A Country Affair(49)

The drive from the Logans’ place to the Franklins’ took no more than a few minutes. Rorie parked her car behind the house, her heart pounding. When she climbed out, the only one there to greet her was Mary.

“About time you got here,” the housekeeper complained, marching down the porch steps with a vengeance.

“Could this be the apple-pie blue-ribbon holder of Nightingale, Oregon?”

Mary actually blushed, and Rorie laughed. “I thought you’d never want to see the likes of me again,” she teased.

“Fiddlesticks.” The weathered face broke into a smile.

“I’m still a city girl,” Rorie warned.

“That’s fine, ’cause you got the heart of a country girl.” Wiping her hands dry on her apron, Mary reached for Rorie and hugged her.

After one brief, bone-crushing squeeze, she set her free. “I’m a meddling old woman, sure enough, and I suspect the good Lord intends to teach me more than one lesson in the next year or two. I’d best tell you that I never should’ve said those things I did about Kate being the right woman for Clay.”

“Mary, you spoke out of concern. I know that.”

“Clay doesn’t love Kate,” she continued undaunted, “but my heavens, he does love you. That boy’s been pining his heart out for want of you. He hasn’t been the same from the minute you drove out of here all those weeks ago.”

Rorie had suffered, too, but she didn’t mention that to Mary. Instead, she slipped her arm around the housekeeper’s broad waist and together they strolled toward the house.

“Clay’s gone for the day, but he’ll be back within the hour.”

“An hour,” Rorie repeated. She’d waited all this time; another sixty minutes shouldn’t matter.

“Dinner will be ready then, and it’s not like Clay or Skip to miss a meal. Dinner’s been at six every night since I’ve been cooking for this family, and that’s a good many years now.” Mary’s mouth formed a lopsided grin. “Now what we’ll do is this. You be in the dining room waiting for him and I’ll tell him he’s got company.”

“But won’t he notice my car?” Rorie twisted around, gesturing at her old white Toyota—her own car this time—parked within plain sight.

Mary shook her head. “I doubt it. He’s never seen your car, so far as I know, only that fancy sports car. Anyway, the boy’s been working himself so hard, he’ll be too tired to notice much of anything.”

Mary opened the back door and Rorie stepped inside the kitchen. As she did, the house seemed to fold its arms around her in welcome. She paused, breathing in the scent of roast beef and homemade biscuits. It might not be sourdough and Golden Gate Park roses, but it felt right. More than right.

“Do you need me to do anything?” Rorie asked.

Mary frowned, then nodded. “There’s just one thing I want you to do—make Clay happy.”

“Oh, Mary, I intend to start doing that the second he walks through that door.”

An hour later, almost to the minute, Rorie heard Skip and Clay come into the kitchen.

“What’s for dinner?” Skip asked immediately.

“It’s on the table. Now wash your hands.”

Rorie heard the teenager grumble as he headed down the hallway to the bathroom.

“How’d the trip go?” Mary asked Clay.

He mumbled something Rorie couldn’t hear.

“The new librarian stopped by to say hello. Old man Logan and Kate sent her over—thought you might like to meet her.”

“I don’t. I hope you got rid of her. I’m in no mood for company.”

“Nope,” Mary said. “Fact is, I invited her to stay for dinner. The least you can do is wipe that frown off your face and go introduce yourself.”

Rorie stood just inside the dining room, her heart ready to explode. By the time Clay stepped into the room, tears had blurred her vision and she could hardly make out the tall, familiar figure that blocked the doorway.

She heard his swift intake of breath, and the next thing she knew she was crushed in Clay’s loving arms.



Seventeen


Rorie was locked so securely in Clay’s arms that for a moment she couldn’t draw a breath. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that she was being hugged by the man she loved and he was holding on to her as though he didn’t plan to ever let her go.

Clay kissed her again and again, the way a starving man took his first bites of food, initially hesitant, then eager. The palms of Rorie’s hands were pressed against his chest and she felt the quick surge of his heart. His own hand was gentle on her hair, caressing it, running his fingers through it.

“Rorie... Rorie, I can’t believe you’re here.”

Rorie felt the power of his emotions, and they were strong enough to rock her, body and soul. This man loved her. He was honest and hardworking, she knew all that, but even more, Clay Franklin was good, with an unselfishness and a loyalty that had touched her profoundly. In an age of ambitious, hardhearted, vain men, she had inadvertently stumbled on this rare man of character. Her life would never be the same.

Clay exhaled a deep sigh, and his hands framed her face as he pulled his head back to gaze into her eyes. The lines that marked his face seemed more deeply incised now, and she felt another pang of sorrow for the pain he’d endured.