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“I know I haven’t been the ideal volunteer, but—”
Luke cut her off. “You’re not the problem, Catherine. Now please just hush and listen.”
Even if his tone was curt, she was relieved, but as usual, she failed to heed his warning. “You sound so serious, but if you’re referring to your ex-wife, an apology isn’t necessary. Some relationships are difficult, but whatever problems there might be, they’re between the two of you.”
He forced a dry laugh. “If you really believe that, I shouldn’t have come here.”
That intriguing remark left Catherine more puzzled than ever, but she nodded to encourage him. “Tell me whatever you wish, then. It’ll go no further.”
“I’m counting on it.” He rested his arms on the table and centered his glass between his hands, but he left the milkshake itself untouched.
“Marsha and I were high school sweethearts. After we graduated, I went to UCLA, and she attended the Fashion Institute downtown. We got married the summer after she’d completed her two-year course, and I’d finished my sophomore year, thanks to our parents, who were horrified by the prospect of our simply living together.
“Marcy was born the next year. Childbirth was such a painful ordeal for Marsha that we didn’t try for more children. I know from what you saw of her today, you’ll probably find this impossible to believe, but we had a lot of happy years together.
“I received a full fellowship to earn my Ph.D., while Marsha worked part time for a local designer and learned the fashion business. Eventually, she and two partners opened a boutique in Santa Monica, and most years, it’s done really well. So we both had fulfilling careers, and Marcy was one of those sweet, sunny girls who are an absolute delight.”
Catherine wanted to slip her hand over his and beg him to stop, but he was looking out through the windows to the darkened patio, perhaps relating the story more for his own benefit than hers, and she dared not reach out to him. That he looked so badly abused added to the dark cloud of anguish hovering around him.
“A crisis will reveal a person’s true character. When we lost Marcy, Marsha just disintegrated. I was equally devastated, but I did my best to console her.” He leaned back and sighed softly. “It was like holding smoke. Sometimes a tragedy will strengthen a couple’s bond. Unfortunately, for others, like us, it’s the end.
“Marsha cried for weeks. Then she became furiously angry and blamed me for not preventing a senseless accident that no one could have foreseen. Believe me, she turned into a pit bull in a skirt. Still, I understood her despair. One day, we’d had rewarding careers and a bright, beautiful daughter, and the next, nothing mattered, not even each other.
“She demanded a divorce, and I didn’t argue. We sold our home in Brentwood. She used her half as a down payment on a condo with an ocean view. I bought a smaller place, and invested, fortunately not all in the stock market. She only turns up when she needs money, and even that hurts.”
He picked up the glass and swallowed his half of the shake in two long gulps. “Yes, I’ve seen a therapist, but no one can raise the dead. Which, sadly, is something you already knew.”
He rose and clasped the back of his chair with both hands. “I should have done the gracious thing and thanked you for bringing in the books and new shelves. Let’s talk about tutoring the next time you come to the center. Don’t bother to get up. I’ll show myself out.”
Catherine doubted she could stand. She felt sick for the enormity of his loss, but it wasn’t pity that made her long to invite him into her bed and make love to him until the ice melted from around his heart. She heard the door close and then finished the last of the shake, but it failed to lift her spirits or erase Luke’s disquieting presence from her home.
As she saw it, he’d come to confide something important, and it had had absolutely nothing to do with bookshelves. Instead, he’d wanted her to know that he and Marsha had been happy once, and that she’d been the one to end their marriage. Loyalty was a wonderful trait, but she was confused as to what he now expected from her.
She got up to open the patio door for Smoky. The cat was the one male she understood completely, but he provided surprisingly little comfort on a restless night.
Catherine filled Tuesday with errands to give herself some breathing room, but she returned to Lost Angel on Wednesday with a philodendron in a handsome clay pot for Luke’s office. She carried it in and, without asking permission, set it atop the file cabinet nearest the window.
“It was only a strawberry shake, Mrs. Brooks, you needn’t have brought me a gift in return.”
She adjusted the placement of the plant and brushed off her hands. “Yes, I did,” she insisted.
“I should have known we wouldn’t agree.” Luke left his chair to circle his desk and leaned back against it.
“I’m not thinking only of you, Dr. Starns, but of the numerous visitors who enter your office. It’s as inviting as a jail cell.”
Luke glanced around as though he’d never given the spartan decor a single thought. His black eye now spread from his brow to his cheekbone like a splash of purple dye, but it effectively enhanced his amused frown. “How could such an obvious point have escaped me?”
“You have other priorities,” she responded easily. “If someone were to donate a gallon of paint, I’ll bet painters could be found.”
He swept her with an appreciative glance. “You wouldn’t want to get paint on your pretty clothes.”
It had taken her an hour to choose rust-colored slacks that showed off her long legs and a peach blouse that flattered her coloring. Her flats and matching purse were a bronze basket weave leather. She’d wanted to look pretty, but professional too.
“I wasn’t referring to me.” She knew he was teasing and laughed with him. “You have an abundance of able-bodied men and women here. In fact, with a little experience, the kids might be hired by local painting contractors. I hear the work pays well.”
Luke winced in mock pain. “I swear I never
know what to expect from you, but I’m tempted to give you the extra desk out front and have a nameplate made that reads Creative Director. That way you could spend your whole day dreaming up perfectly reasonable ideas that would require a genius to implement.”
