That Wintry Feeling (Debbie Macomber Classics) (16 page)

“Okay, Cathy, you can come look!” Excitedly, Angela ran into the kitchen and grabbed Cathy’s hand. All morning, Grady and his daughter had been acting strange, sharing some deep, dark secret.

Wiping her hands on a terry-cloth dish towel, Cathy allowed Angela to drag her into the
living room. A large box with a bright red bow sat in the middle of the carpet.

“Go ahead,” Angela urged. “Open it.”

Cathy glanced to Grady, who regarded her with an amused expression. “Go ahead,” he added his encouragement. His voice was gentle, almost caressing. He’d been that way with her from the time Peterkins had died two weeks before. There had never been a time in her life that she had felt closer to anyone than she had to Grady these past weeks. He was often home early now, spending high-quality time with Angela in the evenings, as if he suddenly realized what it meant to be a father. If this was the honeymoon, Cathy decided, she never wanted it to end.

A whimpering sound came from the box, and Cathy’s eyes rounded. Perplexed, she lifted the lid to discover a small puppy huddled in the corner. Quickly, she stifled a cry of dismay. She didn’t want another dog. No one would ever replace Peterkins. She felt Grady’s eyes on her, narrowing with impatience.

As if acting in slow motion, she reached inside the cardboard box and lifted out the tiny basset hound.

“Isn’t he gorgeous?” Angela cried. “Daddy let me pick him out.” Cathy looked at the big brown eyes, the white nose and black ears. She didn’t think he was gorgeous. Without thought, she handed the puppy to Angela, tears blurring her vision as she ran into the bedroom and closed the door.

Grady followed her. “What’s wrong?” he demanded. The uncompromising set of his jaw told her how angry he was.

Lifting her hand, she pointed to the living room. “I don’t want that dog. Why … why didn’t you ask me?” Her voice shook treacherously. “A puppy isn’t going to take Peterkins’s place.”

“I didn’t expect he would.” Grady jerked his fingers through his hair. When he lifted his head, she noted that much of the anger was gone. “This dog is more for Angela than you. No matter how much we assure her, she still carries some guilt over the loss of Peterkins. She loved him almost as much as you did, and now there’s a void in her life. For her sake, will you take the dog?”

Standing quietly beside the bed, Cathy nodded, not knowing of any way she could refuse.

Angela eyed them warily when they came out of the bedroom. “Did you have an argument?” she questioned softly. “Melissa Sue said her parents have arguments all the time. She
said her mother goes to the bedroom and closes the door, and that’s what you did, Cathy.”

“No,” Grady answered for her. “Cathy and I were discussing something, that’s all.”

“You don’t like the puppy, do you?”

Cathy knew better than to disguise her feelings from the child. She sat and pulled Angela to her side. “Sometimes when you love someone so much, it takes a long time to heal the hurt of having them gone. Right now I miss Peterkins too much to think about another dog. But that doesn’t mean I’ll always feel that way. So for right now, can we make the puppy your special friend?”

Angela regarded her quizzically. “You mean you want me to feed him and take care of him and train him and do all those things?”

“Yes, for right now,” Cathy confirmed.

The tiny face showed no qualms. “Does that mean I can name him, too?”

“I think that would only be fair,” Cathy said with a gentle smile. “What would you like to call him?”

“Arnie,” Angela replied without hesitating. “There’s a boy in my class named Arnie and he has a silly smile and when I saw the puppy I thought of Arnie and his smile.”

“Then Arnie it is.”

Grady was quiet most of the day. He spent part of the afternoon at the office, something he hadn’t done on a weekend for a long time. Later, when musing over the events of the day, Cathy wondered if Grady thought she was referring to Steve when she was explaining to Angela about how it sometimes takes a long time to get over loving someone. She decided to make certain that night that there be no misunderstanding.

A roast was baking in the oven as Angela and Cathy peeled apples for a pie when Grady came in the back door. Immediately, Cathy set everything aside and slipped her hands over his shoulders and kissed him hard and long.

“What was that for?” he asked, his breathing irregular as his hands cupped her hips. Abruptly, he dropped his arms and turned away.

“Can’t a wife kiss her husband if she wants?” she asked saucily. Something sharp bit into her pant leg, and she jerked her foot back. “Ouch!”

Arnie’s teeth were caught in the denim fabric of her jeans, and he was tossing his head back and forth in a frenzied effort to gain release.

“Arnie,” Angela snapped.

Cathy bent down to free herself, lifting the puppy from the floor and cradling him in her arms. “I don’t know how anyone can call you gorgeous,” she teased, referring to Angela’s remark. “You’re an ugly looking mutt to me.”

“Ugly Arnie,” Angela repeated, with a happy smile that revealed two newly formed front teeth. “That’s a good name.”

“It’s a horrible name,” Grady said, in a sharp, cutting tone. “In fact, the whole idea of another dog was a rotten one.”

The smile disappeared from Angela’s face as the hurt shivered over her. Moisture filled her eyes.

“That’s not true,” Cathy replied in confusion. “I … I thought we agreed—” She stopped midsentence as Grady stalked from the room.

Cathy watched him go, stunned and disbelieving. Something was wrong, something was very wrong. Grady hadn’t spoken to her in this harsh tone since their wedding day. Just a few hours before, his look had been filled with tenderness. Now the deep, smoky blue eyes were hard and unreadable.

“I’m sure your father didn’t mean that,” Cathy tried to reassure Angela before following Grady into their bedroom. She stood in the doorway, watching him open and close dresser drawers, carelessly dumping clothes in a duffel bag. “Are you going somewhere?” she questioned in a shaky, unsure voice.

“Isn’t it obvious?” His jaw was clenched, all expression hidden from her.

“Where?”

He straightened and cast her an irritated glance. “Did you suddenly join the FBI?”

“No.” She stepped inside the room and leaned against the door, shutting it. With her back pressed against the wood, she watched his hurried movements. “What’s wrong? You’re angry about something, and I want to know what it is.”

Grady’s mouth compressed into a taut line. “Things aren’t going well at the field. I’ve got to fly into Nome tonight on an emergency run. I probably won’t be back until Sunday afternoon.” He relayed the information reluctantly, as if he resented having to make explanations.

“Maybe Angela and I could fly up with you; it’d only take us a minute to pack our
things.”

“No.” He didn’t even pause to consider her suggestion.

“I’ll miss you, Grady,” she admitted, and her voice wavered slightly.

His sigh was heavy before he swung the bag over his shoulder. On the way out the door, he paused to caress her cheek, then his hand lowered to the nape of her neck, urging her mouth to his.

Cathy didn’t need encouragement. She turned, slipping her arms around his waist and answering the hungry demand of his kisses. Cathy experienced a sense of triumph when she heard the duffel bag drop to the floor. His arms grasped her waist, lifting her from the floor. Eagerly, she spread kisses over his face, teasing him with small, biting nips that promised but didn’t deliver. Finally he groaned, moving his hand to the back of her head, forcing her mouth to his. Twisting, tasting, teasing, his open mouth sought hers with a greed she had become accustomed to from Grady. Her body flooded with a warm excitement, and when he lifted his head, his breathing was more ragged than her own.

The honeymoon wasn’t over.

“Is Daddy home yet?” Angela asked, placing a hand over her mouth to hide a wide yawn.

“Not yet, sweetheart.” Cathy pulled the pajama-clad child into her lap. “What woke you, a bad dream?”

Snuggling in Cathy’s arms, Angela nodded. “I had a dream you went away like Louise and Mrs. Rafferty and Miss Bittle.”

Carefully smoothing the hair away from Angela’s sleepy face, Cathy kissed her troubled brow. “I’m not going away. Don’t you know how much I love you and your father? I could never leave you.”

“Are you going to have babies?” Angela lifted her head so she could watch Cathy’s expression, as if this information was important to her.

“Would you like a little brother or sister?” Cathy could well understand Angela’s hesitancy. She had been an only child for seven years. It wasn’t until recently that Grady had given the little girl the attention and love she needed. It wouldn’t be unreasonable for her to be jealous, or wish to remain the focus of their attention.

Eagerly, the young head bobbed up and down. “Melissa Sue’s mother is preg— Going to have a baby. She’s going to be a big sister. I want you to have a baby, too.”

Hugging her all the closer, Cathy gently swayed in the wooden rocker. “Then I think we’ll discuss the subject with your dad very soon.”

With the small head pressed gently against her breast, Cathy continued to rock until Angela’s even breathing convinced her the little girl was asleep.

She sat in the rocker for a long time, staring at the clock over the fireplace. Midnight. Grady hadn’t been home before eleven in almost a week, not since he returned from Nome. Ray telephoned regularly every night to tell her Grady would be late. For the first couple of times she waited up for him, but he’d adamantly insisted he’d rather she didn’t. From then on she’d been in bed pretending to be asleep. Grady knew that. She was sure of it. Although he played his own game of creeping around, undressing in the dark and crawling into bed, staying as far as possible on his side of the mattress. At first Cathy assumed he was simply too tired to make love, but after
a week she was beginning to wonder. Other than a fleeting caress or a perfunctory kiss, he hadn’t touched her since flying to Nome. The sensation that something was wrong persisted. But what? And why wouldn’t Grady say anything if there were? Unwilling to read something more into his actions, she had remained perplexed. Things had been so beautiful in the past that she didn’t wish to start an unnecessary argument.

But tonight she was awake and would remain so until Grady was home. Whatever was wrong needed to be set right. Gradually, she fell asleep in the rocking chair with Angela in her arms. Ugly Arnie’s bark from the back porch roused her at about one, and she heard Grady stop to pet the pooch and quietly enter the house through the kitchen.

He paused when he saw her, stopping just inside the room. “I thought I told you not to wait up for me.”

“Shh-shh,” Cathy responded, placing a finger over her lips. Instead of words, she extended her hand in silent entreaty.

His gaze holding hers, Grady walked across the floor, stopping just in front of the rocking chair. “Is Angela sick?” Lines of concern knitted his brow.

Unable to break the spell of tenderness that suddenly seemed to exist between them, Cathy shook her head. “No, it was a bad dream,” she whispered. “She thought I was going away.”

Grady’s mouth tightened into a grim line. “Are you?”

The question shocked her. “Of course not. How can you even think such a thing?” She spoke louder than she intended to, and Angela stirred, sitting upright.

“Daddy,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “You’re home.”

Grady lifted his daughter into his arms. “Well, sleepyhead, are you ready to go to bed?”

“You know what Cathy said?” More alert now, Angela looped her arms around her father’s neck, joining her fingers, and she leaned back so she could look at him. “Cathy said you and her might have babies. She said that I’d be a big sister someday, just like Melissa Sue.”

The room suddenly seemed to go still. Grady flickered an irritated gaze at Cathy before carrying Angela into her bedroom.

She heard him talking softly to the child but couldn’t make out what he was saying. Sitting on the top of their bed, she waited until he had showered and changed.

Grady looked surprised that she was still up when he entered the bedroom.

“Can we talk a minute?” Her senses were clamoring, desperately wanting things to be right between them.

He sat on the edge of the mattress, his back facing her. “Not tonight,” he responded curtly. “I’m tired.” Pulling back the covers, he climbed into the bed and leaned to turn off the bedside lamp.

The room was instantly dark, and not knowing what else she could do, Cathy followed, crawling beneath the covers and scooting to Grady’s side, placing a hand over his ribs and cuddling close.

“You’re not pregnant, are you?” The question was low, almost angry.

“No,” she replied, a sudden chill coming over her at the displeasure in his voice.

“Good.” The word was clipped and disturbing.

No more than a minute later, Grady was asleep. Cathy listened to the even flow of his breathing for hours.

The pattern was repeated the next week. Grady worked long hours, and the time he spent at home became less and less. Cathy seldom waited up for him, and when she did, he was abrupt and irritable. But every night in his sleep he would gather her in his arms and hold her so tight that she never doubted his need for her.

Determined to clear the air and talk to her husband, Cathy purposely lay awake. April had arrived, and the days were growing longer. Spring was beginning to color the earth, and she would have survived her first winter. Even Ugly Arnie had claimed a spot in her heart, and the pain of losing Peterkins grew less and less every day.

The only problem that continued to tax her was Grady’s behavior. Had he guessed how much she loved him? Had the depth of her feelings frightened him? Grady had gone into this marriage openly admitting he didn’t love her. Now that her feelings were in the open, did he find it an embarrassment? Doubts and questions seemed to grope at her from every direction.

A sound filtered through the confusion, and Cathy realized he was home. Lying perfectly still, she waited as he fussed in the kitchen. Usually she kept a dinner plate ready for him so he could eat when he got home. The movements were hushed, as if he would do anything not to wake her.