Alarm welled up inside her. “Oh, no. I can't face them again so soon. Not after tonight.”
Katie paused and met Wilhemina's gaze. “Are you embarrassed because of what I did to Jason?”
“Oh, no. I just feel completely embarrassed and totally foolish because I believed he was interested in me.” She cringed at the humiliation dripping through her veins. “I'm sure I've been this embarrassed before. I just don't want to remember when. I can't face seeing those people again, and I know some of the same ones will be wherever you're sending me.”
“When you fall off a horse, the best thing to do is get right back on,” Katie said firmly.
Wilhemina's stomach churned. “I think cookies would be better for me right now. I hid two packages in my room before Patricia and Daddy left. I may eat both of them tonight.”
Katie sighed, and her eyes filled with sympathy. Wilhemina appreciated the kindness, but she was tired of people feeling sorry for her. Her throat closed up and she felt her eyes burn with the threat of tears. “Please don't pity me,” she whispered.
Katie bit her lip. “You are a good person, Wilhemina. Any man in his right mind would be lucky to have you. You deserve to be treated much better than you were tonight.” Katie paused. “Which is why you and I are going to have a margarita party.”
“Margarita?” Wilhemina echoed. “I don't believe I've ever had one.”
“Then it's definitely time,” Katie said. “You get into your most comfortable pajamas, pick out your favorite music, and I'll be back up lickety-split.”
“Lickety-split,” Wilhemina echoed at the slight drawl she heard in Katie's voice.
Katie's eyes shifted, and Wilhemina couldn't quite read the expression. “An expression my mother occasionally used. She's dead,” Katie said before Wilhemina could ask.
“I'm sorry,” Wilhemina automatically said.
“That's okay. Dying hasn't kept her from voicing her opinions,” Katie muttered and turned away, leaving Wilhemina in a state of confusion.
Fifteen minutes later and dressed in a nightshirt, Katie thumped Wilhemina's door with her foot while she juggled the tray of margaritas and water. The strains of Lee Ann Womack plaintively singing about her latest heartbreak wafted through the door.
Wilhemina opened the door to her suite and gaped at her. “You look pretty with your hair down. You should wear it that way more often.”
Katie shook her head and set the tray down on an antique mahogany table beside a chaise longue. “I like it up. Keeps it out of my way.” She picked up one of the margaritas and presented it to Wilhemina. “Try it. It will turn your head around,” Katie said.
Wilhemina took a big gulp and her eyes widened. “That's strong,” she said, licking the salted rim of the glass. “But good. I like the salt.”
Scanning the room as she picked up her own drink, Katie noticed a half package of cookies already demolished. Wilhemina must be feeling pretty miserable, and Katie couldn't blame her. She also, however, didn't have the luxury of time to allow Wilhemina to fall into a funk. Katie was still determined to find a man for Ivan's daughter, and she was not looking forward to admitting to Michael Wingate that he had been correct about Jason Page. She always felt like she had to be on her toes around him. He seemed to enjoy goading her, and his superiority drove her to the edge. She was starting to have wild fantasies about mud splattering his perfect suits and shoes. She would love to see a gravy stain on his tie.
Darlin’, if you're gonna have fantasies about that man, I can make a few suggestions,
Katie heard her mother say, and rolled her eyes.
Shut up, Mom.
Katie took a long drink from her margarita and placed a glass of ice water on a coaster on the antique table. “Sip some water every now and then. It'll keep you from becoming dehydrated,” she said and noticed Wilhemina looking at an old photograph of a beautiful brunette. “Who's that?”
“My mother,” Wilhemina said. “Isn't she lovely? I wish I looked like her.”
Katie looked at the photograph and Wilhemina. The two bore very little resemblance. “I think you've got her eyes,” she said, telling herself the tiny stretch of truth wouldn't hurt anyone. “And maybe her smile.”
Wilhemina beamed and swallowed the rest of her first margarita. “I wish I'd known her. She was the love of Daddy's life. He waited five years before he remarried.”
Katie felt a twist of sympathy. “She died when you were born?”
Wilhemina nodded sadly, and the two women sat without talking for several moments. Katie offered Wilhemina a second margarita and continued to sip her own. She hadn't thought of her father in a long time. Her mother had always described him as her knight in shining armor, but her mother hadn't always exhibited the best judgment in men.
“I never knew my father,” Katie slowly revealed. Wilhemina wouldn't use the information against her, she thought.
“I can't imagine what life would have been like without my father. What was your mother like?”
She was a slut.
Katie swallowed the revelation along with her margarita. “She was very pretty. A lot of men were attracted to her.”
She gave birth to four children fathered by four different men.
She bit her tongue and felt a faint twinge in her heart. For all her mother's loose living, she'd always tried to make Katie believe she was special. Her mother had even gone so far as to tell her she had magical powers. Katie could have used a wand more than once during the last couple of years.
Once upon a time
…Katie heard her mother's voice play through her mind. She looked at Wilhemina and sighed. What could it hurt? It was clear Wilhemina could use a fairy tale tonight to offset the ugly reality blow she'd suffered earlier. “Every night, my mother used to tell me a story about a little girl who felt lonely.”
Wilhemina eased back into the chaise longue. “What was the story?” she asked. Katie looked into her trusting eyes and wondered if she'd ever had one-tenth of Wilhemina's capacity for trust.
“The little girl lived in a trai—” Trailer. She broke off, deciding to edit the story for Wilhemina's benefit “The little girl lived in a castle and she often felt as if she didn't have a friend in the world. Every night, the little girl would make a wish on a star that someday she would find someone to love. She grew older, but she still lived in the castle. And every night, she made a wish before she went to sleep. One morning, she woke up and left the castle. She traveled to a faraway kingdom and saw new and exciting sights. During her journey, she found a knight wounded on the side of the road. Although she was a little afraid of him, she was more afraid that he would die if she didn't take care of him. So she rode with him to his castle and nursed him back to health.”
Wilhemina swallowed the last of her margarita and closed her eyes to the sound of Katie's story. She wondered if wishing on a star would help her. She heard a roll of thunder. The storm must have finally hit Her mind meandered in lovely contentment. “Where was the faraway kingdom?” she asked, feeling drowsy and woozy.
“Texas,” Katie admitted with an edge of amusement in her voice. “My mother was from Texas.”
“Texas,” Wilhemina repeated, conjuring visions of cattle and rodeos. “He must have been a cowboy knight.”
“Yes,” Katie softly said.
“What was the rest of the story?” Wilhemina asked, giving in to the relaxed, carefree feelings that oozed through her.
“The knight fell in love with the girl and he told her that he had been wishing on a star every night of his life for her.”
“Oh, that's wonderful,” Wilhemina said, smiling.
“And they lived happily ever after,” Katie said.
“And had wonderful babies,” Wilhemina murmured, because more than anything, more than she wanted a man, she wanted a baby. She knew she wouldn't feel useless if she brought another life into the world and nurtured it and loved it with all her heart.
Katie watched Wilhemina breathe evenly as sleep took over her. She felt conflicted about their little margarita party. The tequila may have been fine, but Katie wasn't certain it was a good idea to nourish wishes wrapped in fairy tales. Real life, she'd learned, was much more harsh.
Sighing, she rose and turned off the CD player and heard a loud crack of thunder. She noticed Wilhemina remained asleep and smiled. The margaritas must have done the trick.
Thunder rolled again, and the lights flickered. Katie covered Wilhemina with a light blanket and loaded the tray with the empty glasses. She turned off the light and crept down the stairs.
Halfway down, another loud crack of thunder split the air. The lights flickered and went dead. Black silence followed. Katie's heart pounded and she took a calming breath. Just a storm, she told herself. Just thunder. Staying close to the wall, she took slow, careful steps down the long staircase. Praying she wouldn't trip, she walked down the hallway to the kitchen. She pushed open the door with her elbow. All she wanted to do was set the tray on the closest counter.
Suddenly a hand whipped around her waist. Another covered her mouth. The glasses on her tray toppled, but she kept a firm grip. She felt a man's hot breath on her cheek and tried to scream, but his hand prevented it.
“Who are you?” he demanded in a low voice, his hand searching her abdomen, then grazing the underside of her breast.
Instinct took over. Katie bit hard into the man's palm and jabbed his shin with her heel. He released her with an oath and she plunged forward.
“What the hell—”
Katie recognized Michael Wingate's voice and felt a strange relief. “Mr. Wingate?” she said into the darkness.
Silence followed. “Miss Collins?”
The lights flickered on and she blinked. Michael Wingate, dressed in lounging pants that dipped below his navel and wearing a scowl on his face designed to make her cower, stood before her in half-naked splendor. His hair was deliciously sleep-mussed, his chest a distracting display of tanned skin over taut muscle. If Katie didn't know better, she would swear her mother let out a wolf whistle.
She felt his gaze travel from the top of her head downward, taking in her eyes minus the heavy black frames that usually protected her. His eyes nearly burned a hole in her sleep shirt where her nipples stood against the cotton. She was helpless to cover herself as she held the tray. His gaze continued a journey of discovery over her hips and legs all the way down to her toes.
Pushing aside her odd jittery feeling, she stomped her foot in frustration. “Why do you keep doing this? Quit grabbing me!”
He glanced at his bleeding hand and swore. “You bit me,” he said in amazement.
“You groped me,” she retorted.
He met her gaze. “I wouldn't have groped you if I hadn't thought you were an intruder.”
“An intruder carrying a tray?” she said, setting the tray down on the counter. She wrapped her trembling arms around herself.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “It was pitch-black. I couldn't see the tray.” He paused a half beat and gave a slight incredulous shake of his head. “You look a helluva lot better in a nightshirt in the middle of the night than you look in a dress in the middle of the day.”
“That's interesting. You must be charm-free twenty-four hours a day.”
“I was paying you a compliment,” he said quietly. “You're pretty.”
Katie felt her heart give an odd jolt. “Oh, thank you,” she said, still not quite certain she believed him.
He opened his mouth, then seemed to chuckle to himself. “I heard about your little exchange with Jason Page.”
Katie didn't think she could stand to hear
I told you so.
“Who told you?”
“Personal connection,” he said vaguely. “Sharp tongue when the moment calls for it. I'm trying to figure out the accent. It's from somewhere below the Mason-Dixon line. Where are you from, Miss Collins?” he asked in a velvet voice as he moved toward her.
Katie felt a trickle of perspiration run down her back. “Nowhere important. Remember I'm nobody important to you.”
“But I'm a curious man, and I like getting answers to my questions.”
“You like getting paid for getting answers. Believe me, no one is going to pay you for getting answers about me. It's been an interesting evening, but I need to go to bed. I'm up early tomorrow to run an errand,” she said, and brushed past him.
His hand shot out to stop her. “Hey, wait. What about Wilhemina? She's not gonna be in great shape tomorrow.”
Katie glared meaningfully at Michael's hand on her arm. “'Wilhemina only had two margaritas. She should be fine. I always take Sundays off. It's in my contract. Tomorrow is no exception.”
Michael released her, and Katie breathed again.
“But—”
“Good night, Mr. Wingate,” she said, and fled to her bedroom.
The next morning, Katie woke up knowing she would see her brother today. Every life had a purpose, and Katie had concluded that her purpose was Jeremy. She took the train to a town forty-five miles away from the heart of Philadelphia. Then she hopped on a bus, which carried her three more miles. She walked another mile and a half. The weather was kind after the storm from last night. Springtime in Pennsylvania. The dogwoods bloomed and the trees and lawns were beginning to turn green.
Rain, snow, sunshine, or bitter cold, she made the walk every Sunday. She didn't mind it today. With the sun on her shoulder, and with each step she took, she shook off the cares and craziness of the Rasmussens and moved toward her goal.
She made a turn down a long paved narrow driveway and saw the old house in the distance. The large house with the rambling front porch reminded her of a sturdy elderly woman determined to retain her usefulness.
The house was a school for the hearing impaired.
Both home and learning institution to twenty active children with special needs, the school was loaded with the latest electronic technology for the hearing impaired and staffed by professionals who taught her brother everything she couldn't, such as how to read lips and sign. It was one of the best schools of its kind and Katie was never certain how she would afford the next semester. She would have tried to visit Jeremy more often, but the teachers had gently informed her that unexpected visitors created excitement, and excitement wreaked havoc on the structure the residents desperately needed.