It felt like the longest afternoon of her life. Once Catherine had realized there was nothing she could do for her aunt and uncle, she and Grace had hurried to Travis and Lydia’s home. As sheriff, Travis needed to know what had happened. Even more importantly, Warner needed to be told what his mother had done.
Poor Warner! Tears filled Catherine’s eyes as she thought about her cousin. It had been less than a year since his brother’s death, and now this . . . He’d lost his entire family. Like her, he was now an orphan.
“Why?” Warner demanded when she told him, Travis, and Lydia what had happened. “Why would Ma do that?”
Catherine looked at Grace. Though Grace had said she wanted to spare Warner, Catherine had warned her that he wouldn’t be put off with platitudes. He wanted the truth. And so when Grace nodded, Catherine told the trio what Charles had done more than twenty years ago, omitting only the fact that Grace had borne a child. Both Lydia and Travis already knew that, but Catherine and Grace had agreed that Warner didn’t need to know that he might have a half-sister somewhere.
Though Travis and Lydia had been shocked by the identity of Grace’s rapist, it was Warner’s expression that haunted Catherine. She’d seen sorrow, shame, and disillusionment on his face. Unlike Catherine, he no longer had untarnished memories of his parents. He’d weathered the scandal that had followed his brother’s death, but this would be more difficult.
“No one else needs to know,” Lydia said. “Isn’t that right, Travis?”
Before he could respond, Warner shook his head. “They’ll speculate.”
He was right. “Of course they will,” Catherine agreed, “but if we ignore the gossip, it’ll die down. It’s hard to keep a fire burning without fuel.”
Travis was silent for a moment, obviously trying to balance his duty as sheriff with his desire to protect the man who was as close as a brother. “I agree with Catherine that we should do nothing to fan the flames. I suggest our story be that they argued and that the argument got out of control. That’s true, and it’s no one’s business why they argued.”
Warner had appeared relieved, although nothing could erase the grief that colored his expression. Realizing there was nothing more they could do here and sensing that Grace was on the verge of collapse, Catherine had urged her to return home. They’d no sooner closed the door behind them than Grace burst into tears.
“None of this would have happened if I hadn’t come back,” she sobbed. “I thought I was doing the right thing, but look what happened. Because I returned to Cimarron Creek, two people are dead.”
Catherine wrapped her arm around Grace’s shoulders and led her to a chair in the parlor. Catherine’s legs were wobbly from shock, and she suspected Grace’s were no stronger. “You didn’t kill Mary and Charles,” she said, wondering if she should insist Grace drink a glass of water. Austin had claimed that was important for people dealing with shock. “You can’t blame yourself, Grace. You were the victim.”
“But poor Warner. What will he do now? Even with the story Travis suggested, he’ll be subject to gossip.” Grace shuddered and gripped the chair arms, as if seeking strength from the inanimate object. “I know how this town is. That’s the reason my parents insisted I leave. They didn’t want everyone talking about me. That may have been twenty years ago, but I know nothing has changed. You saw how Mary reacted when she learned the reason I left Cimarron Creek. Until she realized Charles was involved, she was ready to visit everyone she knew to spread the news. Warner will be subjected to the gossip for a long, long time.”
Catherine did not doubt that Grace was right. She’d seen how stories circulated, and even though no one knew the details, that wouldn’t stop them from speculating. Warner would indeed suffer, unless . . .
She took a deep breath, hoping Grace would not be offended by what she was about to suggest. “If you want to help Warner, you could give Cimarron Creek something else to talk about.”
Grace brushed the tears from her cheeks. “You mean admitting that I’m Joan?”
“Yes.” There was nothing like solving a mystery, particularly one that was more than two decades old. “You don’t have to tell them about the baby. You could simply say that you ran away from the cousins in Ladreville and started a new life in San Antonio.”
The pain that had clouded Grace’s green eyes began to lift. “That would be almost as sensational as the Grays’ deaths.”
“And it would deflect attention from Warner, especially if you spent some time in Lydia’s shop each afternoon. She’ll never admit it, but I think she could use more time sitting.” Catherine remembered the tall stool Lydia had brought to Cimarron Sweets last week, claiming it gave her a place to rest when the store was empty.
“You could help by serving customers, leaving her to work behind the counter.” Once word spread, the store would be busier than ever. “The women will claim they’re there to buy candy, but the real reason is they’ll want to learn what they can about you.”
Grace was silent for a moment, perhaps considering the magnitude of what Catherine had suggested. Instead of being a veiled woman who spent the minimum amount of time in public, she would be opening herself up for inspection. The women who visited Cimarron Sweets would stare at her face, but—more importantly—they would attempt to discover what she had done during all the years she’d been away.
She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly before she said, “All right. I’ll do it for a few days, but then it will be time for me to leave Cimarron Creek.”
Her words hit Catherine with the force of a blow. Surely Grace wouldn’t leave! “You can’t leave.”
Grace shook her head. “I can, and I must. I’ve loved being here with you, but now it’s time for me to find my daughter. She may not want me in her life after what I did, but I need to see her once more. I need to know that I made the right decision when I gave her up for adoption.”
But what if she hadn’t? What if the parents were neglectful or even abusive? How would Grace handle that? Oh, how Catherine wished she had heard back from Aunt Bertha’s cousins in Ladreville. They were the only possible link to Grace’s daughter.
“Where will you go?”
“I keep dreaming about Paris. Maybe God is sending me a message. Maybe he wants me to go there.”
“Do you really believe your daughter is in Paris?” That seemed highly unlikely to Catherine.
“I don’t know,” Grace admitted. “All I know is that I can’t stop thinking about France. I picture myself walking along the Seine and going into Notre Dame.”
That had been Catherine’s dream for years, but for her it would have been a holiday, not a quest for a loved one.
“Please don’t make any hasty decisions.” Neither of them was thinking clearly, and the fact that Grace blamed herself intensified the effect of the tragedy.
Grace nodded. “I’ll stay until after the Fourth of July. Then we’ll see. In the meantime, I want to get out of these clothes. I don’t think I can bear looking at them a minute longer.”
They’d eaten a light supper, neither of them tasting much. When Grace went to her room, Catherine moved to the porch, waiting for Austin. She wasn’t sure what they’d say, what they’d do. All she knew was that she could barely wait to be with him again. Today more than ever before, he represented stability. And in a world that had tipped on its axis, that was more valuable than gold.
When she saw his wagon, Catherine rose and met him halfway down the front walk.
“Would you like to go for a drive?” he asked.
She had suspected he would offer that. Though the thought of even a brief escape from the town was appealing, Catherine felt a need to remain closer to Grace. “I’d rather walk,” she said, gesturing toward the west end of Mesquite. “There’s a path that leads to the creek. When I was a child, I used to go there to think.”
Austin gave her a smile that made her heart beat faster. “It sounds like a good place to talk as well as think.”
As he had once before, he took her hand in his. It felt good—so very good—to feel the warmth of his palm on hers. Though the town gossips might have been scandalized by the fact that she had not worn gloves this evening, Catherine was glad she’d forgone them and that Austin had tossed his driving gloves back into the wagon when she’d said she didn’t want to go for a ride. The touch of skin on skin reassured her as nothing had done since the moment she’d exposed Charles Gray’s scar. For a moment, the ugliness of the day faded, replaced by the pleasure of being with Austin, the man who figured in so many dreams, the man she loved.
They walked in silence until they reached what Catherine had always thought of as her spot. There the meandering creek that had given the town its name took another bend, this time toward the west. Ancient cottonwoods lined the banks, their roots drawing sustenance from the water. A few birds flitted from branch to branch, searching for a roosting spot. For them it was just another day, and the ordinariness of the scene helped calm Catherine.
“Is it time to talk?” Austin asked when she stopped in the shade of one of the cottonwoods. When she nodded, he reached for her other hand, as if he realized she needed the comfort of his grasp. “How are you feeling?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. That was part of the reason Catherine was so grateful for Austin’s company. Perhaps talking to him would help her make sense of her emotions. “Part of me is numb. The rest feels as if I’ve been sliced open. Oh, Austin, it was horrible.”
She had told herself she wouldn’t cry, for tears solved nothing. She’d learned that when Mama had been so ill and again when she’d died. But the caring she’d seen on Austin’s face released the floodgates, and Catherine found herself sobbing.
He dropped her hands, and for a second, she felt bereft. But then he drew her into his arms, pressing her head against his chest as he stroked her back. “I won’t tell you it will be all right. Seeing something like that changes a person.” His hand moved in gentle circles, comforting her as if she were Hannah, and her sobs subsided. “Death is always difficult to accept, and violent death . . .” He paused for a second. “It’s not easy to recover from that.”
Catherine wondered if he was thinking of his wife and the despair that had led her to plunge into the Seine. It had been years since that day, but some pain never ended.
“I feel as if everything in my life has shifted. I believed I knew my aunt and uncle, but today proved that I didn’t—not really.” She’d realized that Charles had a roving eye, and she’d known that Mary was a proud woman who feared scandal, but she’d been unprepared for the reality of Charles’s past or Mary’s reaction to it.
“Do you know why Mrs. Gray did what she did?” Austin asked as Catherine dried her tears. She’d moved back slightly, but remained in the shelter of his arms.
“Yes. Grace said I could tell you, because she knew she could trust you to keep it secret.” Catherine took a breath and wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “Twenty-two years ago, a man attacked Grace, leaving her with child.” Catherine related what had happened to Grace and why she had not returned to Cimarron Creek until recently, concluding, “It was only today that she learned Charles was the father of her child.”
“She looks so much like the portrait you showed me that Charles must have known immediately who she was. I imagine he was shocked to see her face.”
“He was. He looked horrified and incredulous at the same time. Seeing that reaction was how I knew he was the one. All I had to do was prove it.” Catherine closed her eyes for a second, reliving the moment when she’d revealed Charles’s scar. “What bothers me is that I never guessed there was such evil inside him.”
“You shouldn’t blame yourself.” Austin’s eyes were warm and caring. “Some people are very good at hiding their true selves.”
“This was someone I’ve known my whole life.” Catherine frowned as memories resurfaced. “Ever since Mama died, he’s been overly friendly to me, but until today I didn’t think he was capable of attacking a woman.”
A bird squawked a protest as another settled on the same branch; the light breeze ruffled the cottonwoods’ leaves; the creek burbled as it made its way around the bend. Catherine took a deep breath, trying to let the pastoral beauty chase away her regrets.
As if he understood her conflict, Austin gave her a reassuring smile. “There was no reason you should have realized what your uncle was hiding. Based on what happened, I’d say his wife had no idea what he’d done.”
“She didn’t.”
“Then why do you think you should have? She lived with him. She knew him better than anyone else.” That was Austin—logical, pragmatic, and comforting all at once.
“You’re right, but I still wish there were a way to undo today.”
Austin nodded, his expression empathetic. “I felt that way the day Geraldine died. I wondered what I could have done differently.” His words confirmed Catherine’s belief that he was still suffering from his wife’s death, that while there must have been some healing, it was incomplete.
“Did you find an answer?”
“No. I knew I couldn’t change what she’d done, but it was more painful than I’d thought possible to remain there surrounded by memories. Everywhere I turned, there was a reminder of Geraldine. Our home even had a view of the Seine, but after that day, I couldn’t bear to look at it. That’s why I went back to Philadelphia.”
“Did that help?” Catherine hoped Austin didn’t think she was prying into his past, but she wanted to learn everything she could about what had made him the man he was.
Perhaps that was the answer she sought. It wouldn’t be a permanent move like Austin’s, but perhaps a temporary change of scenery would help her regain her equilibrium and relegate today’s horrors to the back of her mind.
“Grace wants to go to Paris,” Catherine told Austin. “I tried to dissuade her, but maybe I shouldn’t have. Maybe I should go with her.”
As she pronounced the words, Catherine felt a sense of peace settle over her. It was true that Grace had not mentioned having a companion when she searched for her daughter, but Catherine could not ignore how right the idea felt.
Though Austin looked stunned, all he said was, “What about your pupils? They need you.”
Another piece of the puzzle fell into place. “What they need is a teacher, not necessarily me. Rachel Henderson has a cousin who’d like to move here if she could figure out a way to earn a living. She could teach school this fall.”
Austin stared at the creek for a long moment, his expression solemn. “I know going to Europe has been your dream, but it wouldn’t be easy for two women to travel alone, especially since neither of you speaks French.”
“We can hire a guide. That’s what Mama and I had planned to do.”
He nodded but appeared unconvinced. “There’s another alternative.” He swallowed deeply, seemingly uncomfortable with whatever it was he was going to propose. When he spoke, his voice was low and fervent. “Would you let me be your guide?”
For a second Catherine wondered if he was speaking a foreign language. Was Austin, the man who’d told her he had no desire to return to Europe, the man who’d confirmed how painful it had been to remain in Paris after his wife’s death, now proposing to accompany her and Grace?
“You?” The word came out as little more than a croak.
He nodded, his expression more serious than she’d ever seen it. “I had planned to wait until you were out of mourning. I know how important it is for you to honor your mother with a full year of mourning, and I’d hoped that by then the threat from Sherman Enright would be over. Today changed everything. I don’t want you to leave.”
And, if she were being honest with herself, she did not want to leave him.
As Catherine opened her mouth to tell him that, Austin pulled her closer. “I love you, Catherine. I think I have since the first day I met you.”
His eyes shone with the love he was professing, sending shivers of delight along Catherine’s spine. This was not the way she’d pictured a declaration of love. Today was hardly the day she would have expected it, and yet she could not deny the joy that rushed through her as Austin pronounced the words she’d longed to hear.
He cupped her chin in one hand as he said, “Dare I hope that you love me too?”
“I do.” She wanted to shout it so the world would hear, but she couldn’t. Not yet.
His lips curved into the sweetest of smiles. “Then marry me. I’ll take you and Grace to Paris.”
It was tempting, oh so tempting, but Catherine knew it would be wrong. “I want to say yes, but you’re right: it’s too soon. Mama was both mother and father to me. It seems only right that I give her a full mourning period. And, as I told Grace when she said she wanted to leave Cimarron Creek, neither of us should make any decisions right away. I’m not sure we’re thinking clearly, especially not today.”
Though Austin made no attempt to disguise his disappointment, he said only, “But you love me?”
Catherine would not deny him the answer he sought, not when it was what her heart had been telling her for so long. “Yes, Austin, I love you. I love you so very much. I love Hannah too.” She smiled, thinking of the girl who’d captured her heart her first day of school. “I doubt I could love a child of my own any more than I love her, but I need to finish mourning before I begin a new phase of my life. Will you wait?”
Austin nodded. “I’m not a patient man, but I’ll learn. I’ll wait as long as it takes for you to be ready.” The corners of his mouth turned up in a wry smile. “There is one thing I hope you won’t make me wait for.”
When he looked the way he did now, Catherine knew there was nothing she’d deny him. “What is that?”
“Another kiss.”
He tightened his grip on her chin, tipping it up. When she nodded, he lowered his lips to hers. His mouth was firm, his touch so tender that Catherine felt herself melting. For the first time since Charles had stared at Grace in church, Catherine was fully at peace. This was where she was meant to be—in Austin’s arms.