Soul Mates. Carol Finch
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Nate guessed that Katy only read books that guaranteed happy endings. It was her only escape from tormenting reality.
“These days Katy keeps to herself, raises her niece and quietly goes about the business of helping the unfortunate in the community,” Fuzz continued. “If a family is dealing with death or illness, you can count on Katy to arrive at the bereaved family’s home, laden down with food, supplies and flowers.
“Katy moved into her father’s home after his fatal heart attack. She sold the house where she and Brad lived after he was suspended from college. She uses the money she made from the sale to fund the library and aid needy families.”
Nate suspected Katy hadn’t wanted to live in the house where she was knocked around and treated like Brad’s convenient whore. Not that living in the judge’s house was much better. But then, the Bates home was a monstrous structure and a woman who had turned into a recluse had plenty of space to move around.
“Katy took some of the money from her inheritance and set up two college scholarships for high school students who want to make a better place for themselves in society,” Fuzz reported.
Nate smiled ruefully. He couldn’t help but wonder if Katy was providing for the other Nate Channings in Coyote Flats—the down-on-their-luck kids who faced grim futures. That sounded like something Katy would do. Those qualities of kindness, caring and generosity were still there, he realized. Though Katy had cut herself off from the world, it was her nature to help the less fortunate.
Nate felt so damned sorry for her that he wanted to weep.
“Wipe that look off your face right this very minute,” Fuzz scolded abruptly.
Nate jerked up his head to see Fuzz wagging an index finger in his face. “What look?”
“That pitying look, that’s what,” Fuzz grumbled. “That is the one thing Katy can’t tolerate from folks. I oughta know, because I made the mistake of feeling sorry for her and telling her so.”
Nate winced when he recalled how he had welled up with sympathy at the library. He remembered how Katy had spun around in her chair and promptly dismissed him. She was sensitive about being looked upon with pity, and he had hurt her feelings unintentionally. Well, damn.
“Knowing how you operate,” Fuzz continued, frowning darkly, “You will probably decide to storm over to Katy’s house and tell her how sorry you are that she suffered through a hellish marriage and lost her unborn child, then endured injuries that left her with a noticeable limp.”
Fuzz pushed forward in his chair to stare Nate squarely in the eye. “Hear me and hear me well, Nate. That is not the proper approach to take with Katy. Am I coming through loud and clear?”
“Crystal clear,” Nate confirmed.
“If you have visions of drawing Katy from her shell, you can’t march over there and tell her that you want to take up where the two of you left off all those years ago. I’m no psychologist, but I’ve dealt with enough traumatized and abused victims to know they bottle their emotions inside, just like Katy does. She will never be able to get on with her life until she lets go of her past, until she feels a strong, compelling reason to let go of her pain. My experience tells me that you will have to earn Katy’s trust and confidence, slowly but surely. The men in her life have abused and betrayed her. Any changes she makes in her attitude toward men will be gradual.”
Nate’s shoulders slumped and he sighed audibly. “Hell, here I was, hoping for instant, miraculous results.”
“Then expect to be disappointed,” Fuzz said as he reached for another chip to dip into the salsa. “It took sixteen years of browbeating, manipulation, physical and mental abuse to turn Katy into a hermit. It may take sixteen years to teach her to trust men, to live and laugh again.” He shot Nate a stern glance. “Don’t start some noble crusade that you might not have the patience and dedication to finish, because you will only make matters worse for Katy if you do.”
Nate flopped back in his chair and scrubbed his hands over his face. Fuzz had read him well. Nate had learned to attack business problems with swift, relentless efficiency. The skills he had perfected on the road to financial success were worthless when it came to dealing with Katy.
“So where do I start?” Nate asked helplessly.
Fuzz grinned broadly. “Right here.” When Nate frowned, bemused, Fuzz made a sweeping gesture with his arm. “Bring her out to your ranch, tell her how you burned those bad memories from your past to the ground and constructed this palace, with its panoramic view of the rugged gullies and rocky ravines of West Texas. Maybe if she realizes that you wanted to make a fresh start, she’ll want to do the same thing.”
“Hell of an idea, Fuzz,” Nate complimented him.
“Hey, son, I wasn’t born yesterday, you know. I’ve got a gray hair for every damn one of life’s experiences.” His smile faded from his wrinkled features. “I encountered a similar problem when my wife was diagnosed with cancer. Sally was ready to give up the fight, and she tried to push me away, make me angry enough to quit on her, the same way she quit on herself. But I refused to back off. I was determined to eke out every moment of happiness during that last year. We traveled when she felt up to it. We attended every community activity, and we made the most of every day we had left together.
“Maybe if Katy realizes you have no intention of giving up on her she’ll come around,” Fuzz added before he switched on the big-screen TV.
“I’m going for a walk,” Nate announced, rising to his feet.
“Take that mutt with you,” Fuzz requested. “Taz has been cooped up in the house most of the day, trying to coax me into petting him constantly. He needs to chase a few rabbits and burn off some energy.”
When Nate had changed into a T-shirt and jeans, he called to Taz and took a long, meditative stroll across the rolling pasture. Checking on his cattle herd was the least of his concerns at the moment. His thoughts were centered on his campaign of reaching that vibrant young woman who had been his inspiration, his unattainable dream way back when. Nate knew he needed a game plan—the best.
“Got any bright ideas about how to handle this situation, Taz?” Nate asked his four-legged companion.
When a jackrabbit bounded up in front of them, Taz took off at a dead run, yipping at the top of his lungs.
Nate realized, and not for the first time in his life, that he was on his own when it came to solving his problems. Turning Katy’s life around would have to be a one-man crusade, and it would take him a few days to work out his plan of action.
Katy was in the process of pulling a bubbling chicken casserole from the oven when the doorbell rang. It had become her habit to let Tammy answer the door in the evening, but Tammy had gone back to school to design posters for the basketball king-and-queen coronation and dance that was scheduled for the upcoming weekend.
Setting aside the casserole, Katy limped to the front door. Her breath gushed from her lungs when a vision from the past returned to haunt her. Nate Channing, dressed in faded blue jeans and a T-shirt that had seen better days, was standing on the porch—the exact place her father had refused to let him set foot all those years ago.
His dark hair, ruffled by the evening breeze, drooped on his forehead, giving him a devil-may-care appearance. He was leaning against the supporting beam of the porch in a negligent stance that had been his trademark as a teenager. A knock-’em-dead smile pursed his lips, and Katy reacted instinctively to it.
He held a bouquet of roses in one suntanned hand and a box of candy in the other. It was difficult for Katy to maintain the distant, remote attitude she practiced in the presence of men. This was one devastatingly attractive man, and despite the fact that Katy knew it would be better for her and Nate not to renew their friendship, there was a lot of history between them—and no closure whatsoever. Nate had been whisked from her life, never to be seen or heard from in sixteen years.
“I always wanted to do this, Katy Marie,” Nate said