Days later, Nicki sat in the high school auditorium, barely able to believe that both Luke and Professor McCade had accompanied her to the monthly lecture series sponsored by the city council.
It was a long-established community event, intended to build cultural awareness. Today’s offering was about Germany. It should have been fascinating, but the so-called expert spoke in a flat, monotone voice that droned on and on. How anyone could make a beautiful country like Germany sound boring was a mystery.
She darted a glance at Professor McCade, who sat on one side, then to Luke, who sat on her other. The professor’s face had little expression, but he seemed to be listening. Luke, on the other hand, was more intent on tickling the palm of her hand.
A warmth that felt traitorous filled her. She had to resist reading anything into his presence, of course. Luke might have apologized for his behavior when they were kids and enthusiastically kissed her a number of times, but he was still the same person. She had to remember that Luke was only flirting with her because she was the only woman around…just like before. Why would he care if people saw them together? After all, he didn’t care about Divine or what people thought of him there, and he needed something to pass the time. But pretty soon he’d go back to Chicago and have trouble remembering her name again.
She wasn’t aware of her sigh, until he leaned over and whispered, “What’s wrong?” in her ear.
“Nothing.” She determinedly removed her hand from his grasp and put it into her lap.
A ripple of laughter went through the audience and Nicki straightened, trying to figure out what she’d missed.
Her eyes widened.
A cat was sitting on the stage, opposite the lectern, his head cocked as he seemed to listen. After a moment he shook his head, yawned broadly and proceeded to lick his rear end.
Nicki choked and covered her mouth. However boring the speaker might be, it would be rude to laugh. Apparently Luke did not share the same compunction. His laughter rumbled heartily, and she nudged him with her elbow.
She might have said something if the cat hadn’t just then stuck his head up and let out a raucous cry.
The lecturer stopped, adjusted his glasses, and stared in peeved astonishment at the feline. “Everyone is a critic,” he said with solemn dignity, yet a small gleam of humor twinkled in his eyes.
At that, the entire place broke down, and in the middle of it all, the cat gazed around with a wary distrust. It was obviously a stray, short on meals, with a scraggly fur coat and travel-weary feet.
“The poor baby.”
Luke knew that tone.
He looked down at Nicki and saw her gaze was fixed on the cat. She was entirely too soft-hearted. She had insisted they use live catch-and-release mousetraps in the attic, even though he’d told her the mice would just come back inside. She carefully put earthworms back in the soil, talking to them when she didn’t think he was around to hear.
He had a feeling his Beamer would be hosting a cat on the way home unless fate took pity on his leather seats. Of course, he could say no, but he probably wouldn’t. He didn’t want Nicki to think he cared more about his BMW than the fate of a stray cat.
It still didn’t seem as if she liked him.
Normally he would have said it was crazy, especially after the times they’d kissed, but there it was. Hell, at the very least they should be friends. Was that too much to ask? He had apologized and she’d accepted his regret about the past. Yet, her eyes often seemed distant, as if she were keeping a part of herself separate. It was driving him crazy, even when he told himself it was for the best.
By the time the lecture ended, Nicki was edging out of her seat, ready to leap whenever the cat took a step in one direction or the other.
“I’ll be back,” she said as the crowd clapped louder than the quality of the lecture warranted. In short order she was cuddling the feline in her arms, not seeming to care that it was getting dirt on her white knit dress.
Luke kept his hand on his grandfather’s shoulder as he watched. Except for his sister, he couldn’t imagine a single woman he knew being willing to touch a stray cat, much less hold one so lovingly.
“Isn’t he a darling?” she asked.
Now there was a question. It had to be the ugliest animal Luke had ever laid eyes on, seeming all legs and tail, held together by a moth-eaten body.
“Sure,” he agreed, lying through his teeth. “He’s great.” The real darling was Nicki, and he was starting not to care that he thought so. Maybe it was possible to be friends with a woman and to trust her because of that friendship. She was undeniably different than the women he usually dated.
“Cats don’t clean themselves very much when they haven’t eaten,” she said. “I do think he’s healthy under all the dirt—other than being too thin—but I can’t expose him to Da Vinci until I’m sure. Can I leave him at your house until I can get a vet to look at him?”
Luke winced.
Hell, he couldn’t refuse. Nicki was pouring her heart and soul into his grandmother’s beloved garden. And she was doing everything possible to get his grandfather to wake up and take an interest in living again. It made him think they should have sought outside help for Granddad a long time ago. But then, it might not have made a difference…nobody was quite like Nicki.
“How about it, Granddad?” he asked. “Do you mind if we babysit for a couple of days?”
“Might as well.” He put out his hand and gave the cat a pat. “Seems like a nice little thing…can’t be too much trouble.”
“Thank you, Professor.” Nicki’s face was wreathed in a smile.
Granddad fixed her with a stern gaze. “You’re no longer my student. The name is John, young lady.”
“Oh, yes…J-John.”
A victory had been achieved, Luke thought wryly.
Nicki cuddled the cat all the way back to the house, and saw him settled in the kitchen with a box of dirt for a litter box and two cans of tuna.
“It’s late,” Luke said as she collected her purse to leave. “Maybe I’d better follow you.”
“Why?”
“To make sure you get home safely.”
She laughed. “Thanks, but I’ll be fine. This isn’t a big city like Chicago. Nothing ever happens in Divine, it’s a quiet, law-abiding little place.”
“Don’t I know it. The town is dying, but nobody wants to admit the truth.”
“It isn’t dying, it’s just going through a…a rough spell. Divine may need a little help to get back on its feet, but it’ll be fine.”
“Honey, it’s not on its knees. It’s six feet under.”
Nicki’s smile faded and he wished he’d kept his mouth shut.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “That wasn’t called for. You love Divine and I respect that.”
“You don’t really think it’s that bad, do you?” Nicki asked with a worried frown.
It wasn’t good, but he wasn’t about to say so again. “I suppose there are things that could be done to help.”
The tension eased inside of Luke as he realized it was true. His own feelings weren’t important, it was how she felt about Divine that counted. Besides, his hometown wasn’t such a bad place—it did have Nicki and his grandfather and a whole lot of good memories to balance out the bad ones. It had grocers who remembered you had a favorite fruit and tried to get it for you. It had a local hardware store that rented water pumps for practically nothing, and an ice-cream truck that wandered the streets, gaily playing the same music it had for thirty years. He could see that if you wanted to raise kids in a place with good, old-fashioned values, Divine might be just the spot.
A smile lit her face. “What it really needs is someone like you,” she said. “You know, a land developer. But not one of those people who just wants to make a profit and doesn’t care who they hurt to do it.”
“Maybe.” Luke didn’t know if she thought he was “one of those people” or not. He didn’t want to know. Nicki made him want to take a hard look at his business practices and make sure that he could be proud of what he did and how his company did it.
Granddad’s footsteps sounded in the hallway and they both looked up. The cat rode in his arms, wearing a smug expression on his comical face as he licked his chops. And why not? He’d just eaten the best canned white albacore money could buy.
“We’ll need to get some cat food first thing tomorrow,” Granddad murmured. “The little guy is skin and bones.”
The fact that his grandfather was concerned about something…anything…thrilled Luke.
“Right,” he agreed, casting a glance at Nicki and seeing she was equally pleased.
“I have to get going,” she said. “But I’ll bring some of Da Vinci’s food when I come in the morning. Then when the feed-and-seed store opens, we can get some more—they carry good quality pet supplies.”
Granddad nodded and started up the staircase, still carrying the ragged cat. Luke watched to be sure he got up safely, then grinned at Nicki.
“I bet that fleabag winds up sleeping in someone’s bed tonight.”
“Da Vinci always sleeps with me.”
“I knew I envied that cat.” A brighter pink stained her cheeks and he laughed. “Come on, if you won’t let me follow you home, at least I can walk you out.”
Once outside, Nicki hesitated before getting into her car and seemed to be searching for something to say.
“Out with it,” Luke said, giving one of her short gold curls a tug.
“You know that severe depression usually needs medication, right?” she asked. “I mean, exercise and all can help, but it isn’t always enough when the condition is really bad.”
He nodded, no longer doubting that his grandfather’s problem was depression, rather than mental failure. “But I also know that Granddad needs to cooperate, not fight getting help. He still says he’s fine.”
“There’s a woman at the nursing home like that. She’s so much better now that she’s gotten treatment, but she can’t see it.”
“As long as she’s doing okay,” Luke muttered, thinking he didn’t care if his grandfather faced the problem or not, as long as he kept getting better.
He gave Nicki a kiss and watched until her taillights disappeared, then walked back into the house. The phone was ringing and he waited to see if Granddad planned to answer before lifting the receiver himself. “Hello.”
“It’s me, darling.”
Luke settled into a chair. “Hey, Mom.”
“I just wanted to let you know that your father and I are coming up to Divine in a couple of days to relieve you, since Sherrie couldn’t stay.”
He frowned.
“That’s okay, there’s no hurry.” He could hardly believe the words were coming out of his mouth, but it was true. With Nicki around he was actually having fun, and that wasn’t something he wanted to give up so quickly. After all, there were perks to owning his own business. He could continue working long distance for a while, though it meant some late nights and an employee regularly playing courier between Divine and Chicago.
“But I know how anxious you must be to get back to the city.”
“Really, it’s okay.” Luke glanced around, then spoke in a lower voice. “Don’t let Dad get his hopes up too much, but Granddad is improving. It seems best not to shake things up, and I don’t mind staying longer.”
“Are you sure? I know how you feel about Divine.”
Luke shrugged. He still had mixed feelings about his hometown, and he was probably losing money by trying to run his company from a distance, but it was worth staying, if only for his grandfather’s sake.
“I’m sure,” he said firmly. “You stay with Dad. Besides, you never got any time together when he was working. You should enjoy it now.”
“Goodness, whatever made you say that?” asked his mother.
“Nothing.” He tugged at his collar to loosen it. “Dad just wasn’t around that often before he retired.”
She was silent for a long moment. “I know you children missed your father when he was away on his consulting jobs, but I thought you understood. It was the best way he could provide for us.”
“This isn’t about me,” Luke said hastily. “But you weren’t really happy unless he was there, and I think the two of you should have time now.”
“Oh, son, I was always happy, even when I was missing your father. The time apart simply made the time together more precious. That’s how it is with people who love each other.”
Love, Luke thought, shaking his head, yet a picture of Nicki stuck in his mind. Despite the way life had slammed her around, she had an eternal optimism that was as endearing as it was foolish.
So you’ve given up on love, as well as hopes and dreams.
Her words echoed in his memory.
Luke rolled his shoulders. He couldn’t get the things she’d said that day by the creek out of his mind. Hell, yes, he didn’t believe in holding on to things that could hurt him. How could he forget the weeks of impotent anger and frustration after his accident, the long period of healing, the way he’d made Nicki the focus of all his negative feelings? Only now did he see how much he’d despised himself for the way he’d acted toward her. It was the biggest reason he’d ignored her later, not wanting to be confronted with the reminder of his despicable behavior.
Yet here he was, wondering if he’d surrendered too much to protect himself.
“Are you there, son?”
His mother’s voice murmured in his ear, and he rubbed his forehead. “Yeah, I’m here. Say, do you remember Nicki Johansson?”
“Of course I remember her. We hired Nicole to tutor you in the hospital. She’s a very sweet child.”
A vision of Nicki’s womanly curves rose in Luke’s mind, and he smiled…she wasn’t a child any longer.
“She’s been coming over,” he said, “helping with the garden and talking to Granddad about art and stuff. She works a lot with older people and thinks we should ask the doctor about treating him for depression. Anyway, I think she’s the reason he’s getting better.”
“I’m not surprised. I was very fond of her. To be honest, I used to hope you’d decide to date her instead of that other girl. As for Sandra…well…I can’t imagine that woman ever coming to Divine, much less trying to help us with your grandfather.”
To Luke’s surprise, the mention of his former fiancée didn’t bother him. “You didn’t like her much, did you?”
“Er…well…I’m sure she had her good points.”
A wry smile twisted his lips. Aside from Sandra’s considerable physical charms and sophistication, he couldn’t recall a single good point she’d possessed. He’d thought she was wonderful when he asked her to marry him, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember why he’d felt that way.
Love isn’t to blame. My marriage broke up because I chose the wrong man, that’s all.
We both chose wrong.
Shut up, he ordered crossly.
But Nicki had started a thought that wouldn’t stop. The quiet truth had been in her eyes, the truth that he’d never been in love with his fiancée. Obsessed, yes, but not in love. He might not have recognized it, but Sandra had represented the perfect trophy wife. And his girlfriends in high school had been the same thing…trophies for the conquering hero, chosen for their high-profile beauty and popularity, not their inner qualities.
“Luke? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything about Sandra.”
“Don’t worry about it. She was a mistake,” he said flatly. “Live and learn, I guess. Right?”
“We just want you to be happy, son.”
“I am happy.”
“Are you? I’m not sure you’ve been happy since your accident. We should have handled things better, but we didn’t understand how important football was to you until it was too late.”
A bitter taste filled Luke’s mouth, but he set his jaw. “Don’t worry about me, Mom. I’m fine. Look, I’ve got to go, Granddad is getting ready for bed and may need my help.”
They said goodbye and he dropped the receiver back in the cradle and rubbed his temples. Normally he ducked out of conversations like that before they could start. He must be slipping.
As for being happy?
What the hell was happy?
Was it Nicki’s way…an inner peace and a joy in the everyday things of life? She was so giving and generous, even to a man she had every reason to avoid. When it boiled right down to it, she had far more reason to be bitter and disillusioned than he did.
But she wasn’t.
And he needed to understand why.
Nicki pushed down on the half lemon she was squeezing, twisting it on the old-fashioned jade ware juicer that had belonged to Mary McCade. She loved the juicer. Thousands of lemons must have been squeezed on it, the juice then made into lemonade or other treats. Countless lemons—it told countless stories of devotion and family gatherings and the hot days of summer.
“Let me do that,” Luke ordered.
“You don’t get all the juice out,” she objected, trying to evade his reaching arms.
“I don’t waste time with each drop, like you do,” he conceded, reaching both arms around, trapping her between him and the counter.
Nicki swallowed. She was surrounded by Luke, his solid length pressed from the back of her head to her heels. He brushed her hands away and began twisting the half lemons on the juicer with quick, economical motions, before tossing the empty halves into the sink. Each movement bumped them intimately together, and her skin flushed with awareness. It probably wasn’t proper to react like that, still dressed in her new Sunday clothes from their trip to church together, and knowing his grandfather could walk in at any moment.
Apparently the same concerns didn’t bother Luke.
He suggested she hold the juicer in place, then let his free thumb rove deliciously over one of her nipples. Nicki’s knees buckled and he pressed harder, propping her between him and the cabinets as he squeezed the lemons. His hips rotated, leaving no doubt of his own potent reaction, and she moaned.
“We shouldn’t.”
“Shouldn’t what? Do this?” He tugged at one aching nub and nuzzled the curve of her neck. “Too late. Turn around,” he whispered.
She twisted and their lips met. When they finally drew breath, he rested his forehead on hers. During their other kisses he’d tried to hide his arousal from her, but now he pressed it against her stomach, a bold broadcast of his response to their contact.
“I’d better finish squeezing those lemons,” he murmured finally.
Nodding, she slipped free and added sugar to his grandmother’s old lemonade pitcher. A lot of the glassware in the house dated back to the 1930s. She’d never known anything about Depression glass, but it amazed her how beautiful it was—even the bakeware was attractive.
But from the corner of her eye, she watched Luke and the pained expression on his face.
“Does it really hurt that much?” she asked curiously. For her the lingering desire was a hungry edginess in her abdomen, an ache in her breasts and a general disquiet through the rest of her body.
Instead of answering, he flashed her a smile. “The old Nicki would never have asked me that.”
“The old Nicki would have been too shy.”
“You’re still shy.”
“Hah,” she scoffed, yet she felt an answering warmth in her face. Only it wasn’t embarrassment this time. Luke was looking at her as if she were incredibly special and good and beautiful, even though she knew she wasn’t any of those things particularly.
“Actually I can’t think of a sweeter reason to hurt like this,” he said quietly. “But if you don’t mind, I’m going to take a shower and change.”
“No. I mean…I don’t mind.”
“Thanks. It’ll be a cold shower, of course. Like usual of late.” His sweeping look was as tangible as a touch, and then he was gone, running up the back staircase that rose from the kitchen.
“Whoa.” Nicki fanned her face and told herself not to act like an idiot.
The lemonade was a welcome distraction, and she stirred the juice, water and sugar together with unnecessary vigor. Ice and lemon slices completed the beverage, which she set on the table. The salad she’d prepared was in the refrigerator, and seasoned steaks waited in a pan, ready to be broiled.
The lazy drone of summer filled the air, including the sound of an ice-cream truck and the tune it played as it drove slowly through the neighborhood. It went down the street several times daily, and a smile crept over Nicki’s face as she remembered the morning a few days before when Luke had jumped up, dragging her out to the street to buy two ice-cream fudge bars.
He did seem to have changed, but it would be a huge mistake to fall in love with him. Terminal lust was hard enough to handle—it would be hell to give her heart away. She mustn’t forget that her husband had said he loved her, even when he was sleeping with other women.
But was Luke like that? He’d been hurt by someone he’d planned to marry. Surely he wasn’t the type to mess with someone else in the same way.
Annoyed with the direction of her thoughts, Nicki shook her head. The question of whether Luke McCade could be faithful to a woman was not relevant. It was remotely conceivable they might become friends, but more between them was out of the question. No matter how he seemed to look at her, no matter how his libido prompted him to act while in Divine, she wasn’t in the same class as the women he dated in Chicago.
“You did bring comfortable clothes to change into, didn’t you?” Luke asked when he returned, his hair damp and disheveled.
Nicki nodded.
“You go ahead. I’ll throw the steaks under the broiler, and they should be ready by the time you’re done.”
“Remember, you have to turn them after—”
“Broiling a steak is one culinary art I’ve mastered,” Luke interrupted with a grin. “Get going. Don’t remind me that I can’t have what I really want for lunch.”
There was no question about what he meant, not with that glance searing her body once again.
Nicki grabbed her clothes and fled.
Her face had cooled by the time they sat down together and were eating, but it would quickly overheat if she looked too closely at the sensual curve of Luke’s mouth.
“More salad, Granddad?” Luke asked as he served himself a second helping.
Silence.
Nicki exchanged a glance with Luke, but before she could think of anything to say a loud “marroooooow” sounded, and the swinging door to the interior hallway swung open.
“Oh, dear.” Nicki started to get up, but Luke’s hand clamped down on her arm.
“Meeerrrooooww!” the cat demanded, pawing at John McCade’s leg as if to say, “I know you have meat and where’s my share?”
“Well, now,” murmured the professor. “You are a pushy thing.” He carefully cut off small pieces of steak and dropped them to the cat, who hunched over the food and growled for no particular reason. Yet, when he was thoroughly stuffed, he purred and butted his head on John’s leg.
A low chuckle rumbled out, sounding so much like Luke that Nicki thought he was the one who was laughing. But it was the professor.
He reached down and rubbed the cat’s knobby head. “He’ll need a name,” John said gruffly.
“I think you should choose one,” Nicki replied.
“All right. Vincent it is.”
She laughed. The feline was missing a chunk of one ear, so Vincent was the perfect name.
“Vincent?” Luke asked, looking puzzled.
“After Vincent van Gogh,” Nicki explained. “He was a Dutch postimpressionist artist who cut off part of his ear. Hopefully our Vincent isn’t that self-destructive.”
Luke smiled. He’d heard of Vincent van Gogh, but didn’t have a clue what a postimpressionist might be. Not that it mattered. His grandfather had just named a cat…a cat he suspected would never go home with Nicki. He even suspected that had been her plan all along. She’d suggested they needed a cat in the house, and she was the type to make it happen, one way or another.
But best of all, his grandfather had actually laughed for the first time in longer than he could remember.
“Are all artists self-destructive?” Luke asked.
“Of course not,” Granddad said. “Art transmits the highest and best feelings to which men have risen. It is an essential part of human achievement.”
“Henry James said that it is art that makes life,” Nicki added softly. “And that he knew no substitute for the force and beauty of its process.”
“Quite so,” Granddad agreed. He gave his grandson a stern look. “There can be art in everything we do, it does not have to be limited to carved stone or paint on a canvas.”
“Is it present even in science?” Luke asked, grinning at Nicki.
John nodded. “Even in science.”
Nicki kicked Luke under the table, then laughed. “Don’t get your hopes up, John. Luke is a pragmatist. He doesn’t trust abstract theories and ideologies, and the concept of art is way too abstract for his mind.”
Luke did note, however that she didn’t add that love was too abstract for him. That was just as well, love being something he was no longer quite so certain about, or scared of.
The weather wasn’t as hot the next few days and they continued working in the afternoon in the garden, cooling off with spray from the hoses and dips in the creek. There weren’t any repeats of Luke’s passionate kisses, and Nicki knew she ought to be grateful.
But she wasn’t.
Darn him.
Vincent had bonded fiercely to John McCade. His loud cries and head-butting demands couldn’t be ignored, and both she and Luke were delighted when John was repeatedly pulled from his deep reverie by the insistent feline. She was glad she had waited for the right moment to suggest John select a name. To give them more time to bond, she had even claimed she couldn’t get an appointment with the vet until the following week.
She didn’t get back to the art inventory for several more days. After the mornings and afternoons of laughter and hard work in the fresh air, it seemed strange to sit in the quiet room, although she was surrounded by art that had been selected by a man with exquisite taste and a lucrative writing career.
The whir of the air conditioner muffled the sounds of the sprinkler on the front lawn and the laughter of the children racing their bikes down the road. But the sounds could still be heard, and Nicki closed her eyes and listened to the lazy hum of summer.
“Focus,” she murmured after several minutes.
But instead of focusing, she found herself gazing at the Mary Cassatt portrait of the mother and child. Sometimes she ached, wanting to hold a baby like that, born of love and commitment and hope for the future.
She sighed and lifted the painting. It ought to go back in the bedroom where it had hung for so long. But in the meantime, she would put it away with the rest of the art she had inventoried.
“What do you have there, Nicole?” asked Professor McCade as she stepped into the hall.
Nicki gasped and nearly lost hold of her precious burden, painfully aware that John hadn’t wanted to see the portrait. It, along with the Alfred Sisley, reminded him too much of his wife.
“It’s nothing…just something I was putting away.”
John held out a hand. Knowing it would hurt, she handed him the Cassatt and watched his face…the pain, the shocked withdrawal, the distance he was forcing between himself and the loss of the woman he had loved more than anything else on earth.
“She’s still here,” Nicki whispered helplessly. She had a feeling that no one in his family had been able to speak to him of Mary, but maybe it was necessary. “I can feel her love in every corner of this house and the garden. It isn’t lost, it’s just a different shape than before.”
After an endless moment the portrait fell to the floor as he sank to a chair. She put out her hands and he brought them to his face as he wept, his dignity unshaken, even in the midst of such terrible grief.
Tears poured down her own cheeks. It was sad and terrible, but it was a step forward, and a step was all anyone could ask.
Luke watched his grandfather and Nicki from the shadowed end of the hall.
It awed him.
It terrified him.
He clenched his hands into fists and tried to push the emotion down, to regain the control he needed. The evidence of how pure feeling could tear you apart lay in front of him. It was a lesson he’d learned when he was seventeen…never to want too much, never to hope, to always know that dreams could be taken away without a moment’s notice.
Yet in Nicki he also saw the brightest light, the love he didn’t trust, the love he was beginning to need more than he needed to breathe. And through her he also saw the ravaged beauty of his grandfather’s devotion—a beauty that might be restored if given a chance.
For the first time he became truly aware of the aching confines of his heart, the restraints he’d placed around it, year after year. He saw the dreams that he’d denied longing for freedom. Then there were the lies he’d told himself and the excuses he’d made for not loving and living the way he’d been raised to love and live.
What he had to decide was what to do now.
“Nicki,” he whispered, his heart aching. But she didn’t hear him, and he wasn’t ready to find out what she would say.