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“Please, I don’t even want to go there.”
Joyce nodded thoughtfully. “You’re slender. A pregnancy might not show on you for four months, but you won’t make it past five without Luke wondering what’s happened to your svelte figure. Of course, if he’s as great a lover as you say, he’ll notice that first sweet swell of your belly, and if the baby shows before he knows, I sure wouldn’t want to be there.”
“Nor would I. I know I’ll have to tell him, but if I were to lose him and then miscarry—”
Unable to sit still another second, Joyce stood and began to wrap up the remaining brownies. “You can’t hedge your bets on something like this. A couple is either a team or they’re not. I’ve always thought you had it together, unlike me, who can’t seem to cook up anything worthwhile outside of the kitchen, but keeping secrets from a man you care about, a man who has every right to know, is so damn stupid I can’t even believe you’d seriously consider it.”
“Neither can I,” Catherine admitted, “but thinking of Luke’s feelings makes this so much more difficult.”
Catherine left without giving her friend a hug, but she felt sick too, and every choice she had seemed to be the wrong one.
Dave had gotten a haircut, and when Catherine first saw him Friday morning, she failed to recognize him. Then she noticed the Phish T-shirt that was one of his favorites and realized who he was.
“You look completely different, Dave. Really good too, by the way.”
No longer pulled back in a ponytail, his light brown hair dipped over his forehead in soft waves that enhanced the blue of his eyes. The stylish cut had made such a dramatic difference in his appearance that he’d gone from looking like a handyman who loved the outdoors to a model for GQ between wardrobe changes.
“Thank you, but I’ve been working on my résumé and don’t want to waste any time getting a haircut should I actually receive a request for an interview.”
“It’s always good to plan ahead,” she complimented, “although I hope you won’t be disappointed in the response you receive.”
“Oh, I’m sure to be disappointed. I know guys who’ve sent out hundreds of résumés and not received a single reply. The postage alone can be heartbreaking, but I’m going to do as much as I possibly can through the Internet. Luke’s been cool about letting me log on after Lost Angel closes.”
When Catherine found herself unable to offer a coherent comment about Luke’s generosity, she excused herself to make certain the necessary supplies were on hand. She’d had to make a couple of extra runs to the paint store earlier in the week, but everyone had what he or she needed that morning.
It was nearly ten o’clock before she and Dave could sit down to study. In his usual easy manner, he reviewed the problems that had confused her and provided solid instruction on how to go about solving the rest. Catherine was quite pleased with the way the day was going until a dark shadow fell across her book. She knew without looking up that it would be Luke.
“Are you cramming for an exam, Mrs. Brooks? You never cease to amaze me.”
Dave stood and brushed off the seat of his khaki pants. “It never hurts to hone your math skills,” he muttered. “You’ll have to excuse me. I need to get back to work across the street.”
“Go right ahead,” Luke encouraged, but he waited until Dave was out of earshot to kneel down beside Catherine. “I don’t really care what it is you’re doing,” he whispered. “But you can’t complain that Dave is bugging you one day and pal around with him the next. It’s a mixed message that’ll drive any man crazy.”
Catherine slammed her CBEST review book closed and jammed her pencil behind her ear. “I wasn’t flirting wit
h him and don’t believe I gave him the wrong impression.”
“Did you leave the house without glancing in the mirror?” When he saw he’d merely confused her, Luke tried again. “You’re a beautiful woman, Catherine, and Dave’s lonely. The other day you understood how easily he could misinterpret your actions. What happened today?”
That she’d needed help with algebra struck Catherine as too silly an excuse to offer. Feeling trapped, she tried not to get angry, but her nerves were too frayed for her to be mellow. “I wish you wouldn’t scold me as though I were one of the kids. You didn’t stumble onto a tryst.”
She sprang from her chair, her book clutched to her chest, and then had to wait for Luke to rise. A hot lick of tears blurred her vision, and she feared hormones might be to blame. She’d once been such a calm, easy-going person, but that was before she’d met Luke.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized quickly. “I shouldn’t have been so snotty.”
“No, you’re right, I do tend to lecture at times. I’m on my way to my attorney’s office for a meeting with Melissa, so I’ll blame my foul mood on her. Maybe I’ll see you later.”
“Yes, I want to hear what happened.”
“I can tell you that now,” Luke joked. “She’ll weep into a lacy handkerchief and insist she deserves more money. I’ll disagree. The attorneys will argue as if they actually cared which side won, and we’ll either end up in court or arbitration. Still, I have to show up and play the bad guy.”
“You’re not the bad guy. Why would you say that?”
Luke offered a sad, sweet smile and shrugged. “Don’t get me started. I’ve already spoken with Melissa once this morning, so I know my role.”
He left her to swing through the yard and admire the mural. In less than five minutes, he’d crossed the street and was gone, while she was left behind to wish she could have gone along with him.
Work on the mural ended each day at four o’clock to make certain there was time to clean brushes and put everything away for the next day. Several of the kids were regulars at Luke’s afternoon session, and Catherine didn’t wish to interfere with his schedule, either. She covered a wide yawn as she leaned her beach chair against the house, and she was moving too slowly to avoid Toby when he came her way.
