Debbie Macomber Classics
That Wintry Feeling
Cathy Thompson’s long nails beat an impatient tempo against the formica counter top as she waited.
“Yes, I’ll hold,” she said and breathed heavily into the telephone receiver. Her deep gray eyes clashed with Linda Ericson’s, who sat at the desk, a large newspaper spread over the top.
“Any luck?” Linda whispered.
A voice at the other end of the line interrupted Cathy’s response and she straightened, her fingers tightening around the phone. “This is Cathy Thompson again.” The inflection of her voice conveyed the irritation. “Would it be possible to speak to Grady Jones?”
“Grady’s in the air,” a gruff male voice informed her. “Be with you in a minute, Harry.” He spoke to someone who was obviously waiting in the office.
“When do you expect him back?” Cathy asked in her most businesslike voice.
A lengthy pause followed, and Cathy could hear the rustle of paper in the background. “Thursday afternoon. Will you hold the line a minute?”
Cathy’s sigh was full of exasperation. Cradling the telephone receiver against her shoulder with the side of her head, she pulled out a piece of paper and a pencil. As she looked up she happened to catch a glimpse of the school play yard. The sights and sounds of the last recess of the day drifted in through the open window. Her gray eyes softened as she unconsciously sought Angela Jones. A frown creased her narrow forehead as she discovered the pigtailed first grader leaning against the play shed watching the other girls jump rope. Angela always seemed to be on the outside looking in.
“Do you want to leave a message?” The harried male voice came back on the phone.
“I’ve already left four,” Cathy snapped.
“Listen, all I do is take the message. If Grady doesn’t return your call it’s not my fault.” He hesitated. “Are you the gal from the school again?”
“Yes, I’m the gal from the school again.” She echoed his words doing her best to disguise her frustration.
“All I can tell you is that Grady is flying on assignment. I’ll tell him you phoned.”
The man wasn’t to blame if Grady Jones didn’t wish to speak to her, and Cathy’s reply was less agitated. “Please do that.” Gently she replaced the receiver in its cradle.
“Well?” Linda looked up expectantly.
“No luck. It’s the same as before. They’ll take a message, but he won’t be back until Thursday afternoon.”
“What are you going to do?” Linda asked, concern knitting her brow.
Cathy shrugged. “Maybe it’s time I personally introduced myself to the elusive Grady Jones. He’ll have a hard time not talking to me if I show up at the airfield.” Cathy had done her research well. The school information card had been sketchy. The father’s occupation listed him as a pilot, employed by Alaska Cargo Company. No business phone number had been given, and when Cathy looked it up in the yellow pages she found a large commercial ad. The fine print at the bottom of the advertisement stated that Grady Jones was the company owner. The information card had stated that Angela had no mother. Cathy had found the comment an interesting one. How could any child not have a mother? It could be that Angela’s parents were divorced. What Cathy couldn’t understand was how someone as unconcerned and uncaring as Grady Jones could have been awarded custody of the child. Cathy had tried on several occasions to contact him at home, but the only adult she had ever reached was a housekeeper, who promised to give him a message. Cathy had stopped counting the times she’d left messages for him.
“After all the trouble you’ve gone through, I’d say that’s about the only way you’re going to get his attention.”
“Believe me, I won’t have any problem getting his attention. His ears will burn for a week.”
“Cathy…” Linda warned, her large brown eyes worried. “Alienated, Angela’s father won’t help her.”
“I know, but I can’t help dislike the man.”
The bell rang indicating the end of recess. Emitting a soft groan Cathy turned around. “Back to the salt mine.” It had been another break wasted trying to contact a parent. Next time she’d pour herself a cup of coffee before making a phone call.
“Don’t go yet,” Linda called. “I want to read you this personal.”
“Linda,” Cathy said with a sigh but she knew better than to argue. Her friend would insist she listen anyway. “All right, but be quick about it.”
Rustling the paper, Linda sat upright and read. “Sincere gentleman seeking sincere lady for sincere relationship-”
“Only sincere women need apply,” Cathy interrupted. “Dull, Linda, dull. If you insist on playing matchmaker, the least you can do is find someone with a little personality.”
“Okay, here’s another.” She glanced up. “Man with large house, large cat, six kids. Cat not enough.”
“Six kids.” Cathy choked.
“That says a lot,” Linda defended. “At least he’s honest and forthright. He must like animals.”
“That would make Peterkins happy, but unfortunately I’m the one that has to be satisfied. Six kids are out.”
The shuffle of feet could be heard above the laughter as the children filed into the school building. The afternoon could no longer be delayed.
Two hours later, Cathy unlocked the door to her rental house on Lacey Street. She had rented a home so that Peterkins, her black cocker spaniel, would have a yard to roam. Steve had given her Peterkins, and he was probably the only good thing she had left of their relationship. In the beginning she had resented the fact Peterkins had been a gift from Steve. Every time she looked at her floppy-eared friend she was reminded of a soured relationship. But Peterkins wasn’t to be blamed, and there was far more than a dog to remind her of Steve. It was funny how many of her thoughts he continued to dominate. Yet it was totally, completely over. Steve was a married man. A knot twisted the sensitive muscles of her stomach. He’d been married for five months and six days. Not that she was counting. Bravely she had attended the wedding, had been a member of the wedding party. The maid of honor. Her sister wouldn’t hear of anything else.
Exhaling a quivering breath, Cathy turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door. Immediately Peterkins was there, excitedly jumping up and down. When she crouched down to pet him, he fervently lapped her hand with his moist tongue.
“Let me relax a minute, and we’ll go for our walk,” Cathy told him. Peterkins knew her moods better than anyone, Cathy mused while she changed clothes and sorted through the mail. Peeling an orange, she sat at the small circular table in her kitchen and leaned against the back of the chair.
Memories of Steve again ruled her thoughts. They’d quarreled. It wasn’t any major disagreement; she couldn’t even recall what it was that had sparked the argument. But something was different this time. Cathy had decided she was tired of always being the one to give in, apologize, change. They had talked about getting married on several occasions. If their relationship was to be a lasting one, Cathy had decided, then Steve must learn to do his share of giving. It would be a good lesson for him to admit he was wrong for once.
She pulled each of the orange segments apart and set them on the napkin, fingering each one. Her appetite was gone, and she scooted the afternoon snack away.
The whole idea of teaching Steve a lesson had been immature and foolish. Cathy realized that now. She gave a short laugh. What a wonderful thing hindsight was.
When Steve began dating her sister, MaryAnne, Cathy had been amused. He wasn’t fooling her, she knew exactly what he was doing. She had taken great pride in meeting him at the door when he came to pick up MaryAnne for a date. With a gay smile she had proven she wasn’t in the least bit jealous. He could date whom he liked. Twice she had arranged dates at the same time MaryAnne and Steve would be going out so that they would all meet at the apartment she shared with her sister.
The only one who had shown any concern over such foolishness had been their mother.
“Mom.” Cathy had strived to brush off Paula Thompson’s concern. “MaryAnne and I cut the apron strings when we moved out and got an apartment of our own. From now on you’re only supposed to give advice when we ask. Remember?” Her words were a teasing reminder of what their mother had told them when they decided to move in together. Although her mother never mentioned a word again about MaryAnne and Steve, the question was in her eyes.
Six weeks had passed, and still Steve continued to play his game in an attempt to make her jealous. If she hadn’t been so stubborn she would have seen what was happening. Twice MaryAnne had come to her.
“You don’t mind do you?” The gray eyes so like her own had pleaded. “I’d stop seeing him in a minute if our relationship was hurting you in any way.”
Cathy had laughed lightly. “It’s over,” she said with a flippant air. “It was over a long time ago. There’s no need to concern yourself.”
Then one night MaryAnne had burst into the apartment and proudly displayed the beautiful diamond engagement ring. Cathy had been shocked. This was carrying things to an extreme. Steve had gone too far. She wasn’t going to allow him to use her little sister like this another minute.
The argument when she’d confronted Steve had been loud and bitter. They’d hurled accusations at one another faster and sharper than a machine gun.
All through the preparations for the wedding Cathy had expected Steve to put a halt to things. It was unbelievable that a minor disagreement three months before had been allowed to go this far.
Throughout the time they had prepared for the wedding, MaryAnne had been radiantly happy. A hundred times Cathy had to bite her tongue to keep from saying. “Listen, sis, I’m not completely sure Steve loves you. He loves me, I know he does.” Maybe she should have said it. The message was in her eyes, her mother read it the morning of the wedding. Steve saw it as she marched up the aisle preceding her sister. It was there when the minister pronounced Steve and MaryAnne man and wife.
The memory of those words seemed to echo assaulting her from all sides. Urgently, Cathy stood and pushed her chair to the table. She needed to get out, away from the memories, the hurt.
“Bring me the leash, Peterkins,” she said to her dog, who promptly stepped into the bedroom and pulled the rhinestone-studded strap off the chair. Cathy paused, fingering the red leather. The leash had been another gift from Steve. Would he continue to haunt her the rest of her life? Would it always be like this?
For two months after the wedding Cathy had walked around in a haze of pain and disillusionment. This couldn’t be happening to her. This wasn’t real. It became almost impossible to hide her emotions from her family. She had to get away, to the ends of the earth. Alaska. The opportunity to work as a basic skills instructor had come as a surprise. Her application had been submitted months before. She had never intended to accept the job even if it was offered to her. She had done it to tease Steve, telling him if he didn’t proclaim his undying love she’d abandon him for parts unknown. Willingly, Steve had obliged. When she hadn’t heard from the school district, Cathy was relieved. It had been a fluke, a joke. Now it was her salvation, a lifeline to sanity.
No one had understood her reasons for going-except her mother, and perhaps Steve. With a sense of urgency she had gone about building a new life for herself. Forming friendships, reaching out. It was only in the area of men that she withdrew, held back. Eventually that reserve would abate. A soft smile curved up the edges of her lips. Linda and those crazy personal ads she was always reading to her. If her friend had anything to do with it, Cathy would be married by Christmas.
She dressed carefully Thursday morning, the meeting with Grady Jones weighing her decision as she chose a dark blue gabardine business suit. The line of the suit accentuated the slender curves of her lithe form. Cathy was nearly five eleven in her heels and secretly hoped to meet the man at eye level. She did with most men. Not once had she regretted the fact she was tall. In most cases height was an advantage. Steve was tall. Her hands knotted at her side as her resolve tightened. It was ridiculous the way her mind would bring him to the forefront of her consciousness. It had to stop, and it had to stop immediately. She needed to start dating again, meet other men. She’d do it. The troubled thoughts that had continually plagued her were all the convincing she needed. She’d answer one of those crazy ads Linda was always telling her about.
“Be a good dog, Peterkins.” She ruffled his ears playfully. “You do like cats, don’t you? What about six kids?” The large brown eyes looked up at her quizzically, and Cathy laughed. “Never mind.”
Dawn was breaking as she parked her Honda in the school parking lot. Gracefully she slid across the upholstered seat and climbed out the passenger side. As soon as she was paid she was going to get that other door fixed. She paused to watch the sun’s golden orb break out across the pink horizon. There was a magical quality to an Alaskan sky that stirred something within her. The sky was bluer than blue, the air fresher, cleaner. Even the landscape that appeared dingy and barren held a fascination for Cathy. She hadn’t expected to like Alaska but found herself mesmerized with its openness, enthralled with its beauty.
“Whew-wee.” Linda whistled as she walked into the teachers’ lounge. “You look fit to kill.”
“I may have to,” Cathy replied flippantly as she poured herself a mug of coffee. “But that man’s going to listen to me if I have to hogtie him.”
“Hogtie him?” Linda repeated with a laugh. “Is that a little Kansas humor?”
Pulling out a chair, Cathy sat beside her friend. “It could be, but by the time I finish with Grady Jones he won’t be laughing.”
“With that look in your eye, I almost pity the poor man.”
Her long, tapered fingers cupped the coffee mug as she glanced at the paper Linda had placed beside her purse. “Without meaning to change the subject, but are there any new ads today?”
“New ads. You actually want to look at the personals? As I live and breathe…”
The rest of what she was going to say faded away as she took the paper and opened it on top of the table so they could both read through the columns. Several of the listings were almost identical with lengthy descriptions of their likes and wants. It was a small ad at the bottom of the page that captured Cathy’s attention. It read “Red Baron seeks lady to soar to heights unknown.” It gave a post office box number for the response.
“This one looks interesting.” Cathy pointed it out to Linda. Read more
Starlight
Karen had dreaded the party for weeks. Her father was sure to use it as another opportunity to find her a husband. She almost cringed at the thought of what lay before her—a succession of eligible men, abrupt introductions, and pointed questions. Yet she loved her godparents and wouldn’t offend them by not attending their annual Christmas party.
“Are you ready, lass?” Matthew McAlister let himself into her apartment without the courtesy of knocking.
“Honestly, Dad, one of these days you’re going to walk in here and find me stark naked,” Karen admonished with a sigh.
Matthew chuckled.
Karen laughed, too, for it was difficult to maintain an injured air when her father was in this mood.
Stepping back to survey Karen, Matthew’s eyes lit up in appreciation. “My heart swells with pride at the sight of you, lass,” he said in a strong Scottish brogue.
Karen forced herself to smile. His speech always began the same way. After admiring her beauty, he would recount the days he’d courted her mother and their marriage when Madeline was nineteen. From there he’d reiterate his growing desire for grandchildren, most particularly a granddaughter. It was always the same, to the point that Karen could have mouthed the words along with him.
“Dad,” she interrupted, “we’d better go. Snoqualmie Falls is a forty-five-minute drive.”
Surprisingly, Matthew insisted Karen drive. She did so willingly, but glanced apprehensively at her father. He looked tired and a bit ashen.
“Are you feeling okay, Dad?” she asked, hiding the concern in her voice.
“Of course I am.” He rallied somewhat. “I’m just saving myself for the grand affair. Certain demands are made of a widower these days, and the ladies are expecting a good time.”
They were greeted at the large rented hall with soft Christmas music. The room was lavishly decorated with hundreds of large, glittering snowflakes suspended from the ceiling. The reflective glow of the turning flakes cast the dimly lit room into a winter wonderland.
The hall was already crowded. Several others had arrived and were milling around, chatting in small groups and sipping champagne.
Evan Forsyth raised a welcoming hand when he saw Matthew and Karen enter, and walked purposefully toward them. The two men clasped hands with the enthusiasm of many years of devoted friendship.
Her father and Evan had been friends since their school days, and although they held separate stations in life, their friendship had never wavered. Evan Forsyth was the president of the University of Washington at Tacoma, an honored and respected man, while Matthew McAlister was a small-businessman dealing in plumbing supplies. For as long as Karen could remember, her father and godfather had played chess every Thursday night.
The annual party had begun many years before, when Karen and her sister, Judy, were small. Evan and Milly Forsyth invited a few intimate friends into their home to share the joy of the holiday season. Over the years, as Evan’s position became prominent, the size of the affair had grown to include business friends and faculty members. This year, the party was so large the Forsyths had rented a hall, their spacious home no longer large enough to hold the growing number of guests.
“Welcome, welcome,” Evan said and smiled warmly. His wife, Milly, followed close behind and embraced Karen fondly.
“I’m so pleased you could make it, my dear.”
Evan leisurely surveyed Karen, noting how the red velvet gown molded to the slender curves of her womanly figure.
“I swear you get prettier every year, Karen,” he said with a hug.
“And I swear your tongue grows smoother every year.”
Evan chuckled with delight while Milly tucked an arm around Karen’s waist to give her a slight hug. “He’s right, dear. You look radiant. And your gown suits you beautifully.”
Karen returned the hug and smiled. “It should, considering what I paid for it.”
Karen had gasped when the salesclerk had told her the price, and disregarded the woman’s complimentary words as an effective sales pitch. But now she willingly conceded that the effect of the simple but elegant style had been worth the price.
The four chatted until social obligations demanded the Forsyths’ attention. After sampling several of the hors d’oeuvres and speaking with acquaintances, Karen and her father watched as the floor was cleared to make room for dancing.
Matthew surveyed the crowd while gently directing Karen as they danced the first waltz. His eyes glowed with amusement as he remarked, “There are several available men here. Take advantage of the opportunity to snare yourself a husband.”
Karen stiffened and pulled away from her father.
Almost angrily, Matthew continued, “I can’t understand what’s the matter with men today. You’re lovely, Karen.”
“Dad, please… “A note of helplessness entered her voice. Karen was so weary of this argument. A thousand times she’d explained that the problem wasn’t with men; it was with her. So many of the men she’d dated over the years were self-centered and egotistical, seeking easy conquests and one-night stands. It was almost to the point that she’d rather not date at all. Her natural good looks and vivacious personality invited the attention. But Karen had yet to discover what it was about herself that attracted the least-desirable males.
“I’m perfectly content with my life as it is.” Karen sighed with impatience, tilting her chin defiantly.
“But I want grandchildren.”
“You have grandchildren,” Karen reminded him coolly. “What do you call James and Carter?”
“I want a granddaughter.” Matthew flashed her a disputatious look.
“Dad,” Karen pleaded, “let’s not argue tonight. You have grandchildren, and more than likely you’ll have your precious granddaughter.” Karen didn’t know how much more she could endure. Matthew had applied constant pressure on her to marry for the past six months. The argument had nearly ruined their close relationship. Unable to endure his interference with her life, Karen had moved into her own apartment. It was a move long overdue. It’d been convenient to live at home and easy to rationalize her father’s need for her after her mother’s death. Much to her chagrin, Matthew sold their home and moved into an apartment in the same building as Karen. If anything, matters had gotten worse.
As they continued to waltz across the room, Karen caught sight of Mabel Jackson, an aging widow who’d made no effort to disguise her attraction to Matthew. Turnabout is fair play, she mused, and giggled devilishly.
“Do you find something amusing, lass?” Matthew asked curiously.
“No. Excuse me, Dad. I see someone I’d like to talk to.” Cleverly, she wove her way through the thick couples toward the widow.
“Mrs. Jackson, you look lovely tonight,” Karen greeted sweetly.
Mabel Jackson ignored the greeting and craned her long neck to stare into the dancing figures.
“Is your father here?” she asked with obvious interest.
“He sure is. In fact, it was my father who commented on how radiant you look. Dad said he’d never seen anyone more lovely.”
“He did?” The woman beamed and smoothed the hairs of her lopsided wig.
“You know, Mrs. Jackson, my father is a lonely man. He’d never admit it, of course, but Dad needs a woman. A real woman.” Karen stared into the crowd, unable to meet the widow’s triumphant gaze.
Mabel Jackson positively glowed. “My dear child, I’m so glad we’ve had this little talk. Leave your father to me.”
Karen smiled broadly and felt that even if she ended up disinherited, the taste of revenge was indeed sweet.
In a matter of minutes, several men were vying for Karen’s attention. She danced with a number of partners, young and old, her infectious laughter ringing through the hall as she surrendered to a swelling tide of triumph. Not once was she interrupted by her father’s forcing what he considered eligible men on her. An hour later, she managed to catch Matthew’s eye and winked wickedly as he waltzed by in the arms of Mabel Jackson. Matthew cast her a look that threatened bodily harm, and Karen burst into helpless giggles.
A moment later, she caught sight of her father’s angry stride as he wove through the crowd toward her. Wishing to avoid the taste of his Scottish temper, she hastily sought an escape. A curtained glass door leading to a balcony caught her attention. Unnoticed, she quietly slipped into the dark, leaving her father perplexed by her sudden disappearance.
Peering through the sheer curtain, Karen waited impatiently for Matthew to abandon his search.
“I beg your pardon,” came a deep voice from behind her as she backed into a solid form.
“Oh! Excuse me.” She fumbled and quickly straightened. “I didn’t realize there was anyone out here.”
“Obviously,” came the clipped reply as he stared into the dark. Karen watched him for a few minutes, but he made no effort to meet her gaze.
“Would you mind sharing your hideaway for a minute?” she asked sweetly, and deliberately blinked her long, curling lashes at his impassive expression. Men were usually quick to respond to her expressive brown eyes.
“Suit yourself,” he retorted unenthusiastically, and continued to stare into the night.
Undaunted by his lack of welcome, Karen joined him at the railing and searched the sky to discover what was so fascinating. The night was cold, crisp, and clear; the stars shone with a brilliant intensity.
“Leave it to my godfather to order a star display for the night of his party,” Karen murmured. Her gaze returned to the stranger’s face and swept his appearance. He wore a trim-fitting, dark wool suit that hugged his slim hips and long legs. The harsh contours of his face remained blank under her examination.
“Look!” Karen exclaimed, pointing her finger to the sky and counting the stars. “It’s Perseus. I can’t remember when I’ve seen the constellation stand out so clearly. You do see it, don’t you?”
“No, I’m afraid I don’t,” he remarked dryly.
“Sure you do. Just look a little to your left,” she persisted.
“Listen,” he snapped impatiently, “whatever your name may be—”
“Karen McAlister,” she interrupted, “and you’re…?”
“Randall Prescott,” he replied in a voice that spoke plainly of trepidation.
“Well, look again. It’s up there plain as day.” She pointed to it again for his benefit. “Really, it’s very clear, if you’ll just look…”
“Mrs. McAlister.”
“Miss,” Karen informed him cheerfully. “Miss McAlister.” he tried again. “Please call me Karen.”
Drawing in a breath as if to hold on to his limited patience, he began again. “Karen…Miss McAlister…whatever it is you wish to be called, I cannot view your precious Perseus, and I shall never view it. I’m blind!”
Karen felt the full impact of shock. After a moment of startled silence, she blurted out, “Oh, dear, Mr. Prescott, I do apologize.”
“Randall,” he interrupted.
“I had no idea, Randall. I.”
“Please call me Rand,” he taunted softly.
“All right, Rand,” she replied, a smile evident in her voice, “but please accept my apology.”
“An apology is unnecessary; my blindness cannot be attributed to your faults,” he countered stiffly.
“No, of course not, but I was being obtuse.”
He turned toward her then, allowing for the first time a clear view of his rugged features. He certainly didn’t fit her image of what a blind man might look like. His face was boldly defined, almost ruthless. There was a magnetic quality about his dark brown eyes that captured her gaze.
“I don’t suppose you came out here without your coat to view the stars?” he asked roughly, as if aware of her eyes studying him.
“How do you know I’m not wearing a coat?” she asked. Was this unnerving man playing her for a fool?
A sardonic smile touched the corners of his mouth. “I don’t. But I suspect the slight quiver in your voice is from a chill.”
Karen suddenly realized she was cold. Snoqualmie Falls was only a few minutes from the summit of Snoqualmie Pass, over the Cascades. The bitter December wind bit into her.
“Why are you hiding?” he asked, more gently. “Is someone bothering you?”
“Oh, heavens, no!” she quickly assured him, but paused. “Well, yes and no. I routed a persistent widow toward my father and was sure to taste his anger had I remained inside.”
Rand smiled at her predicament, his roguish features relaxing his expression. “I’m sure the whole incident has been forgiven. You can’t stay here. You’ll freeze.”
It was clearly a dismissal, and Karen felt strangely disappointed. She wanted to stay and learn more about this enigmatic stranger. He was the first man to really interest her in a long while. She hovered in the doorway, hoping to find an excuse to remain, but found none.
“Are you coming, too?”
“Later,” he replied indifferently, and appeared bored with her company.
Karen could only leave. “Then perhaps we’ll meet again,” she said softly.
“It’s unlikely,” he mumbled, as if he hadn’t intended her to hear. She watched as he returned to the railing.
Karen didn’t immediately see her father once she’d entered the warmth of the large reception hall. Mrs. Jackson was standing near the orchestra, waving her hand impatiently in an attempt to gain the conductor’s attention.
“Here you are.”
The voice startled Karen, and she jerked around to see her godfather. “Uncle Evan.” She placed a trembling hand over her heart to dramatize her fright. “You’re worse than a thief in the night.”
Evan Forsyth’s eyes twinkled. “Your father’s looking for you.”
Karen lowered her gaze, a little ashamed of her ploy. As much as Matthew irritated her, she loved him and realized he had only her best interests at heart.
“I suppose he’s still angry?” she asked.
“Let’s put it this way,” Evan said, chuckling. “He hasn’t had a free second since you spoke with Mabel. He’s hiding in the men’s room. I think we’d better dance before he decides it’s safe to return.”
“Oh, dear, I’m in for it now,” she mumbled as her godfather led her to the dance floor. It was a waltz, which gave her the opportunity to speak. “I’m afraid I made a blunder with one of your guests.”
Evan’s eyes rounded, feigning shock. “You seem to be making a night of it, my dear. Want to talk about it?” His position with the university and in the community made him a ready listener to the troubles of others.
Karen felt uneasy. “I’m afraid I literally bumped into Randall Prescott—”
“Ah,” Evan interrupted her. “I imagine he was rude. He tends to be the prickly sort. Damn good professor, though, the finest. We offer the best business program in the state due to him. Prescott could teach anywhere. Read more
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