Chapter Seventeen

When she was ten, Catherine had flown on her friend Janie’s swing, digging her heels into the ground then sailing toward the branches overhead. With each pump of her legs she’d striven higher and higher—until the worn rope on one side of the swing broke and sent her crashing to the ground. She could still remember gasping for breath, her lungs failing her. For a moment, she’d been certain she was dying, but then she’d finally gotten air inside her. After that, the other aches and pains of her fall became apparent, but it was always that feeling of the breath driven from of her body that she remembered.

As Nathan gazed at her with shock, disappointment, disapproval, hurt and a host of other emotions darting through his eyes, Catherine felt the same horrible winded sensation. The pleasure and joy that had lifted her up only seconds before evaporated.

She let go of Jim’s hand, extricating her fingers from his grip and hurried after Nathan as he walked away.

“Wait!” she called, but he only walked faster.

She followed him through the stable, past the horses shuffling in their stalls, to the dark outdoors. She grasped his arm, stopping him just outside the door. “Please wait!”

Nathan stared at the street as a wagon rattled past. “What?”

Now that she’d stopped him, she didn’t know what to say. Her throat was so dry she could barely swallow.

“I know it must look bad. Very bad. Jim is my student, and it’s wrong to become involved with a person I’m tutoring. But, we’ve become very close over the past weeks as I’ve gotten to know him.” She drew a shaky breath. “Believe me I haven’t entered this relationship lightly.”

“Relationship?” He finally looked at her. “How can you possibly have a relationship with someone you can’t even talk to?”

“But I can talk with him, Mr. Scott. We communicate through signing, on paper and... other ways.” How could she explain the silent communion between them just through a mutual gaze? He’d think it was merely lust drawing them together, a base, animal attraction, but Catherine knew better. Jim might not be able to share his innermost thoughts and feelings yet, but as their level of communication increased, he showed more and more of himself and she liked the person she was discovering. She liked his interest in the natural world and his gentleness with his horses. She admired his work ethic and she enjoyed his teasing humor.

“It must seem impossible to you, I know. But Mr. Kinney ... Jim and I have a strong connection. I may not know him completely, but I already care for him very much.”

“So I saw.” Nathan’s tone was as dry as dust. She hadn’t thought him capable of sarcasm. She wondered exactly how much he’d witnessed, only that final embrace and kiss, or the erotic interlude prior to it?

Blood pounded in her temples and she felt faint as she imagined the deputy watching their intimate moment. It made the passion she’d felt in Jim’s arms suddenly seem crude and dirty.

“Mr. Scott, may I ask that you keep silent about what you’ve seen here today?”

He stared at her hard, as though seeing her for the first time. “You don’t have to ask that, Miss Johnson. In my line of work, a man learns the value of discretion.”

She nodded, accepting his promise and wishing she hadn’t asked the question. Now she’d insulted him by suggesting he might gossip.

“I only came here because I’ve been following up on this fire investigation,” Nathan said. “You probably know the McPhersons accused Grant Karak before they left town.”

She nodded. The community had rallied around the McPhersons over the past days, donating clothing and collecting enough money to buy the family railway tickets to Virginia. Meanwhile, Adelaide had spread the rumor to anyone who would listen that she laid blame for the fire at Karak’s door. Mr. McPherson had remained silent on the subject. He seemed broken, defeated and anxious to leave town before something else happened to his family.

“The general opinion is that the fire was no accident,” Catherine agreed.

“But suspicion isn’t enough to arrest a man. Since Kinney is working for Karak now, I thought he might have heard, I mean seen something that could help with the investigation.”

“You should talk to him.” She was grateful for the change in subject. “He’s observant, and sometimes people forget he’s around. He may well be able to help you.”

Nathan glanced at the door of the livery and back to her.

“I’m not much in the mood for questioning him tonight. In fact, I think it’s best I put some distance between us the way I’m feeling.” His blue eyes, usually so open and friendly, narrowed. “Honestly, I don’t much feel like talking to you either, Miss Johnson, so if you’ll excuse me...”

She nodded, aching at the loss of his good opinion. “I’m sorry, Nathan,” she said softly as he turned away. It was the first time she’d used his given name.

He paused, the rigid posture of his back telegraphing his hurt and disapproval. “I’m sorry too. Guess I mistook who you were.”

He strode away down the boardwalk.

Catherine released a long breath she hadn’t known she was holding. What a tangled web she’d woven for herself. She’d never asked Nathan Scott to like her, so that part wasn’t her fault. And she’d certainly never meant to become involved with Jim, but she’d followed her impetuous heart. She’d allowed it to run away with her common sense.

What would Howard think of her behavior? The man she’d been engaged to for almost two years, who’d only fondled her breasts a little in all that time. What would he think if he’d seen her writhing and thrusting against Jim Kinney like some sluttish saloon girl? Nathan was right: Guess I misunderstood who you were. She wasn’t sure she knew herself anymore.

It was nearly eight and she must get home. As it was, Mrs. Albright would have something to say about her taking a walk alone after sunset, but first Catherine had to say goodbye to Jim and tell him about Nathan’s reaction.

She turned to go back inside the livery. The excitement with which she’d entered it less than an hour earlier had been replaced by heavy-hearted dread. She didn’t want to see Jim at the moment, or continue to dwell on the ramifications of their impossible relationship.

Jim waited only a few yards from the door, leaning against Lady’s stall and scratching her forelock. He raised his eyebrows.

“Nathan won’t tell.” She pressed a finger to her lips. “We’re safe.”

Jim’s expression was unreadable. He took a step toward her, pointed to her and himself and twined his fingers together with another questioning tilt of his brows.

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t know if we’re together. Please don’t ask me this tonight. I need time to think.”

His gaze was riveted on her lips, then her eyes. He appeared calm, but she noticed the telltale tension in his jaw. She wished she could give him a better answer and tell him everything he wanted to hear. But to wholeheartedly say “I love you and want to be with you” would be a lie right now. Her conflicting feelings were tearing her apart.

Walking over to him, she kissed his cheek. “I’m sorry,” she whispered near his ear so he couldn’t see her words. “I don’t mean to hurt you. I want to love you, but I’m afraid.”

She stepped back and gave him a small smile. “I have to go now, but I’ll try to see you soon.”

Jim nodded, but his earlier joyful expression had dimmed. The hopeful light was gone from his eyes.

Catherine felt his gaze on her back as she left the stable. Hurrying to the Albrights’ house, she relived the evening. After arriving at the livery with every intention of talking to Jim, she’d seen his half-naked, muscular body, his dark hair sleek and wet, and she’d lost all control. Her mind fled and her body surged toward him as he reached for her.

She’d never had patience with people who made excuses for their actions, claiming they couldn’t help themselves when they did wrong. It was a child’s excuse. Now, for the first time, she understood, because whenever she saw Jim, she felt as if an outside force invaded her and controlled her actions. He was in her blood, in her thoughts, and rapidly working his way into her heart.

When she entered the front hall, Mrs. Albright was waiting for her, arms folded, expression stern. “I was about to send Horace looking for you. I know Broughton may seem like a nice, safe town, but a young woman out alone after dark is putting herself in harm’s way. Look what happened in broad daylight with those drunkards. There are some rough characters about.”

“Yes. You’re right. I hadn’t counted on how quickly it gets dark now and I walked too far. It won’t happen again.” Catherine said as she removed her coat and hung it.

“I don’t mean to scold. I’m only concerned for your safety.”

“Of course. Thank you.”

Mrs. Albright eyed her sharply, clearly wanting to say more, and maybe suspecting that Catherine had done more than take a walk. “Well, no harm done, I suppose.” She picked up a yellow telegram envelope from the hall table and held it out. “This arrived for you while you were gone.”

Catherine’s pulse quickened as she took the envelope. News from back east not sent through the postal service often signaled an emergency. What had happened? Were her parents all right? She ripped open the envelope and read the message inside.

Coming to visit November 14. Last chance before snow. Will celebrate Christmas early unless you’re ready to come home. Miss you, darling. Mother.

Catherine relaxed as she realized there was no family crisis, but the uneasy rumbling in her stomach remained at the thought of her parents’ visit.

“Everything all right, dear?” From the eagerness of Rowena’s expression, Catherine guessed she’d been anxiously waiting to learn the contents of the telegram.

“My parents are coming in a couple of weeks.”

Could she convince them not to? Mother hated traveling by train. A steamships to Europe was more her cup of tea. She’d despise everything about this poky little town, where the dresses in the mercantile window were fashions from several years ago and a nosy biddy like Rowena Albright was considered the epitome of society.

“How lovely! They must stay with us, of course.” Rowena clapsed her hands together and offered a genuine smile.

“I wouldn’t want you to put yourself to any trouble. My parents will be happy to stay at the hotel.” There was no polite way to explain that her mother would probably prefer it.

“Nonsense. It will be my pleasure to host them.”

While Mrs. Albright started planning a welcoming tea party, Catherine made an excuse and hurried upstairs.

If her mind had been in turmoil about Jim and their discovery by Nathan Scott, it was now in a complete uproar, her jumbled thoughts clamoring like monkeys at the Bronx Zoo. Her mother in Broughton was the last complication she needed in her life.

* * * *

The evening of the harvest social, rain pelted the windowpanes as Catherine removed her evening dress from the bottom of her trunk. She laid the tissue-paper wrapped garment on the bed and unfolded the transparent paper to reveal black silk voile over blue satin. The dress was as beautiful as she’d remembered—purchased as part of her wedding trousseau for the honeymoon tour of Europe she’d never taken.

Black cord embroidery enhanced the hem, neck and sleeves, and a yoke of cream net and Valenciennes lace decorated the bodice. She fingered the beading at the sleeve edge. She should’ve taken the dress out much earlier and hung it in her closet, but it wasn’t too badly wrinkled, and would do for this evening’s festivities.

She laced her corset tight. It would take some work to compress her figure into the form-fitting bodice of the dress. Likely she’d feel faint after spending just a little time in the crowded, overheated grange hall. Well, it would be a good excuse to complain of an illness and leave early. She wouldn’t have minded skipping the social entirely, but neither Jennie nor her mother would allow that.

All three men Catherine wanted to avoid would likely be present tonight. Since she’d bluntly rejected them, both Charles and Nathan would probably steer clear of her, but what about Jim? She hadn’t had a chance to see him since two nights ago when she’d told him she didn’t know how she felt. What if he approached her at the dance in front of everyone?

Oh, Lord, I’m as bad as mother! How could she be so bound by convention? She who’d promised herself to never be a snob? How could she be transported with joy when Jim held and kissed her, yearning for him all the time, yet be embarrassed to acknowledge him in public all because of his lowly station in life?

There was a soft knock at her door, and she realized she’d been staring at the dress with her corset half-laced. “Yes?”

“Miss Johnson, may I come in?”

“If you help with this dress. I believe I’ve gained some weight from your mother’s good cooking.”

Jennie entered the room, glanced at Catherine in her undergarments and looked away, blushing. “I could come back.”

“Nonsense. Please help me put this gown on. I don’t know if I can even lift my arms high enough to get it over my head. After that I’ll dress your hair as I promised.”

The girl gathered the shimmering folds of the gown while Catherine finished tying her corset. It constricted her so she could barely draw breath. She raised her arms and Jennie settled the dress over them. It fit snugly, but Jennie was able to fasten the buttons up the back. When she was finished, she stepped back and gazed at Catherine with an awed expression.

“You look beautiful!”

“As do you. That rose color is lovely with your complexion. And your hair will look perfect caught up in my coral comb. Sit down.”

Catherine pulled the small chair from the corner and Jennie sat on it. As she moved around the girl, pinning her long, brown hair up in loose, artful curls, she thought that this was what having a little sister would have been like. Catherine felt an almost maternal fondness for Jennie and had to admit the girl’s admiration for her was flattering.

“Miss Johnson. May I ask you something?”

“Of course. What is it?” Catherine separated a hank of hair with the comb and deftly pinned it in place.

“Did you like going to college?”

“Absolutely! I’d wanted it all my life and I really enjoyed my days at Columbia. Why? Are you considering higher education? You should. You’re so bright.” Too bright to settle for marriage and family right out of high school.

Jennie heaved a loud sigh. “It’s Mother. She wants to send me to a finishing school back east. She’s almost got Father ready to agree to it.”

“Oh.” A finishing school prepared a woman for making an advantageous match, to carry herself well in society, but had little to do with higher education as far as Catherine was concerned.

“She doesn’t approve of Ned,” Jennie burst out. “She won’t say it, but I know she thinks I can do better than a merchant’s son. It’s in her tone every time she talks about him. But I love him! I don’t want to leave Broughton. I want to marry Ned!” Her shoulders were heaving and her face twisted in distress when she’d finished her confession.

Marry? You’re only seventeen! Catherine knew better than to say the first thought that rose to her lips. She remembered her own tendency toward stubbornness at that age and resenting adults acting as if she didn’t have a mind of her own. She must let Jennie know she respected the strength of her emotions.

“I know you care for him very deeply,” she offered. “And he for you. That’s why there can be no harm in taking some time apart when high school is over. If your parents are willing to send you east for further education, you should take advantage of the opportunity to see new places and meet new people. You’ll have the rest of your life to be with Ned after you return.”

“Do you think so?” Jennie tilted her head to look up at Catherine. “I would like to see New York. But what if something happens and he falls in love with someone else while I’m gone? I couldn’t bear it!”

“‘Love that’s tested and tried is true,’” she quoted. “Taking some time to pursue your own interests can only strengthen what you feel for one another.”

“I suppose.” Jennie fell silent. Catherine thought she’d disappointed her by not supporting her defiance of her mother’s wishes.

Quickly pinning the last sections of Jennie’s hair, she inserted the coral comb into her coiffure. She pulled her from her seat and guided her to the small mirror that hung over the washstand then gave her a hand mirror so she could see the arrangement from behind.

“You look like you’ve stepped right out of an issue of Harper’s Bazaar,” she said, resting a hand on Jennie’s shoulder. “Enjoy yourself at the dance tonight and try not to think about the future.”