Heather Graham (26 page)

“My mother is frantic?” Anne gasped out. “Oh, hell!” Kent saw the tears rise to her eyes and knew she was uncomfortable with her own outburst and profanity. But she was also upset, and before he could speak again, she was speaking—and staring venomously at Katie, who returned her gaze with unwavering eyes.

“I thought—” Anne choked out, “I thought you were hurt! I thought you needed me. I thought you had decided not to come to see me before the big game because you were hurt and you thought that I would worry.”

“Anne—” Kent began, startled. Good God! What had been going on in her heart and mind? It had never occurred to him that he would hurt her by his absence.

What had she done? Run away and flown all the way out to Denver, alone? Where had she gotten the money? How the hell had she accomplished the feat? No wonder Paula was half crazy. Suddenly, Kent was really furious, not just because he was lying naked in a bed with Katie half dressed beside him as he was being attacked by his child but also because he knew Paula had to be beside herself with worry. How could Anne have done such a thing to her mother?

“Don’t!” Anne screamed to him, and he saw that tears were racing down her cheeks. “I loved you—I had to see you. I didn’t know some—whore was with you instead of me!”

His face whitened, and Kent felt every muscle in his body tense. He could feel Katie’s startled, horrified reaction to Anne’s words. And the pain that had been brought to her suddenly filled him with a new sense of shame and absolute fury.

“You obnoxious little brat!” he yelled. “You apologize this minute, or, so help me God, young lady, you won’t be sitting for a week! Then you can call your mother. I’m your father, Anne, and don’t you ever forget it; you show me a lack of respect like this again—”

Anne’s small face was pinched, her lips pursed, her complexion white. Katie was dead still, and every bit as pale.

“No!” Anne screamed, shaking her head. With a sob she repeated, “No!” Then she turned to run from the room.

Kent swore loudly and jumped from the bed, grabbing his clothes.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Katie asked.

He stared at her with surprise. She had found a sweater and pulled it over her head. She was fully dressed and ready to leave the room.

“What am I doing?” he snapped furiously. “I’m going after her. I’m going to tan her hide for what she said to me, for what she did to her mother, and for what she said about you.”

Katie smiled at him bitterly. “Why? It’s no worse than what you called me.”

“Katie,” he began, starting to walk to her.

She raised a hand against him, shaking her head. “I’m going after her, Kent. You can punish her and settle the other matter between the two of you later, but don’t punish her on account of me. That is one area where I do have the expertise. She might have been wrong, but I know what it’s like to be the daughter of a ‘hero.’ It’s damned hard. She’s your daughter, Kent. She loves you with all her heart, and it’s real love, the kind that’s hard to come by. If I were you, I’d settle the matter calmly. I’m not a part of your life—she is.” Katie stared at him to make sure he understood, then turned around and left him quickly.

Kent stared after her and groaned. Should he chase her—chase them both?

He pulled on his jeans, then sat down on the foot of the bed, pressing his temples strenuously between his hands and wondering how it was possible to have such a pounding headache when he had only been awake for a matter of minutes.

Katie hurried down the hallway. In the living room she met Bill. The old mountaineer was standing there, his hat in his hands. His face was bleak with discomfort and misery.

“Miz Hudson, I’m sorry, m’am, I really am. I just didn’t know what to do. She showed up at my place last night before the storm started. I couldn’t get through on the phone. I figured her ma and pa had to be just about fevered by now, wonderin’ where she was. I tried to hold back as late as I could—”

“Mike, you did the right thing,” Katie interrupted. “It’s not your fault. Which way did she go?”

“Out—either to the barn or the shed in back.”

“Thanks,” Katie said briefly.

Outside the cabin the cold morning air pierced her lungs. She hugged her arms about her chest and plowed through the new-fallen snow, deciding to try the barn first.

She didn’t know why her heart felt so heavy—why she was so determined to set things straight. She’d never seen Anne Hart before, and she sure as hell didn’t owe Kent anything.

But there was an aching sense of déjà vu about the whole thing. She had been there before, jealous, hurt, lost, and so in love with a parent she didn’t get to see often enough.

Quite simply, Katie knew, she saw herself in Anne. And she understood as no one else would ever be able to do.

Katie’s breath was fogging before her, and she was shivering when she reached the barn. But there was no one there except Clarabelle and the other mules, who eyed her starkly. Katie left the barn, shivering anew as she fought her way through the snow drifts to get around the back of the house to the shed.

The door to the shed was about an inch ajar. Katie pulled it open, allowing the sunlight to filter in. She saw a light switch and turned it on, then drew the door closed. The shed then offered some warmth as she quickly scanned it.

There were shelves with the usual tools one might expect to find; paint brushes, fuses, wires, hammers, nails, and wrenches. To the far left were several cords of firewood.

And to the far right, huddled in a corner with her knees drawn up and her arms wrapped around them, was Anne. An Anne who stared at her belligerently with eyes and tense features remarkably like her father’s—except that Anne was a very pretty child with a very feminine softness that could have only come from her mother.

Katie hesitated, pausing to clench her teeth together as she discovered something else about Anne and her defensive position. The child had Ed, Bill’s boa constrictor, wrapped over her shoulders. Obviously, Anne didn’t have any of her hang-ups about snakes.

Still, Katie determined, she wasn’t going to let Anne know she was afraid. Hadn’t Kent assured her that the creature was a pet—completely safe? And surely, Anne and the beast had met before. If Ed wasn’t safe, Kent would never allow the snake near his daughter.

Katie was wondering where to start when the little girl gave her the opening she needed.

“What are you doing here?” Anne snapped out waspishly. “I would have thought you’d be crying on my father’s shoulder.”

Katie lifted a brow. “I try not to make a habit of crying on people’s shoulders. Besides, I don’t see any reason to cry.”

“I’m not going to apologize,” Anne told her. “He can’t make me. He can beat me, but he can’t make me say I’m sorry. And if you come near me, I’ll sic Ed on you. He’s mean and vicious, and he’ll strangle you if I tell him to.”

“No, he won’t,” Katie said. “We both know that. And I don’t care if you apologize or not. You should, of course, because you can’t run around calling people horrible names. Nor do you have the right to charge into your father’s life like that.”

“And who do you think you are?” Anne sneered at her, but Katie saw that the little girl was frightened, and more than anything she wished that she could hug her and assure her that she was no threat. But she couldn’t, and she knew it well.

“Why did you come here?” Anne demanded with a sniff. “Are you trying to coddle up to me and convince my father that you’re great with kids? Don’t bother—I hate you. What are you going to try to do? Sweet-talk me and hug me?”

Katie leaned against the wall and crossed her arms over her chest. “Certainly not. Your behavior was obnoxious—you were acting like a little brat. You do deserve a sound thrashing, but I have nothing to do with any of this.”

“You don’t?” The suspicious question came out before Anne had a chance to think. “You’re not trying to get my father to marry you? He won’t, you know.”

Katie smiled grimly. “No, your father won’t marry me. But I told you, I’m not important here. You’re important, and so is your father—and your mother. Anne, I know what it’s like to love someone and worry about them terribly. But what you did was wrong. Your mother is probably sick with fear that something has happened to you.”

Anne stroked the snake. “Mom shouldn’t be worried. I left her a note. She told me where Dad was, and I’m not an infant, you know. I’ve been here before.” She looked at Katie, renewed hostility in her eyes. “I’ve been here lots of times, and I’ll be here again. My father says that any home of his will always be a home of mine.”

“Anne, it was wrong, and you know it. Even in your own home, you don’t burst in on other people’s privacy.”

“I told you—I’m not an infant. I know exactly what you and my father were doing.”

“Well, then,” Katie said coolly, “you’ll understand that your father is an adult, a mature, responsible man who has every right to a private life. That certainly doesn’t take anything away from you, Anne.”

“How do you know?” Anne charged. Then she lowered her lashes, hugging the snake. “I thought he was hurt; I thought they hurt him in that last game. I thought he was afraid to see me, and I wanted him to know that I loved him no matter what.”

Katie heard the anguish in Anne’s softly belligerent voice. She didn’t approach the child, but she knelt down to be on eye level with her. “I understand that.”

Anne’s eyes met hers cynically. “No you don’t. And don’t try to butter me up. I hate you.”

Katie shrugged. “Anne, I told you. It doesn’t matter if you hate me. What matters is you and your dad. And if you’re at all interested, I’ll tell you how I know what you’re feeling and why it’s important that you do apologize—to him, not me.”

Anne tried to give her a look of vast boredom. It failed, and she shrugged, curious in spite of herself.

“I can’t run past you—you’d probably beat me if I did. And I can’t stop you from talking.”

Katie laughed. “I doubt if you’ve ever been beaten in your life. I know I wasn’t.”

Anne raised a brow in another gesture remarkably like her father’s—so much so that Katie winced.

She decided to plunge in. “Anne, have you ever noticed those scars on your dad’s cheek? They’re very pale.”

“Sure,” Ann said with a shrug. “He’s got lots of scars,” she said proudly, and Katie almost laughed. “He’s a football player.”

“Well,” Katie said, sitting on the dirt floor and dusting off her hands as she drew up her knees like Anne. “He didn’t get those scars from playing football. I gave them to him when I was young.”

“You gave them to him?” Anne gasped with surprise.

Katie did smile then. She had certainly caught Anne’s attention. “Yes. You see, I was the daughter of a football player, too. You probably met my dad when you were a little, little girl. He and your father were good friends. Best friends. Anyway,” Katie shrugged, “my parents were divorced, too, but my case was a little worse because my mom died right after the divorce, and I lived with a very nice aunt. But she was older and not very exciting, and I think I lived just for those times when my father would come to see me and give me all his attention. Well, one day he showed up with your father, and I was so jealous I could barely stand it. So, I—I scratched him. My father was furious, and I don’t think he ever really forgave me. You see, I knew that I was wrong, but I just couldn’t apologize.” She paused, silent for a minute, then said regretfully, “I’d hate to see you make the same mistake, Anne.”

Anne stared at her for several seconds. Katie could see all kinds of mixed emotions reflected in the little girl’s eyes. Then Anne said, “I—I’m really not completely like you. My mother is alive, and she”—Anne caught her lower lip, then continued—“she’s a nice lady, and my stepdad is great, too.”

Katie felt as if her heart had caught in her throat. “I’m glad, Anne. And I know they all love you very much. You are really a lucky girl.”

“Why didn’t he want to see me?” Anne asked suddenly, her voice hurt again. Katie knew she was talking about Kent.

“I think that maybe he didn’t know you wanted to see him. I know your father would never hurt you on purpose.”

Anne unwrapped the snake from her neck and shoulders and set the heavy thing on the floor. As Ed started slithering around, Katie braced herself, determined not to shy away when she had reached this point with Kent’s daughter.

And Anne wasn’t trying to frighten or hurt her, Katie realized. She had just decided to set the snake down. She was silent and pensive, then she looked at Katie.

“I guess you’re not as bad as you could be. I mean, at least you haven’t tried to gush all over me to make Dad think you’re sweet and wonderful or anything.”

Katie laughed. “Anne, I don’t think anything would convince your father that I’m sweet and wonderful.”

The girl became earnest suddenly. “It’s really all right with me if you see him again. I mean, I guess that he has to see somebody.”

What flattery, Katie thought, and then she swallowed, trying to pull her feet closer in. Poor old Ed was slinking toward her, raising his head with the beady black eyes to give her a thorough scrutiny.

“He scares you, doesn’t he?” Anne asked suddenly, and for a minute Katie wondered if Anne meant the snake or Kent.

“What?”

“Ed. You’re frightened of him, aren’t you?”

Katie knew she had been truly forgiven when Anne reached for the snake again, dragging the heavy body back across the dirt floor. “Don’t be frightened of Ed,” she proclaimed reassuringly. “He really won’t hurt you. I—I lied about that.”

Katie laughed. “I’m just not used to snakes.”

“Touch him,” Anne suggested.

Katie recoiled at the thought, then reached out to touch the snake. He felt cold but not slimy at all. She smiled weakly, then settled back against the wall. “Thanks, Anne,” she said softly, “I won’t be terrified of him anymore.”

Anne grinned broadly. “He’s really neat.”

They were both quiet for a minute, then Anne shifted and said softly, “I guess I should go in and tell Dad I’m sorry for the way I burst in on him. And for scaring Mom. And—and for the things I said.”