Country Bride. Debbie Macomber
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beautiful woman. In the beginning, Kate had done everything she could to combat her jealousy. Rorie had been due to leave Elk Run in a few days and once she was gone, Kate had told herself, their lives and feelings would return to normal.
Eventually Rorie did go back to San Francisco, but Clay couldn’t forget her. Kate had done her best to pretend; she’d even talked Clay into setting a wedding date, pressuring him in a not-so-subtle way to marry her quickly. They’d been talking about it for years, and Kate wanted the deed done before Rorie realized what she’d given up. Their getting married seemed the perfect solution. Then, if Rorie did come to Nightingale again, it would be too late.
Kate’s strategy had been a desperate one, planned by a desperate woman. And as often happened in such cases, her scheme backfired.
Kate didn’t think she’d ever forget the day Clay told her he wanted to break their engagement. The words had scarred her soul like lye on tender skin. He’d come to the ranch, and from the minute he’d asked to talk to her, Kate had known something was terribly wrong. She’d tried to ease the tension with talk of bridesmaids’ dresses and floral arrangements, but Clay had stopped her.
He’d sat with his hands folded, his eyes regarding her sadly. “I wouldn’t hurt you for anything,” he’d said, and his words rang with truth and regret.
“Clay, you could never hurt me.” Which was a lie, because he was already inflicting pain.
He’d told her then, simply and directly, that it would be wrong for them to marry. Not once did he mention Rorie’s name. He didn’t need to. Kate had known for weeks that Clay was in love with the other woman. But she’d chosen instead to involve her heart in a painful game of pretend.
Instead of accepting the truth when Clay had come to her with his decision, she’d insisted he was mistaken, that they were right for each other and had been all their lives. The memory humbled her now. She’d tried to convince him that all they needed was a little more time. By the next week, or maybe the next month, Clay would understand that he’d made a mistake and he’d want to go through with the wedding. She could afford to be patient because she loved him so much. Kindly, and as gently as possible, Clay had told her time wouldn’t alter the way he felt. Then he’d left, although she’d pleaded with him to stay.
In the week that followed, Kate had felt as though she was walking around in a fog. She laughed, she smiled, she slept, she ate. The school year hadn’t started yet, so there was little else to occupy her mind. The days bled into each other, one indistinguishable from the next.
Soon after he’d broken their engagement, Clay headed for San Francisco, purportedly to attend a horse show. In her heart, she’d expected Clay to return with Rorie at his side. As hard as it had been, she’d tried to accept the fact Clay loved Rorie and nothing was ever going to change that.
To everyone’s surprise, Clay came home alone, and there was no mention of Rorie. Kate didn’t know what had happened between them. Hope stirred in her heart, and she’d briefly entertained thoughts of Clay resuming their engagement, the two of them marrying and settling down together, the way she’d always dreamed.
Instead she stood helplessly by as Clay threw himself into his work, making unreasonable demands on himself and his men. At first she believed the situation would change. She began stopping off at Elk Run, trying to be the friend she knew Clay needed. But Clay didn’t want her. He didn’t want anyone.
Except Rorie.
Only then did Kate recognize that it was in her power to help this man she loved. She talked over her idea with Luke, even before she approached her father. Luke, and Luke alone, had seemed to understand and appreciate her sacrifice. When she couldn’t hold back the tears any longer, it had been Luke who’d held her in his arms and who’d beamed with pride over the unselfishness of what she’d done.
As she sat, listening to the predinner conversation, even contributing now and then, she reminded herself that Luke had been the one who’d made it possible to survive that difficult time.
Luke.
Losing Clay had threatened to destroy her, mentally and physically. But Luke hadn’t allowed that to happen. It was then he’d started bullying her, she realized. She’d thought of him as a tyrant, with his unreasonable demands and his gentle harassments. Kate had been so furious with him for assuming command of her life that she’d overlooked the obvious. Only now could she understand and appreciate his strategy. Gradually, the fire had returned to her eyes and her life, although it had been fuelled by indignation. Nevertheless it was there, and Luke had been the person responsible.
She’d been furious with him when she should’ve been grateful. Luke had never stopped being her friend—the best friend she’d ever had. She’d leaned heavily on him in the days and weeks before Clay married Rorie, though she’d never understood how much he’d done for her, how much he cared.
The wineglasses were replenished and Kate proposed a toast. “To your happiness,” she said sincerely. It pained her to remember that Clay and Rorie had nearly lost each other. Because of her...
Nightingale had needed a librarian, and with her father’s help, Kate had convinced the town council to offer the job to Rorie Campbell. When she’d turned them down, Kate herself had called Rorie, and together they’d wept over the phone and later in each other’s arms.
So Rorie had returned to Nightingale, and she and Clay had been married. In October. The same month Kate had planned for her own wedding to Clay.
Kate’s thoughts were pulled back to the present when Clay said, “Rorie has a piece of good news.” He cast a proud look at his wife.
“What’s that?” Kate asked.
Rorie blushed becomingly. “Clay shouldn’t have said anything. It’s not certain yet.”
“Rorie,” Kate said, studying her carefully, “are you pregnant? Congratulations!”
“No, no.” Rorie rushed to correct that impression. “Good grief, we’ve been married less than a month.”
“It’s about Rorie’s book,” Clay explained.
Vaguely Kate recalled that Rorie wrote children’s books. In fact, she’d been on her way to a writers’ conference when the car she was driving broke down on the road not far from Elk Run.
“Has one of your stories been accepted for publication?” Kate asked eagerly.
“Not exactly,” Rorie said.
“An editor from New York phoned and asked for a few revisions, but she sounded enthusiastic about the book and there was talk of a contract once the revisions are done,” Clay said. His fingers were twined with his wife’s and he looked as excited as if he’d created the story himself.
“Oh, Rorie, that’s wonderful.” Kate felt pleased and proud for her friend. “What’s the book about?”
“Well, the story involves Star Bright and the night we delivered Nightsong, and it’s told from the foal’s point of view,” Rorie said.
“I know I’m her husband,” Clay broke in, “but I read it, and I don’t mind telling you, the book’s gripping. Any editor worth her salt would snap it up in a minute.”
“Oh, Clay, honestly!”
“When will you know if it’s sold?” Kate asked. “I don’t think Nightingale’s ever had an author living here before. Dad could convince the town council to commission a sign. You might even become a tourist attraction. Who knows where this could go?”
They all laughed, but Rorie cautioned, “It could be months before I hear, so don’t go having your father commission any signs.”
“You should’ve seen her after she got the call,” Clay said, his eyes twinkling with merriment. “I didn’t know what to think. Rorie came running out of the house and started shrieking and jumping up and down.”
“So I was