again, and this time Kara sighed right along with her. Then she caught her daughter's eye and smiled. Angel grinned back.

"We're quite a pair, aren't we?" Kara asked.

Angel nodded.

"We could dance with each other," Kara suggested.

"I'd rather die."

"Don't die yet," Kara said as Billy walked up to them.

"Hey, Angel."

"Hey."

"Do you -- uh -- I mean -- do you -- want to dance?"

Angel beamed. "Sure, I guess."

Kara smiled as her daughter made her way to the dance floor. At least one of them was happy.

The music went on for another minute, then ended to a round of applause. Angel and Billy ran over to get a Coke as the band began to play a love song. Kara was relieved to see them choosing soda over slow dancing. Time enough for that later.

Kara felt lonely sitting by herself at the head table. She wondered where Andrew had gone and why she suddenly seemed to be the only single woman in a roomful of couples.

Her success as hostess of the dinner felt rather hollow. No matter how hard she worked, how busy she kept herself, there was always a moment when she realized she was truly alone. Sometimes it caught her off guard.

It was the music, she told herself, and the candles, and the late hour, and the dwindling crowd. A perfect setting for romance. For lovers. Her gaze drifted to the dance floor. No Andrew. No Ryan.

Then a hand came down on her shoulder, and a voice whispered in her ear, soft and sexy, "Dance with me."

She turned her head, and his lips grazed her cheek. Ryan. She swallowed hard. "I -- I'm waiting for Andrew."

"He's out front talking to Loretta."

"Oh."

His eyes searched hers. "Jealous?"

"Of Loretta? No."

"Dance with me, Kara."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Why not? We did it last night -- in my bedroom."

"Ryan!" Kara looked around to make sure no one had heard him. "Someone will hear you and get the wrong idea."

"Come on, dance with me."

Kara wanted to resist him, but the music was too sultry, the night too long. When Ryan took her hand and led her to the dance floor, she went with him. He held her too close, pressing her breasts against his chest, caressing the small of her back with his hand. Kara tried to pull away, to put some space between them, but Ryan would have none of it. Unwilling to cause yet another scene, she stayed in his arms.

Ryan rested his chin against her hair, and Kara realized how well they fit together, how every long, lean muscle of his body seemed to welcome her every curve. Ryan danced like a lover. Kara swallowed hard at that thought, reminding herself that it was just a dance. That they were surrounded by other people. That nothing was going to happen.

She tried to focus on something else, on someone else -- on Andrew. Andrew had lots of good qualities. He was kind to animals. He was never late. Andrew was...

Kara couldn't remember anything else, not with Ryan's cheek brushing against hers, with the tantalizing scent of champagne clinging to his breath making her want to taste his lips. She closed her eyes to resist the temptation, but without the other dancers to distract her, Ryan completely filled her senses. He took over her thoughts. He became her fantasy. Maybe that was the problem. He so closely resembled the man of her dreams -- strong and sure, ruggedly handsome, confident, caring, loving, tender.

Oh, God, she was in deep trouble. She had known the man for barely a day, yet she had been thrust into an emotional whirlpool of feelings, caught between Ryan and Andrew, between Ryan and Jonas.

"We're good together," Ryan said. His lips touched the top of her forehead, warm and promising.

They were good together. Too good. So good she was suddenly terrified. "I can't do this," she whispered. "I can't." She slipped out of his arms before second thoughts took her closer into his embrace.

"Kara, wait!" Ryan caught up with her at the back door of the rec center. "Don't go."

"I have to. This is wrong."

He held on to her arm. "It feels right."

"Leave me alone, Ryan. I don't play with matches anymore." She shrugged her arm free.

"Then how are you going to start a fire?"

"I'm not." She walked out onto the patio. He followed her, and the quiet intimacy of the dark night was worse than the dance floor.

"What happens when you get cold?" Ryan asked with a seductive smile.

"I'll buy a blanket."

"What happens when you get lonely?"

"I'll wrap my arms around my pillow."

"What happens if I kiss you anyway?"

Kara's lips parted. But she couldn't say anything, because he was lowering his head, because his mouth was warm and welcoming, and she suddenly needed this kiss as much as she needed air.

It was the thunder that broke them apart, the sudden flash of lightning that illuminated their mistake. He was the wrong man. She was the wrong woman. And when the heavens opened up in a torrential downpour, the fire was finally doused.

It was still raining at 2 a.m. when Kara finished cleaning up the recreation center and returned home. It was still raining when she put a sleepy Angel to bed and went down to the kitchen to make sure she had breakfast fixings ready to go in the morning for her guests. It was still raining at 3 a.m. when she finally got to bed, and it was still raining at 4 a.m. when the puppies began to howl.

Another thunderstorm had hit Serenity Springs, and the puppies did not like the noise. After assuring each one of her annoyed guests that she would do something about the howling, Kara took up residence in the sun porch.

"Come on, guys, give me a break, huh? It's just noise -- like when you bark."

As if in reply, the puppy called Rex began to bark.

"That was not a command," Kara said in a stern voice.

Rex looked hurt at her sharp tone and crawled under the chair. She felt guilty, but at least he was quiet.

She pulled Rosie into her arms as the female puppy began to whimper. "You're okay." The dog whimpered louder. "Stop acting like such a wimp," she said tiredly.

"She's a female, what do you expect?" Ryan asked from the doorway.

He wore faded blue jeans, the top button still undone, drawing her gaze to a place she did not want to think about. She raised her head, unable to resist noting the tight fit of his T-shirt, the broad chest, the well-defined biceps in his arms. His hair was tousled, his green eyes still sleepy. He looked sexier now than he had in his suit. Was God trying to torture her?

"That's a sexist comment if I ever heard one," Kara said, stroking Rosie's head with the palm of her hand. The puppy continued to howl.

"I tend to get very sexist at four in the morning. Isn't there anything you can do to shut them up?"

"I could shoot them," she suggested.

"Where's the gun?"

"Ah, I didn't mean it. I didn't mean it," Kara said as the third puppy, Oscar, whimpered in fear. "I know you can't help it. You're just little and scared, and it's so loud." Her arms tightened around Rosie as lightning lit up the sun porch, followed by a loud crack of thunder.

Ryan sat down on the floor across from her and ran his hand down Oscar's back. The puppy immediately responded by burrowing his head into Ryan's side.

"I think he likes you," she said.

"Nah. They probably just bond with the first person who puts them in a car. Any taxi driver would have their love."

"I hardly think so." Kara gripped the puppy in her arms as another clap of thunder rocked the house.

Ryan sent her a shrewd look. "You don't like storms either, do you?"

"Okay, so I'm a wimp, too. It just reminds me of... never mind."

"What? You might as well talk to me. It doesn't look like we're going to get any sleep," he added as Rex began to howl again.

Kara pulled Rex out from under the chair and into her lap next to Rosie, hoping the warm bodies would make them all feel better. "Do you remember that big storm we had twenty-five years ago when the river flooded?"

Ryan nodded, his expression more somber than before. "Yes, I remember."

"The rain went on for days. I didn't think it would ever stop. Everyone was tense. My father and mother were constantly arguing. I felt as if my whole world was falling apart. Then the sheriff came and told us to move to higher ground. My mother started to cry. My father told us to go ahead, that he would finish moving the furniture to the upper floors. So my mom and I went to the rec center. I can still remember how narrow the cot was, how the edges felt, clutched between my fingers. I wanted my father to come and tell me things would be all right. But he never did. My mom disappeared for hours, too. I have no idea where she went. I just know it was the longest night of my life." She took a deep breath, trying to shake off the bad memories.

"The next day Mom and I went to San Francisco to stay with one of her girlfriends. She told me my father would join us once he made sure the theater was all right. Do you remember the Galaxy Theater down on River Road?"

"The first movie house in town. Your father owned it, right?"

"Yes. It was a grand old place. He used to play old movies, and the popcorn had real butter on it."

"But the Galaxy was damaged in the flood," Ryan said. "A few months later it was torn down."

"He couldn't save it. And he couldn't save his marriage either. My dad finally came to see us in San Francisco a few days after we had left. He and my mother stayed up all night arguing. I couldn't hear what they said. I just knew something was terribly wrong. In the morning my dad was gone, and my mother said they were getting a divorce."

"Did you see your father again?" Ryan asked.

She was so intent on her story that his question took her by surprise. "I did see him again, but not for years, not till I was grown."

"When did you see him? Where?" Ryan asked.

"Why are you so interested?"

He shrugged. "Just curious."

Somehow she sensed there was more to his interest than curiosity, but she didn't see any point in evading his question. "I saw him again right after Angel was born. He came to the hospital. He cried when he saw her. I cried when I saw him. He looked so old, so used up. I found out then that he had been a drunk for years. He said something about chasing a dream that couldn't be caught. I don't know what he was talking about, and frankly I didn't care about his dreams, not after spending my life without a father."

"Was he alone? Was he alone all those years?"

She looked at Ryan searchingly. "What are you asking me?"

Ryan uttered a nervous laugh. "If you don't want to say..."

"I don't know if he was always alone. But he was when I saw him. And it sounded like he had been that way for a while. I don't know what happened between him and my mother. She never said. I learned pretty quickly not to ask too many questions."

"Did you ever ask him where he had spent his life?"

Kara thought about his question. When her father had first come back, she had still felt such a sense of betrayal that she hadn't wanted to show him any interest. She had let him hold her baby, but that was all. After a few weeks, when she had begun to realize that this old, failing man was not the heroic father she had held in her heart, some of her anger had faded away, but not all of it.

"I put it off too long," she said. "My father died three months later from cirrhosis of the liver."

"I'm sorry."

"Why? Because it was all so pointless?"

"No, because you lost your father, not once but twice."

Kara's eyes clouded over with unexpected tears. "It was so unfair. And the worst part is that I never really said good-bye."

"I know." He looked into her eyes with complete understanding.

"You do know, don't you? Because of your mother."

"Yes."

"I've done the same thing to Angel. I took her father away from her."

"Did you take him, or did he leave?"

"Does it matter? He's still gone."

"I think it does matter."

Kara shook her head, not wanting to get into a discussion about Michael. "No. What matters is making things right from now on. Giving Angel the family she deserves, the security and the home she was meant to have."

"With Andrew."

"Maybe. He's a good man. I know he won't leave me.

"That's probably a safe bet."

"What about you? Do you want to get married?"

"Me? Hell, no. I don't think I could eat the same breakfast every day for forty years, much less kiss the same woman." Ryan's grin lightened his words.

"You'd be lucky to find someone who'd want to kiss you for forty years."

"Was my kiss so bad?"

He looked at her mouth in such a way that she felt as if he were kissing her again.

"Yeah, it was pretty terrible," she said huskily. She looked down at the puppy in her lap, suddenly realizing she had petted the puppies into falling asleep. The other one had conked out in Ryan's lap. "We must be fascinating conversationalists."

"As least they're quiet."

"Only problem is, we can't move."

"Trapped in the sun porch by a trio of puppies. News at eleven," Ryan said with a laugh. He leaned his head back against the couch.

"Tell me about you, Ryan. Is it exciting to travel all over the world, to tell stories with your camera?"

"It's the best," he said simply. "I've been everywhere. I've seen everything. But..."

"But," she encouraged.

"But sometimes I don't feel as if I've really experienced what I've seen. It's like reading a good book, wanting to know the characters, wanting to touch them and hold them, but no matter how hard you try, you just can't get in the pages. It's someone else's story, not yours."

"I know what you mean. Sometimes I feel that way here, trying to live in this town, where I belong and yet I don't. I think if I push hard enough, I'll begin to fit in."

"And if you don't, will you leave?"

"No. Because this is what I want. And I believe this is my story."

Ryan grinned. "I have the sudden urge to turn to the end of your book and see what happens."

"That would be cheating," she said, shaking a finger at him. "Besides, as Aunt Josephine says, it's the getting there that's the fun. The destination is the last bite of pie, not the first."

"Who else is in this story with you?"

"Angel, of course. These wonderful, mischievous puppies who have already eaten through two of my shoes. Andrew, Billy. The whole town."

"Even me?"

"You -- you are an unexpected plot development."

He raised an eyebrow. "Major or minor?"

"Minor."

"Why minor?"

"Because this is my story, not yours."

"Somehow I have a feeling it might be ours."

Ryan stared at her so long, she felt her body begin to tremble. The desire was back in his eyes, the connection between them stronger than ever.

Kara drew in a breath, then slowly let it out. She didn't want to talk about their story, didn't want to admit to him or to herself that they could share anything together. She tipped her head toward the clearing sky outside. "Looks like the storm is over," she said.

"For a while anyway."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know." Ryan grinned. "I guess you'll have to turn to the next page and find out."

Ryan was right. The storm returned with a vengeance at noon on Friday, one hour before the arts and crafts fair was due to open. When Kara arrived at the high school, the vendors stood huddled under an overhang, their station wagons and vans still loaded. Puddles large enough to wade through covered the front lawn and the parking lot.

So far the Centennial Celebration was turning into a survival test.

"Hi, honey," Josephine said as she waited patiently near the front door of the school with Ike. Josephine was scheduled to have her teacups on display as well as other knickknacks and antiques that she wanted to sell. "Did you sleep well?"

"No."

"The storm kept you awake?" Josephine asked perceptively.

"Among other things," Kara replied.

"Ah, that sounds interesting."

"You best save it," Ike interrupted as a group of vendors walked over to them.

Cole Jackson, one of the painters, spoke for the group. "Looks like a bust, Mrs. Delaney. We'll need refunds if you're going to cancel."

"I'm not going to cancel," she said. "We'll move it inside."

"Where? We won't all fit in the cafeteria. And the principal won't let us use the gym floor. We spoke to him a few minutes ago. He said they just redid the floor for basketball."

Kara knew that was true, because she had already had more than one conversation with the principal about that very matter.

"We'll start in the cafeteria and overflow into the classrooms," she said, trying to sound decisive.

The vendors eyed her doubtfully. Even Josephine looked skeptical.

"The classrooms?" Cole stroked his bearded chin. "I don't think that will work. There are desks and books, and the lighting certainly won't do anything for my paintings."

"There's nothing I can do about the lighting, but at least your paintings will be dry," Kara said with stubborn determination. Why did she seem to be climbing mountains alone? You'd think she was the only one in town with a vested interest. "We don't have any other choice. We can't disappoint our visitors. Let's make the best of things. Need I remind you that there is money to be made?"

The mention of money eased the grumbling. No one had anything better to do. They were ready for action. They might as well set up shop as best they could.

At one o'clock the fair officially opened. Kara had found more streamers to decorate the front hall, and she hoped the trophy case would add a touch of glamour to the setting. After all, she wanted the developers to know that they had an excellent school system, small though it might be. It was quality all the way.

The first few visitors were mostly relatives of the vendors. Ticket sales were slow, and nobody seemed to be buying. Either the town was still waking up from the previous evening or the arts and crafts fair was a bust.

Kara hoped it was the former.

Unfortunately the slow ticket sales and lack of people gave her too much time to think. There was only so much wandering she could do from vendor to vendor before she caught up with her thoughts.

And that meant thinking about Ryan. She shouldn't have kissed him, and she shouldn't have sat up half the night talking to him. Now she knew that not only was he sexy and a great kisser, but he could also listen, and it was that quality that most appealed to her.

Actually it wasn't just that he listened, it was that he talked. Give and take, the way two people were supposed to communicate. With Andrew she felt as if she did all the talking. Getting him to say anything remotely intimate was harder than playing the piano.

Setting her elbows on the table, Kara rested her chin in her hands, suddenly feeling weary. Every second of her day seemed to be a test. What the hell was she trying to prove? Deep down, she knew she wasn't a superwoman. She couldn't save the town single-handedly, raise her daughter, run the Gatehouse, learn to play the piano, reunite the Hunter family, and still retain her sanity. She was trying to do too much, but now that she had started, she didn't know how to stop.