Debbie Macomber - A Little Bit Country

“With what?” she asked with surprising calm. “My car? You were the one who convinced me it would never make this trip. Besides, how would you get the MG back?”

“I’d figured something out. Listen, I can’t let you sit around in some backwoods farm town. I’ll borrow a car or rent one.” He hesitated, then expelled his breath in a short burst of impatience. “Damn, forget that. I can’t come.”

“You can’t?”

“I’ve got a meeting tomorrow afternoon. It’s important—I can’t miss it. I’m sorry, Rorie, I really am, but there’s nothing I can do.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, defeat causing her voice to dip slightly. “I understand.” In a crazy kind of way she did. Dan was a rising stockbroker, so career moves were critical to him, more important than rescuing Rorie, the woman he claimed to love... Somehow Rorie couldn’t picture Clay making the same decision. In her heart she knew Clay would come for her the second she asked.

They spoke for a few more minutes before Rorie ended the conversation. She felt trapped, as though the walls were closing in around her. So far she and Clay had managed to disguise their feelings, but they wouldn’t be able to keep it up much longer before someone guessed. Kate wasn’t blind, and neither was Mary.

“Rorie?” Clay called her name as he burst into the office. “What happened? Skip told me you were all upset—something about the car? What is it?”

“George called.” She whirled around and pointed toward the phone. “The water pump arrived just like it was supposed to—but it’s the wrong one.”

Clay dropped his gaze, then removed his hat and wiped his forehead. “I’m sorry.”

“I am, too, but that doesn’t help, does it?” The conversation with Dan hadn’t improved matters, and taking her frustration out on Clay wasn’t going to change anything, either. “I’m stuck here, and this is the last place on earth I want to be.”

“Do you think I like it any better?” he challenged.

Rorie blinked wildly at the tears that burned for release.

“I wish to God your car had broken down a hundred miles from Elk Run,” he said. “Before you bombarded your way into my home, my life was set. I knew what I wanted, where I was headed. In the course of a few days you’ve upended my whole world.”

Emotion clogged Rorie’s throat at the unfairness of his accusations. She hadn’t asked for the MGB to break down where it had. The minute she could, she planned to get out of his life and back to her own.

No, she decided, they couldn’t wait that long—it was much too painful for them both. She had to leave now. “I’ll pack my things and be gone before evening.”

“Just where do you plan to go?”

Rorie didn’t know. “Somewhere...anywhere.” She had to leave for his sake, as well as hers.

“Go back inside the house, Rorie, before I say or do something else I’ll regret. You’re right—we can’t be in the same room together. At least not alone.”

She started to walk past him, eyes downcast, her heart heavy with misery. Unexpectedly his hand shot out and caught her fingers, stopping her.

“I didn’t mean what I said.” His voice rasped, warm and hoarse. “None of it. Forgive me, Rorie.”

Her heart raced when his hand touched hers. It took all the restraint Rorie could muster, which at the moment wasn’t much, to resist throwing herself into his arms and holding on for the rest of her life.

“Forgive me, too,” she whispered.

“Forgive you?” he asked, incredulous. “No, Rorie. I’ll thank God every day of my life for having met you.” With that, he released her fingers, slowly, reluctantly. “Go now, before I make an even bigger fool of myself.”

Rorie ran from the office as though a raging fire were licking at her heels, threatening to consume her.

And in a way, it was.

* * *

For two days, Rorie managed to stay completely out of his way. They saw each other only briefly and always in the company of others. Rorie was sure they gave Academy Award performances every time they were together. They laughed and teased and joked and the only one who seemed to suspect things weren’t quite right was Mary.

Rorie was grateful the housekeeper didn’t question her, but the looks she gave Rorie were frowningly thoughtful.

Three days after the Grange dance, Mary’s sister arrived in Riversdale. Revealing more excitement than Rorie had seen in their acquaintance, Mary fussed with her hair and dress, and as soon as she’d finished the lunch dishes she was off.

Putting on Mary’s well-worn apron, Rorie looped the long strands around her waist twice and set to work. Kate joined her mid-afternoon, carrying a large bag of ingredients for the dessert she was going to prepare.

“I’ve been cooking from the moment Mary left,” Rorie told Kate, pushing the damp hair from her forehead as she stirred wine into a simmering sauce. Rorie intended to dazzle Clay and Skip with her one speciality—seafood fettuccine. She hadn’t admitted to Mary how limited her repertoire of dishes was, although the housekeeper had repeatedly quizzed her about what she planned to make for dinner. Rorie had insisted it was a surprise. She’d decided that this rich and tasty dish stood a good chance of impressing the Franklin men.

“And I’m making Clay his favorite dessert—homemade lemon meringue pie.” Kate reached for the grocery bag on the kitchen counter and six bright yellow lemons rolled out.

Rorie was impressed. The one and only time she’d tried to bake a lemon pie, she’d used a pudding mix. Apparently, Kate took the homemade part seriously.

“Whatever you’re cooking smells wonderful,” Kate said, stepping over to the stove. Crab, large succulent shrimp and small bite-sized pieces of sole were waiting in the refrigerator, to be added to the sauce just before the dish was served.

Kate was busy whipping up a pie crust when the phone rang several minutes later. She glanced anxiously at the wall, her fingers sticky with flour and lard.

Rorie looked over at her. “Do you suppose I should answer that?”

“You’d better. Clay usually relies on Mary to catch the phone for him.”

Rorie lifted the receiver before the next peal. “Elk Run.”

“That Miss Campbell?”

Rorie immediately recognized the voice of the mechanic from Riversdale. “Yes, this is Rorie Campbell.”

“Remember I promised I’d call you when the part arrived? Well, it’s here, all safe and sound, so you can stop fretting. Just came in a few minutes ago—haven’t even had a chance to take it out of the box. Thought you’d want to know.”

“It’s the right one this time?”

“Here, I’ll check it now... Yup, this is it.”

Rorie wasn’t sure what she felt. Relief, yes, but regret, too. “Thank you. Thank you very much.”

“It’s a little late for me to be starting the job this afternoon. My son’s playing a Little League game and I promised him I’d be there. I’ll get to this first thing in the morning and should be finished before noon. Give me a call before you head over here and I’ll make sure everything’s running the way it should.”

“Yes, I’ll do that. Thanks again.” Slowly Rorie replaced the receiver. She leaned against the wall sighing deeply. At Kate’s questioning gaze, she smiled weakly and explained, “That was the mechanic. The water pump for my car arrived and he’s going to be working on it first thing in the morning.”

“Rorie, that’s great.”

“I think so, too.” She did—and she didn’t. Part of her longed to flee Elk Run, and another part of her realized that no matter how far she traveled, no matter how many years passed, she’d never forget these days with Clay Franklin.