Waiting for the Wedding Read online

  She scrubbed the glasses with a vengeance, silently chiding herself. Of course she couldn’t compete with Candy’s ability to bear children, and she certainly didn’t want to compete with Candy for Clint.

  “I’m going to try to call her again right now,” Clint said. “I’ve been calling her during work hours, but she’s got to be home sooner or later.” He walked over to the phone on the counter and picked up the receiver.

  As he punched in the numbers to make the call, Sherry tried to ignore how attractive he looked in his jeans and white T-shirt. Had his shoulders always been so broad? The cotton material of the shirt tugged and stretched across his back as he reached out to chuck Kathryn beneath her chin.

  And why, oh, why was she noticing the breadth of his shoulders, his taut buttocks, his lean hips? For the past few years, she’d managed to transform Clint in her mind from a virile, sexy man to an asexual friend. Why on earth was he suddenly changing back to the desirable man he’d once been?

  She rinsed the glasses and placed them in the dish drainer, then dunked the plates in the sinkful of water. At the same time Clint hung up the phone with a sigh of frustration. “I just don’t get it. Not even an answering machine picks up,” he exclaimed.

  “Maybe you should try information,” Sherry suggested. She dried her hands and turned to face him, vaguely surprised that he hadn’t been more aggressive in searching for Candy.

  He stood next to the table, staring at the baby. The expression on his face was one of love. He’d once looked at Sherry with that same expression. The memory sent a shaft of pain shooting through her, a heartache she desperately shoved aside.

  “Isn’t it possible Candy has moved, that the number you have for her isn’t hers any longer?” Sherry continued. “After all, it’s been almost a year and a half since you last spoke to her.”

  “Maybe you’re right. I’ll try information and see what I can find out.” Once again he picked up the phone and punched in the appropriate numbers.

  As he spoke to an operator, Sherry finished up the last of the dishes, then poured herself a cup of coffee and sat at the table.

  She wondered if Clint was dragging his feet about actively pursuing the mystery of Kathryn’s parentage because he’d gotten caught up in a father fantasy.

  Clint had told her at one time that he’d never thought much of having children, that being a father just wasn’t that important to him. But that had been before Kathryn’s presence in his life. He’d been transformed since Kathryn—transformed from a man who hadn’t thought about having children to a father.

  “You’re right,” Clint said as he hung up the receiver. “That number I had for Candy is no longer a working number, and they don’t have a new listing for her.” He sat at the table and raked a hand through his hair in frustration.

  “So, what are you going to do now?” Sherry asked.

  “I don’t know. I can’t remember the name of the travel agency Candy was working at when I met her, and there’s got to be a hundred travel agencies in Kansas City.”

  “We could divide them up, spend the day tomorrow calling each one,” Sherry offered.

  Clint’s frown deepened. “It sounds like a lot of time and work with little possibility for success. If I remember correctly, Candy hated her job and was talking about making a career change. It’s very possible she isn’t working for a travel agency any longer.”

  Sherry got up to refill her coffee cup. “Want a cup?” she offered.

  “Sure. Thanks.” He flashed her a smile that sent warmth through her. “By the way, I don’t think I mentioned that your pot roast was exceptional.”

  She grinned as she placed his cup before him, then rejoined him at the table. “You’re just saying that so I’ll be buttered up enough to cook again tomorrow night.”

  He laughed and reached out to cover her hand with his. “Sherry, I don’t expect you to cook or clean for me.” The laughter faded from his eyes and the blue appeared to deepen. “I know these past two days with Kathryn have been difficult on you, and I’ll never be able to repay you for what you’re doing for me.”

  Escape. Sherry’s mind sounded the alarm. His hand over hers was far too warm, the gaze of his eyes achingly soft. All combined to evoke a wistful desire for him to take her in his arms—a desire to taste his lips and see if the sweet memory of their past kisses was accurate.

  “Friends help friends,” she said as she eased her hand out from his. She stood, needing to distance herself physically from his overwhelming masculine presence. “If you don’t mind, I thought maybe I’d take a walk and get a little fresh air. I’ve been cooped up inside for the past two days and I’d like to stretch my legs a little.”

  “Sounds like a great idea. Do you mind if we tag along?”

  Yes, I mind, she wanted to scream. I need some time alone, time to put you back where you belong…in the darkest recesses of my mind. “But you don’t have a stroller or anything,” she protested.

  Clint shrugged, then stood and unbuckled Kathryn from the car seat. “She doesn’t weigh more than a peanut. I can just carry her. Besides,” he gestured with one arm toward the window. “It’s an absolutely gorgeous evening, perfect for a leisurely walk.”

  Sherry nodded and swallowed a sigh of resignation.

  Within minutes the three of them stepped out of Clint’s home and into the warm evening. Sherry breathed deeply of the fresh air, welcoming a scent devoid of baby powder and earthy, men’s cologne.

  “Left or right?” Clint asked as they reached the end of his walkway and stepped onto the sidewalk.

  How about I go left and you and Kathryn go right? She shrugged, wishing she had the nerve to tell him that he bothered her for some reason this evening.

  Hot and bothered, that’s how she felt, and it disturbed her, threatened the peace she’d finally made within herself over the past five years.

  “Let’s go left,” Clint decided.

  For a few minutes they walked in silence, the only sound Kathryn’s happy cooing and the noise of a town readying itself for the night. Garage doors closed, and lights appeared in homes, beams of illumination against the falling twilight.

  For some reason the noises and the sight of families reuniting at the end of a day filled Sherry with a wistful yearning. Would she ever have somebody to share her evenings with?

  “Maybe I should call Stan Glenaire,” Clint said, breaking the silence that had lengthened between them.

  “If anyone can find Candy, I’m sure Stan can,” Sherry replied agreeably.

  Stan Glenaire was an old friend of Clint’s from when Clint had lived in Kansas City. He’d worked for fifteen years as a police officer on the Kansas City force, then had decided to become a private investigator.

  About once a month Stan drove from Kansas City to the small town of Armordale to have dinner with Clint. Sherry had joined them several times and enjoyed the tall, attractive P.I., who had a devilish sense of humor and a kind, giving heart.

  “I’ll call Stan first thing in the morning and see what he can find out for me.” He shifted Kathryn from one arm to the other. “I spoke to Walt today. He’s sure you aren’t coming back to work for him.”

  She looked at Clint in surprise. “Why would he think that?”

  “He figures now that you’ve had a taste of being a housewife, you’ll want to get married and not be a waitress anymore.”

  Sherry laughed, although the sound lacked any real humor. “He doesn’t have to worry about that. I have absolutely no plans to marry anyone.”

  “Ever?” His gaze bore into hers.

  She looked away, unable to sustain his intense scrutiny. “I don’t know…ever is a long time. All I really know is that my life is full and happy right now.”

  “Don’t you ever get lonely?” he asked, his voice soft and searching.

  “Sometimes,” she conceded. “Although I think it would be infinitely more lonely to be married to somebody I didn’t love.” Infinitely more lonely to be
married and know there would be no children for continuity, no babies to hold hope and dreams, to deepen the loving connection of parents.

  “Why haven’t you married, Clint?” The words popped out of Sherry’s mouth before she realized they’d been formed in her brain. She attempted to lighten the mood with a teasing smile. “I have it on good authority that you’re considered the premier catch of the county.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “That’s not saying much in a town where the average age of the male population is over sixty.” He sobered, his gaze once again playing on her features. “I intended to marry once, and that didn’t work out. I haven’t given it much thought since.”

  Sherry felt her cheeks warm with a blush, and once again she looked away from him. They had never acknowledged their past, never spoken about their engagement.

  She’d known she’d hurt him, but it had been a hurt necessary for his ultimate happiness.

  She stopped walking. “We should turn around and start back. It’s getting dark and cooling off.” What she really wanted was a change in conversation, a halt to the thoughts their talk had stirred.

  They turned around and started back the way they’d come. Once again they walked in silence, waving to neighbors as they passed. Kathryn had fallen asleep, snuggled against Clint’s chest. Each time Sherry looked at the baby, at Clint, who held her as if she were the most precious bundle in the world, a small ache renewed itself in her heart.

  “How’s your family doing?” Clint asked. “I rarely see your mom or your sister in town anymore.”

  “They’re fine. Mom stays busy with her work at the shop, and Susan’s children keep her happy at home.” A pang of guilt swept through Sherry.

  She had allowed her relationship with her sister to fall aside once Susan began having children with regularity and ease. It had just become too painful to see her sister maternally fulfilled with four children, while Sherry would never enjoy that same kind of bliss.

  “Mom is still angry with me for quitting my teaching job and going to work for Walt,” she added.

  “It was a surprise for everyone who knew you,” Clint agreed. “You were such a marvelous teacher.”

  Sherry felt the barrier around her heart strengthening, becoming more dense and impenetrable. “I got tired of it. Wiping runny noses every day, dealing with immature little minds, listening to endless chatter.”

  Clint laughed. “Sounds to me like what you do at Walt’s now.”

  Sherry laughed as well, genuinely tickled as she realized the truth of his words. “You’re right.” But he didn’t understand how painful teaching had become.

  He hadn’t experienced a little boy pressing against his body for a hug, a little girl wrapping chubby arms around his neck. And that sweet smell of childhood that had clung to each and every child…it had been sheer torture to deal with every day and know she’d never have a little boy or girl of her own.

  She’d distanced herself from everything that hurt in her life—her teaching, her family…Clint.

  In many ways giving up Clint had been far more difficult that quitting her job or remaining emotionally distant from her family. In giving up Clint, she’d chosen a life devoid of love. The past two days, spending time with him, with Kathryn, had only redefined that particular pain in her heart.

  As they walked back into Clint’s house, he carried the sleeping baby directly to the crib in his room, then rejoined her in the living room.

  “Clint, when I agreed to help you out here, it was only for a couple of days,” Sherry said. “If you don’t find something out tomorrow about Candy, you’re going to have to find somebody else to help you. I’ve got to get back to my own life.”

  A look of sheer panic crossed his face as he joined her on the sofa. “Ah, Sherry, don’t say that. I’ve got no control over how quickly or how slowly we find Candy.” The panicked expression ebbed. “Besides, what’s waiting for you at your apartment? You’ve got no cats, no dogs. Hell, you don’t even have plants that need watering.”

  He reached over and smoothed a strand of her hair off her forehead, the touch strangely more intimate than any they’d shared in years. “Don’t run out on us now, Sherry. Kathryn needs you, and I need you.”

  He leaned forward, so close she could see those bewitching silvery flecks in his blue eyes, so close she felt surrounded by his scent, his warmth.

  For a brief moment she thought he might kiss her. And she wanted him to—wanted it desperately. She wanted to feel his tender lips against hers, his strong arms holding her tight. Unconsciously she leaned forward, allowing him easier access should he decide to press his mouth against hers.

  He didn’t. With an abrupt burst of energy he stood. “Hopefully tomorrow we’ll have some answers. But if we don’t, I hope you’ll change your mind and stick around.” He raked a hand through his hair and took another step back from the sofa. “I think maybe it’d be best if I call it a night. I should try to get some sleep while Kathryn is sleeping. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Good night, Clint,” Sherry said. When he left the room and she heard the sound of his bedroom door softly closing, she released a deep sigh, one that combined both disappointment and relief.

  She’d wanted him to kiss her, and that scared her. She grabbed one of the throw pillows and hugged it to her breast, wondering if she squeezed it tight enough, would it allay the emptiness inside her.

  She’d not only wanted Clint to kiss her. She’d wanted him to take her in his arms, caress her body until it sang with need.

  Her mind filled with memories of how it had once been between them—the sweet, explosive passion they’d enjoyed, then halted, because of Sherry’s desire to be a virgin on their wedding night.

  She wished now she hadn’t been so adamant about wanting to be a virgin bride. She wished she’d allowed their passion to sweep them beyond reason. How she wished that just once she’d allowed control to slip, allowed their heated caresses to blossom into complete lovemaking.

  She hugged the pillow closer. But perhaps it was best this way, that she didn’t have the memory of making love with Clint to further torment her.

  Seeing him with Kathryn these past two days had simply sanctioned the decision she’d made so long ago to let him go. He deserved a loving wife and lots of babies. He deserved a whole woman, not the barren, bitter woman Sherry had become.

  Clint’s hands shook as he unbuttoned his jeans and kicked them off. He sank down on the edge of his bed and drew in a gulp of air.

  Desire. It winged through him like tiny electrical currents sizzling inside his veins. And desire had a name…Sherry. And for just a moment, as they’d sat so achingly close on the sofa, he’d thought he’d seen the same emotion in the depths of her eyes.

  He pulled his T-shirt over his head and added it to his jeans on the floor. Socks quickly followed, then he turned out the light and got into bed.

  Surely he’d been mistaken. He’d imagined the desire clouding the forest-green of her eyes. He’d had too little sleep the night before and had been tired enough to fantasize things that weren’t really there.

  He’d survived the decision Sherry had made where he was concerned. He’d managed to live without loving her in any romantic sense for the past five years. He couldn’t afford to have things change. He refused to allow a momentary flare of chemistry to destroy the friendship they’d managed to sustain.

  He closed his eyes, secure that whatever emotion he’d momentarily felt, whatever he’d believed he’d seen in her eyes, hadn’t been real.

  Within minutes he was asleep and dreaming. He knew he was dreaming because he was once again twenty-three years old, and he and a twenty-one-year-old Sherry were parked at Armordale Lake, the small body of water on the outskirts of town. It had always been their special place to spend time alone.

  Clint had an apartment, but they both spent little time there, knowing that the utter privacy of the apartment would make it easier for them to fully indulge th
e passion they had for each other—a passion they constantly fought against, awaiting their wedding night.

  Sherry’s warmth filled his arms, and he drank greedily from her lips. Her body was pliant against his as she pressed eagerly against him, trusting that he’d be the one to call a halt before things got out of control.

  “Sherry, sweet Sherry,” he murmured as he kissed her cheeks, the area just behind her ear, then captured her mouth with his once again.

  Then suddenly she pulled away from him and got out of the car. “Sherry!” He called after her as she ran to the water’s edge.

  He jumped out of the car and ran after her, unable to reach her before she walked into the water toward the center of the lake, until she disappeared from his sight, disappeared beneath the surface.

  Clint didn’t know if it had been the baby’s cries that awakened him or his own cries. He flailed to full consciousness, Kathryn’s wails filling the room.

  He got out of bed and turned on the overhead light, then shook his head to rid himself of the wonderful, horrible dream.

  As he changed the baby’s diaper and spoke softly in an attempt to soothe her fussy cries, he tried to shove the dream images away. What remained was a terrible anguish, a hollowness in the pit of his stomach as he remembered watching Sherry disappear forever beneath the dark waters of the lake.

  The fresh diaper did nothing to stop Kathryn’s cries. Clint picked her up and carried her into the kitchen, where he fixed her a bottle, then returned to the bedroom.

  It was just a few minutes past midnight. As he passed Sherry’s room, he noticed there was no light shining from beneath the door. Apparently she was sound asleep.

  He closed his door, not wanting Kathryn to awaken Sherry. He sat on the edge of the bed, the baby in his arms, and tried to feed her the bottle.

  She was having nothing to do with it. She twisted her head from side to side, evading the nipple as if the bottle contained vile medicine.

  “What’s the matter, sweetheart?” he asked. Giving up, he set the bottle aside and instead held her up against his chest, rocking back and forth in an effort to soothe her.