Barri Bryan’s

No Ordinary Hero

A Decades Romance

(c) copyright Herb and Billie Houston, July 2002
Cover art by Eliza Black (c) 2002
New Concepts Publishing
www.newconceptspublishing.com
4729 Humphreys Rd.
Lake Park, GA 31636

Other books by Barri Bryan:

A Love Like Mine (A Tender Lie - Now available in print!)
Return to Paradise (Now available in print!)
After the Alamo
A Single Thread
Honky Tonk Cowboy
Imperfect Paradise

Chapter One

Cara Williams sat in the back seat of the military staff car and stared out the window at the sparse beauty of the passing autumn landscape. After all this time she was coming face to face with her husband. Over the past four years she'd lived this moment a thousand times in her mind. Her thoughts drifted backward. In the beginning the pain of rejection made those imagined encounters almost unbearable. It had eased her agony to cast Rand as the repentant husband, begging on bent knee for another chance. She was the unassuming wife, magnanimous in her forgiveness and tried to pull he thoughts back to now. That was when she could still believe he would come back to her.

As the months rolled by that belief began to waver. The knowledge that Rand had joined the army altered the now not-so-frequent scenes that played through her head. In this new setting Rand was just as adamant, just as repentant, but Cara was less forgiving, more demanding. It had given her some comfort to know that she'd grown stronger in the year since he'd walked away without a backward glance.

A second year passed. She received that terrible telegram: We regret to inform you. Even now those words had the power to wound and frighten. Rand was missing and presumed dead. It seemed foolish to hold a grudge against a man who was either deceased or in the hands of the enemy. The agony gradually reduced to a dull ache of acceptance.

Another year slipped by. Hindsight and experience broadened Cara's perspective. With newly gained wisdom came the ability to face an unsettling truth. The Rand she had known and the Cara she had been were both gone, lost forever in the sweep of passing time. The imagined conversations became less frequent and less condemning.

Days passed, weeks went by, months took their flight, and another year was swiftly sliding into oblivion. Now when Cara thought of her husband it was in the past tense. She was convinced that he would never return. It had been months since she'd envisioned herself engaging Rand in some intimate tête-à-tête. What could she possibly have to say to a dead man?

Once more Cara turned her attention to the passing landscape. Leaves were falling from the post oaks. Birds collected along fence rows, gathering for their flight south. There was a hint of chill in the air. It was a day not unlike the October morning four years ago when Rand had walked out the front door and out of her life. Was that only four years ago? It seemed she'd lived a lifetime since then.

With renewed impact the thought hit her. Rand was alive! Not only alive but waiting for her at Fort Sam Houston. Her stunned senses struggled to absorb such a startling revelation.

Cara was brought back from her reverie by Colonel Daniels, the military messenger who had come to fetch her, calling her name. "Mrs. Williams. Mrs. Williams."

Grasping the back of the seat she leaned forward. "Yes?"

"We're in San Antonio. We'll soon be at Fort Sam."

Cara looked around her. The scenery had changed. They were passing the junk yards that had sprung up along the southern fringe of the city. Collecting salvage for the war effort had grown into a prosperous business enterprise. She sat back in her seat. "So?"

"So you will soon be reunited with your husband and . . ."

Once again Cara leaned forward. "And what?"

"And I thought you might have questions."

She did, but they weren't for Colonel Daniels. For no reason she could explain, the longer she was in this man's company, the more she disliked him. "I can't think of a thing."

Shifting in his seat, Colonel Daniels turned to face her. "Three years is a long time."

No one knew that better than she. "Yes it is." Briefly she wondered if there was something about Rand's return the colonel hadn't told her. "Four years is even longer."

"Your husband is a man of superior strength and courage, but he's vulnerable now and susceptible to being wounded deeply. I trust you will bear that in mind when you see him."

It was a short speech but an impassioned one that expressed the colonel's deep concern for a fellow soldier. Cara could set his mind at rest. "Colonel Daniels, I am not an unfeeling person. I loved my husband. I would never intentionally do or say anything to hurt him."

"What about unintentionally, Mrs. Williams?"

The car was stopping at the front gate of Fort Sam. Colonel Daniels turned to salute the guard who waved them through. Once on the other side, he shifted again to face Cara. "Loved, Mrs. Williams? Past tense?"

Is that what she'd said? Swift recollection told her it was. "I'll be careful." When the colonel raised a skeptical eyebrow she lifted one hand. "I promise."

Turning, the colonel shook his head. "I doubt that will be enough."

An hour later, after enduring the scrutiny of another and equally offensive colonel and being granted the dubious pleasure of a session with a bumbling but well-meaning chaplain, Cara was escorted to a stairs outside the chaplain’s office. The priest pointed a pudgy finger upward. "Your husband is on the second floor, in room 213."

Cara stared up the steep flight. "Should I wait here for him?"

The good father shook his head. "You may go up to see him. Would you like me to come with you?"

"I can manage, thank you."

"Then I'll bid you good-bye." Clearly relieved, the priest scurried back into his office.

Cara climbed the stairs, silently counting steps as she went - one, two, three, four. She paused. Maybe she should have taken the chaplain up on his offer to come with her. Five, six, seven. It would only have postponed the inevitable. Eight, nine, ten. This was something she must do alone. Eleven, twelve. She told herself she'd faced worse. She couldn't remember when. The thirteenth step set her feet on the second floor landing.

Not a good omen, she decided as she veered left and followed the arrow pointing the way to rooms 210 through 215. Once around the bend in the passageway she spied the door marked 213. Another ill omen? Drawing a deep breath, she exhaled slowly. Outside the sun had slipped behind a cloud bank. Doubling her fist, she rapped three times on the closed door.

A voice called from the other side. "Come in."

Cara twisted the knob. The door opened. She stepped inside. A tall man wearing olive drab fatigues was stretched out on a cot by the window. His fingers were laced behind his head. He was staring at the ceiling. Silhouetted against the light from the window, his handsome profile stood out in stark relief. Without bothering to look her way, he said, "Shut the door."

Cara obeyed. Her heart began to beat a little faster. Any thought that this man was not Randall Williams vanished with her first glance at his granite profile. Her husband was alive. She closed the door. "Hello."

Rand's head pivoted, then he jumped to his feet. His blond hair caught and held the morning light. "Cara?" He looked older, leaner, tougher, but he was still just as tall with the same broad shoulders and slim, trim waist, still just as incredibly attractive with glittering blue eyes and a generous mouth that slashed across his handsome face. But Rand Williams possessed more than a striking countenance and a lean, muscular physique. There was about him a kind of magical presence, a distinctive aura that set him apart from ordinary individuals and made him seem larger than life. It was that charisma that had first captured her girlish heart. It blazed forth now, as potent and powerful as ever. "I expected you yesterday. I had about decided you weren't coming."

Cara refused to meet his gaze; instead she fastened her eyes on the cleft in his chin. "I didn't know you were here until this morning."

"So they're still investigating." Moving with a grace she remembered so well, Rand stepped across the room, lifted a chair from the corner and carried it to a spot near the bed. "Would you like to sit down?"

She would like to remove the invisible barrier that time and circumstance had erected between them. She would like to erase the years and be a naive, trusting girl again. Pushing those foolish fancies from her mind, she nodded and lowered her body into the chair.

Rand eased down onto the cot. His eyes traveled slowly from the top of her head to the tip of her suede pumps. "You're. . . looking well."

She wished now she'd worn her suit with the Eisenhower jacket and her frilly blouse.

Looking at his pinched face and sallow skin, she knew she couldn't return the compliment, not and tell the truth. Inanely she asked, "How have you been?"

The brackets around Rand's mouth deepened as his lips pulled into a thin line. "How have I been?" His expression hardened. "Worse, thank you."

She had asked. Now she felt foolish for having done so. Tension tied a knot in her stomach. She glanced around the small, sparsely furnished room. Maybe her questions should be more concrete. "How long have you been here?"

"I've been at Fort Sam three days."

After what seemed an eternity of silence, Rand asked, "How are the boys?"

Was that all he could think of to ask, 'How are the boys?' What had she expected him to say? She didn't know. She needed to hear something much more profound and a little more reassuring. "They're fine. Paul is in the fifth grade now. Danny's in the third."

He nodded. "And Mother and Dad? How are they?"

"Elaine is fine. She's going to be surprised."

"And Dad?"

"Baron is. . ." There was no good way to deliver bad news. "Baron's dead."

Pain skipped across Rand's set features and lodged in the blue of his eyes. "My father is dead? " His jaw tightened. "How long?"

"Almost three years. He passed away the week after you were reported missing in action."

"Mother must have been devastated."

She had been and for reasons Rand had yet to learn. Cara folded her arms across her chest and rubbed her elbows with her hands. "It was difficult for her. But your mother is a strong woman. She handled the situation with a strength and dignity I didn't know she possessed."

One of Rand's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "Oh?" No doubt he was recalling that during the early years of their marriage there had been no love lost between his wife and his mother. "How so?"

This was not going to be easy for either of them. Cara ran her hands down her arms then folded them in her lap. "Your dad's death showed me a side of Elaine I'd never seen before."

She was set to tell him the circumstances surrounding his father's sudden demise and then she looked down at her hands. Like a bolt from the blue it hit her. She wasn't wearing her wedding band. When had she taken it off? Where had she put it? She couldn't remember.

Rand spoke her name softly, "Cara?"

Cara lifted her head. "Yes?"

"Tell me about Dad."

"He died of a heart attack. It was what Doctor Barnes called a coronary occlusion." She hastened to add, "Death was instantaneous. He didn't suffer."

"That's supposed to be a comfort? Somehow it isn't."

The knot of tension in Cara's stomach tightened. She could find no reason for Rand's sudden animosity. "I know how much you loved your father. I thought it would help to be assured he wasn't in pain at the end."

Rand was immediately contrite. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to be unkind."

She shrugged. "It's all right. I know this comes as quite a blow."

"It does." Rand pressed his fingers to his temples. "Who took care of you and Mother and the boys after Dad was gone?" He ran his hands through the sides of his close-cropped hair. "Who ran the business?"

"After your dad died, the business. . . died too. We can talk about that later. I. . . Rand. . ." Cara's voice faded on the end of a little sigh.

For the first time since she'd come into the room, Rand smiled. "I can tell by the way you say my name this is bad news." Standing, he pushed his hands into his pockets. "What happened? Did 4F Cousin Evan take over the family business? Is that why it failed?"

His caustic questions caught her unawares. The Rand she remembered would never have made a derogatory remark about his older cousin's draft status. Cara jumped to Evan's defense. "It's not Evan's fault he was born with a club foot. And for your information, he's not the one who destroyed Williams Hardware & Appliance."

Rand paced across the floor and stood with his feet far apart and his back to her. "Stop mincing words and tell me what happened."

Cara straightened her shoulders. "Baron was in bed with another woman when he had his heart attack." She'd finally gotten it out.

Rand lifted his head and stretched his neck to stare at the ceiling. "Marsha Cole?"

He knew! Rand knew about Baron and Marsha. "Yes."

Lowering his head, he turned to stare at her. "Fill me in on the sordid details."

With a nod, Cara began. "Baron had his attack late one night. He was at Marsha's apartment. They were . . . You know what they were doing, when Baron collapsed on top of her. The poor woman was frightened out of her wits. She couldn't revive him. She called a neighbor who called an ambulance. They rushed Baron to the hospital, but it was too late. Doctor Barnes said he died instantly."

Coming across the room, Rand sat back down on the cot. "Dear God."

Cara had to ask. "How long have you known about Marsha and Baron?"

"Since I was a teenager."

"And you never said a word?"

"Why would I tell anyone that I knew my father was having a long-term affair with his secretary? It wouldn't have changed anything and I didn't want Mother to know."

He did have a point, but he was wrong about one thing. "Elaine is no fool. She knew, she'd known for a long time." Anger pushed Cara to her feet. "How could your father do that to your mother?" Shoving her chair back with her foot, she paced across the floor. "How could anyone be so heartless?" Stopping, she turned. "I didn't come here to speak ill of the dead. There's more."

Rand pointed to the chair. "Sit down, Cara, and tell me what happened to Dad's business."

Cara came to stand behind her chair. "Dad's business?" She gripped the back until her knuckles whitened. "Williams Hardware & Appliance never belonged to your father. All the authority he had, he usurped after Grandfather Williams died. When Uncle Earl passed away, he took over completely."

"Who told you that?" When she didn't answer, he prompted, "Was it Evan?"

There it was again, the insinuation that Evan was less than honest and somehow at fault for past misfortunes. The old Rand would never have questioned Evan's motives or his integrity. "Are you blaming Evan for what happened?" There existed between the two men a special bond of brotherly love and understanding, or so Cara had believed, until now. Their mothers were sisters and their fathers were brothers. That made them more than cousins. Since each was an only child, it seemed only natural that they had grown up being close even though Evan was five years Rand's senior. "You should be grateful to him for all he's done for you."

Rand's eyes narrowed. "Sit down and tell me all Evan's done for me — and to me."

Cara had come here so sure she could speak to Rand in a detached impersonal manner. She was prepared to feel calm sensations like sympathy, compassion, and regret. It confused and angered her to realize that this man still had the power to stir her emotions. Pulling her chair back, Cara sat down. Determined not to show how upset she was, she asked in a resigned voice, "Why are you angry with Evan?"

"Did I say I was angry with my cousin?"

He hadn't, but he'd implied as much. "No."

"Then forget Evan and get on with your story."

Cara's cool resolve to break past happenings gently melted in the heat of anger. "Baron was bankrupt when he died. Everything he owned," She paused. "No - everything that belonged to Williams Hardware & Appliance was mortgaged to the hilt. The only thing left after the estate was settled was the old family farm out on Windthorst Road. That was only because Grandfather Williams had the forethought to pass the farm on to his grandsons, so Baron couldn't touch it."

Did you sell the farm?"

"How could we?" Cara's anger began to cool. She remembered her last words to Colonel Daniels. I'll be careful. I promise. "The farm belonged to you as much as it did to Evan, and you were missing in action."

"If you didn't sell the farm, how did you make it without Dad to look after your interests and help you along financially?"

Cara bit back a caustic reply. Baron had never been concerned with anyone's interest but his own, and she had never taken one penny from her father-in-law. "We managed quite well, thank you. Since we couldn't sell the farm, we decided to live there."

"Are you including Mother in that we?"

Cara shrugged. "I'm including the entire family, Elaine, Paul and Danny, Aunt Irene, Evan, and. . . ."

"Wait a minute." Rand lifted his hand to silence her. "Let me get this straight. You moved Mother and Aunt Irene in under the same roof?"

"I said the entire family. That includes your mother's sister."

"That wasn't fair to Mother. She and Aunt Irene don't get along, even if they are sisters."

It stung Cara that Rand's primary concern was for the welfare of his mother. "There was a war on. Even if we'd had the money to rent separate dwellings, and we didn't, there were no houses to be had."

"How inconvenient." The contempt in Rand's gaze was unmistakable. "Had I known I'd have sent condolences from Stalag 17B." Her expression must have told him she had no idea what he was talking about. "Stalag 17B is a hell hole in Krems, Austria." His face hardened. "It's a prisoner of war camp, or it was."

This made no sense at all. If Rand had been in a prisoner of war camp why had he been listed as missing in action? "Is that where you've been the past three years?"

Rand waved his hand in a dismissing gesture. "I don't want to talk about it."

This had to be more than some bureaucratic error. "Why wasn't I informed?" Had she been purposely kept in the dark? "I thought you were dead." For three years she'd lived with the hell of not knowing, when all the time there must have been those who knew full well that Rand was alive. A tremor of rage shook her. "Why, Rand? Why wasn't I told?"

"I said I don't want to talk about it."

"Well I do. Rand please. . ."

"I can't! Not now!"

The tortured note in his voice made Cara stop her questioning. He could explain later, when the memories weren't so fresh and painful. "All right." She picked up the threads of her narration. "We don't live at the farm anymore. That's our business location now."

Rand's brow wrinkled. "I must have missed something. You said there was no business."

She was doing this badly. "I said there was no Williams Hardware & Appliance, at least that's what I meant to say." Talk about business would have to wait. First she had to find a way to break another bit of difficult news. "Someone else came with us when we moved to the farm."

Rand paused to catch his breath before asking, "Who?"

"Marsha Cole."

Rand catapulted to his feet. "My God! You moved my mother into the house with a sister she can't abide and her late husband's mistress?" He prowled like a restless predator across the floor of the small room before swinging to face her. "I knew you disliked Mother. I didn't know you hated her."

He was being damned unfair. Cara was set to tell him so. Then she remembered how the chaplain had cautioned her to be patient and understanding. "I'm fond of your mother. That hasn't always been true, but it is now."

Rand leveled a cynical glance in her direction. "Altered truths? Is that what we're talking about now? Tell me, Cara, how many other truths have changed in the years I've been away?"

Her patience snapped like a twig in a windstorm. "I didn't send you away. You went of your own accord. That's one truth we can't alter or change." She was set to say so much more. The pain in his eyes stopped her. "This is getting us nowhere. Sit down and I'll try to explain."

"Maybe I'd better." Rand moved back to the cot and once more eased down on its side. "Give me one good reason for humiliating Mother by moving Marsha Cole into her home."

"Marsha had no other place to go."

"Not good enough."

Cara spoke more in anguish than in anger. "Marsha was pregnant with Baron's child."

Chapter Two

Rand's jaw went slack. His mouth fell open then snapped shut. "If Dad had lived this would never have happened. He'd have made sure Marsha had an abortion."

His reaction was not what Cara had expected. "How can you know that?"

"She was pregnant twice before that I know about. Both times Marsha wanted to have the child. Both times Dad refused to let her."

Cara had thought her contempt for Baron Williams couldn't be more profound. She was mistaken. "This time he wasn't around to stop her."

"So Marsha had the child?" Rand's question was, in reality, a statement. "I can imagine how tongues in Summerville wagged when Marsha Cole gave birth to Baron Williams’ bastard. Where are they now?"

Cara reviewed in her mind the trying days before Marsha gave birth. "It was difficult for all of us, but not because of any gossip, there was none. Evan saw to that. He married Marsha."

"My bachelor cousin made the ultimate sacrifice? How noble."

"Evan didn't think of it as making a sacrifice." What had she expected from Rand? Gratitude? Maybe. His cousin had saved his father's memory from being marred by scandal. Compassion? Possibly. The child was, after all, his half-sister. Understanding? She had hoped for at least some measure of that. The only emotion this bitter, battle-scared man seemed capable of, was contempt. "The baby was a girl. Evan named her Nancy after Grandmother Williams."

Again, Rand's chief concern was for Elaine. "How did Mother take all this?"

It seemed important to Cara that she make Rand understand how things had been between Elaine and Marsha. "After Baron died, Elaine and Marsha became friends. The truth is, it was Elaine's idea that Marsha move to the farm with us."

"Spare me, please," Rand's mouth turned up in a sneer. "I don't know how many more of these altered truths I can take."

Cara's stomach cramped with tension. "I know you find that hard to believe, but it's true. Elaine was very fond of Marsha."

Rand turned his head to one side and raised both eyebrows. "Was?"

"There were complications at Nancy's birth. Marsha was over forty and in poor health. All those abortions she'd had exacerbated matters. She died when Nancy was three months old."

Rand closed his eyes. His jaw tightened. "Where is the child now?"

This was going to take some explaining. "Legally Evan is Nancy's father."

Rand's eyes opened slowly. "I'm bright enough to figure that out on my own."

Of course he was. "Aunt Irene cares for her during the day."

A note of surprise sounded in Rand's voice. "Evan kept the child?"

"Yes and no." Cara stirred in her chair, then cleared her throat. "Nancy lives with the boys and me." She felt a sudden pressing need to explain. "It's important that a child have a mother and a family. Evan knows nothing about raising a little girl." Leaning back, Cara drew a long breath, waiting for Rand to reply. When his response was an uneasy quiet, she said, "The boys both adore her." Still, the only sound was silence. Cara grew more uncomfortable with each passing moment. "Her resemblance to Danny and Paul is uncanny." Several more tense seconds ticked by. Finally she blurted out, "For God's sake, say something."

Rand stared into space for several seconds before murmuring, "This may take some getting used to." He pinned her with a stiletto stare. "Is this a permanent arrangement?"

Cara had always thought it would be. Now she wasn't so sure. From the beginning she'd known that Nancy and Evan were a package deal. A disturbing thought surfaced. Evan could take Nancy from her if he so chose. "Nancy's place is with me." She needed to fill Rand in on some important details. "When we moved from the farm, Evan and Aunt Irene relocated in an apartment on Elm Street. Elaine, the boys and I moved into Mister Darby's house on Trent Avenue. Nancy wasn't even a year old. The apartment was small. There was no yard and no park nearby. My house is large. I have a fenced yard. I asked Evan to let me take Nancy. He agreed. I've had her ever since."

"How long do you plan to keep her?"

How could she answer that question? Over the past few months Evan had made it understood that he would very much like to make both himself and Nancy a permanent part of Cara's life. Typically Evan, he had begun by pointing out the obvious. "Your sons need a father, my daughter needs a mother."

Cara smiled as she remembered what her response had been. "So what do you propose we do about that?"

Evan ducked his head and looked up at her. "I've been trying to propose for months now that we. . . ."

Cara thought as her gaze locked into Evan's, that his eyes were the exact color of Rand's, blue as a sapphire summer sky. They were fringed with the same long black lashes, but they lacked the glitter that had made Rand's gaze so magnetic.

Rand's voice cracked like a whip. "How long do you plan to keep this child?"

Cara didn't have an answer to that question. "I consider Nancy my daughter." She studied the man across from her. Evan's similarity to Rand ended with the color of his hair and eyes. At six two, Rand was a good three inches taller than Evan. His shoulders were much broader, his body more muscular. His facial features were more striking and well defined. Rand's stride was strong and self-confident. Evan walked with a slight limp. The most marked difference between the two men was in personality. Evan possessed none of the magnetism and charm that were an innate part of Rand. And Evan was not nearly so aggressive as his younger cousin.

That lack of aggression had never been more evident than the night Evan proposed to Cara. He had needed her encouragement. No. He'd needed her assistance. Cara smiled as she recalled how, with a mischievous gleam in her eyes, she'd asked him: "You've been wanting to propose what, exactly?"

"Will you?" Evan's gaze held hers. "Marry me?"

Cara looked away. "Evan, I have to be honest, I don't. . . ."

Evan's grip on her hand tightened. "It's all right. I know you don't love me the way you loved Rand."

At that moment what Cara felt for Evan a gentle protective affection that made her want to hug him to her breast. Over the knot of emotion in her throat, she whispered, "Rand was my first love. I don't ever expect to feel that way again."

"I understand." Evan's fingers stroked her wrist. "Because you're my first love. From the first moment I saw you I knew you were the one." His smile was persuasive. "Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

His soft words and gentle caress released emotions Cara had held in check for years. A surge of desire caught in her throat and tingled between her legs. It had been too long since she'd felt a masculine touch, surrendered to a man's passionate demands. Color bloomed in her cheeks. "Legally, I'm already married."

Evan moved a little closer. "Rand's dead, Cara. I'm asking you to marry me. Will you?"

At that moment Cara decided that Rand was her past. Evan was her future. "Yes."

"Cara!" Rand's voice fracturing the atmosphere brought Cara back to now with a jolt. "You're a thousand miles away. Are you going to answer my question?"

"Sorry." Cara's mind was a muddle. "What question?"

"You haven't heard a word I've said. I asked if you think it's fair to expect Mother to live in the same house with Dad's bastard?"

Aggravation made Cara indiscreet. The news she had resolved to break with care and sensitivity burst from her lips. "Elaine hasn't lived with the boys and me for sometime, but Nancy being there had nothing to do with her leaving. Your mother is married again."

Disbelief etched itself into every line of Rand's face. "That's not true."

A gust of outrage shook Cara. He had, in effect, called her a liar. As the disbelief on his face changed to agonized acknowledgment, Cara's fury died away. The world Rand Williams had left behind four years ago was gone, shattered by fate, and then blown into oblivion by the wicked winds of time. She watched his changing expressions as realization of that hard truth slowly converted to acceptance. Finally, he asked, "How long? To whom?"

"She married Joe Turner last December."

Rand dropped his face into his hands. "I can't imagine my mother with another man." Lifting his head he asked, "What sort of person is this Joe Turner?"

Joe Turner was nothing like Baron Williams, thank God. "He's a fine person, decent, kind, very loyal." Recalling Joe's rough exterior and direct approach made her stop short of adding sensitive. "And he's very much in love with Elaine."

"You're telling me he's everything Dad wasn't?"

"In a word, yes."

"You think Dad didn't care about Mother, but you're wrong. In his own way he loved her."

At this point, Cara would have let slide almost any remark Rand could make, but not this one. Baron Williams had been a despicable person. Why did Rand insist on finding excuses for his atrocious behavior? Careful to avoid a direct attack on a man who could no longer defend himself, she retorted, "Love is manifest in strength, not weakness."

Rand seemed determined to defend his father. "And Dad was the strongest man I ever knew."

Baron Williams had been an emotional coward and a spiritual weakling. Obviously, Rand wasn't willing to accept that truth. "Whatever he was when he was alive, your father's dead now, dead and long buried. Maybe we should let him rest in peace."

Rand nodded his agreement, and then changed the subject. "You say you live in Mister Darby's old airplane bungalow? The rent on such a place must be outrageous."

This didn't seem the time to tell Rand she owned that little airplane bungalow. "Business is good. I manage quite well."

"So we're back to business again." Rand stood and once more moved restlessly across the room before turning to level a hard stare in her direction. "You seem reluctant to tell me about this profitable undertaking. " He made the word profitable sound like an obscenity. "Why?"

This time she didn't ask him to sit down, nor did she try to avoid his glittering gaze. "The name of the company is Debbie Dimples, Inc., DDI for short. We manufacture and sell rag dolls."

Rand's expression moved from surprised to disbelieving, then he doubled over in scornful laughter. As his loud guffaws died away, he straightened and looking more puzzled by the minute, asked, "You're serious, aren't you?"

"Dead serious."

He had the good grace to apologize. "I'm sorry I laughed."

He should be. DDI was a legitimate and profitable business enterprise. Then Cara reconsidered. Maybe it did sound strange to say she made a profitable living selling rag dolls. She smiled. "Apology accepted."

Rand came across the room and sat in the center of the cot. The springs gave under his weight. For the first time since she'd come here, he appeared amiable, almost congenial. "Tell me about your business."

First Cara needed to refresh his memory. "Do you recall the rag dolls I used to stitch up for gifts at Christmas time; the ones with a dimple in each cheek? " Rand's blank stare made her add, "The ones Aunt Sophie taught me to make."

Cara had been barely three years old when her mother died. Her only other living relative had been her father's Aunt Sophie. The gentle spinster had taken Cara into her home and raised her with love and kindness, inculcating into her, as she grew to adult hood, the virtues of thriftiness, tidiness, and prudence. She also taught her grand niece to be a superb seamstress. When she died, she left Cara her love for music and poetry, her ancient treadle sewing machine, and a host of loving memories, but little else.

Cara was eighteen at the time. Alone and frightened, she'd been forced to seek gainful employment. How fortunate she had thought herself to be when she was hired by Williams Hardware & Appliance as a clerical assistant to Evan Williams, the owner's nephew.

"Cara?"

Rand calling her name pulled Cara from another time and another place. "Yes?"

"Again, I'm sorry. I don't remember."

Why should he? Rand had never paid much attention to Cara's projects. He'd been too occupied with business, and she would learn later, other pursuits. At one time that thought would have chilled the marrow in Cara's bones. Now it only caused a little tingle to waltz across her skin. "It's not important." With a shrug she went on with her story. "The Christmas after you left, I was desperate for money."

Rand interrupted. "Desperate? Come on Cara. Dad was alive then. He'd have given you any amount of money you'd asked for."

"Baron and I weren't speaking. How could I ask him for money?"

Rand gripped the sides of the cot with both hands. "Weren't speaking? Why not? What happened?"

With a wave of dismissal, Cara said, "It's not important."

Rand's eyes narrowed. "I happen to think it's damned important. What happened?"

She didn't want to dredge up still more painful old memories. "It's in the past. Let it go."

Tell me what happened. I have a right to know."

A ball of fury burst in Cara's head, momentarily blinding her. "You have no rights at all where I'm concerned." She blinked her eyes to clear her vision. "You left me with two small children, a pile of debts and no visible means of support. Any rights you had were terminated the moment you walked out the front door." Her hands were shaking. Lacing her fingers together, she laid them in her lap and tried to still the quivering in her stomach. She hadn't been this angry in years, not since she'd walked into Rand's office four years ago and found him in the arms of another woman.

As suddenly as her anger had appeared, it vanished, leaving her weak-kneed and shaken. It would be best if she got everything out into the open. "We quarreled because I asked Baron to fire Cynthia Burke and he refused."

Rand's face was impassive. "I never thought of you as a vindictive person."

Cara had never thought of herself that way either, not until she'd walked unannounced into her husband's office and found him kissing his pretty young secretary. "Jealously does strange things to people."

Rand's expression hardened. "I told you then and I'm telling you now, there was never any reason for you to be jealous of Cynthia Burke."

"I know what you said, and I know what I saw." The recollection of that defining moment brought a wave of unbidden pain. "It doesn't matter anymore." But it had mattered then. The man who was both the center and the circumference of Cara's narrow little world was kissing another woman. "I got over it."

Rand reached across the space between them and brushed the back of her clenched hands with the tips of his fingers. "Did you?"

His touch was like an electric shock. She drew her hands back. Until now, she'd believed that to be true. Unclenching her hands, Cara flexed her fingers. "Cynthia is now one of my employees."

Rand raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yes. Only she's Cynthia Hunter now. She married after you left. He husband was killed in the South Pacific in 1944."

Rand's frown was thoughtful. "How many people do you employ?"

With a touch of pride, Cara answered, "Around fifty."

Rand's eyes widened. "Debbie Dimples, Inc. must be a sizable operation."

"It is." Cara answered, "And soon it's going to be much larger. We're on the verge of closing a deal with Leward's."

"Who is Lee Ward?"

"Not Lee Ward, Leward's. It's one word." He couldn't know about the company. It hadn't come into existence until after he'd been reported missing. "It's a national retail chain that's like a department store, a five-and-dime, a food market, a drug emporium, and an automotive parts and accessory center all rolled into one."

Rand's affability vanished. Caustically, he asked, "And who, exactly, is we?"

"We is DDI. We're a corporation." His unrelenting stare made her add, "Everyone in the Williams family owns stock in the business."

"Does that everyone include me? The last account I had, I was a member of the Williams family."

"We didn't include dead members." That sounded so cruel. "I mean. . ." She was at a loss for words. After a few stumbling attempts to explain, Cara blurted out, "No. You're not included." That sounded even worse.

"Would you mind telling me who is?"

She minded a great deal, but she supposed he had a right to know. "Me, Evan," Cara used the fingers of one hand to enumerate. "Elaine, Aunt Irene, and Joe."

Rand's brows pulled together across his nose. "Joe who?"

He was being deliberately obtuse. "Joe Turner, Elaine's husband."

"Joe Turner is not a member of the Williams family."

With a supercilious lift of her chin, Cara said, "He's Elaine's husband."

"That doesn't make him a Williams."

She was set to argue when it occurred to her that she didn't owe Rand any further explanation, and Cara said so, quite succinctly. She ended by adding, "I consider Joe a member of my family."

"Your family seems to have grown by leaps and bounds since I've been away. First there was Nancy, now there's Joe. But that doesn't make either of them a Williams since you're not a Williams either, except by marriage."

At last they had come to the crux of the matter, their marriage. Four years ago, a wife and two small sons had called for more commitment than Rand was ready to make. He'd run away, seeking space and time. He'd been back less than three days, and already she was saddling him with what he must perceive as even more responsibility. "I know." Cara gnawed at her bottom lip. She could do now what she'd lacked the strength to do four years ago, she could give Rand his freedom. "I won't ever try to tie you down or put chains on you again."

Rand seemed genuinely surprised. ""What are you trying to tell me?"

"That you're free. Isn't that what you want?" It had never occurred to Cara that it wasn't.

"Nobody is ever free. Freedom's an illusion."

He was being contrary. No, he was being downright argumentative, and purposely so.

You need feel no responsibility toward me, or my family, however far I choose to extend it. I can handle my own life now. If that doesn't give you freedom, it should at least provide you with space to find yourself and room to breathe."

Rand said. "So you're still holding a grudge."

That wasn't true. She'd put the past behind her, at least that's what she had thought, until now. "I'm trying to be kind."

"Don't. I don't need your kindness, or your sympathy."

No one could be more obstinate and insufferable than Rand when he set his mind to it. Cara knew from experience, that trying to reason with him when he was in this frame of mind was like arguing with a brick wall. She stood. "How long will you be at Fort Sam?"

"I'm leaving tomorrow."

Sitting back down, Cara took a pad and ball point pen from her handbag. "Give me your address. I'll get in touch with you later."

His words were a knife in her ribs. "I'll be at the farm out on Windthorst Road."

Before she thought, Cara protested, "You can't go there."

"Why not?"

"You're not a farmer."

"I don't intend to farm. I intend to write."

The farm was no longer a farm. How did she go about telling him that? "I thought you understood. That's our business location now."

Rand crossed his legs and laced his fingers around his knee. She could almost believe he was enjoying her discomfort. "How could my living in the old farmhouse disturb your business? Unless your business is in the old house." Dropping his hands, he uncrossed his legs. "Is it?"

"No." Instinctively she moved back. "What are you going to write?"

"A book."

"You will have to write your book some other place."

"I don't choose to do that." The set of his chin told her he had made up his mind. He would have to unmake it.

Discomfort cramping into Cara's stomach pushed her to her feet again. "There is no farmhouse on Windthorst Road anymore." She took a few steps backward. "It was torn down over a year ago."

Rand catapulted to his feet. "You tore down a hundred-year-old- house that was a historical landmark?" He took a menacing stride in her direction. "Why for God's sake?" Stopping he took a deep breath, and then pointed to the vacant chair. "Sit down." His was making a concentrated effort to control his outrage. "Maybe we'd better both sit down." Dropping onto the cot, he exploded again. "You have a hell of a lot of explaining to do."

As she eased into the chair, Cara renewed her resolve to stay cool and collected. "What was once The Williams Farm is now Windthorst Road Industrial Park. The house had to go to make room for new construction."

"What kind of new construction?"

"Warehouses, an office building, a railroad loading dock, a salvage collecting depot, a textile mill, a manufacturing plant. . . ."

Rand interrupted to ask, "How did you finance such an undertaking?"

"We didn't have to finance it."

"We meaning The Williams Corporation?"

"We meaning DDI. We couldn't sell locations in the park, so we leased them at a reduced rate for an extended length of time to interested merchants and business men." With a touch of pride, Cara concluded, "The leasers built their own facilities."

On an explosive intake of breath, Rand demanded, "Who came up with that brilliant idea?"

The idea for an industrial complex had been Cara's brain child. She didn't feel justified in taking all the credit. Without Evan's help and support, Windthorst Road Park would never have become a reality. "It was a joint undertaking. We all contributed."

Rand's mouth pulled into a thin line of disapproval. "How long are these leases for?" What's your margin of profit?"

"Ninety-nine years. We haven't realized a profit yet." Cara steeled herself for Rand's next outburst.

It never came. Instead, he said with a kind of resigned acceptance. "So you found a way to circumvent the law."

It was Cara's turn to be outraged. "We did no such thing!"

"Yes, you did. When you couldn't sell what was in part mine, you leased it for almost a century with no return on your investment."

"There will be a return, someday." That someday was far in the future. "For now, we have our own business that's growing and prospering."

"And I have nothing."

From his point of view what they had done must appear treacherous and underhanded. "We had no idea you were alive. Now that we know you are, we can work something out."

"Oh, really?" Rand sneered, and then hissed, "Like what?"

"I can't make any concrete offer until I've spoken to the other members of the board." It was becoming more and more apparent that Rand's sudden return from the dead was going to complicate every phase of Cara's life. Pushing down on the top of her ball point pen, she reached for her pad. "Where will you go when you leave here?" She waited, pen poised, for his response.

"I told you, I'm going home."

He was doing it again, being aggravating and vague. Cara retracted her pen and raised her head. "Where is home?"

With a shrug and a smile, Rand replied, "With my family."

She breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe at last, he'd decided to be sensible. "Elaine will be delighted to have you home again."

Rand rubbed his fingers across his chin. "I agree. Mother always believed a man's place was at home with his family."

It took a while for his words to register. When they did, Cara gulped in startled surprise. Rand intended to make Summerville his permanent home. "Do you have an address?"

"I'll be staying at Mrs. Womack's boarding house until I can find a place."

She realized, quite suddenly, that Rand had no idea of the dramatic changes the war had brought to Summerville. "Mrs. Womack's Boarding House is no longer in existence. She sold her house in 1943 when she remarried and moved out of state."

"Then I'll find an apartment or a room."

Apartments were impossible to locate. Rooms were nowhere to be found. Rand had no way to know that. Once more Cara found herself explaining. "Summerville is no longer a sleepy little country town. Since 1943 our population has increased from a little over two thousand to sixty thousand. That makes for crowded living conditions. You can't even rent a shed or a barn. They're all occupied."

She saw the disbelief in his eyes, watched it convert to puzzled surprise. "How did this all come about?"

"It literally happened overnight. The government built Camp Wayne just outside the city. Then five thousand soldiers and civilian employees moved in. Summerville has become a thriving metropolis." Cara spread her hands. "We have a sewer system now, and a new bus station. We also have four movie theaters, a bowling alley, a swimming pool, and a skating rink. Remember Mr. Cantrell and his three helpers who ran the Coca Cola Company?" Without waiting for an answer, she went on. "The Coca Cola Bottling Company now employs over seventy people."

Rand asked, "What's going to happen when the military closes the camp and begins to ship all those soldiers home?"

He was voicing the concern of many of Summerville's more far-sighed citizens. "It will be a blow to the city's economy." Cara smiled and changed the subject. "Your mother would be glad to have you with her."

"Are you offering Mother's home to me and extending to me her hospitality?"

Cara couldn't do that. It wasn't her place. "No." She drew an unsteady breath. "When are you coming home?"

"I'm being escorted home tomorrow, and with great fan fare, I might add. Between the Army and the City Dads of Summerville, they've planned a big parade and a rally at the civic center afterward." Standing slowly, Rand placed his hands to the small of his back and stretched. "I could ask the mayor to postpone the parade, or better yet, maybe he could use his influence to help me find a place to stay."

"Mayor Rankin knows you're alive?"

"He was informed shortly after you were. But he's sworn to secrecy until after the story breaks in tomorrow morning's newspapers."

Mayor Mandell Rankin had never kept a secret in his life. Cara didn't think he was about to start now. She could imagine the tales he would spread if he had an inkling Rand had no place to go once he got to Summerville. Placing her hands on the arms of her chair, she elevated herself to a standing position. "There's no point in talking to Manny Rankin." She couldn't afford any bad publicity, not while her deal with Leward's was still pending.

Dropping his hands. Rand smiled at her. "I was surprised to learn that our old friend Manny Rankin is now the mayor of Summerville."

Cara gritted her teeth. Manny Rankin was her avowed enemy. She had campaigned for his opposition during the last election. Manny wasn't apt to forget that any way soon. "Mayor Rankin is no friend of mine."

"But Manny and I go way back to high school days." Rand spoke with confidence. "I'm sure he won't mind helping out a buddy."

Cara couldn't have Rand asking Manny for help of any kind. "Don't bother. You can stay at the house for a few days." God in heaven, what was she letting herself in for? "But only for a few days."

"That's kind of you." In a much more conciliatory tone Rand added, "That should give Manny time to find someplace for me to stay."

If Manny Rankin knew Rand Williams, the brave war hero, had because of his wife's business maneuvers, been left homeless, he would use that fact to discredit Debbie Dimples, Inc. Cara couldn't let that happen. Manny had done enough to undermine Debbie Dimples already.

In 1943 when Cara asked for permission from the city council to locate her doll manufacturing plant in downtown Summerville, Manny fought her request tooth and nail, and he won the battle. He'd laughed and predicted her failure when she'd located on Windthorst Road, just miles from the city's confides, and also out of it's tax jurisdiction.

Manny had decided then, and most of the city fathers had agreed with him, that the city should concentrate on building entertainment centers for the hordes of soldiers who overran the little town on weekends. There also seemed a pressing need for shopping facilities and eating establishments to accommodate the many civilian employees and their families who temporarily called Summerville home. Now the war was over and rumor was rampant that Camp Wayne was on its way to becoming no more than a memory. Already the downtown merchants were voicing concern.

Many of his former supporters were now deserting Manny like rats leaving a sinking ship. At this point there was a real possibility he could lose the upcoming election. That made Manny Rankin a desperate man, and a dangerous enemy. In a split second Cara weighted her options, and acted. "There's no point is bothering Manny. You can stay at the house as long as you like." Grasping the arms of her chair she lowered herself into the worn seat.

Rand's noncommittal expression told her nothing. "Under what conditions?"

She was in no position to start issuing ultimatums. "There are no conditions."

Rand's hand tightened around the cot's foot rail. "I accept your generous offer."

Chapter Three

Cara put her key in the lock and gave it a turn. The trip from San Antonio had been long and tiring. She'd caught the three o'clock bus and stood all the way home. Pushing her front door open, she stepped into the quiet dimness of her living room. Tossing her handbag on a nearby table, she collapsed in the nearest chair, kicked off her suede pumps and drew a long breath. How good it was to be home. Stretching her feet in front to her, she wriggled her toes and looked around the comfortable well-furnished room.

She 'd fallen in love with this house the first time she'd set eyes on it. That had been almost twenty years ago. Cara was barely ten-years-old the day she and Aunt Sophie came to the Darby house to make last-minute alterations on the wedding dress Aunt Sophie had crafted for Kathleen Darby. As the pair paused under the huge oak tree that grew in the front yard, Cara pointed upward. "Look Aunt Sophie, this house has a little playhouse sticking out the top."

Aunt Sophie's kind old face creased into a loving smile. "That's not a playhouse, it's the upstairs."

"But it looks like a little playhouse that fell there and got stuck."

"You have such an imagination." Aunt Sophie got a firmer grip on the shopping bag she carried. "It's the fad now to build houses to look like that. They're called airplane bungalows." She urged, as she hurried toward the house, "Come along child. We have work to do."

Cara followed her aunt up the front steps, vowing as she went, that someday she'd live in an airplane bungalow.

And now she did.

With an effort, Cara dismissed those old memories and turned her thoughts toward the future. After tonight, Rand would be sharing this bungalow, at least temporarily. That meant she'd have to give up her upstairs hideaway. Rand could have her bedroom and use the desk in her adjacent sewing room for his writing. She and Nancy would move downstairs into Elaine's old bedroom. Nancy's crib should fit nicely in the corner near the south window. All those nagging little chores paled in the light of the tremendous task now confronting her. She had to break the news to the family that Rand was alive. Almost she was tempted to wait until tomorrow to deliver her. . .She stopped her morbid musings, but not before her brain registered the words, 'bad news'. Where had that thought come from? This was an occasion for joy and thanksgiving. Why then did she feel like some shrouded messenger of doom?

The jarring ring of the telephone made her reach for the clanging instrument. Cara lifted the receiver to her ear. "Hello?"

Evan's relieved voice pierced her brooding reflections. "Cara, you're home. You said you'd call by five. I was beginning to worry."

Cara realized she'd lost all sense of time. "Am I late?"

"It's almost six o'clock. Darling, is something wrong? You sound upset."

Everything was wrong. She was more than upset, she was in a state of shock. Cara twisted the telephone cord around her index finger. "Can you come over?"

"I'll be there around seven. We have a dinner date, remember?"

She'd forgotten all about their dinner date. It wasn't a date, damn it. Married women didn't make dates with other men. At least this married woman didn't. "Can you come over now?"

"You're upset." Anxiety replaced Evan's relief. "What happened in San Antonio? Did your trip have something to do with the Leward's deal?"

"It's not about Leward's. It's. . ." Cara couldn't talk about Rand's return from the dead over a party line telephone. "I'll explain when you get here."

Evan said, "I'll be there in thirty minutes."

He made it in twenty-five, coming through the entranceway carrying a bag labeled: Sam's Hamburger Heaven. Closing the door behind him, he called out, "Cara? Where are you?"

Cara was sitting at the dining room table, staring down at a half-filled cup of coffee. "I'm back here."

Evan came into the room. His decided limp told her he was tired or disturbed, or both. "I brought dinner. You sounded too tired to go out."

That was Evan, always thoughtful, always kind, always understanding. Why did he have to be so damned decent? "That was considerate of you."

"I brought you one of Sam's super hamburgers." He held up the bag for her to see. "I got French fries too."

The thought of food, even one of Sam's delectable hamburgers, was repulsive. "There's coffee on the stove in the kitchen. Help yourself."

Evan pushed back the lacy cloth and set the bag on the table. "Would you like a refill?"

Cara put her hand over her cup. "No."

As he passed, Evan dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "I'll bring a couple of plates too, and some catsup."

Cara pushed her chair back. "I'll get the sugar for your coffee. It's hidden behind some dishes in the top shelf of the cupboard."

Evan laid his hand on her shoulder. "Stay put. I can find it."

Any other time his thoughtfulness would have been welcome. Now it seemed an irritation. Cara opened her mouth, and then closed it again. She took a quick sip of cold coffee, and told herself she was worrying needlessly. Evan was the most generous person she knew. He would be pleased to know Rand was alive and well.

Evan returned several minutes later carrying a tray laden with forks and spoons, two plates, a cup filled with coffee, a pitcher of cream, Aunt Sophie's old sugar bowl, and a bottle of catsup. "I almost didn't find the sugar." He set the tray on the table.

"I keep it stashed away." Cara smiled. "In this house sugar must be high and hidden or a month's ration can disappear in one meal. Paul likes tea in his sugar and Danny dumps it by the scoop onto cereal."

Evan sat down across from her, took two hamburgers from the bag and put them on plates. "I'll have to remember that when I come here to live." He heaped a generous serving of French fries beside each hamburger, and then slid one plate across the table. "Eat your dinner. Then you can tell me why you’re so upset."

"I'm not upset. Not much, anyway."

"Yes you are." Evan stuck a French fry into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "Cara, darling, I know you too well not to recognize when you're upset." He extended his hand. "Catsup, please."

Cara handed him the bottle and thought as his fingers tightened around the neck, that Evan did know her, sometimes she thought, too well. She was continuously amazed at the perceptive way he interpreted her changing moods and how accurately he could read her inner thoughts. Dipping a French fry into catsup, she lifted it almost to her mouth, and then laid it back in her plate. "I can't fool you, can I?"

"That's to my advantage, don't you think? Since I'm going to be your husband."

Those words hit Cara with the force of a lightening bolt. She couldn't marry Evan. She already had a husband. Battle scarred, war-weary and reluctant though he be, legally, Rand was her husband. "I have something to tell you."

Evan nodded. "I'm listening."

Distress mixed with Cara's guilt. Pushing her plate back, she placed her elbows on the table and put her chin in her hands. "Rand's alive."

"That can't be." Evan turned pale as a ghost. "Who told you this? There must be some mistake."

Cara dropped her hands to the table and heaved a troubled sigh. "There's no mistake. I saw him today. He's at Fort Sam Houston in San Antonio."

Tears sprang to Evan's eyes. "I can't believe it. I was so sure he was. . . ." His voice broke.

"Dead?" Cara questioned, then added, "So was I." A shiver ran through her as she recalled her shock at seeing Rand again. "I can assure you, Randall Glenn Williams is very much alive."

"How could this happen? Where has he been for the past two years?"

"In a prisoner-of-war camp somewhere in Austria, or so he says."

"But he was reported missing." Color was slowly returning to Evan's face. "Did Rand explain?"

Cara felt a little foolish having to admit that he hadn't. "No. I asked, but he seemed reluctant to talk about it."

"You should have insisted." Evan's shocked surprise was giving way to edgy exasperation. "Why didn't you?"

Cara had asked herself that same question a dozen times during her long bus ride home. "I should have. I know that now, but I promised Colonel Daniels I’d be careful and Chaplin McGruder said I should. . . ."

Evan lifted his hands and pushed his palms in Cara's direction. "Stop." His hands dropped as his brow furrowed. "Begin at the beginning and tell me everything that happened."

That seemed a sensible request. Beginning with the knock on her front door that morning, Cara related, although not always in their proper order, the strange string of events that had transpired through the long, grueling day. She was careful to omit some of the contents of her conversation with Rand. She ended her detailed, if disjointed narrative by asking, "Where do I go from here? What do I do now?"

Standing, Evan came around the table, pulled out the chair next to Cara, and sat down. "Not I, Cara, we." He took her hand in his and squeezed gently. "We're a team. We'll face this together."

Cara pulled her hand free, and patted his arm. "Our partnership doesn't extend to you taking on my personal problems."

"You can't get rid of me that easily this time." Grim determination underscored each word he spoke. "I played by the rules once and lost. I won't be that noble again."

Cara didn't know what he meant, and she said so, and then added, "What's between Rand and me is personal."

Evan lifted one eyebrow. "And what is between you and Rand?" When she didn't answer, he pressed. "Does he want you back?"

It pained Cara to admit to Evan, and to herself, that he didn't. "No."

"Do you want him back?"

Did she? Of course not! How could she want a man who didn't want her? "I. . ."

Evan interrupted to remind her, "He walked out on you, Cara."

"Rand's leaving wasn't altogether his fault." She'd never admitted that before, not even to herself.

Evan was relentless. "What about Cynthia Hunter?"

Cara couldn't believe she was defending Rand. "He says I never had any reason to be jealous of Cynthia."

Evan hitched his chair a little closer. "Do you believe him?"

She wanted to. Cara straightened and shot Evan a sidelong, angry glance. "You're prying into things that don't concern you."

"But they do concern me. I'm in love with you." Evan moved so near she could feel his warm breath on her cheek. "You promised to marry me."

Cara scooted her chair toward the end of the table. "That was when I thought Rand was dead."

Evan was steadfast in his argument. "Rand's being alive is a technicality unless it changes the way you feel about your commitment to me."

This was not the time to debate with Evan the finer points of commitment. He needed to grasp the larger picture. "There's more to this than how I feel, or how you feel, or even how Rand feels. Other people are involved. What about Elaine?"

"I can't think she'll be anything but overjoyed that her son has come home."

"Of course she's going to be happy Rand's back, but his sudden return may create problems for her."

"I can't see how."

It wasn't like Evan to be so contentious or so narrow minded. "I can. What about Joe?"

"Joe will accept Rand."

"But will Rand accept Joe? You know how he felt about Baron. And most of all, what about Paul and Danny? I'm not sure they remember their father." If they did, it was no thanks to their mother. Cara hadn't mentioned Rand to Paul and Danny in months, maybe years. "I have no idea how they'll take the news. And there's Nancy to consider."

"Rand's return has nothing to do with Nancy." Evan's eyes narrowed. "Nancy is our child, yours and mine."

Cara was set to point out that biologically neither of them had a claim on Nancy. Then she thought of how the child's soft body felt in her embrace. Closing her eyes, she remembered the warmth of sturdy little arms around her neck and envisioned rosebud lips puckered as a childish lisp demanded: " Mommie! Mommie! Kissie! Kissie!" She opened her eyes to the realization that a biological fact didn't make a parent. "Nancy may be our child, but she's also Rand's half-sister. That gives him some rights too."

She had expected Evan to protest. Instead, he said: "We can work that out later."

"Speaking of rights. . ." Cara began.

Evan interrupted to add, "After we're married."

"We can't talk about that now." Cara was appalled that Evan would even mention marriage at this point. "We can't even think about it."

"And why not?"

"Because Rand's rights extend beyond Nancy. The land Windthorst Road Park sets on belongs partly to him. That matter has to be settled. And it may not be as simple as it sounds. Rand thinks we were less than honest when we leased building sights there for ninety-nine years without profit and without his permission."

"We thought Rand was dead when we made those deals."

"I know what we thought." Why, Cara wondered, did Evan insist on arguing about everything? "But he wasn't."

Evan pushed back from the table. "Rand is sparing for a fight. This time he may get more than he bargained for."

Cara turned to face the man beside her. "Don't talk nonsense. We can't afford to openly challenge Rand on this matter."

Evan bristled. "Give me one good reason why not!"

Cara could think of several. "Because Rand is coming home a hero. That will sway public opinion in his favor. Because we can't afford any bad publicity now, not while our deal with Leward's is still hanging in the balance, and because Rand has threatened to enlist Manny Rankin as an ally."

Evan's features tightened. "Rand threatened you?"

"He didn't threaten me." She wasn't sure that was true in the strictest sense of the word. "He did say he was going to ask Manny to help him find a place to live."

Evan swore softly. "Damn. Manny will play that for everything it's worth."

"It's not going to happen." Cara drew a deep breath. "Rand no longer needs a home. I told him he could stay here."

Evan jumped to his feet. "Like hell! I forbid it."

Cara surveyed him with cool indifference. "Rand is going to stay here whether you like it or not."

Evan sat back down. "I don't like it. Cara, please, consider what you're doing."

Weariness enveloped Cara. "I have considered and reconsidered." Tension tightened her neck and shoulders. "There's no other way."

Evan's face sagged as he sighed his acceptance. "I still don't like it."

Cara pulled her plate toward her and took a bite of cold hamburger. "Eat your dinner, then we can go tell the rest of the family that Rand's alive."

Chapter Four

Cara collected jackets and caps as she glanced at the clock on the shelf. Once again the hands pointed to eight o'clock. Was it only twenty-four hours ago that she sat in this very room, reading the Sunday morning paper? What a difference a few short hours had made. In the space of one day and one night, the world she had spent four years constructing had begun to fall apart.

Cara draped the garments over the back of the couch, set Nancy in a chair and pushed her sturdy little arms into a sweater.

Nancy's huge blue eyes stared up at her. "Bye-bye, Mommie?" she lisped, "Bye-bye?"

Cara brushed a stray curl from the child's forehead. "Yes. We’re going bye-bye."

"Mom!"

The voice of her younger son calling from the kitchen made Cara look up and call out, "What is it now?"

Danny stuck his head around the dining room door. "I can't find my math book."

"Look on the kitchen table that's where you had it last."

Paul came through the hall door. Tall and slim, with a devastating smile and a wealth of blond hair, physically, her older son was a small replica of his father. The resemblance ended there. The two were nothing alike in taste or temperament. Paul held up his brother's math book. "Here it is, Mom. I picked it up last night." His voice lifted. "I have your book, Danny, get in here. We're going to be late." Coming across the room, he twisted the fingers of one hand in Nancy's corkscrew curls. "Oh, Mom, don't put her in that old red sweater. She looks better in her new blue one."

Cara smiled. "When did you become a fashion coordinator?"

"I want her to look her best." Paul perched on the arm of Nancy's chair. "I'm worried, Mom." He gave the top of Nancy's head a final pat. "What if he doesn't like Nancy?"

Cara looked into the grave face of her older son and thought, not for the first time, that he was wise beyond his years. "By 'he' do you mean your dad?"

Paul nodded. "Yeah."

The same doubts were tormenting Cara. She put on her brightest smile. "Who wouldn't love that sweet face? And the red sweater is fine."

Danny burst into the room. He was head and shoulders shorter than Paul. He had Cara's eyes and coloring, and a personality all his own with an impetuosity that bordered on recklessness and an innate charm that he was not above using when warranted, to gain his own ends. "Is school really going to be out an hour early today?" He smiled, revealing a noticeable gap between his two front teeth. "Are we really going to a parade then a rally at the civic center?" Stopping, he looked around him. "I can't find my math homework."

Cara buttoned Nancy's sweater. "Both the parade and the rally have been assured by a decree of the mayor himself. Where did you have your homework last?"

With a long-suffering shake of his head, Paul said, "He left it on the table. I put it in his book."

"Gee, thanks." Danny hurried across the room, took his book from his brother's grasp, promptly laid it on a nearby table, then greeted Nancy with a kiss on the cheek. "Hi Mop Head."

Nancy smiled up at him. "Hi Danny."

Danny glowed. "Did you hear her say my name?"

Paul reached for his jacket. "So what? She said my name first."

Danny put his hands on his hips. "She did not. She still can't say Paul, she says 'Paw.'"

Paul shrugged. "It's the same difference."

"It is not."

Cara intervened as she hid a fugitive smile. "Enough. We have to go or both Paul and Danny will be late for school."

"Maybe we could skip school today," Danny ventured.

Cara lifted Nancy into her arms and reached for her purse. "And what would you use for an excuse?"

"My dad's coming home today." Danny shoved his arms into his jacket. "That's reason enough to miss school." Frowning, he pulled up his zipper. "Is Dad as nice as Uncle Evan?"

Before Cara could answer, Paul responded, "Nobody's as nice as Uncle Evan." He rescued the math book from the table and once more placed it in his brother's hand. "Hold on to this, dummy."

Danny tucked the book under his arm. "You're the dummy. You don't know Dad. So how can you say he's not as nice as Uncle Evan?"

Paul pulled the front door open. "I'm smarter than you 'cause I know he won't stay around long enough for us to find out if he's nice or not."

*************************************************************

All through a long and busy morning of alternating between the sewing room and the cutting room, those words kept running through Cara's mind. There was in that short statement, an abundance of resentment and no small amount of resigned sadness. Why hadn't she realized before now what Rand's leaving had done to her sons? Guilt left a bad taste in her mouth. Her own heartache had made her myopic and insensitive.

It was almost noon before Cara found time to take a break. Escaping from the noise of the sewing room, she found sanctuary in her office. She had scarcely settled herself behind the desk when someone knocked.

After a muttered oath, Cara called out, "Yes?"

"It's Elaine. May I come in?"

If Elaine had come all the way out to DDI on this of all days, what she had to say must be important. "Yes. Come in."

Elaine came through the door and closed it behind her, then leaned against the knob. She wore no make-up. Her henna-dyed hair, usually styled to perfection hung loose around her shoulders. Running her hands down the sides of her wrinkled dress, she said, "I look a mess." Without waiting for an invitation, she eased into a chair. "I didn't sleep a wink last night."

Cara could understand that. She'd done some tossing and turning last night herself. "This hasn't been easy for any of us."

Elaine pressed the tips of her fingers to her temples. "It's going to get worse before it gets better. After you and Evan left last evening, I sat up until dawn, thinking and worrying."

Cara said, with more assurance than she felt, "Things will work themselves out in time."

"No. They won't." Elaine leaned forward. "That kind of self-delusionary thinking is the coward's way." Sitting back, she shook her head. "That's what I've been all my life, a coward."

Elaine Turner was many things: always opinionated, often unyielding, sometimes thoughtless, occasionally intolerant. Cara had never thought of her as a coward. "I disagree."

"Don't argue. I know what I am. All my life I've been afraid and ashamed. First I was afraid that I wouldn't measure up to my older sister, then ashamed when I didn't. Then I was afraid my husband would leave me for his mistress, and ashamed because I didn't have the strength to force him to make a choice. After Baron died, I was afraid of the future, and ashamed to admit it. Now I find myself afraid my son won't approve of my husband and ashamed that if I have to make a choice, it will be Joe." She thrust her chin out defiantly. "I'm not going to the parade today, or to the rally. Joe and Irene won't be there either."

Did Elaine have some idea of rejecting Rand before he had a chance to reject Joe? Cara found that possibility alarming. "Why not?"

Elaine seemed to read her daughter-in-law’s thoughts. "Don't look so concerned. I'm not going to turn my back on son. I don't want to hurt him, ever."

Cara argued, "He will be hurt if you don't show up at the parade and the rally."

Elaine shook her head. "Rand understands."

"How do you know that unless. . .?" Slowly the light dawned. "You talked to Rand?"

"I told you, this time I intend to face my fears. Early this morning I called Fort Sam, identified myself and asked to speak to the commander of the base. Then I told him I wanted to talk to my son."

Cara was surprised. That was a bold step, even for Elaine. "Obviously, he let you."

Elaine snorted, "Not at first, but after I told him that if he didn't I'd soon be at the base in person and with a newspaper reporter, he relented, and said he'd have Rand call me. "She ran anxious hands through her tousled hair. "An hour later, Rand called."

Cara knew it was none of her business. She asked anyway. "What did he say?"

Elaine's assessing glance said she resented Cara's intrusion. "I did most of the talking. I told Rand I wouldn't be at the parade or the rally and that I preferred to see him and have him meet Joe for the first time out of the public spotlight. Then I woke Joe and called Irene and invited her over."

Cara was puzzled. "Why Irene?"

"Because Rand's coming home could destroy my new found relationship with my sister, and I don't want that to happen." She spread her hands. "Joe, Irene, and I talked for a long time."

"And what did you decide?" Cara asked, even though she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

We didn't decide anything; we did come up with a plan of action. I'm having a family party tonight after the rally. The sooner we all get together and clear the air, the better it will be."

Cara objected. "This is between you and Rand and Joe. I don't think it's wise to involve the rest of the family."

"Don't you turn cowardly on me." Elaine snapped." This involves us all. Rand is back. We have to deal with that, and with him. I know my son well enough to know he won't like the way things are between you and Evan any better than he's going to like the idea that I have a new man in my life. And there's the matter of Nancy. God only knows how Rand will feel about her."

"There's nothing between Evan and me."

Another one of Elaine's assessing looks said she thought differently. "The two of you share a business and a child. I'd say those are two very important somethings."

When once again, Cara began to protest, Elaine cut her short. "What you and Evan and Rand decide is not my concern. Trying to hold this family together is. Will you come to the party tonight?"

Maybe Elaine was right. The sooner everyone involved faced up to Rand's being home and dealt with it, the better. "Have you talked to Evan?"

Standing, Elaine shook her head. "No." She sidled toward the door. "Irene is talking to Evan now."

Cara pushed her chair back and stood. "He won't like the idea. I doubt he'll come."

Elaine smiled, but her voice dripped with sarcasm. "You know him better than I do." With that parting shot, she hurried away.

Cara was still smarting from Elaine's taunt when Evan showed up three hours later with Nancy in tow. "The weather's decided to cooperate. It a perfect day for a parade."

Cara held out her arms to the toddler, and Nancy fell into them. "I'm not sure I'm ready." She nuzzled Nancy's cheek and was rewarded with a messy kiss. "We should hurry. The boys will be out of school in ten minutes."

Evan hesitated. "Did Aunt Elaine talk to you about the party she's having tonight?"

Cara nodded. "She did."

Evan held out his arms to Nancy. "Come to Daddy." With a cry of delight, Nancy obeyed. Evan settled the child on his hip. "Are you going?"

"Are you?"

"Wouldn't miss it." Evan turned toward the door. "Let's go. We still have to pick up our boys, then go to the parade."

Silently, Cara mouthed, "Our boys?" Evan's words didn't surprise her as much as his tactics did. He was not a man given to clever subtleties. With a lifting of her eyebrows, she picked up her brief case and followed him out the door, vowing as she went, to set him straight on a few issues the moment the opportunity presented itself.

Through the excitement of picking up the boys, getting to the parade, parking and finding a place to stand, that moment failed to materialize. Then the parade came into view. The mayor's red Cadillac convertible, driven by Manny Rankin himself, led the way. Rand sat atop the back seat, looking every inch the conquering hero. His military uniform could have been tailor made for his handsome physique. An impressive array of medals covered one side of his broad chest. As the car slowly made it's way down Main Street, he smiled and waved to the crowd.

The response was wild and tumultuous. Waving flags and placards, the moving mass of humanity shouted and surged nearer.

Even as she was jostled by the people around her, Cara felt a wave of total isolation. She should be sitting beside her husband, sharing his moment of triumph. Instead, she had been relegated to the sidelines to watch the passing parade. For the first time, she wondered why she'd been excluded. Was it Rand's decision, or was Manny Rankin responsible for what had to be a deliberate snub?

Danny tugging at Cara's skirt chased away her bitter thoughts. Above the babble of the many voices, he shouted, as he pointed a stubby finger toward the passing automobile, "Mom, is that my Daddy?"

Cara nodded her affirmation, and then turned away, not wanting her son to see the tears in her eyes.

The parade, a typical hastily arranged, small town endeavor, boasted, besides the Mayor's Cadillac, three cars filled with city dignitaries, the local high school marching band, the pep squad, the drill team, the homecoming queen and her court, a few World War One veterans, wearing moth eaten, ill-fitting uniforms, and merchants carrying banners advertising local businesses. The Lone Star Trail Riders' Association mounted on horses and dressed in full cowboy regalia, brought up the rear. The entire procession lasted less than thirty minutes.

As the last horseback rider passed in review, Cara took Danny's hand and grabbed onto Evan's sleeve. "Let's get out of here." Over her shoulder she called to Paul, "Stay with us. Don't get lost." She made her way through the crowd, surrounded by her family, and feeling totally alone.

They had entered the Civic Center, and were herding their brood through the milling mob when Cara nudged Evan with her elbow. "People are staring at us."

Evan shifted Nancy from one hip to the other. "They're curious."

"About what for heaven's sake? We're not the ones on display here."

"Oh, but we are." Evan replied, as they made their way down the sloping aisle toward the front of the auditorium. "The whole town's curious about how we're going to react to Rand's return."

Cara looked behind her to make sure Paul and Danny were following and caught the condemning stare of Wanda Holliday, the town librarian. Cara could almost read her thoughts. Here was Cara Williams attending her husband's welcome home rally on the arm of another man. How could she be so disrespectful of a returning hero?

As they reached the second row of seats, Evan stepped back. "After you, darling." He seemed impervious to the curious stares of the people around him. No. It extended beyond that. Evan was elated by their reaction, moreover, he had anticipated it.

Cara shot him a venomous look as she moved toward the center of the row and sat down, "You knew this would happen."

Seemingly unmoved by her whispered reprimand or her angry stare, Evan herded Danny and Paul in front of him, then moved with Nancy in his arms to sit in the end seat. Settling Nancy on his lap, he turned to Paul who was sitting next to him. "Did you enjoy the parade?"

Before Paul could answer, Danny demanded, "Let me sit by Uncle Evan."

Paul's reply was immediate and decisive. "No."

Danny's voice rose. "I want to." He turned to Cara. "Mom!"

Evan stood. "There's an easy way to settle this. I can sit between you." Getting a firmer grip on Nancy, he stood and moved into the aisle.

Danny shifted to the seat Evan had vacated, and then stuck out his tongue at Paul. "See? I told you."

Evan stepped over Danny and settled into the second seat. "That's enough, Danny." Then he added, "Pay attention, our illustrious mayor is about to make a speech." Over Paul's head, he winked at Cara.

With a resigned sigh, Cara turned her attention to the stage in front of her.

Chapter Five

Rand arrived at Elaine's house almost an hour after Cara and Evan put in an appearance. By that time the buffet Elaine had prepared was cold, Nancy had fallen asleep, Paul sulked in a corner, and Danny was complaining, for the third time, "I'm hungry. When do we eat?"

Finally Joe lifted his two hundred twenty pound frame from his easy chair. "The kid's right, Elaine. We've waited long enough for Mister Hero. I say we start without him."

Elaine raised her hand in protest. "But it's his party, Joe. I'm sure. . ." A knock on the door caused her to drop her arm and rush to open it. At the sight of her son, Elaine burst into tears and hurled herself into his arms. "It's you! It's really you! I thought I'd never see you again." After a few moments, she regained her composure. Taking Rand's hand, she pulled him inside. "Welcome home. We've been waiting for you."

Rand stepped from the gathering twilight and into the room. He was a sight to behold with his blond hair shining like burnished gold and blue fire banked in the depths of his magnificent eyes. Light from a lamp on the table cast shadows across his perfect features and reflected against the impressive array of medals that adorned his chest. How tall he was, how incredibly handsome. Tucking his cap under his left arm, he extended his right hand. "You must be Joe. I've been looking forward to meeting you."

The magic of Rand's presence, the magnitude of his self-assurance seemed to overwhelm even Joe. He swallowed, and then sputtered, "Damn it, boy I didn't expect Elaine's son to look like a cross between Cary Grant and Clark Gable." Grabbing Rand's hand, he shook it vigorously. "Welcome home. We were about to start without you."

He was not the only one in the room who felt the pull of that magnetic charm. Cara's heart beat a little faster, as from nowhere an old memory brought a blush of color to her cheeks: Rand lifting his golden head from her breast, to let his seeking lips explore hidden recesses of her body as his hands moved feather-light to tease between her thighs. Paul's voice pulled her back to reality with a start. "Can I be excused? I have homework."

Elaine intervened, "That can wait. Come and say hello to your dad."

Paul hung back. "I prefer not to."

Elaine laughed to cover her embarrassment, but she knew when to let go. Turning to her other grandson, she asked, "Danny? Would you like say hello to your dad?"

As if mesmerized, Danny stood and moved toward his father. "Gosh, you're tall."

Once again, Rand extended his hand. "Hello, Daniel. How are you?"

Danny's shoulders went back, his chest expanded. "I'm fine, thank you, sir. How are you?" He grasped Rand's hand with his stubby little fingers. "You can call me Danny."

Rand solemnly shook his younger son's hand. "And you can call me Dad."

Danny blinked, the turned to Cara. "Is that all right, Mom?"

Cara was still trying to rid herself of erotic recollections. Before she could answer, Rand spoke, "What else would you call me?"

Evan was seated beside Cara on the couch. He scooted a little nearer as he said, "Don't you think you're rushing things? The boy doesn't know you."

Rand's glittering eyes never left Danny's face. "Then we'll get acquainted."

With a radiant gaze, a few fitly spoken words, and a heart-stopping smile, Rand seemed to have won his younger son over completely. Danny smiled his gaped-tooth smile. "Are you hungry. . . Dad?"

Rand's attitude remained casual but sincere. "I'm starved."

"So am I." Danny's eyes sought Elaine's face. "Now, Grandma, can we eat?"

Elaine nodded. "That's a great idea."

With a shout, Danny raced toward the dining room and the buffet table.

His cry woke Nancy who had been curled up on the end of the couch beside Cara. Turning over, she began to whimper.

Cara held out her arms. The toddler crawled into her lap and nestled against her breast.

Evan scrambled to his feet. "Stay put," he told Cara. "I'll bring Nancy's dinner."

Cara settled back on the couch and stroked the silk of Nancy's curls. "Bring a large dish towel too."

Cara had situated Nancy against the arm of the couch, tied the dish towel around her neck, and was feeding her mashed potatoes when Rand came from the kitchen carrying a food-laden plate. Pulling a chair near the couch, he sat down and balanced the plate on his knees. "So this is Nancy."

Cara wiped the child's face with the dish towel. Rand's nearness made her more nervous than she cared to admit. "Yes."

Rand broke one of Irene's famous Parker House rolls in two pieces. "We haven't been formerly introduced." He offered Nancy half of the roll. "Hello, Nancy. I'm Rand."

Nancy took the roll, and then smiled as potatoes drooled from one side of her rosebud mouth. "Hi, Wand."

Cara gave Nancy's face another wipe. It seemed no female was immune to Rand's charm. Even the babies succumbed. Cara laid the napkin on the couch. "Her full name is Nancy Elizabeth."

Rand set his half empty plate on the table beside his chair. "May I hold her?"

Cara's back stiffened. "She's afraid of strangers."

"I'm not a stranger. I'm her brother." Rand leaned forward and held out his arms.

Nancy fell into them, and then smiled back at Cara. "Bye, Mommie."

Rand's eyebrows shot upward. "Mommie?" Cara read in his glance surprise and disapproval. Settling back in his chair, he sat Nancy on his knee. "Cara, really."

Evan appearing in the doorway rescued Cara. The sight of Nancy in Rand's lap sent him limping across the floor. He snatched the child from Rand's grasp. "I'll take the baby to the kitchen and wash her face."

Paul followed Evan into the room. "Uncle Evan, will you help me with my homework? We're doing percentages and I'm not sure how to convert them to fractions."

Evan set Nancy on his hip, and then put his other arm around Paul's shoulder. "Sure. Come along. Let's get Nancy settled first."

Rand asked, a little too casually, "Is math difficult for you, Paul?"

"No." A note of belligerence slipped into Paul's voice. "I'm the smartest person in my class."

That was true, but it was unlike Paul to brag so openly. Cara chided, "Paul!"

Paul's chin came up. "I am."

As the trio exited the room, Cara apologized. "I'm sorry. He isn't usually so impolite."

Rand sighed and picked up his plate. "It seems I have a way to go with Paul."

Using a crumpled napkin, Cara swept crumbs from the couch and into her hand. "Give him a little time." Rand's nearness was doing strange things to her nervous system. She dumped the crumbs into Nancy's empty plate, and then dusted her palms together. "He'll come around eventually."

"I'm not so sure. I don't think he likes me being here."

Cara saw no point in denying the obvious. "The events of the last few days have left him a little uncertain."

Rand chewed thoughtfully for a moment before saying, "We're all feeling a little uncertain right now. That doesn't excuse rudeness."

His criticism raised Cara's hackles. "Paul is only a child."

Evan appeared again, shuffling across the floor carrying a plate filled with food. "I brought your dinner." He handed Cara the plate. "Would you like a cup of coffee?"

Cara shook her head as she took the plate. "No. Thank you."

"Eat." Evan sat down beside her. "You didn't have any lunch and I doubt you ate breakfast."

Rand stirred in his chair. "I'm sorry, Cara. I should have realized you hadn't eaten. I'm a little out of it tonight."

Evan put his arm across the back of the couch. "We're all a little out of it tonight. That doesn't excuse rudeness."

The barb hit home. Rand hissed, "You sorry little son-of-a-bitch." He vaulted to his feet and stood looming over Evan, tall and intense and savagely angry. "I should break your neck."

A flicker of fear skipped across Evan's face, but he stood his ground. "That's what you'll have to do to get rid of me this time."

Elaine burst into the room, making it obvious that she'd been listening on the other side of the door. Stopping in the middle of the floor, she twisted her hands together. "Am I interrupting?"

As if that hadn't been her intention. Cara's stomach tightened. "No, come in." For once she was glad for Elaine's intrusion.

Elaine cleared her throat. "The boys are doing homework, Evan, and Paul needs help." In a high, unnatural voice, she declared, "I never could understand percentages."

Rand would have to step back for Evan to stand. He made no effort to do that. Without taking his eyes off his cousin, he said, "Paul will have to wait. Evan and I have some unfinished business to settle."

Elaine sped across the room and laid her hand on Rand's arm. "Rand, please, sit down."

Rand 's hands flexed, and then doubled into fists. "Stay out of this, Mother. It doesn't concern you."

"Yes, it does." Her hand tightened on Rand's arm. "It also concerns your sons. Is this the way you want them to remember your homecoming?"

Her words had the desired effect. Rand dropped back down into his chair. "I need to talk to Cara alone. Between you and Aunt Irene can you manage the boys and Nancy tonight?"

Elaine bit her bottom lip. "I suppose so." She shrugged. " Of course we can."

Cara pushed down a little flare of fear. She'd never seen Rand so angry before, and over such a trifling incident. She reminded herself that he'd returned home to a changed world after a long stay in a terrible place. In her most placating tone, she said, "The boys never stay away from home on a school night."

Rand was unmoved. "Tonight will be an exception."

Cara took another approach. "Elaine had the children all weekend. It wouldn't be fair to impose on her so soon again." It wasn't as if she and Rand were married in any true sense of the word. Anything he had to say could wait until tomorrow.

Elaine hurried to assure her. "It's quite all right. We can manage. Irene can take Nancy with her. Joe can drive Paul and Danny to school in the morning." Practical minded as always, she added, "Thank goodness the boys have a change of clothes here."

Evan intervened. "I think it's best if Paul and Danny go home with their mother."

Rand's anger still bubbled very near the surface. "Nobody gives a damn what you think."

Undaunted, Evan argued. "Cara does." After a few moments silence, he goaded, "Ask her if you don't believe me."

Rand raised an eyebrow. "Cara?"

Cara reasoned aloud, "It isn't going to be easy for Paul and Danny to adjust to a stranger living in the house. Maybe a little extra time to get used to the idea would smooth the way for them."

Rand said with a decisiveness she remembered so well, "Then it's settled. They stay."

Joe came from the kitchen and put his arms around Elaine's shoulders. "Sorry to break up the party, but my wife is tired. So if you folks will go home, she'll go to bed."

No one could ever accuse Joe of being subtle. Standing, Cara set her plate on the table beside Nancy's. "I'll tell the boys and Nancy good night."

When she came back into the room some fifteen minutes later, Rand stood by the door holding her handbag. "Let's go."

Cara glanced around the room. "Where's Evan? I need to talk to him before I leave."

"He's rounding up the family so they can say good bye."

Cara breathed an inward sigh of relief. Maybe the worst was over. "That's not necessary. I've already told everyone good bye." The sooner they got out of here, the sooner tempers could cool and things could get back to normal. Who was she kidding? Normal as she had known it for the past four years was gone forever.

Rand leaned against the wall. "I haven't. And I have something to say to everyone before we go."

Cara slipped her arms into her sweater. "I hope you won't start something with Evan while Paul and Danny are present."

"Are you concerned for Paul and Danny or for Evan?"

She was concerned for all three, but Cara was damned if she'd give Rand the satisfaction of admitting as much. Taking a few swift strides in his direction, she snatched her purse from his grasp, then stood in silence as Irene, Elaine, Danny, Paul, and Evan with Nancy on his hip, filed from the kitchen and stood in a semi-circle around them.

Joe barged through the front door and announced to the silent gathering, "I put the garbage out front. Tomorrow's pickup day." He stretched and yawned. "Well, good night everybody."

"One other thing before we break up this happy gathering." Rand stood to his full height. "Cara won't be coming to work tomorrow. She and I need some time alone."

Evan's head snapped back. "Is this true, Cara?"

Cara decided that this was neither the time nor the place for confrontation. "Yes. That is if you can find time tomorrow to call Thomas Wooten at Leward's home office. He's expecting to hear from me."

Evan scowled his disapproval. "I doubt that I can. You know how rushed we always get this time of year."

Cara did know, she also knew until this business with Rand was settled, she wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything else, not even the pending deal with Leward's. "Then I'll call him the next day."

Evan relented, reluctantly. "I'll make the call. I can pick up Paul and Danny from school tomorrow and bring them home when I drop off Nancy. We can talk about what Mr. Wooten had to say then."

Cara reached for the doorknob. "Make a note of everything he tells you." She turned to Rand. "Let's go." Hurrying through the door, she called over her shoulder, "Bye everyone."

They were in Cara's little '42 Ford and turning onto Trent Avenue before Rand broke the taunt silence. "There are so many things you and I have to sort through, and I don't know where to begin."

Cara pulled into her drive and stepped on the brake. "I'm tired, Rand, and more than a little upset. We can talk tomorrow."

She sensed his immediate withdrawal. "If that's the way you want it."

"It is." Cara opened her car door. "You'll be sleeping upstairs in my bedroom. You can use the desk in my adjacent sewing room for your writing." She got out of the car, slammed the door behind her, and hurried toward the house.

With a resigned sigh, Rand got out of the car, tossed his barracks bag over his shoulder, and followed after her.

Chapter Six

With memories from last night still playing through her head, Cara got out of bed and dressed. She was famished. Small wonder, she'd been so caught up in the events of the day before that she'd never found time to eat a decent meal. She came into the kitchen with the idea of making coffee, fetching the morning paper, then cooking an enormous breakfast.

The sight of Rand sitting at the kitchen table dressed in fatigues and sipping from a cup of coffee, was enough to make her forget coffee, paper, even food as the full impact of his presence hit her like a delayed action bomb. Rand was alive. Her husband had returned!

He looked up as she came into the room. His smile sent her heart soaring into her throat "Good morning, Cara."

"Good morning." Cara thought, as a warm surge washed over her body, that he'd wasted no time in making himself at home. The morning paper was spread out before him on the table. An empty cereal bowl was at his elbow. Taking a cup from the cupboard shelf, she moved toward the stove. "I see you found everything."

Rand's eyes followed her every movement. "Everything but the sugar."

His close scrutiny was making her uncomfortable. "It's in the top of the cupboard, hidden away." Feeling self-conscious and gauche, Cara poured coffee into her cup. "Sugar's rationed. So are a lot of other things."

Rand gave his paper an impatient flip. "Such as?"

"A lot of dairy products, certain cuts of meat, tires, and until last month, shoes."

"How inconvenient."

"Yes it is, or was." Did she detect a hint of mockery in his voice? "But we managed." Cara found the sugar and set it on the table." Except for sugar," pulling out a chair, she sat down across from him, "and shoes. The boys always outgrew, or wore out their allotted ration faster than they were due another pair."

"But you have to admit all this sacrifice was for a noble cause." This time, Rand's words rode on a definite sneer.

Very much on the defensive, Cara replied, "We've never minded that we've had to do with a short order of some of life's necessities."

"Necessities?" This time Rand laughed out loud. "Sugar and shoes aren't necessities, they're luxuries."

He was making what they had endured seem trivial and unimportant. Maybe compared to what he had suffered, it was. "I'm sure they're luxuries you want to enjoy. I'll have to apply to the ration board for another ration book."

Rand spooned sugar into his coffee. "I can do that for myself."

"No. It's best if I do. Applications can only be made by the. . . " It was on the tip of her tongue to say, the head of the house. She caught herself in time. "It's best if I take care of it."

"If you insist." Rand turned his eyes back to the paper. "I had forgotten what a luxury reading a paper can be."

Cara took a sip of coffee. It was bitter, but then Rand had always been a lousy coffee maker. "Do you mind if I have a look?"

"Not at all." Rand slid the paper across the table. The headlines leaped out at her: HERO RETURNS. Beneath the caption was a picture of Rand sitting on the back of Manny's Cadillac, waving to an adoring crowd.

Cara pulled the paper closer and read: Sergeant Williams' triumphant homecoming. She no longer considered that news. As she pushed the paper aside a smaller headline near the center of the page caught her eye: "Read his cloak-and-dagger story on page four. Her head came up in surprise. "Cloak and dagger? What does that mean?"

"It means while I was in Europe I was engaged in. . . " Rand smiled but his eyes were troubled, "clandestine operations."

Cara gasped as the full impact of what he was saying hit her. "You were a spy?"

Rand shrugged. "For lack of a better word, yes."

This made no sense at all. "You were on a battle field then in a prisoner of war camp. Those are hardly the places to," she paused, and then using his mocking tone, said, "engage in clandestine operations." She remembered suddenly, that she hadn't been informed of his presence in that prison. "I thought you were dead when all the time you were in a prisoner of war camp or somewhere in Germany spying for the army."

"The camp was in Austria, and I didn't spy for the army. I worked for the OSS."

Cara knew those letters identified some bureaucratic government organization. For the life of her, she couldn't remember which ones. "What is the OSS?"

"Not is - was. OSS stands for Office of Strategic Services. The agency was abolished last month."

His condescending tone and mocking attitude were having a telling effect. Cara snapped, "Are you going to tell me where you were and what you did, or do I have to read it in the paper?"

Rand leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hand across his chin. "Haven't you learned by now that in the bloody business of war, the press gives nothing more than sanitized versions of what actually happens?"

Grabbing the paper, Cara began to leaf through it. "That's more than I know now."

"I'm sorry, Cara." All traces of mockery were gone as Rand pulled the paper from her hands, folded it and laid it aside. "I'll try to explain." He seemed to be talking more to himself than to the woman across from him. "Where do I start?"

If he was sincere, and she wanted to believe he was, he could begin by answering the one question uppermost in her mind. "Why did you leave, Rand? Why did you walk away without any explanation whatsoever?"

Rand took a quick sip of coffee. "I wasn't at liberty to divulge where I was going, or why."

That was no answer; it was an equivocation. "I find that hard to believe."

"It's true, but even if I had been free to tell you, I wouldn't have. You couldn't have handled the truth then." Rand stared into his coffee cup. "I'm not sure you can now."

Cara decided that she preferred his sarcasm to his pity. "Trust me. I'll survive."

"Trust is a two way street, Cara. You want me to trust you, but you don't trust me, you never have."

She opened her mouth to protest, and then thinking better of it, closed it again.

Rand nodded. "Exactly. When you found me with Cynthia you thought the worst. Nothing I could say then and nothing I've told you since has changed your mind. If you couldn't believe me about Cynthia, how could I hope you'd believe the reason for my sudden departure?"

Cara could confess to Rand now what she couldn't admit, even to herself, four years ago. "I can't blame you for straying. I wasn't a good wife."

Rand's fist came down hard on the table, causing his cup to bounce in its saucer. "Why can't you believe me? There was never anything more than that one kiss between Cynthia and me, and it didn't mean a damn thing."

There it was again, that sudden, unreasonable burst of anger. "That was four years ago," Cara told him calmly. "It's water under the bridge now."

As quickly as it had appeared, Rand's anger vanished. "The problem wasn't with you, it was with me."

They could hash over what happened with Cynthia Hunter forever and it wouldn't change one single fact. "Tell me why you left without even so much as a whisper of where you were going or why."

Rand stood, walked to the coffee pot and refilled his cup. Turning, he leaned against the stove. "Remember the business trip I took to Dallas in August before I went away in October?"

Slowly, memory stirred. Cara recalled the heat of that day, the hurry to pack Rand's bag. She even remembered how disconcerted he'd been because a button was missing from the sleeve of his best white shirt. "You met with some buyers from Chicago."

"That's what I told everyone. The truth is I met with two agents from OCOI."

Cara was lost again. "I don't understand. Rand. . ."

Coming across the floor, Rand pulled out his chair and sat down. "The Office of Coordinator of Information was the agency that preceded the OSS. The name's not important. What they did is. They were both intelligence gathering organizations."

Surprise made Cara's voice sharp.. "What did they want with you?"

"They recruited me for a special mission."

It seemed that she was going to have to drag the story from him, sentence by sentence. "Is that your explanation for leaving? You went on a special mission?"

Rand closed his eyes. "That's not the only reason I left." When he opened them again, moisture stood in the corners. "You and I didn't part on the best of terms. We've been separated for a long time. I'd hoped for a reprieve to do a little fence mending before this story came to light. I realize now there are no fences left to mend."

Cara couldn't bear to see him in such obvious pain. Her voice softened. "I can accept now that you did what you thought you had to do." Reaching across the table, she laid her hand over his. "Don't blame yourself. It wasn't your fault that our marriage failed." That should ease, if not his mind, at least his conscience.

Rand pulled his hand from hers, laced his fingers together and stared down at them. "We can talk about that later, but if you're willing to believe I did what I had to do, maybe you're ready to hear the story of Operation Chameleon."

He sat for several minutes, obviously waiting for her to speak. When she offered no response, Rand swallowed, and continued. "I agreed to become a secret agent." His smile was rueful. "That's a nice way to say I became a spy." That smile was replaced by a deep frown. "I was chosen for a special mission. I spent the next eight months after I left here sequestered away, brushing up on my high school French, learning the customs of another country, and studying to be someone else."

Cara took another sip of bitter coffee. "Why did they choose you?"

"Many reasons. I spoke a smattering of French. I was the right age, the right nationality; I had the right background, and most of all, the right physical appearance. So over the next several months, I gradually ceased to be Rand Williams and became Floyd Carlisle." Cara's puzzled stare made him smile again. "It was all part of an elaborate plan."

More puzzled by the minute, Cara asked, "Who is Floyd Carlisle and why would you want to be him?"

"I didn't." After a moment of introspection, Rand went on. " I don't think anyone would want to be Floyd Carlisle. He wasn't a nice person."

"Did you know him?"

Rand shook his head. "No. But I knew about him. Floyd left the United States in 1937 to avoid being prosecuted for embezzlement and fraud. He went to France and hid out in a little village in the Vosges Mountains. Over the next few years in the turmoil and upheaval of war, the effort to bring him back to the US was put on hold. Then France fell to the Germans and Floyd was forgotten completely until the summer of 1941, when he surfaced again. He'd spent all the money he'd absconded with and was broke and becoming desperate. He'd lived for the past three years with a woman named Simone Faucheaux. He sent word through her to the French Underground that he'd be willing to spy for them, for a price. The French wanted no part of Floyd Carlisle. They sent word back telling him as much. That's when Floyd made a big mistake. He threatened to tell the Germans what he knew about the French underground if they didn't pay him to keep his mouth shut. The French shut him up permanently, then one dark night, they buried his body in an unmarked grave on the side of a mountain."

Cara gasped, "They killed him?"

"It was them or him. Then they hit on the idea to have someone impersonate Floyd and be the double agent he'd offered to become. They enlisted the help of Simone. She agreed to hold onto Floyd's identification papers and personal belongings. It was easy enough to do. Since no one had reported Floyd missing, no one went looking for him.

Then the French Underground got in touch with the OCOI. In a matter of days, the plan was put in motion." He spread his hands. "In June of '42, by presidential order, the OSS replaced the OCOI. After that, things began to happen in a hurry. In July of '42 I parachuted into occupied France. I dropped near a village called St. Die and rendezvoused with a man I knew only as Pierre. He was the leader of the local French Underground."

To cover her amazement, Cara quipped, "Your story has a better beginning than Casablanca, and it won an Academy Award."

"Casablanca?" Rand's eyebrows met in a questioning frown.

He had lived with danger, grave and constant danger for years. Maybe she'd been better off believing him dead. "It's a movie. What happened then?"

"Things went pretty much as expected. Pierre took me to Simone's farm. I settled in. The next week, after I'd had a little time to get my bearings, I went to the office of the commander of the German occupation army in the little town of Epinal. His French was worse than my German; finally with his aide acting as interpreter, I told him I was an American who was persona non grata in the US Then I offered my services to the Nazi regime."

By now, Cara was leaning across the table and hanging onto Rand's every word. "And he believed you?"

"Not at first. He told me he'd think about my offer. The next week he sent for me. He'd done his homework. He had his interpreter tell me that he knew I was a criminal on the run. He threatened to throw me in jail. He called me a traitor, then he asked me why I had waited so long to offer my services to his government."

"My God, Rand, what did you tell him?"

"I said I hadn't needed the money until now."

Only Rand would have had the courage to attempt such a wild scheme and then have possessed the charm and audacity to pull it off. "And he believed you?"

"He believed me. For the next two years I served as a double agent. Then the Allies invaded France and all hell broke loose. As they made their bloody way across country, the Germans realized their days were numbered. The underground and the Free French got braver with each Allied victory. The battle was moving nearer and nearer to us. At night we could hear the sound of mortars and gunfire. I began to wonder if I'd ever get out of that place alive. Then one night in late August, I got my answer. Pierre pulled a badly injured American pilot out of a downed fighter plane and brought him to Simone's house. It was a noble gesture, but a useless one. The poor man died the next morning. Matters were further complicated when a couple of soldiers from the German garrison stationed nearby, saw Pierre rescue the pilot and followed him to Simone's house"

Cara gasped. "How terrible."

Rand nodded in agreement. "It was a stroke of bad luck, but fortunately for us, a farmer saw the German soldiers snooping around Simone's place and told her. We knew then that it only be would a matter of hours before the Nazi's showed up to arrest us both. I couldn't let the Nazis get their hands on Simone. I hit upon a plan. The pilot was about my size and build. I used Pierre's shotgun and blew his face off. Then I dressed in his uniform, hung his dog tags around my neck and had Simone bind my hands and deliver me to the German garrison commander camped in the woods some miles away. She didn't want to do it, but I finally convinced her it was the only way. Simone is a cool one. She calmly informed the commander that she'd killed her American lover when she'd found him trying to hide a downed American pilot."

All Cara could utter was "My God, Rand."

"Two days later, the Germans sent the man they though was Captain Richard Ford to a prisoner of war camp in Austria and Simone Faucheaux buried the remains of the man the Germans believed to be Floyd Carlisle."

Cara stared at her husband in utter amazement. This was the wildest story she'd ever heard, yet instinctively she knew every word of it was true. Rand had lived a four-year odyssey, an adventure of epic proportions. He had shared that fantastic experience, and God only knew what else, with another woman.

To gain time and to cover her confusion, Cara returned to the stove for another cup of coffee. With her back to her husband, she asked, "Do you know where Simone is now?"

She could hear the anguish in his voice. "No."

Setting her empty cup on the stove, Cara turned. She hadn't felt this kind of agony since she'd found Rand in Cynthia Hunter's arms. "Are you in love with her?"

Rand didn't turn away, nor did he make any effort to avoid answering her question. "No. I admire Simone. She's a survivor and a fighter. She was my friend and my confidant for over two years. But I'm not in love with her. I never was."

A vise of pain tightening around Cara's chest made it difficult to breathe. "Did you sleep with her?"

"Would you believe me if I told you I didn't?"

Cara didn't know what to believe. "I'm not sure." Over the past four years, she’d convinced herself that Rand was dead, lying somewhere in a grave, his body turning to dust, his soul long departed. In one blinding moment, reality collided into her own duplicity. She’d had to believe Rand was dead. It was the only way she could cope. She must have known, on some sub-conscious level, that as long as Rand Williams lived and walked on this earth, she would love him. A tear slid down her cheek. She brushed it away with the back of her hand. "You lived under the same roof with her for a long time."

"You lived with Evan for a long time. Did you sleep with him?"

Remembering how close she'd come to surrendering to sheer physical need put Cara on the defensive. "What kind of a woman do you think I am?"

"What kind of a woman do you think Simone is?"

"No better than she should be, if she lived with a man like Floyd Carlisle."

"Simone didn't live with Floyd Carlisle, he lived with her."

Cara arched an eyebrow. "There's a difference?"

"In this case, yes. Floyd rented a room from Simone."

Cara didn't like the parallel Rand was drawing. "There were several other people in the house with Evan and me."

"There were other people in the house with Simone and Floyd too, just as there were other people in the house with Simone and me. She shared a home with her grandparents and her young daughter." Rand's gaze narrowed. "Are you jealous of Simone?"

Oh, yes, she was consumed with it. Rand may say he didn't love Simone. His actions proved differently. He’d surrendered to the enemy to save her. He'd gone to prison to protect her. Leaning against the stove, Cara turned her head to one side. "Why should I be?" The wall of indifference she'd hidden behind for the past two days began to crumble. A high-pitched peal of laughter burst from her throat as the irony of the situation hit her. She could live with Rand's desertion, his long silence, even his death. What she couldn't deal with was the realization that he was back and alive and still lost to her forever. Another burst of laughter pealed forth, and then another and another until they echoed through the room like the cries of a mourning banshee.

Rand jumped to his feet and raced across the room. Grabbing Cara, he pressed his fingers into the soft skin of her shoulders. "Stop it, Cara. Stop! Now!"

She couldn't stop. Tears rolled down her cheeks and still the laughter continued to resound through the small room and bounce off the walls.

A moan, or was it a sob, escaped from deep in Rand's throat as he pulled Cara into his arms and held her in a smothering embrace. "Don't, Cara. Please, don't."

Cara buried her head against his broad chest as she struggled to control the sudden onslaught of disabling emotions that she neither welcomed nor understood. Slowly, the laughter lessened, then transmuted to wrenching sobs.

Rand held her still, stroking her hair and murmuring soothing words until the tears stopped and she lifted her face. "I don't know what possessed me."

Rand brushed a stray wisp of hair from her brow. "It's a delayed reaction from all that's happened the past two days."

Cara felt like a fool. Breaking the embrace, she stepped back. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm not." Rand put his hands on her shoulders and held her at arm's length as he studied her tear-streaked face. "I'd begun to think my coming home was no more than a bother and an inconvenience to you."

"No. Never!" Feeling vulnerable and exposed, Cara reached for some shred of dignity. She lowered her voice. "I'm glad you're home." Twisting, she tried to break from his grasp.

"No. Don't pull away from me." Rand held on. "I missed you Cara. Not a day went by while I was away that I didn't think of you." He pulled her against him and laid his chin atop her head. "I lay awake at night and thought of how you felt in my arms, how you responded when I made love to you."

A shiver ran through her body. Goose bumps waltzed across her skin. "It's been a long time." She made a token effort to pull from his embrace.

"It's been too long." Gently, Rand lifted her face and holding her chin with his hand, swooped down to dust soft kisses across her forehead, over her eyes, and along the side of her face. "I need this. I need you."

Remembering the ecstasy of his lovemaking caused a shiver to dance down her backbone. Every nerve in her body tingled. Her arms slid around his waist. "I need you, too."

His lips touched hers, sending explosive bursts of pleasure through her body. It was a tender kiss, rich with promise, textured the colors of passion carefully held in check. He lifted his head and let the ends of his fingers slide along the sides of her upturned face. "Through an age of lonely nights and dangerous days, I dreamed of holding you this way."

Somewhere in the recesses of her brain not scorched by the flames of desire, Cara knew she was a fool if she let this happen. Her burning body paid no heed. All that mattered now was that Rand was home, and alive, and in her arms. Alive! How that word danced through her senses. "I thought you were dead. I thought I'd never see you again."

Rand's mouth captured her lips in another kiss. His tongue pushed inside, searing, searching, exploring. He tasted of coffee, smelled of bath soap, and felt like heaven. Reason wafted away on the wings of desire. She was responding to his touch, his honeyed words, with an abandon that even as she capitulated, left her dazed and shocked.

The evidence of Rand's need pressed into her groin, pulsing, throbbing, and demanding. He pulled he so near she could hardly breathe. "No matter what else changes, this stays the same. Tell me you want me, Cara. Tell me this is as real for you as it is for me."

For the moment, this was the only reality. The world around her faded in the hazy glow of passion. "I want you." Her seeking hands slid under his loose shirt. "I want to feel you, and hold you. I want to rejoice that you're warm and breathing and alive."

The passion Rand had held in check burst its bonds. Careless of buttons, he yanked the front of Cara's dress. "I want to look at you, and hold you. I want to caress you and make love to you." He slid her dress down her shoulders "This day belongs to us."

A voice calling her name, penetrated Cara's passion laded brain. "Cara? Where are you?"

Dazed and blushing, Cara pulled herself from Rand's embrace and slipped her arms into her dress. "It's Evan." As quickly as it had blazed forth, her passion died away to be replaced by a nagging fear. "Something must have happened at the plant." She struggled with her buttons. "Or to the boys." She was buttoning them all wrong. "Or to Nancy." Running her hands through her hair, she called out, "In here. We're in the kitchen."

By the time Evan came through the door, Rand was sitting at the table, his face a thundercloud of anger. "Did it ever occur to you to knock before coming into someone else's house?"

Evan's quick glance assessed the scene before him. Clearly, he didn't like what he saw. Some things have come up. I have to talk to Cara."

Cara blinked, trying to collect her senses. "The boys? Nancy?"

Evan pulled a chair from the table and sat down. "They're all okay. Do you have any more coffee?"

Rand glared at him. "You didn't come here to socialize. State your business, then get out."

Cara's equilibrium was returning, and with it a sense of shock and shame. Shock that she was nowhere near as strong as she had thought herself to be. Shame because she had surrendered so swiftly and so completely to Rand's passionate demands. If Evan had showed up five minutes later he would have found them making love on the kitchen floor. She should be grateful to him for interrupting. She would be, she reasoned, when she stopped feeling so unfulfilled and cheated. "There's no more coffee. Why are you here."

"I think you should come back to the plant with me. I need you." Evan ignored Rand's sudden and penetrating gaze. "A newspaper reporter from San Antonio is sitting in your outer office. I told him you weren't available. He said he'd wait until you were."

"What does he want?" Cara asked. A newspaper reporter in her outer office could hardly be considered reason to rush to the plant.

Evan said, with a touch of sarcasm, "Hail the conquering hero. He wants to be the first to interview Rand Williams' wife."

"Then let him wait," Cara snapped. "If he's still there tomorrow. I'll talk to him."

"He indicated to Trudy that if you weren't available by noon, he'd come here to your home."

Rand's jaw muscles tightened. "Let him come. I can handle a nosy reporter."

Cara could imagine how. She had an image to maintain and a business to consider. "That wouldn't be wise." She was beginning to think she should go back with Evan.

Evan seemed to sense her ambivalence. "The phone has been ringing off the wall all morning. People from all over are calling. Old friends, well-wishers, and folks we don't even know."

Cara pushed down her nervousness. "Trudy can answer the telephone. That's her job."

Evan persisted. "All she does is direct calls. Since most of the calls are for you, I end up answering them, or trying to."

Rand intervened. "If the job is too much for you, resign."

Maybe Evan was making too much of the morning's events. Cara decided to compromise. "Go back to the office and do the best you can. I'll come in for a few hours this afternoon. Meanwhile, have Trudy take all my messages and not trouble you with them."

Evan dared another glance in Rand's direction. "Manny Rankin called."

Cara frowned. Manny Rankin always meant trouble. "What did he want?"

Evan shrugged. "I don't know. He wouldn't tell me. He said he'd be out later today to talk to you."

Cara wanted no part of Manny Rankin. She couldn't say that in Rand's presence. He considered Manny a friend. "I suppose I'll have to deal with him."

Rand asked, "Why should you? Why can't Evan do that?"

Nervousness was making Cara short tempered. She snapped, "That's not Evan's job."

Rand raised one eyebrow. "What, exactly, is Evan's job?"

Before Cara could answer, Evan replied, "You wouldn't understand if she told you."

He knew just what to say to irritate and anger his cousin. Rand's hands clenched into fists. "Watch it, Evan."

Evan said to Cara, "Doctor Barnes’ office called. Nancy had an appointment for a booster shot yesterday. The receptionist said under the circumstances she could see how you forgot. She wants you to call and reschedule."

Cara swore softly. "Damn. It slipped my mind completely. I'll call and make another appointment."

Rand's patience was wearing thin. "If that's all, get out, and shut the door behind you when you go."

Evan said over a soulful sigh, "It's not." He directed his words toward Cara. "Thomas Wooten called. He seems to be having second thoughts about our deal with Leward's."

That was the last thing Cara needed to hear. She braced herself for bad news. "Tell me what he said."

"This is not to place discuss company business." Evan's mouth thinned in displeasure. "We can talk about it on the way to your office."

"I'm not going to the office just yet." Evan had to know he was pushing his luck. It was not like him to be so foolhardy. "But I think you should." Then it hit Cara. Evan wanted to goad Rand into losing his temper. She couldn't imagine why. "Tell Trudy to hold all my calls."

Rand's jaw tightened. "Get out Evan."

Evan got to his feet. "One other thing. The president of the Summerville Historical Society called. She would like you to speak at their next meeting."

Cara rammed her finger into her chest. "Me? Why?"

"She didn't say." Evan sat down again. "On second thought, maybe I'd better fill you in on my conversation with Thomas Wooten." He was being obnoxious, and deliberately so. "Wooten says our deal with his company can't be completed as was first proposed."

Cara leaned forward, anxious to hear more, thinking as she waited, that she'd deal with Evan's atrocious behavior later. "Why not?"

"Two reasons, the war's over and our plant is too small."

"That doesn't make a lot of sense."

"It did the way he explained it." Evan was playing his every advantage. "Wooten says companies that stopped making toys during the war will start up again now. He's not sure there will be so much demand for rag dolls when kids can buy metal and rubber toys again."

Cara had to admit, that made a lot of sense. "I'll have to convince him that we can compete. Why is he concerned about our plant size?"

"He says, conversely, if the dolls do sell, he's afraid we can't supply the demand nationwide. He wants some assurance that we have contracted with a second manufacturer just in case."

Cara tried to swallow her apprehension. "We can't afford to contract with a second manufacturer until we have the deal with Leward's in the bag."

Evan shook his head. "I know, and we can't make the deal with Leward's until we contract with a second company. So what do we do?"

Cara had come too far and worked too hard to let this deal slip through her fingers now. She spoke with much more confidence than she felt. "I'll think of something."

Evan stood. "I'll make another pot of coffee and we can talk about it." He limped toward the stove.

In one swift, fluid movement, Rand was on his feet and moving toward Evan. "Like hell you will." Grabbing his cousin by the scruff of his collar, Rand twisted one of his arms behind him and began to shove Evan toward the front door. "Get out of here and don't come back until you're invited."

They were in the hall and moving toward the front entrance before Cara could intervene. Hurling herself down the passageway, she locked her arms around Rand's waist, dug her heels into the carpet and hung on. "Let him go, Rand! Let him go!"

Her cries could scarcely be heard over Evan's loud shrieks. "You crazy fool! You're breaking my arm!"

After several tense seconds, Rand released his hold.

Rubbing his arm with his other hand, Evan turned to face his cousin. "What are you trying to do, kill me?"

Cara moved from behind Rand and inserted herself between the two men. Her knees were shaking and her stomach was tied in knots. With her back to Evan, she faced Rand. "Please, please, go into the kitchen and wait for me." She tagged her request with another impassioned, "Please."

Rand's breath came in little gasps. For a moment she though he might refuse. Then he shrugged. "You have five minutes to get rid of that bastard." Turning on his heel, he walked back down the passageway and into the kitchen.

Only after Rand's back had disappeared from view did Cara turn to face Evan. "You deliberately provoked Rand into losing his temper. Why?"

Evan was still rubbing his arm. "I didn't do anything. The man's crazy, Cara. You should be careful."

"Rand's not about to harm me, or anyone else."

Evan opened the door. "I'm not so sure. I've been reading and hearing about how war heroes come home suffering from battle fatigue and suppressed aggression. Rand's been through a lot. Do you think it's safe to bring the children here while he's in the house?"

Words Evan had spoken to her in this very house only days before came back to ring in Cara's ears loud and clear: I played by the rules once and lost. I won't be that noble again. At last she recognized the method to his madness. "I know what you're trying to do and it won't work."

Evan stepped through the door before he said, "I'm not sure my daughter will be safe in this house anymore."

"I'll be in my office by one o'clock." Cara slammed the door.

Chapter Seven

The afternoon had been one mad rush. Weariness settled into Cara's bones as she parked her car in the drive. Paul and Danny were wedged into the back seat between brown paper bags filled with groceries. "We're home." Elation replaced weariness as she realized she wasn't returning to an empty house. Rand was here. "Danny, help Paul unload the car. I'll get Nancy."

Paul caught his mother's eye in the rear view mirror. "Is He inside?"

Cara pulled Nancy's stocking cap down over her curls. "Do you mean your Dad?"

"Yeah."

She could only hope. "I'm sure he is."

Danny opened the car door, letting in a gust of cold air. Wrapping each arm around a brown paper bag, he stopped to announce, "Tommy Frank says my dad is a hero. Is that true, Mom?"

Cara lifted Nancy into her arms and was rewarded with a droll smile. "It's true."

Paul shouted to his brother. "No, it's not. Shut the door dummy."

Danny got out of the car and slammed the door. "My dad is too a hero."

Paul muttered, "I don't care what he is, I don't want him here."

As she stepped onto the driveway, Danny asked, "Do you think Dad will let me wear some of his medals and ribbons to school?"

Cara set Nancy on one hip and addressed her belligerent older son, "Let's go, Paul."

Danny whined, "Mom, answer me. Do you think he will?"

"Those medals and ribbons are worn only by the heroes who have earned them. Each one has a special meaning." Cara opened Paul's door. "Stop sulking and help your brother with the groceries."

Danny lugged groceries up the walk, calling out as he went, "I'm going to ask Dad to tell me how he earned his medals." Opening the door, he went inside.

Paul folded his arms across his chest. "Who cares how he got them? Not me."

Cara had anticipated some problems with Paul accepting Rand. She'd never dreamed he would be this angry and resentful. "We all care, or we should." She stood patiently by, waiting for Paul to get out of the car. "Every one of us owes a debt of gratitude to the men who fought for our country during the war."

Paul slid from the car, and then hoisted a bag in each arm. "He didn't fight for his country. He was a dirty spy."

Cara was appalled that Paul would entertain such thoughts, let alone express them so openly and vehemently. "Where did you get such an idea?"

"I read what he did in the paper. Big deal." Paul kicked the car door shut.

Cara had never found time to read the newspaper's full account of Rand's wartime exploits. She couldn't believe they were anything but favorable. "Your dad faced great danger to do what he did. The information he gathered saved countless lives." She got a tighter grip on Nancy and started for the door. A chilling north wind whipped around her legs and pushed against her face.

Paul called after her, "Why did he come back here? How long is he going to stay?"

Cara was beginning to understand. Paul was afraid his father would abandon him again. She wanted to reassure him, tell him that would never happen. How could she? He was voicing her greatest fear. She changed the subject. "Do you have homework?"

Paul lagged behind. "Yes. So does Danny."

"Then get to it as soon as you've had supper." As she stepped onto the porch, Rand came through the door. Cara's heart lurched. He was dressed in civilian clothes. His gabardine pants fit like tailor-mades. His shirt was opened at the neck, revealing a patch of golden chest hair. Smiling, he held out his arms and Nancy fell into them. "Welcome home." He held the door for Cara and Paul to walk through.

Once inside the warmth of the house, Cara set her handbag on a low table near the door and unbuttoned her coat. As Paul and Danny disappeared into the dining room, she called after them, "Put the bags on the cabinet."

Rand stood in the middle of the floor still holding Nancy in his arms.

Cara smiled. "You can put her down now."

Rand sat Nancy on the floor and she toddled toward the dining room calling Paul's name as she went.

Danny came rushing through the entranceway and barely missed colliding with her. "Mom, guess what? Dad made supper. Everything's ready. Can we eat now?"

Cara dropped her coat over the back of a chair. This was a first. She cocked an eyebrow in Rand's direction. "When did you learn to cook?"

Rand put his hands in his pockets. "I didn't. Miller's Cafe sent a meal over. Mrs. Miller brought it herself. She said it was her way of saying welcome home."

Danny leaned against the door facing. "Can we eat, Mom? I'm starved."

The meal was a pleasant one despite Paul's sullen silence. Afterward, Rand insisted on clearing the table while the boys did homework and Cara bathed Nancy and got her ready for bed. She was sitting in a rocking chair with Nancy on her lap, when Rand came from the dining room with Danny close on his heels.

At the sight of Danny, Nancy wriggled from Cara's lap and squealed with delight. "Danny, hi." She looked up at Cara to question, "Paw gone-gone?"

Paul came to stand in the doorway. "I'm here, Mop Head."

Nancy squealed again, then began to take unsteady steps across the floor. "Hi Paw."

Paul fell to his knees and pawed the air with his hands. "I'm not Paul. I'm a wild pony and I'm coming after you."

Nancy ran toward Danny shouting and laughing as she went.

Danny dropped to his knees and pawed the carpet with his hands. "I'm a wild pony too. I'm coming after that wild pony." He made a nickering sound as he lowered his head and charged toward Paul.

There followed thirty minutes of play and rough housing before Cara called a halt. "Sorry to break this up but it's Nancy's bed time." She held out her arms and Nancy toddled into them. Scooping the child up, she settled into her rocker. "Bath time, boys. After I rock Nancy to sleep, I'll come to tuck you in."

Danny protested, "I'm too old to be tucked in, Mom." He cast a sidelong glance toward Rand who had for the past thirty minutes, sat silent and pensive in a chair in the far corner of the room.

Rand broke his self-imposed silence. "Maybe I could come later and say good night. Your mom's had a long day. She must be tired."

Danny beamed. "Would you? That would be great."

Cara waited Paul to for to protest. When he didn't, she asked, "Paul?"

Paul's bottom lip protruded. "What?"

"Is it all right if I don't tuck you in tonight?"

To her total surprise and great relief, Paul said, "Yeah."

Cara decided not to press her luck. "Then come and kiss me good night, both of you."

Cara had tucked a sleeping Nancy into her bed and was sitting in the living room when Rand came from the boy's room and sat on the end of the couch. "Thank you for giving me some time alone with my sons."

Through the evening Cara had been relaxed and at ease. Now, finding herself alone with Rand was enough to make her tense and unsure. "How did it go?"

"With Danny? Okay. He's curious about where I've been and what I've been doing for the past four years."

Cara thought: Aren't we all? She said, "Did he ask many question?"

Rand chuckled. "More than I could comfortably answer."

Cara could believe that too. "And Paul?"

"Paul's another story." Rand stretched his feet in front of him and crossed them at the ankles. He was wearing new shoes. Cara pointed. "You bought new shoes? When?"

Rand glanced down, and then looked up again. "Just after I went to the ration board and applied for my ration books."

Cara protested, "You no longer need ration stamps for shoes. Why did you bother?"

"Other things are rationed still."

Before caution could dictate discretion, Cara said. "But only the head of a household can apply for ration books."

Rand's broad shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. "In the board's sight, I qualify as head of this house."

Cara could think of no answer to that. "Your new shoes are very nice."

"I would gladly trade them for the cowboy boots I left in my closet four years ago." Turning his head to one side, Rand asked, "I don't suppose there's a chance that those old boots are still around somewhere?"

Cara's brow wrinkled. "After four years?" Then she shook her head. "No."

"The truth is," Rand uncrossed his feet and sat upright. "You've wiped your house and your life clean of anything that ever belonged to me. It's almost like I never existed."

Was this his not-so-subtle way of broaching the subject of leaving again? Cara had expected as much, but not so soon. "Paul and Danny are ample proof that you existed."

Anger, swift and volatile, flashed in the blue of his eyes. "Not existed. I exist. I'm here, now, and very much alive."

Cara felt an unwanted twinge of raw pain. She pushed it down. "I'm trying to get used to that idea. But it may take some time. For three years I thought of you as dead."

"You had no reason to. I was reported missing, not dead. You certainly had no right to bury me."

Cara's voice rose in indignation. "I didn't bury you." She had buried his memory, only to have its ghost return to haunt her.

"You may as well have." Rand waved his hand in an all-encompassing gesture. "Look around you." He pointed to the picture-lined mantle. It held a studio portrait of Evan and Nancy, an enlarged snapshot of Danny and Paul, an old tintype of a very young Aunt Sophie, and a wedding picture of Elaine and Joe. "Where am I in you family lineup?"

He was making it sound as though it was her fault he'd been away for so long. "Missing," she snapped. "Just like you've been missing from my life for the past four years."

"I'm back now, and you're going to have to deal with that fact."

Cara let out a long sigh. "Don't issue ultimatums, Rand. You're the one who walked away in the first place."

"And you've never forgiven me for that."

It wasn't a matter of forgiving, it was a matter of accepting, and Cara found that a difficult task. "The choice was yours and you made it."

Rand's voice rose, "My choice?" Then fell. "I suppose it was, and you don't understand the first thing about why I made the choice I did."

She did understand. That was a part of the problem, she understood too well. "Oh, but I do. I understand perfectly."

Rand's lips twisted scornfully. "Then you're one up on me because once I was gone, you made a choice that I don't understand at all."

He had left her with no options at all. She had been forced to carry on without him as best she could. "What choice?"

"The choice to cut me out of your life completely and permanently. You never once, during the first year I was gone, tried to find me or get in touch with me."

Cara's heart gave an uncomfortable lurch. "How do you know that?"

Rand's eyes narrowed. "Did you?"

She hadn't, mainly because she'd been too busy trying to survive. "No."

Rand nodded. "Exactly. And later, even though you had no proof I was dead, for reasons I don't understand, you chose to think of me that way, then you tossed out any and every thing that belonged to me. Why Cara?"

He was raising questions that even now, were too painful and too revealing for Cara to face, let alone answer. She feigned ignorance. "What things?"

"My boots, my clothes, my guns, books, tools, fishing gear." Rand spread his hands. "All the personal belongings I left when I went away."

What did he expect after being gone for four years, and presumed dead for three? "We moved. The farmhouse was crowded." She was making excuses, and not very good ones at that. "Why do you want to know?"

"I'm trying to assess where I stand."

So he was looking for an excuse to make another quick exit. She would make it easy for him this time. "Nothing in this house belongs to you. You have no ties here at all."

Rand's jaw tightened. "Except for my sons, I'm beginning to think you're right. That's why I have to know. Where are they? What did you do with my worldly possessions?"

Cara began to sort through old memories. "I sold most of your clothes. What I couldn't sell, I gave away. Elaine was getting rid of Baron's things. She said there was no point in holding onto the past when you needed money for the present. I decided she was right."

"The tools, the fishing gear, the books, my guns - did you sell them too?"

He was forcing her to recall painful events she'd rather forget. "I sold the tools and the guns a few months after you left. I needed the money. The next summer I traded the fishing gear to Fred Thompson for some work he did on my car. When we moved to the farm, space was limited. I gave the books to the library." Her chin came up. "Things were rough in the beginning. I did what I had to do."

Rand swallowed. "The money I left should have more than taken care of you and the boys for that first year."

Shocked, Cara gasped, "You didn't leave me a red cent. I never got any money from you." That wasn't quite true. "Except the allotment I received after you joined the army."

Rand's voice dropped to a whisper. "I left the money with Dad." Realization caused his features to harden. "He never gave it to you?"

"Your dad never gave me one thin dime."

"Then all this time you've believed I walked away and left you with no income, a pile of debts, and two children to support? And you were still smarting from seeing me with Cynthia. Now I am beginning to understand why you preferred to think of me as dead." He was a man in obvious pain. "Did you sell your wedding ring too?"

Cara looked down at her bare finger. "No."

"Then where is it? Why aren't you wearing it?"

"I must have put it away." Sometimes forgetting was as painful as remembering. "I can't recall where." It was time she stopped dodging the issue. Straightening her shoulders, she looked him squarely in the eye. "If you want a divorce I won't fight you. We can reach an amicable settlement." It was going to kill her, but she had to let him go.

His eyes were two blue magnets. "I don't want a divorce."

Cara gasped again, this time in amazement. "Then what do you want?"

"I want another chance."

"To do what?"

His words seemed to levitate and hang in the tense air. "To make our marriage work."

Confusion and a host of polarizing emotions left Cara speechless.

Perspiration beaded Rand's top lip. "I know you think you have reason to doubt me. All I ask is the chance to prove how wrong you are and to make up for any past wrongs, be they real or imagined."

He spoke with such sincerity. She had to believe him. "I don't know what to say."

"Say yes." Standing, Rand walked toward her. "I'd like to try to set things right." Pulling a chair with him as he advanced, he stopped directly in front of her. "Will you listen to what I have to say?” Sitting down in the chair, he waited for her response.

Cara's heart was beating double time. Did she dare trust him again? A dozen new doubts rose to assail her. The words she tried to speak stuck in her throat.

Rand repeated, this time more emphatically. "Will you listen to what I have to say?" He added an unexpected, "Please?"

What did she have to lose other than her heart all over again? "Okay."

Taking her hand in his, Rand drew a troubled breath. "When I was first approached to do undercover work, it was to be a one time, short term mission. I thought I'd complete the assignment and be back home with you by the following spring. My country needed me. I felt a few months out of my life wasn't too much to ask or to give." He swallowed, closed his eyes, and then opened them again, slowly. "I have to admit also, the job sounded exciting and different. The idea of having a little adventure in my life appealed to me."

So he had craved excitement, even then. A man as charming and as attractive as Rand deserved as much, and he certainly hadn't found it with his oh-so ordinary wife. All the more reason to be wary about taking him back again. "Were you that bored with your life?"

"I wasn't bored, I was scared. I could see my marriage falling apart before my very eyes. I thought it might help if you and I spent some time apart." Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed her fingertips. "I know now I was wrong, dead wrong. What you and I needed was more time together. I neglected you, Cara. I spent time with Dad and my friends fishing and hunting and hanging out in bars that I should have spent with you."

How time could alter perception. Once she would have agreed with him, not any more. Without some outside interests, Rand would have bolted long before he did. He thrived on diversity, excitement and adventure. Cara on the other hand, needed the peace and security of stability and routine. If she took him back now, in a few months would he be bored and restless all over again? Her better judgment told her that he would be. Yet another argument for letting him go. What a wise fool she was. Knowing what a chance she'd be taking, letting him back in her life again, she was still tempted to say yes. "There are so many problems, so many things to consider. . ." Her voice trailed away on the end of a little sigh.

"Nothing we can't solve or work out, if we try." Slipping from his chair, Rand knelt before her. "Do you want me to beg? I'm willing to do that if it means I can have you back again."

Cara's heart swelled until she thought it might break. A man as proud and as brave as Rand shouldn't be on his knees to anyone, nor should he have to beg for anything. "Maybe we can work something out."

Standing, Rand pulled her to her feet. "I don't want to work something out; I want an answer. Will you give me another chance?" Taking her in his arms, he tilted her face with one hand, and kissed her slightly parted lips. Desire tingled through her like an electric shock. She felt his hot breath on her face as he whispered in her ear, "Please, Cara, for once in your life, follow your heart and not your head. Let go and love me."

In that moment, Car was forced to admit to herself a devastating truth. She did love him. She always had, she suspected she always would. Still, she hesitated. "Maybe we shouldn't be too hasty." Even as her mind was protesting, her body was surrendering.

Rand kissed her again, this time with tender passion. "I've waited for this moment for four long weary years. I need you now Cara."

She should offer at least a token resistance. She didn't. Responding with a fervor that left them both breathless, she kissed him hungrily, taking the initiative with a boldness that seemed to delight even as it surprised. Rand's voice was heavy with desire. "Oh, Cara."

Taking him by the hand, Cara led him toward the stairs. "Not here, upstairs, away from the children."

Rand chuckled. "Cara. my darling, you are such a paradox. Even in the heat of passion, you consider consequences and calculate outcomes."

If he believed that, he didn't know her at all. If she stopped for even a minute to consider the consequences of what she was about to do, she'd run to the nearest exit. If she paused to calculate the outcome of such an encounter, she'd show him the front door, post haste.

She didn't want to think, she didn't want to consider or calculate. She wanted to feel. She wanted to know again the ecstasy of being held in the arms of the only man who could ever hold her heart. Without bothering to turn out the lights, she led him up the stairs and into the bedroom.

A lone lamp burned in the corner of the room, casting shadows across the pastel pink of the walls, muting the soft mauve of the carpet. This was a woman's room with its delicate colors, fragile furniture and frilly curtains. Rand's duffle bag in the corner, his clothes hanging on the back of a chair, looked strangely out of place. A male in this domain was a trespasser.

Once inside, Cara was overtaken by shyness. A blush of color slithered along her cheekbones. Dropping Rand's hand, she lowered her head. "I hope you've been comfortable here."

Rand closed the door. "I couldn't be comfortable anywhere. I've been walking around for days now with a pain in my gut and an ache in my heart." Pulling Cara into his arms, he smiled down at her. "I was so damned afraid I'd lost you, that you'd found someone else, made other commitments."

She laid her finger across his lips. "No. Never." In the heat of passion it didn’t occur to her that she was telling what could be construed as a lie.

His arms tightened around her as a shudder ran through his body. "I'll make it up to you, I swear I will. I can now be the kind of husband I should have been four years ago."

Cara didn't want empty promises, made in the heat of passion. "Don't speculate about the future." Unbuttoning the front of his shirt, she ran her hands across the taunt muscles of his chest. "Or obsess about the past." A million pinpricks of desire tingled through her body. She slid the shirt down over his shoulders. "Take it off Rand." What she did want was this night, she wanted this moment. She wanted it to stand alone, shining and apart from recriminations about yesterday or concerns for tomorrow. "I don't need a husband. I need a lover."

Dropping his arms to his sides, Rand let the shirt fall to the floor. "I can be both."

His words scarcely registered in her brain. She was too enraptured by the sight of his broad shoulders, his trim waist, and his rippling muscles. Desire burned in her loins, tingled in her breasts, strangled in her throat. "I don't want both. I want you, now!"

Rand's hands shook as he worked at loosening the buttons on the front of her dress. "I've never seen you like this, so eager and demanding. I have to say, I like it."

Anticipation was making Cara giddy. "You're going to like it even better later on."

She undid the front of his pants and slid her hands inside his shorts. "My God you're hard."

"Are you trying to drive me crazy?" Rand shivered with pleasure as she stroked him intimately.

Cara asked impishly, "Could I?"

"You already have." He yanked the front of her dress, popping buttons to expose the swell of her heaving breast encased in a skimpy bra. "Get out of this thing."

Cara pulled her dress over her head and tossed it toward a nearby chair. It fell in a heap on the floor. She laughed, low in her throat. "Get out of those clothes Rand. I need you to see you big and bare and bulging." Unfastening her bra, she slid it down her arms, twirled a strap around her finger, and sent it flying in the direction of her dress. Then she shed her panties, leaving them where they fell.

Rand kicked his shoes from his feet and bent to divest himself of his pants. Once bare, he stood upright and motioned with his finger. "Come here." He opened his arms.

With her bare body pulsing, and her heart racing, Cara walked into his embrace.

His arms closed around her. She could feel heat emanating from his body; see the pulse that beat at the base of his throat. Then his lips claimed hers and the world exploded into a burst of fire and desire. "Now," she whispered, "now, Rand please."

Lifting her into his arms, Rand carried her to the bed. "Now and forever, my darling." He laid her on the bed, and came down beside her. As he climbed atop her slender frame, his lips claimed hers with a savage tenderness. He entered her with a fierce urgency that sent an electric shock jolting through her body.

Never before had Cara known such need, been consumed by such passion. She responded by thrusting upward with demanding force. "Don't stop. Don't stop."

Rand's answer was a triumphant cry. "Cara!"

The came together in a fiery encounter that escalated swiftly, soared to unimaginable heights of delirium, exploded into a million fragments of ecstasy, climaxed with sudden impact, and was over in a matter of minutes.

Slowly Cara descended from exhilarating heights back to reality. Rand lay atop her, breathing deeply. As she sighed, he raised himself, rolled onto his back and lay staring at the ceiling of the dimly lit room. "I'm sorry."

Cara turned to face him. "For what?"

"For my. . . performance. I exhibited more fervor than finesse."

A languorous peace had settled over Cara. "You were wonderful, so was your performance."

Rand laced his fingers behind his head. "Only if speed counts."

She couldn't believe Rand would be so unsure of himself about anything. "It's not the time it takes, but the results that count."

Turning, he raised one eyebrow. "I wanted to love you for hours." His smile was as intimate as a caress. "I think I blew it."

She moved nearer. "I'm satisfied, but if you're not, we can try again." She was behaving like a wanton and enjoying every minute of it. "We have all night."

Rand's laughter rang out as he pulled her back into his arms. "We have longer than that. We have the rest of our lives."

Chapter Eight

Cara looked up from the report she was scanning as Trudy came to stand in her office door. "There's a Mrs. Travers in the outer office. She wants," Trudy tilted her nose and spoke in an affected voice. "'a word with you at your earliest continence.'"

Cara bit her lip to keep from smiling. "Mrs. Travers?" She turned the name over in her mind and drew a blank. A night of passion had slowed her thought processes. "Does she have an appointment?" She stifled a yawn. It had also taken its toll on her energy.

Trudy glanced over her shoulder. "No." Stepping inside, she closed the door. "Mister Rankin is with her."

Cara's eyebrows shot up. "The mayor?" Manny Rankin always spelled bad news. "Did Mrs. Travers say what she wanted?"

"No, but our celebrated mayor is sitting out there grinning like the cat that ate the canary."

Cara had neither the time nor the energy to waste on Manny Rankin. "Did Mister Wooten from Leward's call?"

Trudy shook her head. "No. Do you want me to show Mrs. Travers in?"

Cara expelled a long breath. She'd get Manny too, no doubt. "I suppose so."

Reaching behind her, Trudy turned the knob and backed through the door.

Cara closed her eyes, trying to gather her wits about her. Unbidden, memories from last night invaded her mind to send a shiver through her body. The intimate way Rand had held her as they'd made love through the long hours until dawn, the rapture of his lips first tender and seeking, then forceful and demanding, the magic of his honeyed words, the delight of having him inside her, over and over again.

Manny clearing his throat made Cara open her eyes and sit up in her chair. The sight of the man, who had for the past several years been the bane of her existence, was enough to bring her back to the present with a jolt. "Make this as fast as possible." She glanced at her watch. "I have an appointment in fifteen minutes."

Manny's ferret face twisted into a smile. He extended one hand toward the rotund woman beside him. "I don't believe you've met Mrs. Travers."

"I haven't had the pleasure."

Mrs. Travers was short, frankly fat, and expensively dressed from the top of her blue-tinted hair to the tips of her patent leather shoes. "I'm Agatha Travers." Her cultured tones, her Boston accent, her haughty bearing and autocratic manner bespoke wealth and position. "I'll get right to the point." Without waiting for an invitation, she lowered her bulk into the chair beside Cara's desk, and set her patent leather handbag in her ample lap. "I admire your husband; such bravery, such patriotism, such dedication to duty. I am looking forward to meeting him."

As she spoke, Manny crept across the floor and perched on the edge of Cara's desk. "Mrs. Travers’ husband is the commander of Fort Wayne. He's retiring soon and they've decided to settle in Summerville. Mrs. Travers is the newly elected president of the Summerville Historical Society."

Through clenched teeth Cara said, "Get your butt off my desk."

Manny stood as he shot Mrs. Travers an apologetic look. "Maybe Trudy could fetch me a chair."

Cara eyed him coldly. "You won't be here that long."

Cara's cold response didn't daunt Mrs. Travers. "Mayor Rankin and I agree that the city must do something to honor Sergeant Williams."

Cara wondered where this was all leading. "The city has already honored him with a parade and a rally."

Mrs. Travers scoffed, "That was nothing. We propose to do so much more."

The hair on Cara's neck rose. Manny Rankin had obviously concocted some devious new scheme to harass her, and he wasn't above using Rand's status as a hero to carry out his plans. "That's not necessary."

Mrs. Travers contradicted her with a contemptuous leer. "Oh, but it is. There should be some permanent monument erected in Sergeant Williams' honor and that's what the Summerville Historical Society proposes to do." Her scornful gaze traveled from Cara to Manny. "With a little help from the city of course."

Cara leveled her dirtiest look in Manny's direction. "Why are you telling me this? You should be talking to my husband."

"And we will in due time." Mrs. Travers sat upright and unbending, the stays of her corset visible beneath the fabric of her dress. "Mayor Rankin thought we should approach you first."

The feeling that she was being used wouldn't go away. "And now that you have, maybe you'll tell me why."

Mrs. Travers seemed anxious to oblige. "The two of us have hit upon this fabulous plan." Pausing, she cleared her throat. "We're going to build a museum in Sergeant Williams’ honor right here in Summerville."

This visit made no sense at all. "You don't need my permission to do that."

Manny intervened. "That's true, we don't." A flash of malice kindled in his eyes. "This is only a courtesy call. We'd like your approval before we proceed."

Manny Rankin hadn't come all the way out to Windthorst Park just to ask Cara's blessings on some city project, and Cara knew as much. "You don't need my approval. I suggest you talk to Rand." She stood and pushed her chair back. "Now if you'll excuse me."

Mrs. Travers was not so easily deterred. "We're not asking for your approval, just your cooperation. We'd like to meet with Sergeant Williams and discuss this matter with him. Mayor Rankin feels it would be best if you are the instigator of that meeting."

Cara folded her arms across her chest. "I'll relay your message to him. I'll ask him to call you."

Mrs. Travers stood. "That's splendid. The mayor and I don't wish to intrude on your privacy so soon after Sergeant Williams’ return, but we would like a response in a day or so."

Cara wanted these two out of her office, and now. "I'll ask Rand to call you tomorrow."

"Oh, that's wonderful." Mrs. Travers moved with heavy tread across the floor.

Manny trailed along behind her. Half way across the floor he paused. "You seem surprised by the city's resolve to build a museum in your husband's honor."

Cara gave him her dirtiest look. "I am."

Manny took a few more steps, and then paused again. "If you attended City Council meetings you would know what's going on in your own city. Only last week we voted unanimously to build the museum." His smile was insidious. "We also voted to annex some outlying areas into the city. We'll be posting an announcement within the week and holding public hearings shortly thereafter"

Now she knew why Manny had come here, and it had nothing to do with Rand or a museum in his honor. "One of those outlying areas is, no doubt, Windthorst Park."

"Oh, yes, you're one of the lucky ones." With those parting words, Manny hurried through the door slamming it behind him as he went.

Under her breath, Cara swore, "You bastard." She was still glaring at the closed door when it opened again and Evan stuck his head inside. "Trudy said you had visitors."

"They're gone." Cara motioned with her hand. "Come in."

Evan eased through the door, and then closed it behind him. "What did Manny want?"

Cara told him about the city's proposed annexation, then added, "Why do they want us now? They wouldn't have us three years ago when we wanted to locate in downtown Summerville."

Evan was quick to point out. "Summerville was a booming little city then. Now it could well be on its way to becoming a ghost town what with Fort Wayne due to close soon and many of the city's merchants selling out or closing down and moving to other cities. The city's population is going to shrink. So is its tax base. Annexation is no more than we should have expected, but it's a slow process. Do you think we should fight it?"

Cara asked, even though she knew the answer. "Do you think it would do any good?"

Evan looked pensive. "No. It would only postpone the inevitable."

"All the same, I'm going to the first hearing and speak against annexation. Summerville is hardly able to provide decent fire and police protection to its residents now. And with the base due to close soon, this is no time for the city to expand."

Evan applauded. "Good argument, but you're fighting a losing battle."

Cara suspected that was true. "Maybe, but I'm going to fight anyway." She dismissed the subject with a wave of her hand. "That's in the future. It's the present we have to worry about now."

"Speaking of which," Evan pulled the chair Mrs. Travers had recently vacated nearer Cara's desk and sat down. "How did it go last night?"

A blush of color climbed into Cara's cheeks. "I don't know what you mean."

"I mean how did Rand behave his first night under your roof?" Leaning forward, Evan narrowed his eyes. "My God, Cara, you're blushing. What did he do to you? Did he hurt you?"

If Evan only knew. Sitting up, Cara straightened her shoulders. "Of course not."

Evan didn't look convinced. "I'm not sure he can be trusted. Did he try anything?"

Evan was prying where he had no business. "Like what?"

"Like," Evan ran his finger around his shirt collar. "Did he make advances?"

Cara snapped, "Oh, for heaven's sake, Evan, I can take care of myself."

"I'm not so sure you can. The man is dangerous. You should be careful."

Cara couldn't agree more. Rand was dangerous, but not in the way Evan thought, and it was too late now to warn her about being careful. "Will you stop worrying about Rand and start thinking about what we're going to say to Mister Wooten when he calls?"

Leaning back, Evan folded his arms across his chest. "We have to convince him that Debbie Dimples can hold her own in a postwar market. I'm not sure how we do that."

"Don't be such a damn pessimist. Of course Debbie can compete."

"Oh yeah? How? All the toy companies that have been making weapons and tools for the past five years will start making toys again. They'll flood the market with all sorts of new gadgets and gimmicks."

"Then we'll make something new too." Placing her hand over her heart, Cara drew a deep breath. "We make another doll."

Evan dropped his arms and leaned forward. "We have enough competition without competing with ourselves."

"No." Cara waved her hand as she shook her head." Not another female doll, we're going to make Debbie’s counterpart."

Evan's eyebrows climbed upward. "A male rag doll?"

"Why not?" The idea was growing more appealing by the minute. "We can tout him as having just come home from the war." Cara snapped her fingers. "That's it! Hector Hero is coming home to Debbie Dimples."

Evan made a wry face. "Hector Hero?"

"Why not? The name Hector has been synonymous with heroes since the Odyssey."

Evan corrected her. "Hector was one of the heroes in the Iliad."

Cara smiled. "Wrong story, right name. What do you think?"

Evan was out of his chair and on his feet. "It's so crazy that it just might work."

"It will work. Later we can add more dolls to the line. We can give Dolly a younger sister. We'll call her Sissie Smiles. If that works we'll create a grandmother with glasses and an apron. We can call her Granny Goodlady." Grabbing a pad and pencil, Cara began to sketch a face. "I can see our hero now."

Evan sat back down. "I hate to be a kill joy but even if Leward's buys this crazy idea, we don't have the money to hire a second manufacturer."

Cara sketched with swift quick strokes. "First we get Leward's to give us the contract, then we worry about a second manufacturer."

Practical as always, Evan argued, "Cara, be reasonable. Leward's won't give us a contract until we have that second manufacturer's signature on the dotted line."

Cara hated to admit it, but that was probably true. "Then we'll get the second manufacturer first."

"Just how the hell do you plan to do that?"

Cara laid her pencil beside her pad and looked up. "We'll offer the second manufacturer a royalty."

Evan's brow bent into a frown. "That might work, but it would take a big bite out of our profit."

"So what? We'd still make a decent return."

Evan argued. "I don't like taking such big risks."

Cara philosophized, "Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Will you stop being such a pessimist?"

"I'm being realistic which is more than I can say for you. Maybe we should be satisfied with things as they are."

Cara wasn't about to lose this chance to go nation wide with her dolls. "Will you shut up and get busy? We have work to do."

Evan raised one hand. "First things first. We can't do this until we run it by the board of directors."

Cara picked up her pencil again. "The board of directors is Aunt Irene, Elaine, and Joe. They rubber stamp everything we suggest."

Evan's reply made her drop her pencil and gulp. "What about Rand?"

"Rand has no part in this company."

Evan nodded his head. "True, and if we don't do something about that little oversight, Rand could end up owning every part of this company."

That was an eventuality Cara had never considered. "Are you suggesting we give him shares in the DDI?"

Evan's face was grim. "Had you'd rather he took us to court and maybe wound up with the whole damn company?"

"Rand wouldn't sue me." Cara caught herself before adding, not after last night.

Evan persisted, "Even if he doesn't do it now, there's always the possibility that he might decide to sometime in the future. We need to set this matter straight once and for all."

To her own surprise, Cara found herself defending Rand. "Yes we do, not because of any threat Rand may hold to our future, but because he has a legitimate right to some kind of equitable settlement."

She read in Evan's surprised look the intent to argue, then his face relaxed. "All the more reason to lay this issue to rest as soon as possible. There's a board meeting in three days. Shall I add discussing a settlement with Rand to the agenda?"

"I don't think we have to be in that much of a hurry." Even as she spoke, Cara wondered why she was so reluctant to discuss a settlement with Rand. "We can take it up at next month's meeting. That will give us some time to decide on the terms of our offer."

The corners of Evan's mouth pulled down. "Next month may be too late. Haven't you heard?"

A sinking feeling settled in the nether regions around Cara's heart. "Heard what?"

"Maybe I should say read." Evan's Adam's apple moved up and down like an elevator. "Haven't you seen this morning's paper?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Hollywood is calling Rand. There's talk of making a movie of his adventures as a spy and his ordeal in a prisoner-of-war camp. Every actress in Hollywood is vying for the role of Simone Faucheaux. My vote goes to Gene Tierney. Did you see her in Leave He to Heaven? Wow!"

A feeling of utter dejection rolled over Cara. She hadn't been able to vie with the charms of a foolish young secretary. She had certainly been no rival for an earthy French farm woman. How could she hope to compete with glamorous Hollywood movie stars? She couldn't. All the more reason, her common sense told her, to let Rand go, now while she still could. "I saw the movie. Gene Tierney's not the type to play Simone Faucheaux."

Evan's interest sharpened. "Has Rand told you about Simone?"

Why hadn't she kept her big mouth shut? "A little. I think Marlene Dietrich is a better choice." Was she out of her mind? She must be to sit here and calmly discuss the casting of Simone Faucheaux in a movie. "Get out of here, Evan, and go to work."

Evan asked, as gripped the sides of the chair and levered himself to a standing position. "Who would you choose to play you in the movie?"

Discomfort crowded in around Cara's heartache. "I wouldn't be in the movie."

Evan limped toward the door. "Sure you would. You're Rand's wife, for now anyway." With his hand on the doorknob, he paused. "Have you and Rand discussed a divorce yet?"

Cara's hackles rose. "That's none of your business, Evan."

Tenaciously, he argued, "Yes it is. You and I are engaged."

"Evan, I've told you —"

Trudy yanking on the door pulled the knob from Evan's hand. Brushing past him, she came inside. "Mister Wooten's on the phone, Mrs. Williams. Can you take his call now?"

Cara nodded as she picked up her telephone. "Hello. Mister Wooten? This is Cara Williams." Placing her hand over the receiver, she scowled at Evan and Trudy then mouthed, "Good-bye."

They exited, Evan first, frowning as he shuffled away, then Trudy, smiling as she closed the door.

Once more Cara turned her attention to the voice on the telephone. "Mister Wooten, I'm so glad you called. I've just come up with a wonderful new marketing idea."

Chapter Nine

Cara shifted gears and drove through a green light. She couldn't suppress a tingle of happiness. She was going home - to Rand. Would he be waiting as he had been yesterday? Would he smile at her in that same warm, intimate way? The memory of being held in his arms brought a soft glow to her cheeks. They had been so completely one. She had never felt so close to another human being before. It had only lasted for a few blissful hours. Almost, she could dare hope he would always be there, waiting for her.

Danny calling from the back seat interrupted her reverie. "Mom! Answer me."

Cara caught her younger son's eye in the rear-view mirror. "I didn't hear what you said." She shifted her gaze back to the road. "Tell me again."

Danny complained, "I already told you twice."

Cara slowed for another red light. "I didn't hear you twice. Tell me again."

Danny leaned forward. "When is Dad going to Hollywood?"

Cara's foot hit the brake causing Danny to grab the back of the seat. "Who told you that he was?" Her right hand moved to steady Nancy in the seat beside her. "Sit back."

Paul intervened, "That's what everybody's saying. It's in the paper too." Turning to Danny, he added, "I told you he wouldn't stay."

Danny's stubborn little chin came up. "I don't want him to stay. I want to go with him." He leaned forward again. "Can we, Mom? Please can we? I want to meet Champion."

Before Cara could answer, Paul said, "He doesn't want us tagging along with him."

A car horn sounding from behind made Cara realize the light had changed to green. Shifting into low, she pushed down on the accelerator. As the car moved slowly forward, she assured her older son, "Your dad wants you with him." Even in her own ears, the words had a hollow ring." Then she asked Danny, "What champion do you want to meet?"

Once again it was Paul who answered. "Not a champion, Mom, the one and only Champion. That's the name of Gene Autry's horse."

Nancy clapped her hands together. "Horsie! Horsie! Wanna play horsie."

Paul's surly frown converted to a smile. "Sure Mop Head, as soon as we get home."

They traveled for several minutes in silence. Cara concentrated on her driving, grateful for the reprieve the quietness brought. As she pulled into the drive, Danny pointed. "Look! Dad's waiting for us on the front porch."

Cara's heart sang with joy. He was there, handsome, and virile, and alive. The cold November evening was suddenly brighter than a morn in spring. Cara stopped the car, set the brake and asked her usual question at this stage of homecoming. "Who has homework?"

Her happiness seemed contagious. Danny sang out as he lifted his book satchel into his arms. "I do and I'm going to ask Dad to help me with my 'rithmetic."

As they clamored from the car, Rand came to meet them, his head down as he walked against the north wind. "Welcome home." Lifting Nancy from Cara's arms, he wrapped her inside his wind breaker. "It's cold out here. Let's get in the house."

Despite the chilly air, Cara felt warm and tingly inside. Rand fell in step with her as she followed Paul and Danny up the walk. He smiled down at her. His glance was electric and intimate. "How was your day?"

The air between them crackled. She smiled back at him. The cold trapped her breath in her throat. "Hectic. How was yours?"

Rand caught the screen door with his foot as Paul and Danny rushed through. He stood against it to hold it open. "Uneventful. I spent most of the morning writing."

Cara entered the house, welcoming the warmth of inside. The flush on her cheeks had little to do with the outside cold. "And your afternoon?"

Rand set Nancy on the carpet, and closed the door. "I straightened the house, then made dinner."

Cara stooped and pulled Nancy's chubby little arms from her sweater, aware as she worked that Rand's eyes were following her every movement with avid interest. It was enough to make her heart race and her fingers shake. Straightening, she watched as the toddler made her way toward the kitchen as she asked, "You cleaned?"

Rand helped Cara off with her coat. His touch was impersonal, yet the feel of his hands on her shoulders sent a charge of desire through her. "I did some sweeping and straightening." He hung Cara's coat over a chair, then removed his wind breaker. His muscles rippling under his shirt made Cara swallow, almost painfully. Her mouth felt as if it had been stuffed with cotton.

She cleared her throat before asking, "Then you cooked?"

"Nothing spectacular." Rand laid his wind breaker atop Cara's coat. "I wanted to surprise you."

He had certainly succeeded, and in so many ways. She was surprised that he had been waiting for her, outside in the cold, as if he was anxious for her return. She was surprised that he'd cleaned the house and cooked a meal, but her greatest surprise was the presence of this magnetic sexual tension that flared between them the moment their eyes met over the top of Nancy's head. Even now, it continued to sizzle like a lit firecracker, threatening at any moment to ignite and blaze out of control. The truth was, she was more than surprised — she was overwhelmed and a little frightened. Control was important to Cara, and this aching, gnawing desire was something over which she had no power or command. Instinctively, she took a step away. "I am, a little. You shouldn't have gone to so much trouble."

Rand stuffed his hand into his pockets. "My reasons were selfish. I want us to have a part of the evening to ourselves." A blue flame kindled in his eyes. "I need you, Cara."

And she needed him, more than she cared to admit, even to herself. "I know." She struggled to control emotions that could overpower her common sense, destroy her defenses, and ultimately vanquish her hold on reality. How easy it would be to follow the dictates of her heart and live only for the present, ignoring the price tomorrow would exact and forgetting the lessons of yesterday. It was a luxury she couldn't afford. "I have to see about Nancy." She hurried to the kitchen.

The meal was simple, but well prepared and delicious. Paul was, for a change, amenable. He took a tentative taste of his soup. "This is good." Then shoveled a huge spoonful into his mouth. "Did Mrs. Miller send it over?"

From the beginning, Rand had adopted a casual, relaxed attitude toward Paul, neither letting his harsh words provoke nor his sullen silence intimidate. He held that same steady course now. "I made the soup, and the cornbread, and the salad."

Almost grudgingly, Paul admitted, "They're good."

Without bothering to look his son's way, Rand answered, "Thank you."

Danny, for once, refrained from asking embarrassing questions. He chose to talk instead about the day's events at school. 'We had a spelling test. I think I missed a word."

Cara paused from feeding Nancy. "Only one word? That's very good."

A grin spread across Danny's face. "Thanks, Mom." He wanted Cara's approval, but what he wanted even more was Rand's attention." Laying his spoon in his plate, said, "Hey, Dad, we played baseball at recess and I was pitcher."

Rand's attitude remained caring but casual. "That sounds like quite an honor. Did you win the game?"

Danny's gap-toothed smile was derisive. "No. But that's only 'cause Max White pitched for the other team and he knows how to throw a curve ball."

"Throwing a curve ball is easy, if you know how." Rand touched his napkin to his lips. "Would you like me to teach you?"

Danny's eyes rounded. "Would you?"

"I'd be glad to."

Cara could have shouted when Paul asked, "Would you teach me too?"

She was amazed at how cool Rand remained in what had to be for him a touching as well as trying moment. "Sure I will."

Even Nancy 's usual sunny disposition seemed to brighten in Rand's presence. "Me too, me too," she echoed.

Paul smiled, "You too, Mop Head. I'll show you how as soon as you're old enough to throw a ball."

By the time the table had been cleared, homework completed and the children tucked into bed, Cara was as tense as a tightly drawn bowstring. She decided to try concentrating on something other than the tightness in her stomach and the ache between her legs. The evening had been a success from one standpoint. Rand had made a breakthrough with his sons. They had both been willing for him to hear their prayers and tuck them in bed. She smiled as he came into the living room after locking up for the night. "Is everything secure?"

Rand looked as uptight as she felt. "Is it Cara? You tell me."

That seemed a strange remark. "Did you lock the back door?"

"Yes. The back door's locked. So is the front door. We're secure. The outside world is locked out for the night."

Turning her head to one side, Cara observed, "You're in a strange mood."

"I suppose I am." Sinking into an easy chair, Rand stretched his legs in front of him. "What seems strange to me is that all the little chores that used to be a bore and a bother now bring me a great deal of pleasure." He looked at her from under lowered lids. "Tell me about your hectic day."

This was a new Rand, one Cara didn't know. She sighed. "There's not much to tell except Mister Wooten from Leward's called. They've decided to carry Debbie Dimples nationwide."

"Then it's a done deal?"

"Not yet." Cara considered telling him about her need for a second manufacturer, then she changed her mind. He would be bored, and the last thing she wanted to do was bore him. "I have to go to Dallas next week to meet with Mister Wooten in person and iron out the final details."

Rand's eyelids lifted. "How long will you be gone?"

"Two days, three at the most."

Rand seemed genuinely interested. "Do you go out of town often?"

Cara was so acutely aware of his physical nearness that she found it difficult to carry on an intelligent conversation. Her nervous fingers pleated the doily on the arm of her chair. "No. Not often. Why?"

Rand shrugged. "Just curious. What happens to the boys and Nancy when you go out of town?"

Cara was much more intrigued by the look in his eyes than the questions that fell from his lips. "I'm not away that often. When I do go, Aunt Irene cares for Nancy. The boys stay with Elaine and Joe."

Rand straightened in his chair. "Will you be traveling alone?"

A sudden yawn took Cara. She placed her hand over her mouth as she shook her head in affirmation. Then dropping her arm, she asked, "Why do you ask?"

Rand shrugged. "Again, I'm just curious." Standing, he stretched, and then yawned. His voice dropped, became low and intimate. "I'll miss you while you're away."

Cara blushed and lowered her head. "I'll miss you too." What was wrong with her? She was, a mature woman, almost thirty-years-old and she was behaving like a confused teenager.

Rand extended an arm in her direction. "You've had a long day."

She touched his fingers. An electric tingle danced down her spine.

Clasping her hand, Rand pulled her to her feet. "Let's call it an evening." Putting his arm around her shoulder, he guided her toward the stairs.

As weary as she was, his touch sent a swell of desire through her stomach and set a tingle of anticipation coursing down her legs. Her mind was a swirl of confusion and need. At the foot of the stairs, she paused. "Rand, I . . ."

He smiled down at her, creating even more confusion. "Relax, darling. I know how tired you must be. It will be enough for me to hold you in my arms."

She was tired, but she wasn't dead, and that's what she would have to be not to respond to the virile man beside her. Holding her might be enough for him, it wasn't enough for her. She wanted more, so much more. "It's not that."

He urged her up the stairs. "Then what?"

Pausing on the third riser, Cara looked over her shoulder. "Maybe I should sleep downstairs. Nancy might awaken. One of the boys might need me." Rand's touch, his nearness was playing havoc with her senses. If she didn't escape, and soon, she'd be lost to another night of passion. Who was she fooling? She was already lost.

For an instant, Rand frowned and shook his head, and then all signs of objection vanished. "If that's what you want." Lowering his lips to hers, he kissed her with gentle tenderness. Raising his head, he whispered, "As always, I'll miss you."

What kind of a fool was she? He was offering her heaven. So what if it didn't last? One night in Rand's arms could provide memories enough to last for a lifetime. Tiptoeing, she brushed her lips across his. "It's not what I want."

With what appeared to be a great effort, he remained passive, staring straight ahead with his arms by his side. "Are you sure? I don't want you to feel obligated."

Cara laughed out loud. "Obligated?" Sharing a bed with Rand was not what she considered an obligation. Her laughter died in her throat. Was he that unsure of himself and of her? "I want to be with you, Rand. I want it very much."

Only then did he take her in his arms, holding her as if she were something fragile and precious. "And I want to be with you. It's like a fire inside me." He was exercising an inordinate amount of restraint. "I want you to be sure, my darling, very, very sure."

At this particular moment, she'd never been more sure of anything in her life. “Love me, Rand." Pulling his head down, she kissed him passionately, pushing her tongue inside his mouth and making sweeping circles.

His voice strangled on a catch in his throat. "I will. I do."

She was never able to recall quite how they made it up the stairs and into the bedroom, but they left signs marking their journey. The next morning she found clothing strewn along the stairs and littering the landing. She did vaguely recall they were both bare by the time Rand flung the bedroom door open and they breathlessly rushed inside. The passionate firestorm that followed would be burned into her memory for a lifetime. He had loved her with a tenderness that kindled slowly from a heated fervor to a blazing ardor, then intensified to a flaming conflagration that consumed both of them before it burst into a million fiery fragments of ecstasy, leaving in its wake peace and satiation.

Later, relaxing in the circle of Rand's arms, Cara dared broach the subject that had been in the back of her mind all evening. "Did Danny ask you about Hollywood?" Before the question was out of her mouth, she regretted having asked it.

She sensed Rand's retreat. This was obviously not the response he'd expected after such an intense encounter. Shifting to prop his elbow on the bed, he put his head in his hand and stared down at her. "No. He didn't. Why do you ask?"

Cara kept her tone light. "He wants to go with you when you go. He'd like to meet Gene Autry's horse."

Rand pushed a pillow behind his back. "I'm not going to Hollywood, or anywhere else. I'm home, Cara. This time it's for good."

She had believed him once when he'd promised her forever. She had been too young then to discern between love and infatuation, too inexperienced to separate consistency from challenge. She was so much wiser now. She could believe that Rand's sincerity was real. She knew it was also temporary. He wasn't fickle, only myopic. Sooner or later, a new challenge would arise and he would be off again, seeking new worlds to conquer, but he couldn't see that now. "What about the movie Hollywood wants to make of your life?"

"Let them make it. They can do it without my help."

"Wouldn't they have to have your permission?"

"I doubt it." His cold tone said back off, you're intruding where you have no business.

Cara decided to let the matter drop. Lacing her hands behind her head, she stared at the ceiling. "You're going to have to get used to being a celebrity."

"Why should I?"

"Because that's what you are. Even the people in your own home town think of you as a hero." Turning, she studied his granite profile. "Manny Rankin came to see me today. The president of the Summerville Historical Society was with him. They want to erect a memorial and build a museum in Summerville in your honor."

Rand drew a long breath. "If the city's going to erect a memorial it should honor all the men in this area who fought and bled for their country. They're the real heroes."

"But there are so many of them."

"That doesn't matter."

But it did. Why couldn't Rand understand that he was no ordinary hero? Cara wanted to make her point without further upsetting him. In her most persuasive voice, she argued, "The city isn't interested in common heroes."

Anger sparked Rand's reply. "There are no common war heroes, Cara. Any man who faces death on a battlefield defending his country is displaying uncommon courage."

He did have a point. "I agree, and Manny and Mrs. Travers have chosen you to be their standard bearer."

"Mrs. Travers being the president of the Historical society?"

Cara nodded. "Yes. You should meet her. She's every inch the society dowager, very prim, very proper, very Bostonian."

"I'm not interested in meeting rich widows."

Cara found herself explaining, although she couldn't imagine why. "She's not a widow. Her husband is Colonel Archibald Travers. He's the commander of Camp Wayne, or he was. He's retiring and he and Mrs. Travers plan to make their home in Summerville."

"I'm not interested in local gossip either. You can tell Mrs. Travers and Mayor Rankin I’m not interested period."

Cara felt a little foolish. She had not once dreamed Rand would refuse to even consider the erection of a memorial and the opening of a museum in his honor. "I told them you'd get in touch with them. I should have asked you first. I'm sorry. I'll call them tomorrow."

Rand slid down into bed and turned away from her. "Don't bother. I'll call them myself. Good night, Cara." He turned the switch on the lamp beside the bed plunging the room into darkness.

"Good night," Cara whispered. As she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the darkness grew heavy, oppressive. Rand had been home less than three days and already they were going to bed with differences between them. That thought brought tears to her eyes. Into the darkness she whispered, "I assumed when I shouldn't have. I am truly sorry."

Turning, Rand gathered her into his arms. "I'm the one who should be sorry." Gently, he kissed her tears away. "I don't want recognition, or memorials, or museums. They're not important. If I've learned anything over the last four years, it's that nothing that comes, stays." A ray of moonlight shafting through a window cast eerie shadows across his tense face. "Just as nothing that goes is ever completely lost. I need time to find what I misplaced. I can't do that if the world keeps intruding."

Such cryptic words, she didn't understand them but she recognized they came from the depths of his troubled soul. "What did you misplace?"

Sitting up on the bed, he switched on the lamp again, flooding the room with soft light. "Feelings, family, the future." He spoke with such passion. "I had them all once. I know they're all here somewhere, if I can only find them."

Cara's mind sought concretes that would assure the abstractions he sought so fervently. "The members of the board of DDI are having their monthly meeting next week." She laid her hand on his arm and felt the muscles contract. "We'd like you to attend."

Rand's defenses went up. She couldn't see them, but she could feel them, shutting her out, alienating her from his thoughts and emotions. "Why should I?"

"Because we want you there. You're a part of the family. We want to make you a part of DDI too."

"What do you expect in return?"

Cara suddenly realized she was stark naked. She reached for her gown. "We don't expect anything."

"Then you're offering me charity?"

Why must he twist everything she said? Slipping her gown over her head, Cara folded her arms across her chest. "Certainly not!"

Rand's eyes bored into her face. "What would my position be? You are offering me a position in your firm, or is your aim to buy me off?"

Her aim had been to chase away some of the demons that pursued him. She began to cry, hating herself for letting his rebuff affect her so deeply. "If you don't want to be a part of DDI all you have to do is say so."

Rand was immediately contrite. Once again, he pulled her into his arms. "Don't cry. We can work this out."

Cara wiped her nose with her hand then ran it down the side of her gown. "Then you'll come to the meeting and at least listen to what we have to say?"

"I don't think that would be wise." Rand kissed her cheek. "It would be better if the members of the board worked this out without me being there."

Cara snuggled in his embrace. "But you're a part of the family too."

Rand chuckled. "And as such, I have to consider the other members." He was suddenly dead serious. "If I show up at that meeting, Evan will pick a quarrel."

Cara wanted to argue with that statement. She couldn't very well dispute the truth. "You could ignore him."

"If he and I were the only ones concerned, I would face him and we'd battle this out. We're not. I'm just beginning to win over my sons. They both adore Evan. If he and I disagree, I may find myself right back at square one. And there's Mother to consider. Bad blood between Evan and me would affect her relationship with Aunt Irene." He sighed. "It’s best if I stay away and let the five of you work this out between you." Still holding onto Cara. Rand stretched to reach the light switch. "I trust you, Cara. I know you'll do the right thing." He flicked the switch. Pulling Cara very close, he whispered, "Sleep my darling."

Good advice, but it was a long time before Cara drifted into slumber.

Chapter Ten

Given a choice, Cara would have postponed the monthly board meeting until after her return from Dallas, but Evan was adamant. "We can't concentrate on moving forward until we take care of the business at hand. We need the board's approval to proceed with our deal with Leward's and we need to take care of this business with Rand. I've set the next board meeting for one o'clock Friday. I've notified the other members and sent them copies of the agenda." Hitching his chair nearer Cara's desk, he smiled as he opened the folder he'd brought with him. "I've worked out a proposal to present to the board. It's more than equitable. I'm sure everyone concerned will agree. I've also had Dave Warren draw up a release for Rand to sign."

"You discussed this matter with an attorney?" Cara thought Evan was usurping a little too much authority. "Without talking to me first?"

"I'm only doing my job." Evan's lower lip protruded into a pout. "You ask me to attend to the details of the meeting. That's what I did. You're always saying I should be more aggressive. I thought you'd be pleased."

Cara thought he could have chosen a better time to heed her advice. "Tell me about the release, then tell me about your proposal."

Evan was all smiles again. "It's a standard form. In return for stock in the company, Rand releases DDI from any and all liability now or in the future. I've asked Trudy and Maureen to stand by. Rand's signature has to be witnessed and notarized." He seemed anxious for approval. "Is that all right?"

Cara nodded her agreement. "But we won't need Trudy and Maureen. Rand isn't going to attend the meeting."

Evan slammed the folder shut. "How the hell can we present our offer to him if he refuses to meet with us?"

Cara thought the answer to that question was obvious, nevertheless, she patiently explained, "We can't, but that's no problem. Rand says whatever we decide, he will accept." Those hadn't been Rand's exact words, but near enough, Cara decided.

Agitation gave Evan's voice an edge. "You've talked with Rand about this? When? Where?"

Cara couldn't very well tell him the discussion had taken place in bed, just after a tempestuous sexual encounter. "That's not important. Rand says he will abide by our decision."

"Oh really?" Evan raised a caustic eyebrow. "And how did you convince him to do that?"

Cara's patience was wearing thin. "Will you stop wasting time and tell me about your proposal?"

Evan opened the folder, much more slowly this time. "I thought long and hard about this. It's the fairest deal I could come up with but it requires a little sacrifice on your part, and on mine."

The last vestige of Cara's forbearance vanished. "Get to the point, Evan. I don't have all morning."

"My aren't we testy today. Bad night, Cara?"

"Just get on with it, Evan."

"Okay, okay." Evan flipped pages, and then cleared his throat. "As things stand now, you own forty shares of the company, I have thirty, and Joe, Mother, and Aunt Elaine each have ten."

Cara's fingers drummed on the edge of her desk. "I know how the company's set up."

Evan seemed determined to drag this matter out. "Of course you do. You set it up. Not that I'm complaining."

"Evan, please."

Evan leaned back in his chair. "What I propose is that you sign over ten shares of your stock to Rand. I'll sign over five of mine. That will give him fifteen percent of the company. That should be adequate compensation for any wrong he feels we perpetrated against him while he was off saving the world."

Cara thought it was more than adequate; it was downright generous. "Did you think of this yourself or did Dave Warren suggest it?"

Very much on his dignity, Evan replied, "I don't need Dave Warren or anyone else to do my thinking for me. I take full credit for this idea." Then he asked, "Do you like the proposal?"

Cara did and she said so, and then added, "I'm sure Rand will like it too."

"Why shouldn't he?" Evan closed the folder. “The question now is, who will bell the cat? I think Aunt Elaine is the best candidate for the job." He scrambled to his feet. "I have to run now."

Cara held up one hand. "Just a moment. What do you mean, 'Bell the cat?'"

Evan tucked his folder under his arm. "I mean someone has to present our proposal to Rand if he refuses to meet with the board. Who better than his mother?"

Too quickly, Cara protested, "No."

"Why not?"

"Because that's my responsibility. I'll talk to Rand."

Evan opened his mouth to object, and then seemingly changed his mind. "If you think that's best."

"I do." With a nod, Cara dismissed Evan from her office and all thoughts of his proposal from her mind. She had more important things to think about. Her meeting with Mister Wooten was less than a week away and she still hadn't the slightest notion what she would say in her presentation to him and his committee.

The rest of the week passed in a flurry of work and anticipation. As Cara labored each day over the presentation she would give to Mister Wooten, or ironed out problems and supervised procedures inside the factory, her thoughts were always on her return home that night to the waiting arms of her husband. And what nights they were; each one sweeter, more passionate, and more fulfilling than the last. They charged Cara's days with joy and fueled her heart with hope. Did she dare believe that this time Rand would stay? More and more she was coming to that conclusion. By the time the day of the board meeting rolled around, she was beginning to think in terms of a future that included her husband.

Her thoughts were drifting between last night and some happy tomorrow when Trudy stuck her head inside Cara's office door. "The other board members are here. They're waiting for you in the board room."

Cara pulled her wandering thoughts back to the present. Board room indeed. DDI's boardroom was a converted walk-in closet with one window, a few scruffy old chairs and an ancient round table that had once belonged to Grandmother Williams. Cara began to clear her desk. "Tell them I'll be there in ten minutes."

It was almost twenty minutes before she made her entrance. She found the others seated around the table, engaging in amiable conversation. Greeting them with a "Hi y'all," she pulled out a chair and sat down.

After an exchange of friendly greetings, Evan cleared his throat. "If Cara will call the meeting to order, it’s time to get down to business."

Board meetings had never been so formal before. Cara wondered why Evan would insist on such protocol now. She reflected that he'd been more than fair about settling with Rand, and decided to humor him. AI don't a have a gavel but," She banged lightly on the table with her fist. "The meeting will come to order."

Thirty minutes later, after an uneventful, almost boring session, she adjourned the meeting. Just as she'd expected, the board had approved unanimously the two proposals Evan had presented. It was a relief to know that the moment Rand signed on the dotted line he owned fifteen percent of DDI. It was also comforting to be assured that Cara and Evan had complete freedom to contract with Leward's and to proceed with their search for a second manufacturer, if that became necessary.

The moment the meeting was adjourned, Aunt Irene stood. "I have to run. Margie Reynolds is sitting with Nancy and she can't stay later than four-thirty."

Cara was anxious to get home herself. Rand was waiting for her. She smiled at Evan. "Why don't you go now too? That will give you some time with Nancy before I pick her up later."

Evan slipped papers into his folder. "That's a good idea." Standing, he tucked his folder under his arm. "Come along, Mother, I'll drive you home."

Evan and Aunt Irene were scarcely out the door when Elaine turned to Joe. "Sweetheart, why don't you bring the car around to the front of the building?"

Amenable as always, Joe agreed. "Sure thing, Honey."

Elaine called after him as he opened the door, "And take your time. Cara and I have a few things to discuss."

Nodding, Joe disappeared down the hall, leaving the door ajar.

Elaine hastened to close it and then turning she confronted Cara. "Just what are you and Evan up to now?"

How like Elaine to create dissension, and just when things were going so well. Cara's head came up. "I beg your pardon?"

"And you probably should." Coming across the floor, Elaine sat back down, this time in the chair next to Cara. "Less than a week ago, Evan and Rand were at each other's throats like two mad dogs. Today Evan willingly signs over five shares of DDI to Rand. Why would he do that?"

"Rand gets the stock only after he signs an agreement absolving DDI of any liability." Maybe Evan hadn't made himself clear. "I thought you understood that."

Elaine scoffed. "I'm not a complete fool, and I'm not stupid. I understood every word my nephew said. I also read between the lines, and I didn't like what I saw there."

A disturbing thought took Cara. "Do you think Evan and I are plotting against Rand?"

"The idea crossed my mind. Don't look so shocked."

Cara was shocked, and she said so in no uncertain terms. "I would never conspire with Evan against Rand."

"You already have. Does he know to what extent?"

Sometimes Elaine could be downright insulting. "Evan and I were not conspiring against anyone. When we leased land in Windthorst Park we thought Rand was dead."

"Good lord, Cara, I'm not talking about Windthorst Park. I'm talking about the way you've carried on with Evan while Rand was away." Elaine's eyes opened wide. "Rand doesn't know, does he? And you don't intend to tell him."

"There's nothing to know. I never. . ." The denial died in Cara's throat. Why should she dignify such an accusation? With supreme effort, she brought her anger under control. "If you're so suspicious, why did you agree to Evan's proposal?"

"I'm not questioning the proposal, just Evan's reason for making it. He wouldn't give away shares in DDI to Rand, or anyone else, unless he had some ulterior motive."

"And what might that ulterior motive be?"

Elaine shook her head. "I don't know, and that's what bothers me. None of this makes any sense."

Cara decided one last attempt at explaining was in order. "Evan and I leased land that belonged to Rand while he was away. Rand could bring charges against us for that. That's why Evan is so insistent that Rand sign a release, and why he's willing to give up some of his stock in DDI in return for that assurance."

Elaine scoffed, "Baloney! That's not what Evan's afraid of. He knows Rand would never bring charges against his wife and his mother and that's what a suit against DDI would amount to." Standing, she slid her chair back. "I'm not sure Evan's not trying to salve his own conscience, or maybe he's afraid of what Rand will do if he ever learns the truth."

Very much on her dignity, Cara asked, "What truth?"

"The very obvious truth that his wife and his cousin were such close friends while he was away. It scares me to think where this all may lead. Family is important to me. I would like to keep this one intact, if that's possible."

Once more, Cara pushed down on her anger. "Maybe you should try trusting that family that's so important to you."

"Can I trust you, Cara?" The expression on Elaine's face told of her inner struggle. "God knows I want to. I'd like to trust Evan too, but I can't, not completely. Evan's weak, and weak men are dangerous."

"Then trust me," Cara pleaded. "And give Evan the benefit of a doubt. It took some strength of character for him to admit we'd wronged Rand and take steps to atone."

Elaine was unmoved. "Evan didn't admit any wrong doing, and he didn't offer anything near an apology." Her mouth pulled into a pensive line. "I didn't hear you admitting or apologizing either."

A chastening guilt made Cara lash out. "Damn it, Elaine, there's nothing to admit or to apologize for." Remembering that she had once agreed to marry Evan made her stop her denial. "Evan and I are business partners. That's all."

"You certainly are and what a team you make. Look how you conspired to cover for Baron and make Nancy's birth seem legitimate. And neither of you was too particular about how you did it." She placed both hands on her hips. "Whose idea was it that Evan marry Marsha?"

Cara was too taken aback to lie or make excuses. "It was mine."

"I thought so, and you were the one who came up with the idea for leasing land in Windthorst Road Park. You're quite a schemer, Cara, but let me warn you, if you hurt Rand with one of your conniving little plots, you will answer to me." With those words of warning, Elaine stomped from the room.

Cara thought of pursuing her and demanding an apology. That would be foolish and useless. Given time, Elaine would see her accusations had no foundation and repent, then apologize on her own. She turned her mind to more pressing matters, like what she would say to Mister Wooten to persuade him Debbie Dimples and Hector Hero would be an asset to Leward's toy line.

When Cara returned to her office, she found the agreement between Rand and DDI lying atop her desk. Attached was a note written in Evan's bold script: The sooner this is signed, the better. Don't forget, it must be notarized. As if she could forget.

But she did just that. She was lying in Rand's arms, her body still pulsating with diminishing waves of ecstasy when she remembered again and swore softly under her breath. "Damn."

Rising on his elbow, Rand looked down at her. "Is something wrong?"

She smiled up at him. "No. Nothing is wrong. " For a change, it seemed that everything was right. Cara pondered a moment before amending her statement, "I should say everything's perfect."

Rand kissed the tip of her nose. "For me too." Then turned on his back and stared at the ceiling. "Good night, darling."

A silence of minutes elapsed before Cara spoke his name into the darkness. "Rand?"

His deep, sated voice responded with, "I'm here."

Cara drew a shallow breath, "It's about. . . . Forget it." She'd be a fool to break the magic of this mood. She'd tell him in the morning.

Rand shifted in the bed. "If you're wondering if I got around to speaking to Manny Rankin, I did. I went to see him today."

Cara's heart picked up speed. "What did he say?"

Rand chuckled. "I'm not sure. He's full of political double talk. He began by trying to appeal to my sense of civic duty, telling me how devastated this area would be when Camp Wayne closed its doors and Summerville lost two thirds of its population — saying how badly the city needed the museum and memorial as a tourist attraction. When I told him I didn't think a museum was the answer to the city's problems, he had the audacity to suggest that a part of the take from the project might change my mind."

A chill ran down Cara's spine. "What did he mean by that?"

Rand frowned. "Manny plans to charge admission to the museum. He wants to build a restaurant, a gift shop, and a department store adjacent to the museum and around the memorial. For him, this is nothing more than a money-making proposition. I told him to forget it. Money wasn't that important to me. I don't approve of his little scheme and I want no part of his project."

Cara was almost afraid to ask. "Will he continue without your approval and cooperation?"

"He assured me of as much. He had the nerve to tell me if I did anything to try to stop him, I'd be sorry."

Cara sat up in bed. "He threatened you?" Reaching across Rand, she pushed the lamp switch. "The bastard!"

Rand blinked against the sudden burst of light, then pulled Cara down on top of him. "Relax, darling, and forget about Manny."

Given what Cara knew about Manny Rankin, she couldn't afford to do that. "Isn't there some way you can stop him?"

Rand nuzzled Cara's neck, causing chills to shiver through her. "I suppose I could bring some kind of litigation. That might delay him. I doubt it would stop him."

Cara pulled herself from Rand's embrace. She couldn't think with his naked body pressing into hers. "Would you do that?"

Rand gave her a quizzical look. "I might. Why do you ask?"

Cara shrugged. "Evan thinks you might bring litigation against DDI." Once again she felt that invisible wall spring up between them.

"What did you expect from a man who hates my guts?"

It seemed important to disabuse Rand of that notion. "Evan doesn't hate you. I know he can be difficult at times, but he always comes around in the end." She would never have a better opportunity to tell Rand of Evan's proposal. "He wants to make you a part of DDI. He introduced a proposal at our board meeting this afternoon that would give you fifteen shares of the stock in the company."

A note of caution crept into Rand's voice. "Why would he do that?"

"Darling, don't be so suspicious. We all think you would be an asset to the company."

"Doing what?"

"You would be a welcome addition to the board of directors." She touched his arm with her hand. "Sweetheart, we need you."

The ice in Rand's voice chilled her blood. "To do what, rubber stamp everything you suggest and Evan seconds?" The muscles in his arm tightened. I don't want anything from Evan. He can keep his stock. I want no part of DDI either."

In her most persuasive voice, Cara argued, "We owe you something for leasing your land without your permission."

Rand swung his legs to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. With his back to her, he asked, "So you do expect something in return. What is it?"

"Rand. . ." She couldn't lie to him. "I. . ." Neither could she bring herself to tell him the truth. "We can talk about it another time."

"No." Bare and incredibly handsome, he turned to face her. "We talk about it now and never mind the sweet talk, just tell me what I have to do to earn your gift that's not a gift."

He was making it all sound so calculated and mercenary. Cara untangled herself from the sheet, and moved nearer, her only thought being to wipe away the pain that lurked in the blue of Rand's eyes. "Darling, it's not like that." She reached for his hand.

He pulled it away. "Then suppose you tell what it is like."

His rejection loosed a flood of old memories causing Cara to retreat behind a wall of quiet reserve. "In return you sign a release," She chided herself for not having read the release more carefully. "that absolves DDI of any and all liability, now or in the future. . . " Her words died away as his piercing gaze swept over her.

"I won't be seduced, Cara, not by money and not by sex."

The ugliness of his insinuation hit Cara like a bucket of cold water. "What are you implying?"

"I'm not implying a damn thing. I'm stating the obvious. My answer to you is the same as it is to Manny, thanks, but no thanks."

Cara closed her eyes against a sudden rush of pain. "Do you think me capable of such deception?"

Rand scoffed. "You didn't deceive, you were blatantly honest. You said you didn't want a husband, just a lover."

A shaft of incredible pain shot through Cara. "You think the only reason I made love to you was to save DDI?"

Leaning back, Rand let his eyes scan her nude body. "No."

Cara was set to draw a sign of relief, when he added, "I think you enjoyed our lovemaking as much as I did, maybe more. That doesn't change your reason for letting me make love to you in the first place."

She longed to throw herself into his arms and give lie to that statement by showing him how much she needed him, how much she wanted him, how much she loved him. Pride wouldn't let her. "I think you are despicable."

"And I think you and Evan deserve each other. He has his work cut out for him. God help you both is he's as inept in bed as he is in business."

She couldn't believe the man who had so recently held her in his arms and made passionate love to her, could, in the space of a few minutes, become so cruel and insensitive. "If that's what you think, maybe you should leave."

Rand folded his arms across his chest. "Where do you suggest I go?"

The pain inside Cara sharpened and grew, making it difficult for her to stand and slip her arms into her robe. "To hell for all I care."

"I've been there, and back."

Cara pushed her feet into her house shoes. She had to escape before the agony inside her erupted into a torrent of tears. With her head held high, she walked away, not daring to look back. She went out the door, down the stairs, and into the cold confides of the bed in Elaine's old room. Pulling the covers over her head, she wept bitter tears until finally weariness overtook her and she fell into a troubled sleep

Chapter Eleven

Even before she opened her eyes, Cara was assailed by a sense of foreboding, Slowly the events of the night before began to filter through her waking mind. Rolling over she opened her eyes, pulled her covers up under her chin and stared at Nancy asleep in her crib in the far corner of the room. "Well, Sweet Pea, your mamma has done it again."

Nancy stirred, turned on her stomach and put her thumb in her mouth.

Cara began to rehearse each detail of last night's episode with Rand. She had never dreamed he'd be offended by the board's offering him stock in DDI. Nor could she believe he'd think she had plotted to seduce him. A knot of tears ached in her throat. Perhaps therein lay the core of the problem. With great difficulty, Cara forced herself to admit a distressing truth. She loved her husband, but she didn't understand him. On the heels of that disturbing admission came a new and even more frightening revelation. She didn't want to lose him either.

Being careful not to wake Nancy, Cara crawled from the bed and slipped into the warmth of a battered old chenille robe. Despite the heat from the floor furnace, cold nipped at her bare toes. She searched around under the bed until she located her fleece-lined slippers, shoved her cold feet into their warm interior, and then headed for the kitchen. As she entered the hallway, the smell of coffee drifted out to greet her. Bracing herself for what she was sure to encounter on the other side, she pulled the kitchen door open.

Rand stood by the stove breaking eggs on the side of a skillet and dropping them into the pan. The sight of him made her heart beat a little faster. He was dressed in army fatigues and heavy army boots. Morning sunlight shafting through the windows cast shadows across his handsome profile and danced through the gold of his hair. Coming inside, she shut the door. "Good morning."

Rand's hand stopped in midair as he turned to stare at her. His voice was noncommittal. "Good morning." He began to stir eggs. His anger from last night had vanished to be replaced by an aloofness. "There was no butter, so the toast is dry." He pointed his spatula toward the stack of toast on the table. A muscle jerking along his jaw line told of his inner tenseness.

Cara inhaled. "Is that coffee I smell?"

"Yes it is." Rand took the skillet from the burner. "Would you like a cup?" He turned knobs on the stove, and then raked the scrambled eggs in a plate.

"Yes, please." Cara sat down at the table.

Rand set the eggs on the table before moving to the cupboard and taking cups from a shelf.

Cara hitched her chair a little nearer the table. Despite the sunny warmth of the room, the air was heavy with the chill of unspoken animosity. "No, thank you."

"You're up early." Rand poured coffee into two cups and balancing a cup in each hand, turned to face her. "Did you sleep well?"

Cara lied with ease. "Very well, thank you. Did you?"

"Not really." He slid one cup across to her.

"You can sleep today." Cara took a sip of coffee. It was bitter, as usual. "You'll have the house to yourself until three. Paul and Danny stay with Elaine on Saturdays and Nancy will be with Aunt Irene."

Rand surprised her completely by saying, "I'd like to keep the children with me today."

Cara wrapped her hands around the warm cup. "They always spend Saturdays with Elaine and Joe. I'm sure you have other things to do."

Rand sat down across from her. "I want them with me today. I think it's important that I spend time with them." He helped himself to a serving of eggs. "I'd like to keep Nancy with me too."

The thought of Rand wrangling a toddler for six or seven hours made Cara smile. "You couldn't manage her. She's quite a handful."

"I can manage."

Cara stirred sugar into her coffee and tried to hide her nervousness. "I'm not so sure."

With complete confidence, Rand replied, "I am."

Cara looked at him with a mixture of doubt and humor. He had no idea what he was letting himself in for. "I suppose Paul could help. He likes playing the role of big brother."

Rand picked up his fork. "Then it's settled."

Cara's mouth twitched with amusement. Her heroic husband had his day's work cut out for him. "I'll have to call Evan first."

The smoldering tension in the room erupted when Rand asked, "Why?"

A sudden loud hum from the refrigerator scraped across Cara's frayed nerve ends. "Because Aunt Irene sits with Nancy when I work. She'll be expecting me to bring her by."

Rand used his fork to push his eggs around on his plate. "Then why not call Aunt Irene?"

Cara drew a deep breath. "Nancy is Evan's daughter. He's expecting her. If I'm not going to bring her by, I owe him the courtesy of a call."

Rand took a bite of eggs and chewed thoughtfully. "Evan's not Nancy's father." Laying his fork across his plate, he pierced Cara with a razor sharp gaze. "Why do you keep insisting that he is?"

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask why he kept insisting on splitting hairs and arguing over trifles. With some effort, Cara brought that urge under control. "Legally, Nancy is Evan's child."

Rand asked, a little too casually, "Evan isn't working today?"

Cara felt a compelling need to justify Evan's apparent idleness. "I'm finishing the model for a new line of dolls we're introducing soon. I don't need Evan's help to do that."

Rand waved her explanation aside and leaning back in his chair, surveyed her with analytical detachment. "Tell me, Cara, legally, what are you to Nancy?"

She didn't want to have another disagreement with Rand, not while the trauma of last night still hung between them like some dark and menacing cloud. "That's not important."

"That's damned important!" Rand pushed back his plate. "This child is my sister. I'm the only blood relative she has in the world. I don't intend to stand by and let you and Evan confuse her any further."

When Cara could find her voice, she said, "You've lost me Rand, I haven't an inkling of what you're talking about."

Vaulting to his feet, Rand leaned across the table and glared at her. "I'm talking about the way you and Evan use Nancy to fulfill your own needs without any though of her welfare. The child is going to grow up having no idea who she is."

His words jolted through Cara like an electric shock. She stood and leaned across the table until her face was very near his. "Evan and I are trying to give Nancy what every child needs, the security that comes from being a part of a strong and loving family." Memories of her own insecure childhood washed over her. Through those troubled years, Cara had been haunted by the fear that her aging great aunt would die and leave her alone in the world. How fervently she had wished for what other children seemed to take for granted, a father and mother, siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles, and grandparents. "You don't know what it's like to grow without that kind of security." Suddenly she was wrestling with old fears and struggling against long forgotten anxieties. Falling back into her chair, Cara put her elbows on the table and dropped her head into her hands. "Take it from someone who knows, it's hell."

Rand's voice softened as he slipped into his chair. "You don't know what hell is until you grow up in a family that isn't a family, but I do. That's why I can't stand idly by and let the same thing happen to my sister."

Cara lifted her face. "You had a family. You had grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, and most of all you had a mother and a father who both loved you very much."

"A mother and a father, even a mother and father who both love you, doesn't add up to a family if that mother and father are at odds with each other, and my parents were at odds from my earliest recollections because of Marsha Cole." Rand drew a haggard breath. "A lovers' triangle can destroy a family circle."

Cara protested, "That's not the case with Nancy. There's no love triangle here. We're all family, and everyone is very happy with the arrangement we have."

Rand declared with decisiveness that set Cara's teeth on edge: "Everyone but the two people who count most, Nancy and me."

"Nancy is a very happy child." His criticism cut her to the quick. "There is no comparison between the circumstance under which you grew up and Nancy's situation now."

Rand nodded his agreement. "You're right on both counts. Nancy's happy now, but how will she feel next year, or the next, or ten years from now? Her situation will be much worse than mine could ever have been. What happens when she learns the man she thinks is her father is her cousin, the woman she calls mother is her sister-in-law, the brothers she adores are her nephews and her doting grandmother is her aunt?" He rammed his forefinger into his chest. "I'm the only authentic person in her life. I'm her brother and as such, I intend to protect her."

"She doesn't have to know." Fear was replacing Cara's anger. "You wouldn't tell her?"

Rand answered with a finality that chilled Cara's blood. "Someday Nancy is bound to find out the truth about who she is. It's better that she learn it from her family now than from strangers later."

"No." That thought terrified Cara. "If you believe that, then Nancy needs protection from you, not by you."

"What will you do when Nancy learns who her parents really were?"

This was an eventuality Cara had never dwelt on. It was too frightening. "I can't think about that now. I have too many other things on my mind." She stood and with a flourish, tied the belt of her robe. "I have to go now. I'll call Evan and tell him not to expect Nancy today." She could feel Rand's eyes piercing her back as she hurried toward the door.

Her hand was on the knob when he said softly, "Running away won't solve the problem, Cara. No one knows that better than I."

Cara's hand fell to her side. "I'm not running away."

He persisted, "Yes, you are. You keep running away. Every time I think I've reached you, I find you've retreated again behind some imagined wrong or lame excuse."

Cara's jaw tightened as she turned to face him. "I didn’t run and I didn't hide. I'm in the same place you left me four years ago."

"So we're back to that again." Rand's shoulders sagged. "I've told you how much I regret leaving the way I did, I've asked you to forgive me," He straightened. "I refuse to spend the rest of my life doing penance." He inclined his head toward the chair across from him. "Come back and sit down. I have something to say to you."

Every instinct she possessed told her to refuse. "Rand, please. . . ."

He seemed determined to have his way. "This won't take long. I intended to say it earlier but I got side-tracked about Nancy." Sitting down, he crossed his legs. "It's about last night."

Cara retraced her footsteps to perch on the edge of her chair. Color touched her cheeks as she recalled the intensity of their lovemaking. She had behaved like some wanton seductress. Then she recalled Rand's accusations afterward. Defiantly, her chin lifted. "What about last night?"

"I've had some time to think. Maybe I over-reacted." With sudden ferocity, he struck the table with his fist, jarring dishes and rattling forks and spoons. "Damn it, Cara, I'm sick and tired of feeling guilty and having to apologize."

Cara flinched, but her voice remained calm. "I didn't ask for an apology."

Rand's voice dropped to a husky whisper. "No, but you deserve one. I said some pretty rotten things to you last night."

Cara could have agreed. She refrained from doing so. Rand was doing a fine job of chastising himself. He didn't need her help. "Apology accepted. I'm sorry, too." An old familiar ache slipped in around her heart. "I offended you with my offer of shares in DDI. That wasn't my intent."

"I wasn't offended by your offer. I was offended that you'd try to bribe me."

Cara shook her head in negation. "It wasn't intended as a bribe."

Rand looked skeptical. She read in his troubled expression the intention to argue, then he shrugged. "Keep your stocks. I'll sign the release."

Cara's voice lifted in surprise. She could find no reason for his abrupt about face. "Just like that?"

Rand echoed, "Just like that."

She would be a fool to question his sudden change of heart. "You must sign the release before a notary and two witnesses. Can you come to my office sometime next week?"

"Sure. When?"

Cara did some mental calculating. "I should be back from my meeting with Mister Wooten by Wednesday. Could you come in that afternoon around three?" She stood. A swift departure seemed in order. "I have to go to work."

Rand's gaze heated as he scanned her small tense body from head to toe. "I suggest you dress first."

Cara gave the belt of her robe a last decisive yank. "Call your mother and tell her not to expect the boys today." She sailed from the room, her head high. Thirty minutes later, as she drove her car down familiar streets toward Windthorst Road and DDI, she was still mulling over her strange conversation with Rand. Why was he so obstinate about not accepting shares in Debbie Dimples? What had brought on this sudden concern for Nancy's future?

Once inside her office, Cara pushed all other thoughts from her mind and concentrated fully on putting the finishing touches to Hector Hero's wardrobe. She was admiring her most recent creation, a smart military jacket, when a knock sounded on the office door.

Cara laid her work aside and glanced at the clock on the wall. Both hands stood on twelve. Where had the morning gone? "Yes? Who's there?"

She frowned when a voice on the other side answered. "It's me, Elaine. I brought you some lunch. May I come in?"

Suspicion curled around Cara's annoyance. "It's not locked."

Elaine opened the door. She was a comic figure standing in the entranceway wearing a heavy winter coat, hat and gloves and carrying a picnic basket. "May I come in?"

A smile tugged at the corners of Cara's mouth. "What do you want, Elaine?"

"I want to come in, it's cold out here, and wipe that stupid grin off your face." She lifted the basket. "This is not a peace offering."

Irritation clipped Cara's words. "Come in, for heaven's sake, and close the door. You’re letting in cold air."

Elaine obeyed. Once inside, she set the picnic basket on the floor, removed her coat, hat and gloves and sat down. "I just came from your house."

Immediately on the defensive, Cara declared, "I didn't ask Rand to mind the children today. That was his idea. I told him he'd have problems. I knew he couldn't handle Nancy and ride herd on two active boys for six or seven hours. But did he listen? No." Feeling a little foolish, Cara stopped her tirade and folded her arms across her chest. "Did he call you for help?"

Elaine snorted in disgust. "Is your temper tantrum over?"

Cara asked, with as much dignity as she could muster, "What do you want?"

"I want to be home with my husband."

Elaine did have a way of putting Cara in her place. "Then why did you come here?"

Elaine's brow creased into a thoughtful frown. "That's a good question. I'm not sure I have an answer."

"Oh?" Cara arched one eyebrow. "I thought you knew all the answers." She was being petty and vindictive, but she didn't care.

With overt candor, Elaine declared, "Cattiness doesn't become you, Cara."

Cara's voice softened, her tone became conciliatory. She was being catty, and childish, and rude. "Forgive me. I have a lot on my mind right now." She waved her hand over the clutter of patterns and material spread across her desk. "I have to finish this model of Hector Hero before my meeting with Mister Wooten Monday. I have no idea what I'm going to say to him once I'm there. If the meeting goes well, I still have the problem of finding a second manufacturer. Windthorst Park is about to be annexed into the city, as if that weren't enough, there's the problem of Manny Rankin trying to take advantage of Rand's status as a hero by building a museum in his honor then turning it into a profit making tourist attraction. It's a wonder I'm still sane."

Elaine seemed unmoved. "You have guts and you have a good business head on your shoulders. You'll find a way. You always do."

Cara was set to make some flip reply when she realized Elaine was sincere. "You have more confidence in me than I have in myself."

"If you could manage your personal affairs as well as you take care of business, you would have no problems."

Cara's back stiffened. That's what she got for letting down her guard. "My personal affairs are just that, my personal affairs. Don't go butting in."

Elaine pointed to the picnic basket. "Are you hungry?"

Cara was starved. "Don't change the subject."

Elaine laid her hat and gloves on the floor. "I brought some chili in a thermos, and some cornbread." She carried it to Cara's desk. "I knew you'd have coffee here."

"I don't." Cara pushed the clutter to one side. "Where did you get beef to make chili?"

"We can do without drinks." Elaine opened the basket and began to remove its contents. "Rand made the chili. I'm saving my meat stamps for Thanksgiving." In a superior tone, she added, "I didn't inquire as to how my son obtained the ration stamps to purchase the beef."

When she had first married Rand, Elaine's assuming superior airs was enough to send Cara scurrying for cover. Not anymore; her mother-in-law no longer intimidated her. "He applied for ration books the day after he got home."

Elaine's voice was tinged with sarcasm. "How clever of him." She poured chili into two bowls. "Well, that mystery's solved. Let's eat." Unwrapping a square of cornbread, she broke it in two pieces. "Speaking of Thanksgiving, will you make the pumpkin pies this year?"

Cara struck the heel of her hand against her forehead. "Good heavens." Thanksgiving was only days away, and this was the first time it had crossed her mind. "I forgot all about Thanksgiving."

Elaine pushed one bowl of chili toward Cara, then handed her a piece of cornbread. "Irene will make a cake and the cranberry sauce. I, of course, will do the turkey and dressing. Effie and Charles will be here."

Charles Markum was Irene and Elaine's younger brother. Effie was his spinster daughter. They lived in a little town in southern south of Summerville. Cara was very fond of both of them. "It will be good to see them again. Will they be driving up?"

"No." Elaine dusted her hands together. "They're coming on the train. I'm expecting some other guests too. All in all, we should have quite a gathering."

Cara's eyes narrowed as she studied Elaine's serene face. "What did you come out here to tell me?"

Elaine crumbled cornbread into her chili. "I should have brought catsup. Is there some in the workers' lounge?"

Cara sighed. Let Elaine play her little games if it made her happy. "No."

Elaine took a bite of chili. "This is good. I didn't know Rand could cook. Isn't he just full of surprises since he came home?"

Belatedly, it hit Cara. A family gathering at Thanksgiving meant Rand and Evan would be under the same roof for several hours. She cringed at that thought. "Rand and I will be spending Thanksgiving at home."

That superior tone had once again found its way into Elaine's voice. "That's not what Rand said."

That was a low blow, even for Elaine. "You've discussed this with Rand?"

"I wasn't trying to go behind your back."

Cara doubted that. "Then what were you trying to do?"

"I was trying to save my family from becoming a target for gossip and ridicule." Elaine chewed her bottom lip. "Sometimes I wonder if there's any solution to this dilemma."

A sick feeling stirred in the pit of Cara's stomach. "What dilemma?"

Elaine dusted cornbread crumbs from her lap. "I think I may have made a mistake."

"You?" Cara couldn't resist. "Surely not."

"Don't be sarcastic."

Cara offered a half-hearted apology. "Sorry."

Elaine lifted an eyebrow. "Really?" Then apologized herself. "So am I. We can't afford to fight each other, not now."

Cara leaned back in her chair. "Why don't you say what you came here to say?"

Elaine drew a long breath. "A couple of days ago Mike Gentry called and asked if he could come out and talk to me."

Cara frowned. "Mike Gentry the reporter for the Summerville Clarion?"

Elaine nodded. "That's the one, but he works for a paper in San Antonio now."

Cara had hoped the press's interest in Rand was beginning to wane. "Did he say what he wanted to talk about?"

"What else?" Elaine tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "He wanted to talk about Rand."

"He came to my office sometime back with the same request. I refused to see him. I hope you did the same."

"I did, at first. Then he gave me this bit about how some of the details of Rand's years in France that were just emerging had created new public interest."

Cara thought what a spiel. She asked, "What details?"

Elaine exclaimed, on a note of exasperation. "Honestly, Cara, don't you ever read a paper or listen to the radio?"

Cara realized, quite suddenly, that she hadn't done either in days. "I do, sometimes, I haven't lately."

"The details of Rand's exploits in France have been spread all over the papers for the past few days, and some of the radio commentators have been having a field day. They have, in turn, extolled his bravery and ingenuity and questioned his motives and tactics. Mike says in the process of all this hoopla, it's getting harder and harder to separate truth from fabrication. He says it was important to Rand and to his family that someone set the record straight."

"And that someone should be him?"

Elaine 's face took on a pained expression. "I have to admit, it sounded a little self serving at first. Then he went on to explain how important public opinion was, and how fickle. He said that sometimes one false story or malicious innuendo could tip the scale and turn public sentiment around completely. I told him I didn't think Rand cared what the public thought of him. Mike's answer was, he should, if not for his own sake, for his family's. He indicated that if I didn't agree to helping him gain some access to Rand, he'd write a negative story about him."

Cara said with more assurance than she felt. "He was bluffing."

Elaine asked softly, "What makes you so sure?"

Cara hated to admit it but her mother-in-law had a point. "What did you tell him?"

"A lot of things, but the bottom line is, I agreed to let him come to the house Thanksgiving Day, not for an interview, just for a brief visit. He's bringing a photographer with him to take some pictures of the family."

Cara hid her shock behind a half-smile. "Do you think that was wise?"

"I did, until Manny Rankin called the next day."

Goose bumps gamboled across Cara's skin. "Manny called you on the phone?"

"No, Manny came to the house to 'call on me' as he so quaintly put it, and he was careful to come when Joe wasn't home."

Cara hissed, "The bastard. What's he up to now?"

"Nothing good, I'm sure." The furrows in Elaine's brow deepened. "Even though he was the picture of politeness and decorum. He knew all about my conversation with Mike Gentry. The damn jerk had the audacity to suggest that he come out for Thanksgiving dinner. 'As a way to show his support of Rand' was the way he put it."

Cara couldn't believe the nerve of the man. "Manny Rankin is afraid adverse publicity about Rand will undermine his scheme to build a museum and memorial in Summerville. I hope you told him he wasn't welcome."

Elaine's head pulled back. "I did no such thing."

"Elaine, what has gotten into you? How could you agree to letting a nosy reporter and a scheming politician spoil our Thanksgiving Day?"

Elaine's mouth quirked. "Sometimes, Cara, I don't understand you."

"You don't understand me?" Cara's voice rose. "I'm not the one who invited a stupid newspaper reporter, a prying photographer, and a fool politician to share Thanksgiving with us."

"I don't understand how an intelligent woman can be so incredibly dense." Leaning forward, Elaine narrowed her eyes. "Never make the mistake of underestimating your adversaries. Mike Gentry is not stupid, and Manny Rankin is certainly no fool. But they have made one little error in judgment. They think I'm a stupid old woman. I intend to take advantage of that." Straightening, she squared her shoulders against the back of her chair. "If Mike and Manny are present Thanksgiving, Evan and Rand will have to behave themselves. In the meantime, I'll be doing my utmost to find out just what it is that Mike and Manny really want."

"Do you think they're scheming together?"

Elaine looked slightly abashed. "Maybe."

"And maybe," Cara reasoned, "for purely selfish reasons, Mike wants a story and Manny wants to protect Rand's reputation."

Turning her head to one side, Elaine squinted in Cara's direction. "And maybe they want more."

Cara signed in exasperation. "Like what?"

"How do I know?"

"Don’t you think. . . ?" They could discuss this forever and never arrive at any definitive answer. "Forget it." Cara glanced at the clock. "I have to go back to work. Thanks for the lunch."

Elaine put bowls and spoons in the picnic basket. "When are you leaving for you meeting with Mister Wooten?"

Cara's mind was a whirl of unanswered questions and nagging fears. "Tomorrow morning."

Elaine closed the basket and fastened the lid. "I'll see you when you get back and try not to worry."

Cara couldn't believe this woman. She'd come out here, uninvited, offered nothing but insults and criticism, unloaded all her troubles, and now she was blithely walking away, with the admonition: 'Try not to worry'.

As the door swung shut, Cara picked up a swatch of cloth and turned her mind back to the task at hand.

Chapter Twelve

Cara knew the moment she opened the door Saturday evening that something was amiss. Rand stood just inside the entranceway with both hands on his hips, the blue flame of anger flickering in his eyes. "You're late."

Her first thought was, he's had a rough day. She could understand that. Caring for three children for eight hours was enough to try anyone's patience. "I know. I should have called."

Rand's arms fell to his sides. "Why didn't you?"

"Were you worried?" It had been such a long time since she'd felt obliged to account to anyone for her comings and goings. In the future she would have to remember to be a little more thoughtful. "I'm sorry."

His reply brought her up short. "You should be."

Cara realized, quite suddenly that the house was as silent as a tomb. "Where are the children?"

"Aunt Irene took Nancy with her to visit friends. Mother and Joe are treating Paul and Danny to a movie."

Cara laid her briefcase on the table and draped her coat across a chair. "A movie. How nice." She should have known Rand wouldn't last the day. "Did the three of them get to be too much for you?"

"The children? No. I enjoyed the kids." Rand's body was taunt as a bow string. "That's more than I can say for the three adults you sent to call."

Bewildered, Cara echoed, "Three adults?"

"Your attorney and the two witnesses he brought with him." Rand's eyes narrowed scornfully. "Were you that afraid I'd change my mind before Wednesday?"

"About what?" Cara backed toward a chair. "I didn't send anyone here." She paused, frozen in a half-sitting, half-standing position.

"Don't make it worse by lying."

Anger brought Cara to an upright position. "Don't call me a liar."

Rand's wrath seemed almost palatable. “You sent that shyster Warren and two witnesses over here to make sure I put my signature on the dotted line today."

Cara tried to collect her scattered thoughts. "Dave Warren was here?" Her throat restricted. "I didn't send him." Like a blow to the mid section, it hit her. "Evan did this." The words were out before she could stop them.

Her denial was fuel for Rand's wrath. "Don't make it worse by trying to shift blame."

"I didn't know." The disavowal sounded false in her own ears. "This has to be Evan's handiwork."

"Don't give me that. Evan doesn't breathe without asking you first." He moved a step nearer. "I signed the papers. DDI is safe." Another step brought him so close she could feel the heat emanating from his body. "Now you can keep your end of the bargain." With lightening speed, he swooped to fold her in a smothering embrace. His mouth covered hers in a demanding kiss that robbed her of her breath and sent waves of desire dancing through her body like an electric current. "I'm impatient too."

Cara pushed against the broad wall of his chest in a half-hearted effort to escape. "Rand don't."

"Why not?" He rubbed his cheek along her jaw line. "I agreed not to sue DDI." The rough stubble of his beard sent sharp pangs of longing through her mouth and into her throat. Then his lips moved very near her ear. She could feel the erotic puff of his breath as he whispered, "I want you Cara, scheming little minx that you are, I want you. "Again, his lips found hers in a kiss that sent her head spinning and her pulses racing. His hands moved over her body, touching intimate places, stirring erotic responses. Then his warm caressing fingers reached for the top button of her dress. "And you want me."

Cara felt herself sliding into an undertow of sweet desire. In a matter of moments that undertow would swell to a flood tide and she would be inundated. Already her body quivered with anticipation. She did want him. She wanted to lose herself in the sweetness of shared ecstasy, but she couldn't , not like this. She laid her hand over his to still his moving fingers. "No, Rand." Not with him angry and accusing her of bartering her body in exchange for a signature. "This isn't right."

His lips nibbled her earlobe. "It's the only right we have amid a multitude of wrongs."

If she didn't stop this now, this instant, she'd be lost to the enchantment he wove so well. "I can't."

With what appeared to be considerable effort, he thrust her from him. His hands bit into her shoulders as he held her at arm's length. "You can't? What happened to your passionate need for a lover?" His arms fell to his sides. "Was that a lie too?"

The paralyzing numbness of pain held Cara rigid. How dare he! He'd been missing from her life for four years, and presumed dead for three. Most of that time had been spent in the company of another woman. Now from nowhere, he was back again, making unreasonable demands and outrageous accusations. "After all you've asked me to accept and believe, how can you question my honesty?"

His head jerked back as if she'd struck him. "You think I've lied to you? About what?"

"About what really happened the three years you were in France."

His expression was derisive. "Have you been listening to those radio commentators?"

"No. What have they been saying?"

"They've been digging around in my past. That's what it is, the past. They should forget it. So should you."

Cara's brow lifted disdainfully. "You don't seem to have any qualms about poking around in my past."

The cords in Rand's neck stood out. "Wrong again. I've come to terms with your past. It's all these little surprises that keep intruding into our present that have me asking questions."

Cara snapped, "Aren't you fortunate? You left your past in another country. I can't distance myself that easily. Mine keeps dogging me and impinging on the present."

"It's not the past that worries me, it's the future."

Cara was beginning to wonder if there was a future for them. She swallowed her pride. "Rand, please, let's not quarrel on my last night at home."

He rounded on her, as he lashed out, "Don't try to manipulate me, Cara. I've told you before, I won't be seduced." Then he laughed, a short ugly bark that seemed ripped from deep inside him. "Who am I trying to fool? You've already manipulated me unmercifully and seduced me completely."

Cara did have some pride. Her chin came up. "I'll sleep in Elaine's old room tonight."

He didn't argue, he didn't even object. "I'll be up in time to take you to the bus tomorrow." He bounded up the stairs. A few moments later she heard his bedroom door slam.

True to his word, Rand was up the next morning in time to drive her to the bus station, but just barely. It was a sullen, silent man who carried her bag inside and stood in the middle of the bus station waiting impatiently for her to purchase her ticket. Even on a Sunday morning, in a small bus station in an obscure little Texas town, he was the focus of attention. Townspeople and strangers alike stared and pointed and whispered to each other behind his back.

Once she'd checked her bag and tucked her ticket in her pocket, Cara returned to stand before him. "I should be home on the two o'clock bus Tuesday."

Rand dropped an impersonal kiss on her cheek. "I'll be here to meet you." He stepped back, half turning to go. "Have a safe journey."

She couldn't let him walk away, not like this. "I have a few minutes. Why don't you wait with me?" She saw the refusal in his eyes. Her hand flew to grasp his arm. "Please."

Rand shrugged. "Only for a few minutes. Mother and Joe want to leave for Sunday services by nine."

They found two battered old chairs in a far corner. Cara sat down. "You have plenty of time to get back to the boys before church time. Relax." She should take her own advice. Her heart was fluttering against her rib cage like a captured bird.

Rand eased down into the chair beside her. "Mother and Joe were nice enough to stay with them. I wouldn't want to take advantage."

They sat for several seconds with Rand staring into space and Cara fussing with the fastener on her brief case. When she could no longer bear the oppressive silence, Cara asked, "Can we talk about this?"

"There's nothing to talk about. Your actions speak for themselves."

He wasn't going to give an inch. Perspiration broke out across Cara's upper lip. "You left me no choice."

Rand turned abruptly. "What do you want from me, Cara? Certainly not to be your husband. You've made that abundantly clear from the first day of my return. Apparently you no longer desire me as a lover. You proved that last night."

"What did you expect? You accused me of some pretty despicable things." Cara drew a shallow breath. Rand's cruel words still hung in her mind like little barbs. Don't try to manipulate me, Cara. I've told you before, I won't be seduced.

With agile grace, he stood. "I keep wondering if they're true." Turning on his heel, he walked away.

************************************************************

Cara closed her eyes and leaned her head against the back of the bus seat. The trip from Dallas had been long and tiring, but traveling on a Tuesday morning did have its advantages. She'd had a seat all the way. With a flutter of elation, she thought that soon she'd be able to travel in style by train, maybe even fly to business appointments.

Smiling at that prospect, Cara got a tighter grip on the briefcase in her lap. It held the contract with Leward's to distribute her entire line of dolls nationally. There was only one small hitch. She had to find a second manufacturer, and that was not going to be an easy task. Dismissing the problem, Cara twisted in her seat as memories of her departure from Summerville stirred her to unrest.

Over the rumble of the bus motor a voice called, "Lady? Oh lady?" The crusty old gentleman seated next to her had his hand on her arm. "Are you all right? You look sick."

Cara blinked as his face came into focus. It was as lined as a road map, his beard white as snow. "I'm all right, thank you."

The old man seemed doubtful. "How long you been on this bus?"

"Since six this morning."

"Lord, it ain't no wonder you look plumb tuckered out." The man opened the overnight case at his feet. "You must be hungry too." He removed a brown paper bag that he set it in his lap. "My daughter packed a lunch. There's plenty for two."

Cara refused, politely. "I get off at the next stop."

The old man unwrapped a sandwich. "That's just a stone's throw down the road. You can stretch your legs then and maybe you'll feel better." Biting into his sandwich, he smiled. "Nobody makes a better peanut butter and jelly sandwich like my Bonnie Faye."

That seemed a niggardly claim to fame. Cara returned his smile. "How nice for you."

"Look." The old man pointed to the road sign that flew by the bus window. "We're in the city limits of Summerville. You're home, girl, and I'd say it's high time. Is someone coming to fetch you?"

Even though he was being crass and intrusive, Cara knew the old man's intentions were the best and his concern genuine. "My husband."

The old man's whiskers moved as he devoured his sandwich. "That's good. Glad to hear it."

Cara said, "Yes." She thought: If you only knew.

By now the bus had pulled into the station, and come to a noisy stop. The driver stood and called out: "Summerville! Bus leaves again in ten minutes."

As Cara descended the bus's steps, she spied Rand leaning against a wall near the side entrance of the station. He straightened as she came into view and began to walk toward her. Without so much as a hello, he extended his hand. "Give me your stub and I'll collect your suitcase."

Cara handed him her baggage stub and stood patiently waiting as he negotiated with the driver who was unloading bags and packages from a long door that opened along the underbelly of the bus.

At the edge of the parking lot a dust devil sprang into being. Its twisting helix cavorted to the middle of Main Street capturing, as it moved, debris and dead leaves in its ever rising spiral, creating minor havoc as it retreated. Like a dancing dervish, it swirled through a clump of scrubby mesquites before disappearing behind Myer's Drugstore.

Cara watched with fascination. Rand was like that dirt devil. He had sprung from nowhere to sweep through her quiet existence, shaking and rearranging everything in his pathway. Would he likewise disappear from view somewhere down the road leaving in his wake quiet devastation?

"Cara?" Rand's hand on her elbow made Cara turn. "Are you ready to go?"

Cara blinked. "You have my bag?"

Rand held the suitcase up for her to see. "Here." With his other hand on her elbow, he guided her around the station and toward the parking lot. As they stepped from the curb, he asked, "How was your trip?"

They made their way across the deserted parking lot. "I got the contract."

"That's good." Rand tossed the suitcase in the back seat, walked to the other side of the car and got in. "Congratulations."

They could have been strangers exchanging pleasantries. Cara got in the car. "Thank you."

Rand put the key in the ignition and stepped on the starter button. The car sputtered to life. As he drove from the parking lot, he asked. "Where to?"

"Take me home. I'll go from there to the office."

Rand signaled a left turn with his arm, then pulled onto Main Street. "Why don’t you take the rest of the day off?"

His thoughtfulness pleased her. "I can't. I have too much to do."

"Then home it is." He was being agreeable, too agreeable. Cara studied his composed profile. Despite his amiable mood, a quiet tension hung in the air. She cleared her throat. "How are the boys?"

Rand shifted into third gear. "They're fine. I've enjoyed getting acquainted with them all over again. I've been helping them with their homework, going to their baseball games, teaching them to throw a curve ball, and they've introduced me to their favorite hero, Jack Armstrong."

Cara smiled. "The All American Boy. They love him."

"I know. I've been listening with them." Rand glanced briefly in her direction. "They missed you." His eyes shifted back to the road.

Did he think that was a comfort? Quite the contrary. A debilitating pang of guilt stabbed Cara. "I missed them too. I hate leaving them." They rode several blocks in silence before Cara ventured, "The day after tomorrow is Thanksgiving. Has Elaine spoken to you about her plans?"

"Mother and I talked, yes."

Cara waited, hoping he would tell her more. When he showed no such inclination, she asked, "Are you comfortable with her asking the press to be there with the family?"

Rand's fingers tightened on the steering wheel. "I can live with it."

The uneasiness in the back of Cara's mind refused to be stilled. "Cousin Effie and Uncle Charles are coming up from Medina."

"So Mother said." Rand signaled a right turn on to Trent Avenue. "Evan says Manny Rankin will be coming by also."

"You talked to Evan?" Cara's uneasiness grew. "Where? When?"

Rand slowed and pulled into the drive. "He came by last Sunday night." He stopped the car and set the emergency brake before turning to face her. "He came to apologize for sending Dave Warren to the house."

Cara was both elated and disturbed, elated that Evan had apologized, disturbed because she couldn't rid herself of the feeling he had some ulterior motive in doing so. "Did you accept that apology?"

"I did." Rand reached out as if to touch her, then drew his hand back. "He seemed sincere." A brooding expression clouded his face. "He told me you didn't know Dave was coming to see me." He stared out the windshield of the car. "Now I, in turn, owe you yet another apology. It won't take away the things I said and did, but I am sorry."

She wanted to ask him why he had doubted her word and yet been so ready to accept what Evan said as gospel. This didn't seem the time. "We can talk about this later."

"Does this mean you forgive me?"

"It means I need some time to think." Cara moved about restlessly. She also needed to find Evan and demand some answers. "I should be on my way. Everyone at DDI is waiting and wondering about my meeting with Mister Wooten."

Rand got out of the car, closed the door, and then leaning down, rested his arms on the window. "By all means go. You wouldn't want to keep them waiting."

As he turned toward the house, Cara called after him, "I'll be home by five."

Without looking back, he waved, and disappeared inside the house.

Cara crawled over the gearshift into the driver's seat. She drove the short distance to Windthorst Park, rehearsing in her mind as she went, the events of the last few days, beginning with her meeting with Mister Wooten and ending with her recent conversation with Rand. For once in her life, everything seemed to be going right. Why then, did she have this lingering feeling of unrest?

She arrived at Debbie Dimples to find Evan waiting at her office door. "Welcome home." Ushering her inside, he barked instructions to Trudy that the two of them were not to be disturbed, then closed the door and turned to face Cara. "How did it go? What did Mister Wooten say? Tell me everything."

Cara leaned against her desk and laid her hand over her heart. "Give me time to catch my breath." Then she smiled. "We got the contract."

Evan let out a war whoop. "Whoopee!" Grabbing Cara in a bear hug, he whirled her around. "I knew you could do it." As he set her on her feet, his expression altered. Without warning, his arms tightened around her waist as he aimed his lips toward hers.

Cara moved her head, causing his mouth to connect with her cheek instead. Pushing against his arms, she freed herself from his embrace and scurried behind her desk. "Evan, for God's sake, what has gotten into you?" She straightened her dress and smoothed her hair before dropping into her chair.

Ducking his head, Evan grinned. "Sorry. I got carried away."

"Well, don't do it again." Cara pointed to the chair beside her desk. "Sit down. You and I have to talk."

Still grinning that Cheshire-cat grin, Evan turned the chair around and straddled it, then folded his arms across the back. "Tell me everything that happened."

"The meeting went well." She was being modest. The meeting had been, for Cara, a triumph. "Everyone loved my presentation, and Hector Hero. Mister Wooten thinks both Hector and Debbie have, and I quote, 'broad-based sales appeal'. The contract is most generous, but it I did have to compromise on one point. I had to agree not to increase the price of any Debbie Dimples product for six months after price controls are lifted, if they ever are."

Evan scowled. "Six months is a long time. Do you think that was wise?"

It was a concession Cara had hated making. "It was wiser than not getting the contract."

Evan's scowl deepened. "I'm not so sure."

Cara kept her voice calm and matter-of-fact. "We can exact the same promise from our second manufacturer." The fear that she'd acted unwisely was making her testy. "Leward's also wanted exclusive rights to the retail sales of DDI. I refused to do that. I won't dump the customers who helped make Debbie Dimples a success in the first place."

Evan looked doubtful. "It sounds risky to me. How do you know a second manufacturer will go along with that kind of a deal?"

"I don't, damn it." Why must Evan choose now to be so negative?" I had a choice, I could agree not to raise prices if that became an option in the future or I could grant Leward's exclusive retail sales rights. I made the right decision."

Evan's teeth worried his bottom lip. "Are you sure?"

The fact that she wasn't made Cara snap, "For heaven's sake, Evan, there are no guarantees in life. I can promise you this, nothing ventured, nothing gained."

Evan posed his inevitable question: "What if we venture and fail?"

"We won't fail." Even to herself, Cara couldn't admit that failure was a very real possibility.

Evan was insistent. "And if we do?"

"Damn it Evan, sometimes failing is better than not trying." Her own words hit her like a bucket of cold water. If that were true why was she so afraid to try again with Rand? She pushed that disturbing question from her mind. "Sometimes you have to be willing to take risks."

Evan argued, "I take risks when the situation demands it, but I'm not reckless. Case in point," His anxious words seem to stumble over each other in their effort to be said. "Now that we can be assured that Rand won't tie us up in some long drawn-out law suit, we can move ahead. I think I've solved the problem of a second manufacturer that doesn't involve taking unnecessary risks. I've been talking to Dave Warren. He says we can. . ."

Cara interrupted by lifting her hand. "Speaking of risks, you took a colossal risk sending Dave to see Rand. Whatever made you do such a foolhardy thing?" She was set to say so much more when she remembered that but for Evan, Rand would still believe she was the one who sent Dave to visit him in the first place. "The whole scheme could have backfired."

"I was willing to take that chance for us.” With a wave of his hand, Evan said, "Forget about Dave Warren and my cousin Rand. We have more important things to talk about. Did you know the government announced yesterday that Fort Wayne will be closed permanently after the first of the year?"

Cara didn't know, and right now she didn't care. "Don't change the subject. What ever possessed you to send Dave to see Rand? I want some straight answers."

"Isn't that obvious." Evan asked, and then answered his own question. "I did it so you could throw Rand out of your house without fear of reprisal. Now we can get on with our lives and our plans for the future."

Utter dismay brought a soft muffled sound to Cara's throat. She had assumed Evan understood any plans they had for the future were history the minute she realized her husband was alive. "I think you and I have a problem."

"Not any longer. You can now show Rand the door without fear of retaliation."

The mere thought of Rand leaving was enough to drive a wedge of pain between Cara's shoulder blades. "Rand has no other place to go."

"He can find a place. Already people are moving away from Summerville in droves. In a matter of days apartments and houses will be a dime a dozen."

How absurd was the logic of the heart. Cara's reasoned now, however foolishly, that if she didn't do something and soon, Rand might decide to leave of his own accord. "I can't ask him to go." Quite suddenly, she knew that not only did she not want him to go, she was willing to do everything in her power to guarantee that he would stay. "Rand and I have some issues that must be resolved before I can think about anything else."

Evan ran his finger around the inside of his shirt collar. "You mean Nancy?"

Cara wondered aloud, "How did Nancy get into this conversation?"

Evan's restless fingers straightened his tie. "She's a part of the larger picture."

By now Cara was completely at sea. "What larger picture?"

"Don't you recall? That first night after we knew Rand was alive, you said that you and I couldn't talk about marriage until after we'd settled matters with Rand concerning Windthorst Park and Nancy. Well, now both those issues have been laid to rest for good and all."

Cara's mind was a blank. "I don't think I said that, exactly." She'd been in such a state of shock that night that it was difficult to recall, even now, just what she'd said, to Evan or to anyone else.

"Maybe not those exact words, but that's what you meant."

Cara wondered how a man she thought knew her so well, could have misread her so completely. "I'm not sure it was, and the issue of Nancy is far from settled. Rand disapproves of the way we're bringing up his sister."

Evan spoke with such assurance. "Not anymore. Rand and I discussed the matter and we've reached a compromise."

Now Cara wondered how a man she thought she knew so well, could confound her so completely. "When did you talk to Rand about Nancy?"

"The same night I apologized for sending Dave to see him." Evan twisted in his chair. "I didn't want to tell you. I knew you'd be upset. But rest assured, Rand and I have settled our differences."

Cara wasn't upset, she was bewildered. "I hope that's true. What kind of compromise did you reach?" She couldn't imagine Rand giving an inch where Nancy was concerned, nor could she envision Evan ever agreeing to tell Nancy he wasn't her father.

"That's not important." Evan shuffled to a standing position. "The important thing is now you can toss Rand out, get your divorce, and we can get on with our lives."

Insight, like bursting lights, scattered across the horizon of Cara's understanding. "I can't ask Rand to go." A truth, long obscure, began to shape from the shadows. "Not now." Why was it so difficult to admit what she'd always known in her heart? "You see. . . That is. . ." The words came out on a little puff of breath. "I don't want Rand to leave, not now, not ever."

Evan's accusing voice cut through her like a knife. "How can you say that? You promised to marry me."

"That was before I knew Rand was alive."

"You said Rand's being alive didn't change what was between us." Evan's jaw clenched as his eyes narrowed. "You said he didn't want you. You said you didn't want him."

"I didn't say that." At least she didn't think she'd said that. Pain like a rusty knife twisted inside Cara. "You assumed too much, Evan." He hadn't been the only one. "And so did I."

In a voice rubbed raw with pain, Evan said, "You've been sleeping with him, haven't you?"

Cara hung her head. "I thought you knew."

"I should have guessed. It seems once again, I've been a fool. I trusted you with my heart, my life, even my daughter." Evan kicked viciously at the chair he had so recently vacated. It flew across the room, striking the wall with a resounding bang. "You can't do this to me. I won't let you."

Before Cara could collect her wits and reply, Trudy opened the office door and stuck her head inside. "What's going on in here?" One look at Evan's glaring countenance and wicked stance was enough to make her grimace. "Sorry for the intrusion." She eased the door shut.

Cara straightened papers on her desk, refusing to look Evan's way. "Work does have a way of stacking up." What a tangled, terrible mess she had made of everything. She let her troubled gaze met his rapier stare. "I'm sorry, so sorry."

Evan taunted, "Rand doesn't love you. He won't stay."

Cara's mind was spinning in dizzying circles. Maybe he wouldn't, but that was a risk she would have to take. She had this one last chance at happiness. She couldn't throw it away, not until she had exhausted every possibility of making her marriage work. "I have to go home now."

Evan's voice was heavy with pain. “You betrayed me, Cara. How could you?" Tears stood in his eyes. "How long? Tell me. I have a right to know."

She could have feigned ignorance, pretended she didn't know what he was asking. Her conscious wouldn't let her. Her chin dipped, then her head came up. "Since the second night he was home." Evan's look of hurt surprise made her add, "I should have told you before now."

"Why didn't you?"

"I assumed you knew. I thought it was obvious."

"I didn't and it wasn't." Limping across the floor, Evan retrieved his chair and carried it back to its original station near Cara's desk. Gripping the back with both hands, he stared at her with tears running down his face. "Have you told Rand? Does he know about us?"

His pain was her pain too. She'd never intended to hurt him. "There's nothing to know."

She'd been where he was once. She knew how deeply the sharp razor of rejection could cut. "And therefore nothing to tell."

Evan's look of misery was replaced by an angry stare. "How can you call what we had nothing? I love you. I thought you loved me."

Tears choked in Cara's throat making it difficult for her to breathe. "I never said I loved you."

"You agreed to marry me." Evan's voice rose, became more intense. "Didn't that mean anything to you?"

"It did, of course it did." A sob punctuated her words. With one hand extended in a supplicating manner, she begged, "Try to understand."

Evan's mouth pulled into a hard line. "I'm beginning to. You used me. Damn you."

Cara wanted to lash out at him, to demand he apologize for such an unfounded charge. She drew a deep breath trying to hold onto her nerves and her rising temper. "I never wanted to hurt anyone. In time I hope you'll realize that."

Evan's hot anger was suddenly replaced by cold implacability. "Do you think that excuses what you've done?" He shuffled toward the door. Halfway across the floor, he stopped. "Don't come for Nancy tonight. She won't be going home with you ever again."

The pain between Cara's shoulder blades grew to fill her entire chest. "You wouldn't do that to Nancy, or to me. You wouldn't be that cruel."

The venom in his voice chilled her blood. "You should know about cruel, Cara. You wrote the book, but you will pay for what you've done to me, and to Nancy. Count that as a promise."

"Evan, come back here, now." She was speaking to an empty room. Evan was gone.

With a heavy heart, Cara gathered up her belongings. She'd straighten this out tomorrow. Evan was a sensible man. When his anger cooled, he'd listen to reason. Then she could make him understand that she hadn't been intentionally cruel, only lacking in perception and wisdom.

Today, right now, she was going home. Her heart warmed with hope. It was a hope tempered with knowledge. She could be chasing some bright bubble of illusion. Either way, she'd soon know. Grasping her brief case and hanging her handbag over her shoulder, Cara hurried through the outer office, calling to Trudy as she went. "If anyone calls, take a message. I won't be back in the office until Friday."

Chapter Thirteen

Cara raced from the office and hurried to her car. With her resolve high and her heart beating a staccato in her ears, she started the motor and sped from the parking lot. As she turned the car onto Windthorst Road, doubt moved in to challenge her new-found courage. What if Rand spurned her overtures? Could she bear the hurt of another rejection? Her foot eased on the accelerator. The car slowed as she lapsed into deep thought.

Introspection was painful for Cara. Life was easier if she tackled the difficulties at hand rather than brooding over past mistakes or anticipating future problems. Not denying the distress it brought, she forced herself to sort through past heartaches: the agony of finding Rand with Cynthia Burke, the trauma of his sudden and unexplained departure, the grief she'd known when she’d believed he was dead, the chaos his unexpected return had brought into her life. She also recalled the good times: the enchantment of discovering first love, the rapture of awakened passion, the happiness she'd known in those early years of her marriage, the birth of her sons. Those few moments of soul-searching brought a painful and profound revelation: much of the blame for her failed marriage lay with Cara herself. She'd expected too much and given too little.

"I have to try again," Cara announced to the empty car as her foot hit the accelerator and she sped around a slow moving dump truck. She was older now, and so much wiser, this time she would make it work, and even if she failed, it would be with the knowledge that she'd given her all to trying again.

Less than ten minutes later, she wheeled into the drive of the bungalow on Trent Avenue, set the brake, and hurried toward the house. Breathless, she opened the front door and rushed inside, calling Rand's name as she raced through the living room and bounded up the stairs.

She was halfway up when Rand emerged from the sewing room. "Cara?" He strode across the landing and gripping the guardrail, stared down at her. "My God! What's wrong?"

Cara stopped her ascent and drew a deep breath, trying to control the quiver in her voice. "Did I frighten you?"

"A little. Is there a problem?"

Cara smiled. "Nothing we can't solve together." Her smile broadened. "I had this sudden urge to come home and be with my husband." Lifting her hands, she let them fall to her sides. "So, as you see. Here I am."

"I see, but I'm not sure I believe." Suspicion hardened Rand's features. "What do you want now?"

Cara put one foot on the next riser. "I want to spend some time with you." She had treated him abominably. She had to make him understand that it wasn't because she didn't care, but because she cared so much. "What have you been doing?"

Doubt still lingered in his expression. "I've been writing."

Cara took another step upward. It occurred to her as she moved, that she'd never once ask him about his book. "What are you writing about?" She was sure he must be putting on paper his experiences in France and Austria.

Gradually his features altered, his glance softened. "You never asked before."

Cara took another step upward. "I'm asking now."

Moving with agile grace, Rand came to stand at the head of the stairs. "Would you like to see?"

Cara bounded up the remaining steps. "I'd love to."

As they walked toward the sewing room, he shot her a puzzled sidelong glance. "I don't know why you're here, but I'm glad you came." Opening the door, he grasped the knob and stood back. "After you."

Cara stepped inside and looked around. The area around the desk was in total disarray. It contrasted strangely with the neatness of the rest of the room. Rand apologized. "Things are a mess." He used his foot to push an over abundance of crumpled paper down into the overflowing wastebasket. "I wasn't expecting company." His discomfort was evident.

A knot of tension tightened in Cara's stomach. Maybe she had made a mistake, coming here this way. "I don't want to intrude."

"You're not." Rand pointed toward the chair beside Cara's sewing machine. "Would you like to sit down?"

Cara sat and crossed her legs. Her hands had become useless appendages. She folded them in her lap. "So you're writing a book?" God, what a stupid, inane question. Of course he was writing a book. "Is it difficult? Writing, I mean."

Rand eased his tall frame into the chair nearest the desk. "It's a challenge. Sometimes I have problems finding words to frame the pictures in my mind."

Cara stared down at her hands. "What's the book about?"

"I'm not sure I can explain." Rand looked as uncomfortable as Cara felt. "It's an odyssey of sorts."

"That sounds interesting. I loved the original Odyssey. I loved Hector and Achilles and Odysseus." She was babbling, making pointless conversation, but she couldn't stop. "There were times I even liked Paris."

A guffaw of laughter burst from Rand's throat. "You're thinking of The Iliad. The Odyssey is the story of a man's long journey home."

Cara grinned mischievously. "I never could keep those two straight."

Rand chuckled. "I know."

The knot of tension in Cara's stomach began to untie. "Is your book about a journey?"

"Not in the literal sense. My book tells of a journey of the heart and an odyssey of the soul." His smile was tender. "You didn't leave your busy office and come home to talk about my book. Why are you here?"

He had given her the perfect opportunity. Uncrossing her legs, Cara sat back in her chair. She'd rehearsed this speech all the way home, now she couldn't remember a single word. "I. . ."

Leaning forward, Rand prompted, "Yes?"

She blinked as tears trembled on her lashes. "I'm lost Rand, so lost, and I have been for a long, long, time."

"Cara, darling, if you know where you want to go, you can find your way."

"Not without your help." Cara lifted her tear stained face. All the love in her heart shone in the hazel of her eyes. "I want to find my way back to you."

She watched as the look on his face moved from one of disbelief to an expression of sheer amazement. "Does this mean you forgive me?"

Her voice choked in her throat. "It means I want you to forgive me."

"Forgive you?" His confusion was evident, so was his caution. "For what?"

A tear slid down her cheek. "For all the stupid things I've done in the past. I know now, I drove you away."

"No. Cara, don't blame yourself for my mistakes. I shouldn't have gone without talking to you first, without explaining where I was going and why."

"And you would have if I'd been the kind of wife I should have been." She could admit now what she couldn't even see four years ago. "Our problems didn't begin with Cynthia Burke. We were drifting apart long before she ever came into the picture."

"I know. I knew then. It was killing me, but I didn't know what to do about it. I ended up blaming you."

"And I blamed you. Then when I found you with Cynthia, I was so angry and so caught up in my own misery that I couldn't see you were suffering too."

"I deserved to suffer, you didn't." For a moment Rand sat perfectly still, a tall, brooding figure, lost in contemplation. Then he shook his head. "When I went away, I wasn't running from you, or from Cynthia, I was running from myself. I should have known myself was the one person I could never escape."

Even now the memory of that traumatic experience made Cara wince in pain. "Do we have to talk about this?"

"Yes. We do. I want everything out in the open. I didn't give a hang about Cynthia. But you and I were growing apart. I was scared, and unsure. She was someone I could talk to, someone who seemed to understand. Then one day, in a weak moment I found myself kissing her. I wondered afterward if I was turning into a replica of my father. That thought was too frightening to face, so I ran." His gaze lowered, as did his voice. "I don't expect you to understand."

But Cara did understand. It had been the same for her with Evan. She opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it again. She'd tell him about Evan later. Nodding her head, she said, "I think I do."

His look was one of disbelief. "It took me four long years to get back home. I returned with such high hopes, then I discovered that even though you were willing to surrender your body to me, you denied me access to your heart and your mind."

With difficulty, Cara admitted a painful truth. "I know I've erected impassable barriers between us. It was because I was afraid of being hurt again."

"Was?" Hope glittered in Rand's gaze. "And now?"

"And now I'm willing to take that chance. Please give me another opportunity to. . . " A sob punctuated her plea. "make our marriage work."

Rand's voice was little more than a husky whisper. "I can't believe you'd change your mind so suddenly."

"Believe me, I did." Cara smiled through her tears. "And it's more like a change of heart. Will you give me a second chance?"

With one fluid movement, he was out of his chair and across the room. "I'm the one who should be asking for forgiveness." Kneeling before her, he took her hands in his. "I should have believed you when you said you didn't send Dave Warren here. I would have if I hadn't been so consumed with jealously."

Pulling her hand from his grasp, Cara laid a finger across his lips. "You don't have to apologize again."

"Then I'd like to explain, because that's what I've been, jealous, and of my own cousin." Standing, he strode across the room and stood staring out the dormer window toward the street below. "Even a fool can see that you and Evan have a very close and intimate relationship."

Cara interrupted to protest, "Close, yes, but not intimate. I've never been intimate with Evan." She felt hot color rush to her cheeks. "Friends are close, lovers are intimate. Evan and I are friends, nothing more."

When Rand turned to face her, tears were sparkling in his eyes. "Thank you for that." He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. "God, I've felt like such an ungrateful son-of-a-bitch, being jealous of my own cousin after all he'd done for my family while I was away." Dropping his hand, he lifted his head. "What made you change your mind about us?"

How could she explain a revelation? "It just came to me. It was like an epiphany."

"It's sounds like a miracle to me." He took a step in her direction. "Can you explain a miracle?"

She stood and opened her arms. "I show better than I explain."

In three quick strides he was across the room and held in her tight embrace. His arms locked around her as he whispered against her hair, "I thought I'd lost you."

The warmth of him enveloped her. His masculine smell permeated her senses. She ran her hands along his arms, feeling his strength, reveling in the wonder of his nearness. "Never." Her arms tightened as his head bent to claim her lips in a sweetly restrained kiss.

Cara's response was shameless, instant, and total. She pushed her tongue through his lips, and then swept it around in maddening circles inside his mouth.

Rand's restraint snapped like a twig in a windstorm. His arms, like steel bands, tightened around her as his tongue trailed a path along the side of her cheek. He kissed the moist hollow of her throat. "My love, my heart, my darling." Raising his head, he reclaimed her lips, crushing her even closer to him. "How could I have ever doubted you?" He kissed her again.

It was a kiss that pulled Cara out of time and mind and sent her senses reeling. When she could breathe again, she whispered through passion bruised lips, "There is one thing I should. . . ."

"Not now." Holding her from him, Rand moved his thumbs along her cheekbones. "No more tears, my darling." Once again he drew her into his arms in an embrace so reverent and tender that it broke her heart. When she tried to speak, he stilled her trembling mouth with yet another long, sweetly erotic kiss. "And no more talk. What we have to say to each other can't be conveyed in words." Sweeping her into the circle of his arms, he carried her across the landing and into the quiet cool of his bedroom. As he stood her on her feet, she felt once more, the velvet warmth of his mouth on hers. Bursts of fire coursed through her body as she surrendered to the sweet delirium of desire.

Slowly and with heated intensity, Rand undressed her, kissing and caressing each part of her body as he divested her of intrusive clothing. He was wooing her with a savage tenderness that was all giving, no taking.

That loving consideration awoke in Cara a desire to give back in like measure, to impart as much pleasure as she was receiving. Her fingers trembled as she unbuttoned his shirt and tangled her fingers in the stiff hair on his broad chest. It gave her a sense of soaring joy to feel him shudder at her touch. Sliding his shirt down, she pulled his arms from the sleeves, and then watched with wondrous delight as the muscles of his chest and shoulders rippled under the smoothness of his skin. "You are my perfect hero." Pushing him onto the bed, she knelt before him and removed his boots and socks. "Right down to you toes."

Rand closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. "You're driving me crazy."

"What do you think you're doing to me?" Cara unfastened his belt and gave it a tug. "Now who's talking too much?"

Laughter rumbled in his throat as he lay down and unfastened his bulging fly. "So you want show and tell? See what you're doing to me?" Pulling his pants over his hips, he kicked them to the floor. His G I underwear followed, revealing in all its glory, his nude body stiff and pulsating with need.

Cara fell atop his naked frame. Her tight breasts pushed into stiff hair on his chest. The fire in her blood rushed to her head and exploded inside her brain. The world dissolved around her. Time was no more. All that existed now was this man and the driving force of her own fervent desire. "I need you, Rand. I need you deep inside me. I need to feel you and taste you and love you and know you are real."

Rolling her over, Rand entered her body and with a ramrod thrust, buried himself in her silken softness. For a moment he lay perfectly still, as if savoring the joy of the moment. Then he began to move, slowly at first, then with escalating force and speed. The rhythmic motions of his throbbing hardness sent shafts of sensation through Cara's stomach and down into her legs. She met the force of his passion with an equal force of her own. "Love me," she cried as she thrust her body upward. "Love me."

And he did! Like never before. Together they climbed, soaring higher and higher until at last a vortex of escalating bliss peaked and spiraled in an all consuming climax that held them in the throes of ecstasy for mind-boggling minutes.

As the waves of euphoria waned, Cara opened her eyes and stared at the man who lay limp and spent atop her. He was smiling down at her, a look of love-lit wonder in his eyes. "Welcome home." Rolling over onto his back, he pulled her near. "And what a home coming it was." He chuckled at his own crude jest.

Cara rested her head on his shoulder and ran her fingers across the sweaty hair on his chest. "I think my bones melted."

How secure, how complete she felt in the safe circle of his embrace. She lay for a long time, savoring the warm afterglow of love. Then she remembered, there were still things she needed to say to her husband. "Rand?"

"Yeah."

"Can we talk?"

"Sure."

Where did she start? How did she begin? "It's about Evan and Nancy and. . ." Cara raised on her elbow. "Rand, are you listening?" She stared down into his relaxed face. His eyes were closed. "Rand?"

He stirred as his eyelids lifted. "What?"

Cara lay back down and nestled near him. 'When you went away I wanted to die. I felt so lost and alone. If it hadn't been for Elaine and Evan, I would never have survived."

"Uh huh."

"In much the same way you turned to Cynthia, I turned to Evan. He was so kind and so supportive. Can you understand?"

This time Rand's answer was a soft snore. Her brave, valiant husband was asleep. Cara touched his arm, and ran her fingers along the sides of his jaw. He didn't stir. She stared down at his handsome profile and thought how much she loved him. With a satisfied sigh, she pulled a blanket over their naked bodies, and then closed her eyes to dream until she drifted into sweet repose.

She was wakened by the sound of footsteps downstairs and a childish voice calling: "Dad! Dad! Where are you?"

Bolting to a sitting position, Cara shook Rand to wakefulness. "Get up, for heaven's sake. Paul and Danny are downstairs."

Rand opened his eyes and smiled. "Good." He stretched his hands over his head and yawned. "What time is it anyway?"

Cara jumped to her feet. "It's time we were out of bed." She searched frantically through the pile of clothes on the floor to find her bra and panties. "I can't let my sons find me in your room like this."

"It's our room." Rand slipped into his pants, then stood and fastened his fly. "Let them get used to the idea." He walked to the door, flung it open and called out: "Up here." Then he embarrassed Cara completely by adding, "Your mother's up here with me. We'll be down as soon as we get dressed."

Cara was mortified. "How are we ever going to explain this to them?"

"We aren't," Rand shoved his arms into his shirt. "We don't owe them an explanation." Then he chuckled. "You're blushing, all over." He sat on the side of the bed, slipped his feet into his boots and began the slow job of lacing them.

Cara hurriedly put on her wrinkled clothing, then pulled her fingers through her hair and smoothed her dress. "They're going to ask questions."

Rand stood. "Let them. Cara, honey, you've been in bed with your husband, that's not a crime." He extended his hand. "Let's go downstairs. We can face them together."

Danny seemed to take in stride finding his mother and dad in bed together in the middle of a weekday afternoon. As they descended the stairs, he called up to them. "Hi, Dad. Hi Mom. Glad you're home. What's to eat?"

Paul's sullen look said he was not going to be so accepting. Belligerently, he asked, "Where The Mop Head?"

Rand's voice was kind, but firm. "Where are your manners, Paul? Aren't you going to say hello to your mother?"

Cara rushed to scoop Danny into her arms. "I missed you."

Danny returned her hug. "I missed you too. I'm hungry."

Cara turned to her older son. "Do I get a hug?"

Paul hung his head. "Sure, Mom."

As he came into her arms, Cara could feel the tenseness in his little body, and her heart bled. Releasing him, she sat on the couch and patted the cushion beside her. "Sit down, Paul."

By now Rand and Danny had disappeared into the kitchen.

Paul obeyed, and then asked, "Where's Nancy?"

"She's with Uncle Evan and Aunt Irene. Why?"

Paul shrugged, trying to convey indifference and failing miserably. "I just wondered. When is she coming home?"

Cara wondered the same thing. "Soon, I'm sure. Do you miss her?"

"Yeah, don't you?"

Cara nodded. "I do."

After a painful pause, Paul asked, "Mom?"

The tone of his voice filled Cara with dread. "Yes?"

"Are things all right between you and Dad now?"

Two weeks, two days, even two hours ago, Cara would have evaded answering that question because the response would have been no. What a difference two short hours could make. "Yes."

"Is he going to stay this time?"

Cara heard the pain behind his question. She could only say, "There are no guarantees in life, Paul, so I can't say for sure. I can tell you this, Dad wants to be here with us, and I want him to stay. Do you?"

"Yeah, sort of. Sometimes. I like him. He likes Danny and me, he even likes Nancy, but. . . . "

A bruise of sorrow moved through Cara. "But what, Paul?"

"But I don't think Dad likes Uncle Evan. I like uncle Evan."

Divided loyalties, was there anything more confusing for a child? "Paul, you don't have to choose between Uncle Evan and Dad. You can like them both."

"I'm not sure Uncle Evan still likes me. He never comes around anymore."

How could she assure her son and still be honest with him? "Uncle Evan was here last Sunday night."

"He didn't come to see Danny and me, he came to see Dad. When they talked, they sent Danny and me from the room."

What could Cara say to that? Nothing, unfortunately. "Well, the day after tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and you will see Uncle Evan then because he's going to be at Grandma's house for dinner and so are we."

"All of us?" Paul's eyes rounded in surprise. "Dad too?"

Cara put her arm around her son's slim shoulders. "Not only us but Cousin Effie and Uncle Charles are coming up from Medina."

Paul's eyes sparked with interest. "And Uncle Evan and Nancy and Aunt Irene will be there too?"

Cara ruffled her fingers through her son's hair. "Yes, they will, and guess what else? Grandma has invited a photographer to come and take pictures of us all. A newspaper reporter will be there too. He wants to write a story about Dad."

"Because Dad's a hero?"

Cara thought this was a step forward. Only last week Paul had argued Rand wasn't a hero. "Do you mind?"

Paul turned his head to one side, but he was smiling now. "Not really."

Cara breathed an inaudible sigh of relief. "I'm glad because you know what else? I'm going to take tomorrow off from work and bake pumpkin pies. I may even get around to making a chocolate cake."

"With a chocolate icing?" Paul's smile faded. "Are you sure? You never take off work."

Danny appeared in the kitchen doorway. "Hey, Paul, want some cookies and milk?"

Paul stood. "Thanks, Mom." He called to Danny. "Yes. Wait for me."

Danny motioned with his hand. "Then come on."

Paul hastened to join his brother. "Guess what? Mom's staying home tomorrow and she's going to make a chocolate cake."

Danny looked in Cara's direction. When she nodded her head, he exclaimed, "Well, patch my pantywaist."

Cara followed her sons into the kitchen feeling that all was right with her world.

That feeling lasted until the next morning when Cara invited the world into her kitchen by turning on her radio. She was mixing ingredients for a pie crust and listening with half an ear to the rhetoric of nationally known commentator Elbert Dickson, when the mention of Rand's name grabbed her full attention.

"How," Elbert Dickson intoned in that resonant, reverberating voice that millions listened to every weekday morning, "can we call a Randall Williams a war hero when his war-time exploits and undertakings have nothing to do with bravery in battle?"

Laying her spoon aside, Cara addressed the little radio. "I beg your pardon."

As if he had heard her words, Elbert Dickson replied, "You want a hero?" Then over a heavy sigh, he answered his own question. "Then I'll give you a hero." He began to extol in glowing terms and extravagant phrases the feats of a young soldier named Audie Murphy. "Let me tell you of a young man who was wounded three times while defending his country, a young man who killed more than two hundred and forty of the enemy while fighting in nine major campaigns across the European Theater. He is a man, ladies and gentlemen, who stood atop a burning tank and single-handedly held off a German advance after being wounded in the hip. He has won every decoration for valor this country offers plus five decorations from France and Belgium. That, my friends, is a war hero!"

Cara gripped the sides of the cabinet and frowned in the direction of the radio. "You are being insulting."

On cue, Dickson answered, "Don't misunderstand me. I am not questioning Mister Williams' bravery, or his dedication to duty, or his love for his country. America owes Randall Williams a debt of gratitude, but he is not, in the truest sense of the word, a war hero."

Cara reached for the radio's off switch, effectively silencing Elbert Dickson's comments. "That's not true!"

Rand's voice intruded into the new silence. "Oh, but it is." She turned to see him standing in the doorway, a look of ironic amusement on his handsome face. "Intelligence gathering is nothing more than the collecting, analysis and interpretation of small and scattered bits of information. It requires skill and patience, but not much else". Leaning against the door jamb, he put his hands in his pockets. "I saw the boys safely on the school bus. I'm going upstairs to work. If you need me, I'll be near."

Cara thought as he disappeared down the hall, that her husband might not be everyone's idea of a hero, but he was quickly becoming her idea of a model husband. The Rand that had left four years ago would never have seen his sons off on a school bus, nor would he have said those words that now warmed the cold space around her heart: If you need me, I'll be near.

Chapter Fourteen

Thanksgiving Day dawned bright and clear and amazingly warm for a day in late November. Cara awakened early. With consciousness came the resolve to make this day a happy occasion despite her recent quarrel with Evan. All through the previous day Cara had waited for him come by or call. The fact that he'd done neither both aggravated and mystified her. Cara's first impulse had been to ring him and tell him to stop acting like a pouting three-year-old. Second thoughts dictated that a wait-and-see attitude, although more stressful, was also more prudent.

Cara crept from a warm bed to face the harshness of an unheated room. As she moved about searching for clothes and complaining to herself, Rand stirred restlessly. "Cara?"

Coming to stand beside him, Cara dropped a kiss on his forehead. "Sleep, darling. I'm going downstairs to ice my cake."

Rand opened his eyes, smiled at her, then rolled on his side and closed them again.

Cara spent the next three hours in a busy flurry. She put the finishing touches to her cake, prepared breakfast and packed food to take to Elaine's. As she worked, she listened to Danny's happy chatter, stopping now and then to answer one of his frequent questions.

Paul, as always, was more subdued, but after a while he became caught up in the spirit of the occasion. By the time Cara had packed the last pie into a cardboard box and Rand had loaded the car, he was bubbling with excitement.

Once inside the car, Cara began to relax. This was Thanksgiving Day, a time to count one's blessings, and she had some special blessings to count. She had her husband back. Her contract with Leward's was signed and safely tucked in the safe in her office. Those were two things she hadn't dared to hope for a week ago. She decided to put all worries from her mind and enjoy the day.

She lost some of that resolve the moment she came through Elaine's front door to see Evan sitting on the couch holding Nancy and chatting with Cousin Effie. She was hurt and bewildered that he would keep her daughter from her for such a long time.

The moment Nancy spied Cara she screamed with delight, "Mommie! Mommie!" Wriggling from Evan's arms, she ran across the room and into Cara's waiting embrace.

Scooping Nancy into her arms, Cara hugged the little girl to her heart. "Mommie missed you!" Still holding Nancy close, she stepped aside to allow Rand, Paul, and Danny to enter.

Elaine and Irene bustled from the kitchen. Joe and Uncle Charles appeared from nowhere. After a warm exchange of greetings, Elaine directed Paul and Danny to carry the boxes of food to the kitchen. "Come along. I'll show you where to put everything."

Aunt Irene followed after them, saying as she went, "Dinner will be served promptly at one o'clock."

Cara called after the departing figures, "Do you need help?"

Elaine answered, "No, dear, you stay here and visit with Cousin Effie. Irene and I can manage just fine."

Still holding onto Nancy, Cara sat on the couch beside Cousin Effie. Nancy snuggled in her lap and laid her curly head against Cara's chest. "Mommie's home."

Without a trace of guile, Evan leaned around Cousin Effie to say, "She missed you."

"I missed her too." Cara was still trying to recover from the shock of having Elaine address her as dear. To have Evan suddenly so agreeable was a double surprise.

Cousin Effie smiled in Cara's direction. "Evan has been telling me about your new contract with Leward's. I think that's wonderful." She used her index finger to push her glasses up on her hawk-like nose. "We're all so proud of you, being so successful in business and all."

Joe boomed from across the room. "Damned if she ain't turned into a better businessman than most men who are business men."

Cara smiled at that convoluted comment and with a touch of mockery, replied, "Such high praise."

Her sarcasm was wasted on Joe. "I call 'em like I see 'em." He slapped Uncle Charles on the back and turned to Rand. "This ain't no place for men to be underfoot. Let's go to my workshop. I'll show you my latest project. We'll pick up the boys as we go through the kitchen. I have a surprise for them."

Evan declined. "Wood shavings and sawdust bother my allergies. I think I'll stay here."

Blunt as always, Joe replied, "If you want to be a sissy and hang around with the women-folk, that's all right with me."

Rand waved to Cara as he followed Joe and Uncle Charles out the door. "I'll be back soon, business-man Cara."

His gentle teasing made Cara blush with happiness. "Take your time."

The intimate look that passed between Rand and Cara did not go unnoticed by Evan. As Joe hustled the others through the door, he remarked, "Rand seems to be in a good mood."

Cara pierced him with a penetrating stare. "He is."

The men were scarcely out of sight when Evan began to hint that Elaine and Irene could use some help in the kitchen. It was an attempt, and not a very subtle one, to get Cousin Effie out of the room. For the life of her, Cara couldn't understand why Evan, who was always the soul of decorum and politeness, would be so rude. "Why don't you go lend them a hand?" she suggested, then asked testily, "or is there something in the kitchen that bothers your allergies?"

"Me?" Evan asked with phony surprise. "In the kitchen?" Then he concluded on a more genuine note, "I'd be in the way. Cooking takes a woman's touch."

Cousin Effie got the message. "I'll go see if I can be of some help." With a sigh, she rose painfully to her feet. "My rheumatism is acting up again. That means cold weather's on the way."

As the kitchen door closed behind Cousin Effie, Cara demanded, "Why didn't you just ask her to leave? It would have been less insulting."

Evan leaned forward and narrowed his gaze. "Why didn't you show up for work yesterday?"

Nancy's head rolled to one side. She had dropped into a peaceful slumber. Cara shifted her about until the child's head rested in the crook of her arm. As the two of them settled into a more comfortable position, the thought impinged: Nancy shouldn't be sleepy at this hour of the morning. Cara demanded, "What time did this child get to bed last night?"

"It was late," Evan admitted, sheepishly. "We had a little problem getting her to settle down. She wanted you."

"Then why didn't you call me, or better still, why didn't you bring Nancy home?"

For a moment, the confusion of guilt rode across Evan's features, then he shrugged. "I don't have to answer to you for what I do with my daughter."

That reminder struck a chord of fear in Cara's heart. "And I don't have to answer to you if I decide to take a day off from work."

"So you don't." Evan's tone was riddled with derision "I forgot, you're the boss." He leaned a little nearer. "For now anyway."

Even though she knew Evan had reason to be hurt and angry, the vindictiveness of his words cut Cara to the quick. She shifted once more, this time to lean against the end of the couch. "This is a holiday. Why don't we forget our differences and enjoy ourselves?"

Evan's reply was swift and decisive. "Because what I have to say can't wait."

Cara concealed her hurt behind a stern stare. "Yes it can, and it will."

"Tell me, Cara," Leaning back, Evan locked his fingers behind his head. "How did Rand react when you told him about us?"

Cara's hurt was replaced by a nagging fear. She shifted Nancy's head so that it rested on her breast once more. "I don't have to account to you for what happens in my personal life."

Dropping his hands, Evan concluded contemptuously, "So you didn't tell him."

He was trying to intimidate her in much the same way he'd coerced Cousin Effie into leaving the room. Cara didn't intend to let him get away with it. Her chin came up. "There is nothing to tell."

To her dismay, Evan shrugged. "Have it your way, for now. I have some good news. I'm working on finding a second manufacturer."

Anger teased through Cara's nagging fear. "Stay out of this, Evan. I can find a second manufacturer without your help, or your interference." Once again she shifted around on the couch.

Evan lifted one eyebrow. "Uncomfortable, Cara?"

She was, extremely. "Not in the least." She was also hurt by Evan's spiteful conduct and vindictive attitude. She understood his anger. She had unceremoniously dumped him and he was feeling wounded and rejected.

"That's good, because you may as well settle in. What I have to say may take a while."

Cara was seeing for the first time, a side to Evan she didn't know existed, and she found it difficult to cope. "Please, let it go for now. This is not the place to. . ."

Evan interrupted. "Will you, for God's sake, shut up and listen?"

Unwillingly, Cara relented. "Make it fast."

"I've come up with a plan to acquire that second manufacturer without having to pay royalties."

Evan was not an innovative person, nor was he an aggressive schemer. Cara spoke her skepticism. "You've come up with a plan?" She saw the fine hand of a second party in Evan's sudden assertiveness. "Have you been talking to Dave Warren again?"

"Dave says this deal will work. He says it's legal, but it wasn't his idea."

Cara thought as much. "Then whose idea is it?"

For a moment, she caught a glimpse of the old, unsure, amenable Evan that she knew so well. "First you have to hear the deal."

She decided to humor him. "What deal?"

Evan drew a long breath, and then plunged ahead. "Instead of making some long-term deal where we pay royalties to a second company for years to come, we contract with a manufacturer for six months with the option to contract for six more. That will take care of our immediate needs. In the meantime we expand our own plant and facilities. In a year's time, maybe less, our own output will equal the demand and we will no longer need a second manufacturer."

Cara motioned for Evan to move from his place on the couch. As he settled in a chair across from her, she laid Nancy in that space, then rubbed her numb arm with her other hand. "My God, Evan, don't you think I thought of that? It's the perfect plan. The only problem is, we don't have the money to swing such a transaction."

Smugly, Evan intoned, "But we can get the money."

"How?" Cara asked caustically. "Rob a bank?" She smoothed Nancy's curls with her hand. "I thought you said your plan was legal."

"It is." Evan glanced nervously around the room before lowering his voice. "Manny

says. . ."

"Manny says?" Cara's outcry caused Nancy to stir and turn. Dropping her voice, she hissed, "How did Manny get involved in this?"

"Well," Evan ran his fingers around the neck of his shirt as he turned his head from side to side. "It just. . . sort of happened. Manny and I were talking and before long we got into a discussion about ways to help Summerville survive the closing of Fort Wayne. . ." His voice trailed away, then rallied. "It's hard to explain."

"You had better damn well better try, and fast." The idea that Evan would discuss anything about DDI with Manny Rankin outraged Cara.

"Manny came to see me the day you went to Dallas."

Cara's voice rose again, "The sneaky bastard. What did he want?"

"He wanted to apologize." Evan seemed to have rediscovered his self-assurance. "He says it's time we forget our past differences. Then he went on to explain that with the closing of Fort Wayne it was important that we all pull together to assure that Windthorst Park, and the industries there, expand and grow."

"Did you even once stop to ask yourself why Manny has developed such a sudden interest in Windthorst Park?" Cara couldn't believe Evan would be so gullible. "In case you haven't, let me enlighten you. With the closing of Fort Wayne Windthorst Park is Summerville's greatest economic asset." She thought, in passing, that if Rand wouldn't agree to the building of a museum and memorial in his honor, it might be Summerville's only economic asset. "Manny wants Windthorst Park to grow because it will benefit him politically, especially if he can claim credit for its growth, and that seems to be his plan."

Evan's brow furrowed. "His reasons aren't important, and what Manny said makes a lot of sense. He pointed out that if we expand our business, it will not only benefit us, it will also create more jobs for a lot of people in Summerville who are going to be unemployed once Fort Wayne is closed."

"Did Manny also say unemployment will be a big issue in the upcoming election campaign?" Cara was incensed. "Did he say that if the city succeeds in annexing Windthorst Park an expanded plant would mean more taxes for Summerville?"

"Calm down, Cara," Evan was making an effort to sound at ease. Cara knew he wasn't. "Manny told me right up front that this is one of those, 'you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours,' propositions." He laughed nervously. "You know the old saying, politics makes strange bedfellows."

Cara suspected Evan was echoing words first spoken by Manny Rankin. "What about the old adage that says if you lie down with dogs you get up with fleas? I can't believe you let Manny use a bunch of mixed metaphors and political double talk to sucker you into some kind of shady deal."

She had struck a nerve. Evan's jaw tightened. "I haven't been suckered into anything. Do you want to hear the rest of what I have to say?"

Cara decided she'd better, if for no other reason than to be prepared to protect herself and her business in the future. 'Oh, I do. I most definitely do."

Evan cleared his throat. "It's simple, really. We borrow enough money on our property to pay a second manufacturer and cover the cost of expansion."

Evan must have taken leave of his senses. "We could consider that option if we had a clear title to the property, but we don't. In case you've forgotten, Rand is half owner of the land Windthorst Park sits on."

Evan spoke with authority. "There's a way around that."

"Now you're talking forgery." A sudden gust of wind hit the house, shaking windows and rattling doors. The first norther of the season had struck with sudden fury. Cara shivered. "Forget it, Evan. It won't work."

Cold from outside penetrated the room, dropping the temperature degrees in a matter of seconds. Evan's shoulders hunched. "It will work. All we need to make it work is a quitclaim deed from Rand."

"You want Rand to deed us his part of Windthorst Park?" Cara couldn't believe her ears. "He'd never do that, and even if he did, I doubt we could borrow money on land that's leased."

"We can borrow the money," Evan assured her with authority. "Manny already has a lender."

It took all Cara's willpower to hold on to her temper. Later, she would make it perfectly clear to Evan that a deal of any kind with Manny Rankin was out of the question. Right now, she had to get to the bottom of this little scheme. "Tell me about you deal with Manny."

Evan let out a little sigh of relief. "Thank God you've decided to be reasonable." Spreading his hands, he hurried to explain, "Manny wants to see Summerville grow and prosper. He thinks assuring the expansion of Windthorst Park is the best way to do that."

"So out of concern for his city and the goodness of his own heart, Manny is willing to help us? We both know better than that." Exasperation coupled with a growing fear made Cara speak harshly. "Tell me, Evan, what does Manny expect from us in return?"

"He doesn't want anything. " Evan's voice dropped, became almost inaudible. "Much."

It was just as she had suspected all along. Manny was manipulating Evan and he was too stupid to recognize that he was being used. "You're evading the question."

Evan spoke with uncharacteristic determination, "Manny would consider it a favor if you'd persuade Rand to go along with building a museum and memorial in Summerville, and he wants your assurance that you won't fight the annexation of Windthorst Park."

Cara's anger overrode her resolve to be clever. She exploded. "I'm going to fight annexation tooth and nail." Then quickly bringing her temper under control, she took a long breath, and said, in a subdued voice, "Manny doesn't want to honor Rand. He wants to use Rand's name to build a money grabbing tourist attraction." Why couldn't Evan recognize Manny's ploy for what is was? "Don't let Manny play you for a fool."

"No one will ever do that again." Evan's stricken expression told of his own ambivalence. "Talk to Rand, Cara, he'll listen to you."

For a fleeting moment, Cara felt a twinge of guilt. Evan was suffering and much of that suffering was her fault. That guilt disappeared in the wake of a new realization. Evan actually expected her to go along with this ridiculous plan.

Removing her sweater, Cara covered Nancy's legs. "The answer is no. I'm not about to ask Rand to deed away his share of Windthorst Park. I also refuse to use my influence to persuade him to authorize Manny's using his name in some money grabbing scheme." Her blood ran cold as she remembered how she’d almost lost Rand because he believed she was using him. She never intended to make that mistake again. "Monday I'll begin to look for a second manufacturer, one that will accept royalties."

Evan's eyes were unusually bright, color flushed his cheeks. "Is that your final word?"

Cara's answer was decisive and unequivocal. "Yes."

Evan's resigned tone said that was the answer he'd expected. "Then I'll have to take matters into my own hands and talk to Rand myself."

An insidious suspicion began to unravel inside Cara's brain. "How long have you and Manny been hatching this scheme?" The smell of cooking turkey and yeast bread baking drifted in from the kitchen as a blast of warm air from the floor furnace blew out into the room.

Evan answered in a dead, flat voice. "Since last Sunday."

Cara could kick herself. Why hadn't she seen this coming? "Then your visit to Rand last Sunday evening wasn't to apologize, but to set him up for this deal?"

"Manny pointed out to me that if Rand blamed you for Dave Warren coming to ask him to sign that release, you'd lose your credibility with him. We couldn't let that happen."

Another and even more frightening realization dawned. Evan was not going to be dissuaded. "I refuse to manipulate my husband." Cara's heart fell, with a sickening thud, to the pit of her stomach. Before discretion could prevail, she spoke her innermost thoughts. "That would be a sure way to lose him again."

"You will anyway, sooner or later. You and I both know Rand's not the staying kind."

He was voicing Cara's innermost fear. "Rand's changed. He won't leave again."

Evan spoke with calculated ruthlessness. "Not even if I'm forced to step in and tell him that not two weeks before he came home, you agreed to marry me?"

Cara was set to deny his accusation, she couldn't. That's exactly what she had done. "He wouldn't believe you."

Evan spoke with a smugness that argued for belief. "I have proof."

He was bluffing, he had to be. There had been no witness to that conversation. "No such proof exists."

"Oh, but it does." Leaning forward, Evan lowered his voice to a rasping whisper. "Where's your wedding ring, Cara?"

Startled, Cara looked down at the bare fingers of her left hand. "I lost it."

"I have it." Those words closed around her heart like a clenched fist.

"Where?" From some subterranean crevice in Cara's mind, a recollection slipped its bonds. The last time she'd seen her ring was the day she and Evan had set up Nancy's crib in the house on Trent Avenue. She'd taken it off her finger because it kept hanging on the flat bedsprings. Crystal clear now, it registered in her mind. She'd laid it on the window sill. “You took my ring? Why?"

"My first intention was to return it. Then I decided to wait and see how long it would be before you missed it. I kept waiting for you to ask or start looking. You never did."

Cara felt a need to defend what now seemed a careless oversight. "I was so busy with moving and settling in, it slipped my mind." This was the man she'd thought she understood. She'd never known him at all. "Why didn't you tell me and give it back?"

"If you could forget that easily, why should I?"

"Because it wasn't yours to keep." Shock yielded quickly to fury. Cara jumped to her feet. "I want it back now!"

Evan's hands clutched the arms of his chair. "I rather think I should return it to its original owner, your husband, my cousin.” He laced his fingers together and pressed his forefingers to his lips. "He'll want an explanation of course." That thought brought a smile to Evan's lips. "I'll tell him you gave me the ring when you agreed to marry me."

Cara's anger was swallowed up in panic. "Rand would never believe such a stupid, vicious lie."

Evan dropped his hands to his lap. "There's one way to find out."

A knot of fear lodged in Cara's throat. "You wouldn't dare."

"Tell him?" Leaning forward, Evan invited, "Try me."

"That's blackmail."

"I prefer to think of it as offering you a choice. You can go along with Manny and me and insure the success of your business or you can fight us and take the chance of losing your husband sooner than you thought and your daughter permanently. Which will it be?"

Cara's stomach knotted as she stiffened under his withering gaze. "I have to think about this. I'll give you my answer later."

"You'll give me an answer by this evening if you want to take Nancy home with you. I want your word that you won't fight annexation and your promise that you'll talk to Rand about a quitclaim deed."

The irony of his request, no, his demand, made Cara laugh. "You're blackmailing me and you want my word and my promise? How do you know I'll keep either?"

"I think you'll keep both because you want to hold on to your husband and your daughter."

Cara's heart gave an uncomfortable lurch. "You are a real bastard." She looked down at the child sleeping peacefully on the couch. How dare Evan use his own daughter as a pawn in a blackmail plot? "I thought you loved Nancy."

Evan winced as if in physical pain. "I do, very much." His features hardened with new resolve. " I tried being Mister Nice once. It got me nowhere. This time I intend to take the imitative and work to protect my own interests, and the interests of the daughter I dearly love. Rand may have taken you from me again, but I won't let him steal Nancy too, not without a fight."

Cara wasn’t about to let Evan or Manny get away with this. "I won't do it, I refuse to let you. . . " Danny bursting through the front door made her halt her tirade.

He brought with him a fresh burst of cold air. Agog with excitement, he cried, "Hey Mom, guess what?"

Cara turned her attention to her son. " My, aren't you excited."

Evan hobbled toward the kitchen. "I want an answer before you leave today."

Cara called after him, "I won't change my mind."

Evan didn't bother looking back. "We'll see."

"Mom," Danny tugged at Cara' sleeve. “Guess what?" His eyes were alight with excitement. "Papa Joe's going to build me a dog house."

Cara pulled him into a loose embrace. "But you don't have a dog."

"Yes, I do now. Edgar Martin who lives behind Papa Joe has a blue tick hound and she had puppies. Mister Martin says we can have one. " He wriggled from Cara's arms. "Dad says we can take him home today if you say it's okay." He turned his head to one side and put his hands on his sturdy little hips. "Say yes, Mom, please."

The door opened once more to admit Rand and Paul. Uncle Charlie and Joe followed close behind. Joe slammed the door behind him. "It's cold outside." Lifting his head, he sniffed the air. "Something in here smells powerful good."

Paul hurried to his brother's side. "It's turkey, Papa Joe, and bread." On a caught breath, he asked Danny, "Did you ask Mom about the dog?"

Rand came to stand beside Cara. Putting his arm around her, he smiled down into her upturned face. "What do you say, Mom? Is there room for one more at our house?"

Paul stood beside Danny, looking anxious. "He's talking about the puppy. Dad says we have to take care of him the way you take care of Nancy. We promise we will. We'll feed him and water him and give him a bath and everything."

Danny said, breathlessly, "We already have a name for him, it's Blue, 'cause he's a blue tick hound. Get it Mom? Blue is a blue tick hound."

Paul added what he must consider the clincher, "The Mop Head will love having a puppy to play with."

Cara put on a stern face. "A little puppy can be a big job. Besides feeding him and watering him and giving him a bath each week, you'd have to clean up after him and train him, and take him for a walk every day. He'd have to be housebroken."

In unison the boys clamored, "We will. We promise."

Cara looked over the heads of her sons to see Joe smiling sheepishly. "Was this your surprise?"

Joe's gruff reply didn't quite cover the catch in his voice. "Every boy should have a dog."

Cara returned his smile. "I agree."

Joe looked puzzled. "Is that a yes or a no?"

Rand's arm tightened around Cara's shoulder. "I think it's a yes. Cara's a wonderful mother." His lips brushed through her hair. "That's one of the reason's I love her so much."

Happiness like warm wine flowed through Cara, bringing color to her cheeks and giddiness to her brain. Rand had said he loved her. He had made that admission, not in the heat of passion or the warm afterglow of spent love, but in the calm quiet of a family gathering. The words were not addressed to her, but to the other males of the family.

Her heart overflowed with gratitude and happiness. Standing on tiptoe, she kissed his cheek, then ducked her head and blushed furiously.

Joe cleared his throat and Uncle Charlie chuckled under his breath.

Rand laughed out loud. "We're embarrassing the lady."

Once again, Danny tugged at his mother's sleeve. "Will you stop all this mushy stuff and tell me if we can have the dog?"

Cara smiled down at him. "You can have the dog."

Danny's shouted "Oh boy!" mingled with Paul's loud "Hurray."

The sudden noise caused Nancy to sit up on the couch, rub her eyes and lisp, "Paw? Danny?" Scooting from the couch, she ran toward them. "Play horsy."

As she passed him, Rand scooped her into his arms. "After we eat. It's one o'clock and when Aunt Irene says dinner will be at one, dinner will be at one."

As if it had been prearranged, Aunt Irene appeared in the kitchen door. "Dinner's served. Boys don't forget to wash your hands."

Cara thought, as she walked beside her husband toward the dining room, that everything she'd ever wanted lay within her grasp: A successful business, a loving family, an adoring husband. Could she reach that far?

Chapter Fifteen

Dinner was a happy occasion. The meal, a repast fit for a king, was eaten amid good humor and happy exchange of conversation. When Joe told of his latest wood shop project, a doghouse for his grandsons, Elaine beamed. It was apparent that she liked the idea of Joe thinking of Paul and Danny as his grandsons.

Uncle Charlie related in great detail how he had caught the biggest catfish ever pulled from Medina Lake. "That fish was so big that the picture weighted fifty pounds."

Cousin Effie, usually the epitome of propriety, told an almost off-color joke. Cara wondered if the middle-aged spinster caught the underlying implications of what she'd said. After some consideration, she decide the answer was no.

Elaine and Aunt Irene discussed the upcoming Christmas Charity Benefit Bazaar. "We do this every year," Aunt Irene explained, "to raise money to help the poor and needy in Summerville and Summer County."

For the first time, Evan entered the conversation. "Of which there will be many more poor and needy now that Fort Wayne is closing."

Rand disagreed, but pleasantly. "Not necessarily. Most of the people who came here with Fort Wayne will leave with it. Those left behind who can't find work here will move to some large city like Dallas or Houston. There are no shortages of jobs in the big towns."

The tenseness in Evan's face told of his disapproval at being challenged, but much to Cara's surprise, he didn't argue. "That may be but thanks to Cara, there will be jobs here in Summerville for some. She plans to expand her plant now that she has the Leward's contract."

Rand 's fork paused in midair. "That's good news." He turned to Cara in puzzled surprise. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Cara shifted uncomfortably. "It's not a done deal yet." She shot Evan a venomous look. "And it's not my plant. DDI is a corporation." Then she changed the subject by saying to Cousin Effie, "Elaine tells me your blackberry jelly won first prize at the Medina County Fair this year. I think that's wonderful."

Cousin Effie used her index finger to push her glasses up on her nose. "It doesn't compare with getting a contract with Leward's, but I'm mighty proud of that blue ribbon."

"And well you should be." Cara returned. "A blue ribbon says you're the best."

Talk drifted from blue ribbons to battle ribbons and Rand's war decorations, then on to other things. The pleasant mood continued, but Cara could never quite relax again for fear of what Evan might say or do next.

By mid afternoon Cara's unrest had escalated to smoldering anger, not so much at Evan as at herself for allowing this situation to get so out-of-hand. She was seated on the couch, sandwiched between Cousin Effie and Aunt Irene with Elaine perched on a chair across from them. Long ago the men had retreated to Joe's wood shop to listen to a football game on the radio. This time Evan tagged along. Nancy had fallen asleep again and Paul and Danny were, at Mister Martin's invitation, playing with his puppies in his garage.

Cara tried to concentrate on the rather boring conversation about the merits of Sinclair Lewis' new book. She couldn't. Her mind kept wandering. She should have told Rand about Evan long ago. That perfect hindsight was of no use to her now. Her thoughts were interrupted by Cousin Effie's elbow jabbing into her ribs. "What do you think about it, Cara?"

Cara blinked. "About what?"

"About Mister Lewis’ book."

Cara shrugged. "It's different."

"And confusing," Cousin Effie added.

Elaine disagreed, but then, didn't she always? "I liked the book."

Again Cara's mind fluttered away in anxiety. Was Evan, even now offering Rand his rendition of the truth? This time Aunt Irene tapping her on the shoulder pulled her back into the conversation. "Cara? What's your opinion?"

Cara quickly improvised. "Sinclair Lewis always tells a great story."

"But I'm talking about Forever Amber.” Aunt Irene waved her gnarled hand. "I say it's a dirty book."

Cousin Effie leaned around Cara to ask Irene, "You read Forever Amber?" Sitting back, she grunted. "I never got the nerve."

Aunt Irene's lips pulled into a thin line. "It doesn’t have a happy ending."

Cara's thoughts were once again, straying far afield. Evan had her wedding band. He had stolen it, or the equivalent. The bastard. With a shake of her head, she pulled her mind back to the discussion in time to hear Elaine say, "In the end Amber got what she deserved."

Cara had thought of Amber as more sinned against than sinning. "Amber did what she had to do to survive."

Elaine's soft reply had a cutting edge. "I can see how you’d identify with her. She was very," pausing she cleared her throat, "innovative."

Cara's chin came up. "I'm also a survivor." At least she had been so far.

Cousin Effie came quickly to Cara's defense. "And one does not have to be immoral to be innovative, or to be a survivor."

Elaine conceded, reluctantly. "I see your point." Then added, "Speaking of survivors, what about Susan in The White Cliffs Of Dover?"

Aunt Irene protested, "But that's a poem."

Elaine didn't intend to be outdone a second time. "But it's still a love story, and such a sad one." Elaine swallowed. "I can identify with Susan. The poor woman lost first her husband then her son."

Aunt Irene was sympathetic. "Of course you can, dear, but your story has a happy ending. You have Joe now, and your son came home to you."

"I'm thankful for Joe." Elaine touched her fingers to the sides of her hennaed hair. "And I'm glad Rand's alive. But the man who returned to me is not the son who left me four years ago". Dropping her hands to her lap, she stared down at them. "I hardly know this Rand."

Cousin Effie philosophized, "With time you'll get to know him again."

Elaine blinked back tears. "I may get to know the new Rand, eventually. The old Rand is gone forever."

Aunt Irene pointed out, "But you've changed too, Elaine. You're not the same as you were when Rand went away."

Elaine sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "I've changed, but I still have a part of my old self. Rand doesn't. It's like he was transformed into another person."

Aunt Irene's brow knitted into a puzzled frown. '"Change, transformation -what's the difference?"

Elaine thought for a long time before answering, "Change is gradual, and there are always external signs." She gnawed at her bottom lip. "Transformation happens suddenly and it's all inside a person."

Aunt Irene's frown deepened. "None of our lives are ever going to be the same again. It's like the whole world has shifted."

"The world has shifted, dear." Cousin Effie's eyes glazed over. "That's the way war works. What it doesn't destroy, it changes."

Cara had never thought of Cousin Effie to be one who pondered the deeper complexities of life. Maybe she should reconsider. Those simple words held a deep and profound truth. The aftermath of war was destruction and change, but little else.

"I know, but I keep wishing...." A knock on the door stopped Elaine's discourse and sent her catapulting to her feet. "That must be Manny Rankin." She glanced toward the clock on the mantle. "And he's early. Drat!" Squaring her shoulders, she headed for the door. "He'll have Mike Gentry and the photographer with him." Halfway across the room, she turned. "I'll let them in, Irene, you fetch the men folk and call Paul and Danny."

Moving swiftly for a woman of her age, Aunt Irene hurried away, mumbling under her breath as she went. Cara didn't catch the words, but the tone was perfectly clear. Aunt Irene did not welcome these callers.

As Elaine turned the knob of the front door, the sound of Nancy whimpering in the next room provided Cara with a perfect escape. Excusing herself, she retreated to the bedroom and shut the door, then leaning against it, she drew a deep breath before sitting on the bed and gathering Nancy's warm little body into her arms.

Nancy wriggled in her tight embrace. "Potty, Mommie."

Cara was coming from the bathroom with Nancy in her arms when Rand appeared in the hallway. "Mother's guests are here. The photographer is waiting to take our picture." He extended his arms and Nancy went into them.

Laying her head on his shoulder, she lisped, "Wand, hi."

Cara smoothed her hair with her hands. "I need to freshen up, I'll only be a minute."

Rand shifted Nancy to his other arm and placed his free hand under Cara's elbow. "You look lovely, as always. Lets get this over, shall we?"

As he guided her into the living room, Cara thought that Elaine was right. Rand had not changed so much as he had been transformed. This was not the man who had walked out on her four years ago. That Rand would never have been so complimentary, or so openly attentive. She drew a deep breath and tried to prepare herself for what lay ahead.

Much to her surprise, what she had though would be an ordeal was a passably pleasant experience. Manny, for once in his life, was amiable, almost ingratiating. That raised Cara's suspicions, but she said nothing. Mike Gentry was the soul of discretion. He seemed content to ask innocuous questions that were neither personal nor prying.

The photographer was a pretty young woman who flirted openly and shamelessly with Rand. She divided her time between taking posed-for pictures of him and snapping photos of unguarded moments. She took one hurried picture of Rand with Cara, and then went on to snap several shots of Rand with Nancy, Rand with his sons, Rand with Elaine and Joe, and even more poses of Rand alone. "You're such a perfect subject," she gushed, as she snapped him standing beside the front window in the living room. "These shots will look great in the paper." Lowering her camera, she smiled seductively. "I'll see that you get copies. Tell me when and where and I'll bring them by."

Rand moved across the room to sit beside Cara on the couch. "You can bring them or mail them to my wife at her office at DDI in Windthorst Park." Then he added insult to injury. "Thank you so much, Miss. . . What did you say your name was?"

The young woman answered coldly, "Diane Mallory." For the first time, she looked closely at Cara. No doubt she was wondering how such an ordinary woman had ever captured the attention, let alone the heart of a man like Rand Williams. "I'll mail the pictures."

Cara returned her steady stare. She wondered the same thing herself. "Thank you, Miss Mallory." She smiled. "It is Miss Mallory, isn't it?"

Chagrined, Diane replied, "Yes it is."

Elaine shot Cara a chastising look. "Would you like something to drink, Miss Mallory, or maybe a slice of pumpkin pie?"

Diane refused politely. "No, thank you, and call me Diane, please."

Cara lapsed into a brooding silence. How she wished these intruders would go away so this day could be over.

Her wish was granted some thirty minutes later when Manny stood and announced abruptly, "We have to go now."

Elaine didn't object. "It was nice of you to drop by." She pushed herself to a standing position. "I'll see you to the door."

On cue, every adult in the room followed Elaine's lead, and stood, causing Cara to surmise that she wasn't the only person happy to see this day draw to a close.

Amid formal and stilted good byes, the three visitors took their leave. As Manny exited the door, he called back. "Oh, Cara, about our little business deal, I'll drop by your office around ten tomorrow and fill you in on the details."

Before Cara could respond, Evan answered, "We'll be there."

As the door slammed, Cara rounded on Evan, her eyes shooting sparks of amber fire. "I will not do business with Manny Rankin. I thought you understood that."

Evan's shrug couldn't quite cover his nervousness. "You can hear him out. Maybe you'll change you mind." He glanced around the room. Every eye was on him, every ear attentive. "It wouldn't be the first time."

He was threatening her, trying to intimidate her. Cara didn't intend to let him do either. "This time I won't and that's a promise."

Elaine intervened, a little too quickly. "This is not the place to discuss business. We can talk about this at our next board meeting."

Evan's eyes never left Cara's face as he raised his hand, palm out, toward his aunt. "No. This is something Cara and I have to settle here and now."

Cara suddenly realized that every adult in the room was still standing. Sinking down onto the couch beside Danny, she looked up at her tormentor. "Elaine's right. This is not the place to discuss business."

"Fair enough." Evan lifted Nancy from the chair she sat in, and sat down himself, then put the child on his lap. "Let's forget business and talk about personal promises you've made and broken."

This time it was Rand who intervened as he sat down on the other side of Danny. "Cara's personal life is none of your business."

Evan struggled to hold onto a squirming Nancy. "It is if she made a personal promise to me." As Nancy wriggled from his embrace and slid to the floor, he added, "And she did."

Cara's heart pounded against her ribs as a glacial shiver ran down her spine. Evan wouldn't do this, he wouldn't dare. Even as her heart denied, her mind realized, he would. As Nancy toddled toward her, she pleaded, "Evan, please don't."

Nancy came to stand at Cara's knee. "Mommie hold Nancy." She climbed onto the couch and settled herself in Cara's lap.

Cara put her arms around the child and rested her chin atop her curly head. "Please don't."

Elaine seemed to sense trouble was brewing. It was obvious she didn't want her grandchildren to witness the coming confrontation. "Joe, why don't you and I take the children to the kitchen?" She gave her husband a meaningful look. "Irene can come with us."

Irene came across the room and took Nancy from Cara's lap. "Joe can go with the boys to fetch Blue."

Danny bounced to his feet. "Mister Martin gave us a box to put him in. Can we bring him in the house Grandma, please?"

Elaine hesitated a moment before saying, "I suppose so, this once, since it's so cold outside."

Joe lumbered toward the kitchen. "Come on, kids, let's see if we can find that puppy."

Paul leaned against the far wall of the room. "I'd rather stay here."

Elaine put her hands on her hips. "Well, you can't."

Paul didn't move. "Mom, please."

For once, Cara agreed with her mother-in-law. "It's best if you go with Grandma."

Reluctantly, Paul followed the others from the room.

The door had scarcely closed behind him when Rand vaulted to his feet and shoving his hands into his pockets, glared at his cousin. "I don't like what you're insinuating."

"It's not an insinuation, it's the truth." Evan slid down in his chair. "If you don't believe me, ask Cara."

Rand's brow wrinkled as he turned to his wife. "Cara?"

Dull despair reduced Cara's voice to a whisper. "I thought you were dead. That’s why. . .." The whisper faded to a sigh.

Rand prompted, "Why what? For god's sake, speak up woman."

Cara couldn't bring her lips to utter the words she knew must be said. "I was so sure you were gone forever." Tears filled her eyes. "Please try to understand."

"Understand what?" Once again, Rand turned to Evan. "You started this," his voice was a knife sliding from it's sheath. "Be man enough to finish it."

Evan swallowed causing his Adam's apple to move up and down like an elevator. "You won't like what I have to say."

Rand took a step in his direction "Are you going to tell me or do I have to choke it out of you?"

Evan cowered in his chair. "If you touch me, I'll have you arrested."

Cara could stand no more. Sitting up she squared her shoulders. "I'll tell you. I promised to marry Evan, but that was before I knew you were alive."

Rand's face crumpled like a piece of old parchment. Falling into a chair, he dropped his head into his hands. "You told me there was no one else." He lifted his face. Tears stood in his eyes. "You said I was the only one."

Anguish deep and debilitating swept over Cara. "There isn't." She cringed under his withering stare. "You are."

Evan slipped his hand inside the pocket of his coat and took out a small manila envelope. Opening it, he shook the contents into his hand. A small round object rested snugly in his palm.

Cara exclaimed, "My ring."

Evan grasped the wide gold band between his thumb and forefinger and held it up so it caught and reflected the light. "Do you want it back now?"

Cara sprinted across the room and snatched the ring from him. "You bastard, you stole my ring." Holding it in her tight fist, she backed away.

Evan shrugged. "You never missed it." His smile was menacing. "But then you had other things on your mind at the time. We were in the bedroom, remember?"

Cara did remember, now that it was too late. "We were putting together Nancy's new crib. My ring kept catching on the springs, so I took it off." The back of her knees touched the couch. Cara sat down.

"And never thought of it again." Evan was making insinuations now, and brazenly false ones. "I can understand why."

Cara had expected Evan to offer his rendition of the truth. She had never once thought he would openly and blatantly imply untruths. "You and I didn't do anything in that bedroom except put up Nancy's crib."

Evan actually smiled. "Not that night anyway. You were too tired."

Cara made herself face her husband. The pain etched in his face was almost more than she could bear. "He's lying. I never slept with Evan."

Closing his eyes, Rand clenched his jaw. "Tell me, Cara," Then he opened them slowly. "Did you promise to marry Evan?"

"I can explain. . . ."

"Just answer the question."

Cara opened her hand and stared down at her wedding ring. "Yes."

Rand's voice was ragged with emotion. "Why?"

That Cara couldn't answer, not with any degree of lucidity. Looking back now, it seemed such a foolish thing to have done. Her fingers closed once again around her ring. "I wanted. . . A She swallowed over a feeling of impending doom. "I needed. . . ."

Clutching the arms of his chair, Evan leaned forward to address Rand. "She wanted a site for her factory. She needed the land on Windthorst Road."

A volcano of anger erupted inside Cara. "That's not so!"

Evan pursed his lips. "Prove it."

To Cara's total surprise and everlasting relief, Rand said, "She doesn't have to. I believe her."

"She's using you." Evan leaned back and crossed his legs. His pant legs pulled up to reveal the corrective shoes he usually managed to keep hidden. "Just like she used me. You're as big a fool as I was if you let her get away with it."

Rand clenched his fists. "Shut up. Evan, before I forget you're a cripple and shut you up."

For once Evan refused to be intimidated. "Listen to me cousin, and listen well. Cara is a manipulator. If you don't believe me, ask your mother."

Rand's eyes narrowed, but his fists unclenched. "Leave my mother out of this."

Cara couldn't sit idly by and let Evan get away with such a gross distortion of the truth. Foolishly, she challenged him, and in so doing, she would realize later, played right into his hands. "Name one time I ever tried to manipulate you."

"I can name a half dozen, and you did more than try, you succeeded. We can begin with Marsha. Can you deny that you're the one who talked me into marrying her?"

Common sense dictated that she shouldn't give Evan's accusation credence by arguing with him, but Cara couldn't stop herself. "It was no more than a suggestion."

"Oh, it was much more than just that. You used gentle persuasion, and you did it so well. You said it was for the baby's sake. I remember your exact words. You said: Marsha's in poor health, Evan. What happens to her child if she becomes disabled, or even worse, dies? Then you threw in the clincher. You said: This baby is a Williams, Evan. You should do the decent thing and give it the Williams name.

He was taking her words out of context, twisting them and giving them a meaning she'd never intended. "I wanted to assure that the child had a family. I didn't want her to come into the world branded as illegitimate."

Evan sneered, "You wanted that baby for yourself and you used me to make sure you got her. I didn't know it then, but I can see now that's why you encouraged me to marry Marsha."

Cara could feel Rand's eyes boring into her. "I didn't encourage you to do anything."

"You are the one who first came up with the idea that I should marry Marsha."

There was no denying that fact. "You said you wanted to marry Marsha."

Evan grinned ruefully. "I was so infatuated with you that I would have agreed to commit murder if you'd asked me to. And it was the same when you came up with the plan to build Windthorst Park on my farm and turn it into a corporation in which you were, and still are, the major stockholder. I agreed because you had me so beguiled that I all I could think about was getting in bed with you, feeling you close to me, hearing you say you needed me. I would have given you the moon if I could have pulled it down from the sky."

He spoke with such quiet conviction that Cara realized that he half believed what he was saying. A low moan escaped through her lips. "No. No. That's not the way it was."

Evan extended one hand in Rand's direction. "All Cara really cares about is DDI." His hand dropped to his side. "She's manipulating you now. I can tell you how if you'll listen."

Rand half stood. "If you're lying to me, God help you." He sat back down. "Say what you have to say."

Cara clenched her fists so tightly that the ring in her right hand pressed into the flesh of her palm. She wanted to protest, to cry out, and to beg Rand not to listen to anything Evan had to say. That would only strengthen Evan's argument. Head bowed, body slumped in despair, she sat quietly by and listened as Evan calmly deflowered the truth with his distortions and insinuations.

"Your return from the dead threw a monkey wrench into Cara's plans. You could mess up her deal with Leward's. She had to find a way to get you to sign an agreement not to sue Debbie Dimples, and she did. I think I know how." Evan paused, waiting for either Rand or Cara to speak. When it became apparent that neither of them had any such intention, he went on. "Then she got the Leward's contract and another problem arose. Debbie Dimples wasn't a big enough operation to supply the demands of a national chain like Leward's. Cara had two choices. She could find a permanent second manufacturer and pay royalties from now on, or she could raise enough money to hire a temporary second manufacturer and pay up front. In the meantime she would have to expand her own facilities to be able to meet Leward's demands. There was one big problem, she didn't have that kind of money."

Evan was speaking the truth but he had laced his facts with malicious, defamatory innuendo. Cara cried, "You're distorting everything." Her heart sick with despair, she turned to Rand. "Don't listen to him."

Rand's stare was as remote as a snow-capped mountain, and as cold. "Is this true?"

"In a way."

"It either is or it isn't."

"The facts are true. The opinions are Evan's. That's why you shouldn't listen to him."

"I know a fact from an opinion. I can separate the two." Rand nodded to Evan. "Go on."

Evan needed no further encouragement. Settling back in his chair, he began once more to speak. "Cara couldn't finalize her deal with Leward's until you signed a release agreeing not to sue DDI. When she learned that she had an appointment to meet with a Leward's representative was earlier than she'd expected, she sent Dave Warren over to get your signature on the dotted line."

Rand interrupted harshly, "You told me Cara knew nothing about Dave Warren coming to my house."

Evan held up one hand. "Hold on, will you?" He drew a deep breath. "I lied. I'm sorry now that I did. I'm so accustomed to doing everything Cara tells me to do that, God help me, I even went along with this deception even though I thought she was stepping way over the line."

Cara listened, amazed that Evan had now moved from innuendo and equivocation to telling bald-faced lies. Holding on to her anger, she spoke with calm dignity. "He's lying, Rand. I had no idea Dave Warren was going to ask you to sign that release."

Ignoring her denial, Evan continued. "Then Cara hit on the idea of borrowing against the land Windthorst Park sits on to pay a second manufacturer and to finance the expansion of Debbie Dimples' facilities. That's a pretty ticklish proposition considering she doesn't have a clear title and some of the land is leased. But Cara is nothing if she's not resourceful. She decided to persuade you to give her a quitclaim deed to your share of the farm. Then she made a deal with Manny Rankin. She would persuade you to agree to Manny's plan to build a museum and a memorial in Summerville in exchange for him helping her secure a loan on Windthorst Park with some of his banker buddies who were willing to overlook the fact that some of the land was leased for the next ninety-five years."

Cara felt the sting of humiliation and defeat. Evan's lies had just enough truth entwined with them to give them a ring of authenticity. She could see the look of doubt on Rand's face, feel the stab of uncertainty that must be piercing his heart.

Evan also recognized his ambivalence and took full advantage. "Think back, remember. Cara did a complete about-face after she came back from Dallas. She told me it was over between us. I can bet that was when she fell into your arms begging for another chance."

Rand ran a weary hand across his face. "I have to think about this." He stood. "Let's go home, Cara. We have some sorting-out to do." He extended his hand.

Cara dropped her wedding ring into his open palm, and then hurried toward the kitchen. "I'll fetch the boys and Nancy."

Evan called after her, "Not Nancy. My daughter is going home with me."

Chapter Sixteen

Cara closed the door to her sons' room. It had taken longer than usual to get them settled for the night. She leaned against the wall, and then standing erect, forced herself to walk slowly toward the living room and Rand.

He was sitting in the overstuffed chair near the front window, staring into space. When she came through the door he shifted to look at her. "Are the boys asleep?"

Cara dropped down onto the couch. "No, and I don't expect they will be for a while."

"I suppose not. It's been a long and exciting day for them what with Thanksgiving and the new puppy."

Cara pushed a pillow behind her back. "It's been a long day for everyone." She was baffled by Rand's casual, composed air. He had been completely silent during the short ride home. Neither of the boys had noticed. They were too busy with their new puppy to sense the unspoken animosity that sparked between their parents. Cara had expected her husband to be hurt and angry. She could have dealt with harsh words from him. Outrage she could have understood, recriminations she would have accepted, but this blasé nonchalance was beyond her comprehension. "And it isn't over yet."

"Maybe it is over." Rand's gaze drifted around the room, and then came to rest on Cara's face. "Did I make a mistake coming back here?"

Cara braced herself. "I can't talk about your mistakes until I come to terms with my own. I can't do that until I'm sure you know the truth about Evan and me."

"Truth," Rand made a muffled sound low in his throat, "is such a relative term with so many gray areas."

She wasn't going to let him turn this into some tedious philosophical discussion. "I'm talking about a specific truth. That truth is: I never had sex with Evan."

Rand shook his head from side to side. "This is not just about sex. It's about sharing and belonging. I watched you and Evan together today and realized that he's not the outsider in this little triangle, I am."

Cara whispered, "I was never unfaithful to you."

"Maybe not physically, but your were unfaithful." The facade that covered Rand's raw emotions was suddenly stripped away. His face carved into lines of pain. "You've given so much more of yourself to Evan than you ever gave to me."

Cara's anxiety converted to righteous indignation. How dare he? "As I remember, you wanted no part of what I had to give, sexual or otherwise. You walked out on me. You lived for three years in another country as another person with another woman. How much of yourself did you give to Simone?"

"I never promised to marry her."

Cara refrained from asking him what he had promised Simone. "I wouldn't have promised to marry Evan if I hadn't thought you were dead."

"Is that the reason you made that promise, or did you agree to marry Evan because you wanted Nancy and his farm?"

As belittling as his accusation was, it contained an element of truth. Nancy had played a decided role in Cara's agreeing to marry Evan. "Nancy may have been a mitigating factor in that decision."

"And what were the mitigating factors in your decision to give our marriage another chance?"

She couldn't believe he would ask such a question. "Do you think I had some ulterior motive in asking you for another chance?"

"You did do a complete and sudden about-face." The rage he had so far suppressed suddenly blazed forth. "Until after your return from Dallas, I was the one who was pleading for forgiveness and begging for another chance." Bolting to an upright position, he shouted, "I don't know where the lies stop and the truth begins."

Cara said with force, "I never lied to you, not ever!"

"You swore to me there was no one else." Falling back into his chair, Rand covered his face with his hands. "You said I was the only one." Dropping his arms, he lifted his face. "And I believed you." Suddenly, he was on his feet again. "You gave Evan your wedding ring."

"Evan stole my ring."

"From your bedroom and you never missed it? That tells me all I need to know."

Under the circumstances, she couldn't blame him for being angry and doubtful. "Before you make some sudden rush to judgment, bear in mind that much of what Evan told you is either slanted or an out-and-out lie."

Rand dropped back into his chair. "Your life is hopelessly tangled with Evan's. He's your partner and your confidant." He shrugged. "And what am I?"

Cara's heart bled. "You're my husband."

Rand's smile was a study in sadness. "The one thing you said you didn't need."

Vaguely, she remembered having uttered that foolish statement. "I didn't mean that."

"What else have you said that you didn't mean?"

A resigned sadness settled over Cara. "I'm not going to defend myself further." It was futile to keep declaring her innocence. "You either believe me or you don't."

Several seconds ticked by before Rand said, "I need some time."

Anger, like a sluggish serpent, uncoiled inside Cara. Was Rand looking for an excuse to leave again? She would make it easy for him. "Maybe you need more space too, and some room to breathe."

"Maybe I do. I'll move out tomorrow."

It hurt that Rand could make that decision with such speed and ease. "Where will you go?"

"That won't be a problem. Half the hotel rooms in Summerville are vacant."

A hotel room sounded temporary, but Cara forced herself to face reality. Rand was leaving her again, this time probably forever. What would she do now? Unconsciously, she lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders. She would do what she had always done before, she would muddle through, and then find a way to carry on. "The boys will miss you."

"I intend to be very much a part of my boy's life from now on." He stood. "You can have the quitclaim deed." Turning to go, he said over his shoulder, "I still refuse to be a part of Manny Rankin's plan to build a museum in Summerville."

Cara watched him walk out the door and out of her life again. She could blame Evan for this. No. She couldn't. She had to place blame exactly where it belonged, squarely on her own two shoulders. If she had been honest, not only with Rand, but also with Evan and with herself, none of this would have happened. It wasn't as if she'd planned to deceive. There had never seemed to be an appropriate time to tell Rand she had once promised to marry Evan, and she had been so sure that Evan understood the engagement was off the minute Rand reentered the picture that she'd never bothered to discuss the matter with him.

What happened now? Where did she go from here? Always before she had been able to pick up the pieces and move forward. Could she do that again? The truth bore down with oppressive certainty. Starting over alone wasn't a matter of choice, it was a matter of necessity. But a second time around had taught her another invaluable lesson. Never again would she lay herself open to this kind of hurt and humiliation.

Cara comforted her self with the thought that it was better this way. No more close relationships and no more commitments meant no more heartbreak and no more having to start over again farther down the line. With a heavy heart she stood and brushed away a tear. Then with a sigh of resignation, she turned her feet in the direction of Elaine’s old bedroom.

After a night of restless tossing and turning, Cara awoke feeling desolate and alone. She had lost Rand and Nancy. She no longer had Evan to depend on for support and council. If she didn't act quickly and decisively, she stood a good chance of losing her contract with Leward's.

She had to find a second manufacturer and fast. Then she would ask employees in the cutting and assembly rooms to start working overtime. That shouldn't be a problem. Most of them would welcome the opportunity to make extra Christmas money.

Thinking about immediate and pressing matters helped. Cara dressed, left Rand a note asking him to mind the boys today, and drove to her office. She pulled into the parking lot just as an orange November sun nudged at the eastern horizon. She had scarcely come to a stop when Evan's car pulled into the slot behind her. Before she could open her door he was out of his automobile and moving in her direction.

Cara stepped from her car and without looking back, walked swiftly across the parking lot and toward the building that housed the offices of DDI. He had a nerve showing up here this morning after what he'd done yesterday.

Evan's uneven gait made it difficult for him to run, but he tried. He called as he hurried along, "Cara, wait up. I have to talk to you."

Cara refused to stop or to answer. She sped across the parking lot and up the front steps. She was unlocking the front door when Evan reached the bottom of the landing. "Cara, wait. I have to talk to you before you do something foolish."

As if she hadn't already. "I have nothing to say to you."

"This is not personal, it's business."

Cara unlocked the door. Now he wanted to discuss business? Now after he'd gone behind her back to make some shady deal with Manny Rankin? "From now on, anything I say to you about business will be said at a board meeting."

Evan puffed his way up the steps. "That's what I'm trying to tell you. I've called a board meeting for eight o'clock this morning."

Cara opened the door and went inside then hurried down the corridor toward her office with Evan close on her heels. "Notice of a board meeting must be posted three days in advance."

"I know that." Evan stopped to catch his breath. "But this is an emergency and the other board members agree with me, we can't wait. We have to meet this morning."

Cara came to a sudden halt. "So you've gone behind my back again?" She turned to confront him. "Haven't you done enough damage already with your sneaking around and your lying?"

Evan hung his head. "Someday you'll thank me for what I've done."

"I should live so long." Turning on her heel, Cara hurried toward her office. She was unlocking the door before Evan caught up to her again. "We have to meet before Manny gets here at ten."

Cara slipped her key from the lock and dropped it into her handbag. "Go to hell, Evan." She went into her office and would have slammed the door.

Evan's corrective shoe inserted in the opening stopped her. "You're going to listen to me." He followed her inside. As he leaned against the closed door, his voice broke. "Would it help if I told you that I forgive you for everything you've done to me?"

He forgave her? Putting her bag and briefcase on her desk, Cara moved around to sit in her chair. She couldn't believe her ears. "I don't want your forgiveness. I do want you out of my life."

Evan grimaced in pain. "You don't mean that. You need me."

"For what? To mess up my life again?" Cara opened a desk drawer. "Go tell your lies to someone else. I have work to do."

Evan turned the knob, and then paused. "What about Nancy?"

Cara closed the drawer. "What about her?"

"You need her too."

That he would use his daughter as a bargaining tool sent Cara's temper spiraling. Standing, she shouted, "Get out of here before I call security and have you thrown out."

Evan cringed under her verbal onslaught. "Security's not here yet."

Cara came around the side of her desk. "Then I'll do it myself."

Evan beat a hasty retreat. As he scooted through the door, he managed to have the last word. "I'll see you at eight o'clock in the conference room."

Cara looked at her watch. It was seven-thirty now. As she dropped into her chair and stared at the open door, words Elaine had once uttered teased through her mind: Evan is a weak man and weak men are dangerous men. How perceptive her mother-in-law had been, and how right.

If only Rand could see Evan in that light. But he couldn't, and Cara suspected, as words he had once hurled at her tracked across her brain, that he never would. I will not be seduced, Cara, not by money and not by sex. His own strength of character made him blind to Evan's tragic flaw.

The irony of her situation hit Cara as she gathered her thoughts and her notes for the coming meeting. She was caught between two men, one whose weakness was his only strength, and another who had carried his strength to the point of weakness. Regardless of what happened now, she would be the loser. With a resigned sigh, she turned her feet and her mind toward the board room.

She arrived five minutes later to find the others waiting for her. Elaine, Irene and Joe were seated around Grandmother Williams' battered round table. Evan stood near the window, staring out at the bare trees that lined the edge of the parking lot. He was the only one who didn't look her way as she came through the door. Cara put her notes on the table, sat down, and announced without preamble: "Let's get this over. I have other things to do."

Elaine sent Irene an I-told-you-so look then nodded toward the chair between her and her sister. "Sit down, Evan."

Evan chose rather to sit on the other side of Joe. "I'm ready."

Cara glared at him. "Then speak up. Why did you call us here?"

Evan glared back. "Are you going to call the meeting to order?"

Joe, who usually did no more than nod his agreement to any proposal made, spoke with ill concealed impatience. "I don't think there's gonna be a lot of order here today". He pushed his chair back to get a better view of Evan. "Speak up sonny boy."

Aunt Irene bristled. "You have no reason to insult Evan."

Elaine intervened. "Joe meant no offense." She sent Joe a look that dared him to disagree. "Did you, Joe?"

Joe moved his chair back toward the table. "I calls 'em as I sees 'em."

Cara held up her hand. "Can we get on with this? Evan, you have the floor."

Evan cleared his throat. "As you all know, the war is over and everything is changing. If our business is to survive and prosper, we have to change too."

Joe sneered, "No shit?"

Elaine intoned, "Joe, please." Then nodded to Evan. "Go on."

Evan's withering glance flicked over Joe's face, then he quickly looked away. "I've come up with a plan that will enable us to take the high road to success. I've talked to Rand and he assures me that he will provide the company with a quitclaim deed to his part of the farm as soon as possible. That means. . . . "

This time it was Cara who intervened. "You talked to Rand? When? Where?"

Perspiration broke out across Evan's upper lip. "He came to Aunt Elaine's last night."

Cara's fear was almost equal to her anger. Now Elaine was plotting with Evan. To what end? She looked across the table and into the hostile eyes of her mother-in-law. "I didn't think even you would stoop to this."

Elaine returned her angry gaze. "I warned you that you would answer to me if you hurt Rand with one of you wild schemes."

Cara reminded her harshly, "This wasn't my idea. It was Evan's."

Elaine retorted, "Evan doesn't have the brains to devise something this devious." Chagrined, she bit her lip. "Sorry, Evan."

Irene struck the table with her open hand. "I will not sit here and listen to my son being insulted over and over again."

Elaine snapped, "Shut up, Irene."

Irene's voice rose. "No. I won't shut up. You owe Evan an apology."

"I did apologize," Elaine answered in a voice calculated to soothe her sister's ire.

Joe chuckled. "She sure did. She said 'I'm sorry, Evan.' I heard her."

Cara was outraged. She was the one who was being insulted, not Evan. "You dare call me devious? What do you call the lot of you going behind my back to talk to Rand?"

"We didn't go to Rand," Elaine was defiant. "He came to us."

Evan intervened, "Let's be honest here. He came only after I asked him to come and meet with us."

Cara rounded on Evan. "What do you know about honesty? Your lies are what got us in this situation in the first place."

Irene fumed. "Now you're insulting my son."

Joe put his elbows on the table. "Is this going to be a board meeting or a family row?"

Elaine patted his shoulder. "Joe's right. Let's stop the bickering and get down to what we came here to do."

Evan opened his mouth to speak, but Elaine stopped him. "Let me handle this Evan."

Evan nodded. "Go ahead."

Elaine's tone softened as she addressed Cara. "We did meet with Rand last night. We felt we owed him that. We also felt it would be better if we didn't involve you until we had matters settled between ourselves."

"I was already involved," Cara told her sharply. "You had no right to exclude me."

Joe's baritone boomed out into the little room. "So was I. Where was I when this meeting was taking place?"

Elaine smiled but her eyes were wary. "You were asleep. I saw no reason to disturb you."

"Besides," Evan added in a querulous tone, "This was a family matter."

Joe, whom Cara thought impervious to verbal insults, was suddenly hurt and defensive. "I thought I was a part of this family."

"Not by blood," Evan stated in that same querulous tone.

Elaine snapped, "That's enough, Evan."

Cara looked at the people seated around the table. Until now she had considered them her family. Through war and loss and endless struggle they had been there for her. Now in the face of success and plenty, they had not only deserted her, they were conspiring against her. She was swept with a devastating sense of disappointment and loss. "Please, say what you have to say."

"Very well." Elaine laced her fingers together and stared down at them. "You wanted Rand's half of the farm. Now you have it. God only knows why, but he insists on signing it over to DDI."

Cara protested, "I don't want Rand's half of the farm."

Elaine countered, "You won't have it, DDI will. That means the board has some say in what you do with it. That's why we're here. We intend to see that you follow through on this business deal Evan has put together and Rand is financing."

Cara's fear was moving toward panic. "What business deal?"

Elaine folded her arms across her chest. "The one Evan wants to make with the bank in Summerville."

Cara's eyes narrowed. "You mean the one he wants to make with Manny Rankin." She leaned across the table. "I will not do business with Manny Rankin."

Elaine unlaced her fingers and flexed her hands. "As the president of this cooperation, you will carry out the board's wishes. Irene, Joe, Evan and I have sixty percent of the vote and we say DDI will move forward to secure the loan from the Summerville bank."

So this meeting had been a set up from the very beginning. Cara asked, "When did you decide this?"

Elaine replied, "Last night, or rather in the wee hours of this morning."

Cara tasted the bitter dregs of defeat. AI won't do it. I'll resign first."

Joe asked, a little too cautiously, "Why don't we take a vote?" Without waiting for a reply, he said, "I vote with Cara. That makes us split right down the middle wouldn't you say?"

Elaine's mouth fell open. "Joe, how could you?"

"Listen to me, all of you." Joe pulled his beefy frame to a standing position. "Without Cara there is no DDI. The designs are hers, it's her business ability that has allowed the company to succeed, that and her hard work. She could have done all this without us. Without her, we're nothing."

Evan bristled, "I have worked as hard as Cara has to make this business a success."

Elaine and Irene nodded their agreement.

Joe scoffed, "Maybe you have but right now you couldn't cut a pattern or sew up a Debbie Dimples if your life depended on it. The concept of Hector Hero was Cara's idea, and the plans to expand the line further depends completely on her creativity and designing ability." He sat down. "So now we have a stalemate. Which means we have to compromise."

Tears stood in Elaine's eyes. "How could you take Cara's side against me?"

Joe frowned, but he didn't give an inch. "I'm not taking anybody's side. I'm trying to save this business." His troubled glance shifted to Cara. "Can we talk about a compromise?"

What did she have to lose? Cara nodded her agreement.

Chapter Seventeen

Cara wondered, as she opened the front door, if Rand would still be around. She almost hoped he'd packed his bags and left during the day. Coping with his departure after her miserable encounter with his family seemed more that she could handle in one day. "Hello," she called as she came into the living room. "Anybody home?"

Rand answered from upstairs, "I'll be right down."

Cara dropped into the overstuffed chair near the window and closed her eyes. She could never remember feeling so spent and weary. Rand descending the stairs made her sit up and open them again. "Where are Paul and Danny?"

Rand sat on the couch and drew a deep breath. "I asked Mother to come pick them up, I thought it best if they weren't here when I left."

Once again he was running and leaving her to pick up the pieces. "What am I supposed to tell them when they come home and you're not here?"

"I told them I wouldn't be here when they returned. I asked Mother to take them so you and I could get a few things settled before I go."

Sudden anger swept away Cara's weariness. She choked on a brittle little laugh. "Things are settled. I'm sure your mother told you all about this morning's board meeting."

"I didn't discuss the meeting with Mother, however, she did say you managed to iron out your differences."

"No thanks to her, or to you." Another disturbing thought took Cara. "Did you tell Paul and Danny you're leaving for good?" She'd been so preoccupied with her own problems that she'd failed to consider how Rand's leaving again would affect her sons.

In a flat, dead tone, Rand said, "I'm not leaving my sons. That's one of the things I want to talk about."

Cara's weariness returned with a vengeance. She rested her head against the back of her chair. "Don't you think you should be talking to them instead of me?"

"I did and I will again, but not for awhile." Rand rubbed his forehead, his distress obvious. "I have to go out of town for a few weeks."

Cara raised her head. "But you said. . . ." He had said so many things, and he hadn't meant any of them. "Your leaving will be difficult for them."

"It's not permanent. I'll be back in a few months."

"Which is it Rand? A few weeks or a few months?"

"I don't know. I'm not sure."

Maybe it would be a few years. Cara raised her head to stare at him. "You can tell me the truth this time. Whatever it is, I can handle it."

His eyes held such sorrow. "Can you? I hope so."

"If you're not coming back, you owe it to me and to your sons to tell us now."

"I'll be back," Rand declared decisively, then added, "but I don't know when."

Cara was too tired to argue. "If you say so." She stood. "Good-bye, Rand."

"Don't you want to know where I'm going?"

"Not in particular." Maybe it was better this way. Rand could go back to his nowhere, and she would move on with her petty little day-to-day existence. She turned to go.

"Cara, wait, please. "You need to know about my meeting with my family last night, and I want to explain about where I'm going."

Cara turned once again and stared into his anguished face. Her eyes brimmed with tears. "You can't explain away conspiracy and betrayal and what assurance do I have that you won't lie to me again?"

Rand's mouth thinned. "I made mistakes in the past, a lot of them, but I never lied to you."

"Sometimes silence is a lie."

"If that's the case you're guilty of lying to me, too." Color climbed along Rand's high cheekbones. "I'm trying now, as much as possible, to make up for some of my past mistakes. That's why I deeded you my half of the farm. That's why now I. . . ."

Fiercely, angrily, Cara interrupted. "You deeded your half of the farm to DDI and in so doing you gave your family the power to destroy me and my business. That's what they would have done if it hadn't been for Joe." She dropped back down into her chair and in a subdued voice added, "You made a mistake when you failed to include him in your little conspiracy."

Standing, Rand thrust his hands into his pockets. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Was there a chance that could be true? A whisper of hope breathed through Cara. "I would be happy to enlighten you." The words came out sounding caustic and harsh. She hadn't meant them to.

Rand eased down on the edge of the couch. "Why don't you do that?"

Cara pushed down the sympathy she felt for this obviously tormented man. "I don't know what happened at that meeting last night, but. . . ."

"You would if you weren't too pig-headed to listen."

He did have a point. "You're right." Besides that, she was discovering that she did have a need to know what had transpired there. "Tell me what happened." Folding her hands, she waited.

"Thank you." Rand settled back on the couch. "When Evan called last night he was upset. He asked me to meet with them to discuss a family matter. He said it was between the four of us and I should come alone. I know now I should have awakened you and told you I was going, but the fact remains, I didn't."

So far he hadn't told her anything she didn't know or couldn't have guessed. Cara nodded, "Go on."

"I won't bother with a lot of details but the gist of the matter is: Evan thought I should sign over my part of the farm to DDI. Mother and Aunt Irene agreed. They told me that was the only way DDI could raise the funds necessary for expansion and growth. They said that they each receive a percentage of the company's profits on a quarterly basis. I didn't know that before." His expression softened. "It was generous of you to include them in a venture I suspect you could have managed alone."

Grudgingly, Cara gave credit where credit was due. "I couldn't have. In the beginning we all worked very hard to make DDI a success." That was all water under the bridge now. "Please, go on."

With a nod, Rand continued. "Evan explained about royalties and the need for increased production since you'd signed a contract with Leward's. It all made sense. I agreed to give them a quitclaim deed. Evan called Dave Warren, he came over, I signed, and that was that."

Cara couldn't believe Rand had agreed so swiftly to sign away his inheritance. "Did it ever occur to you that might have acted hastily? Did you even consider talking to me first?"

"You had already showed me, in much more impressionable ways, that was what you wanted."

Cara opened her mouth to protest. "That's not. . ." Then changed her mind. What good would it do? "Did Evan tell you he'd made a deal with Manny Rankin to help him secure a loan?"

"He mentioned it."

Maybe she had underestimated Evan. "I didn't think he'd admit that to you."

"Why shouldn't he? Evan thinks, and Mother and Aunt Irene agree, that you're a little unreasonable where Manny is concerned."

Maybe she was, but not without reason. "Did Evan tell you Manny tried to cut a deal with him on the side?"

"Evan says Manny is concerned about Summerville's future and that makes him a little over zealous."

"Manny is concerned about his own political future and that makes him ruthless."

"Ruthless?" Rand raised one eyebrow. "Aren't you being overly dramatic?"

Cara pursed her lips. "I don't think so. Manny wanted, in return for his help in securing the loan, my promise to use my influence to persuade you to agree to building a museum and memorial in Summerville." Then she smiled. If Manny had known how little influence she had with her husband he wouldn't have wasted his time.

Rand's reply was enough to wipe an vestige of humor from her face. "Evan did say something about Manny trying to cut a deal, but that's Manny. He always tries for whatever he can get. That’s what makes him a master politician."

So Evan had twisted half-truths with lies to make her refusal to do business with Manny seem no more than petty and personal vindictiveness. "It doesn't matter because thanks to Joe, I don't have to do business with Manny. Joe voted with me at the board meeting this morning. That was something Evan hadn't counted on."

Rand squinted in her direction. "Joe voted against Mother?"

"He did. After I threatened to resign rather than do business with Manny Rankin. I now have the board's permission to seek a loan elsewhere."

"Mother agreed to that?"

"And Evan, and Aunt Irene." Cara caught her bottom lip between her teeth. She was leaving a false impression. "The truth is, we compromised. I agreed to accept your generous gift of a quitclaim deed. Your family agreed that if I did, I could go elsewhere to seek a loan."

Rand's eyes were guarded. "Are you happy with that arrangement?"

Cara shrugged. "I can live with it." She stirred in her chair. "It's been a long day. I'm going to bed."

Rand stood. "I'm leaving for New York tomorrow. I'll be catching the train early in the morning. It's a business trip." He paced the length of the room before turning. "I have a publisher who is interested in my manuscript."

Cara wondered aloud. "You have to go to New York for that? Can't you send the manuscript instead?"

"I suppose, but considering. . . . " He cleared his throat. "When I return I hope you and I can sit down and have a long talk."

Despite her better judgment, Cara dared hope. "Why can't we talk now?"

"Now's not the time. I'm upset, you're upset. There's this pressing matter. . . ." Again he paused then blurted out, "I'm flying to Europe three days from now."

Cara's face twisted in disbelief. "Where in Europe? Why are you going?"

"I'm going back to the little village of St. Die in France. Simone needs me."

Any hope Cara might have had for reconciliation vanished in the wake of those few soft-spoken words. Pain pushed her to her feet. "Good bye, Rand." She rushed toward the door.

"For God's sake, Cara, give me a chance to explain."

His harsh words struck like a physical blow, pushing pain through her head. Cara grabbed the door facing to steady herself. Nothing he could say would explain his going back to Simone. "Go Rand. Please, just go."

He was behind her now, so close she could feel his hot breath on her neck. "Something has come up. I have to go back. If I don't, Simone may be sent to prison." He grasped her shoulder. "Please, give me a chance to explain."

Cara was coming apart at the seams. Like the rag dolls she manufactured, she was stuffed with cotton and sawdust and coming unraveled at the seams. "I don't want to hear it."

Rand didn't intend to let go. "You have to listen to me."

She turned slowly, a frozen smile on her face. "And I thought your family betrayed me."

"It's not what you think.” He led her to the couch, pushed her down, and sat beside her. "This is not something I want to do, but I have to."

Later Cara would look back and realize she was in a state of shock. At the moment, she was too numb to feel or reason or even to think. "If you say so."

Rand took her hand in his and rubbed her wrists where her pulses fluttered wildly. "Do you remember me telling you how I shot off Richard Ford's face with Pierre's shotgun and had Simone tell the authorities it was the body of Floyd Carlisle?"

Cara's mind was clearing. Bits of the fantastic tale Rand had told her about how he had disguised himself as Richard Ford, prisoner of war began to float through the haze in her head. A weak "Yes" found its way through her stiff lips.

Rand held onto her hand. "Are you all right?"

He had, with a few softly spoken words, shattered her world, and now he was asking if she was all right? "I'll survive." She tried to pull her hand from his grasp.

He held on. "Would you want me to let Simone go to prison for a crime she didn't commit when it's in my power to save her?"

Even in her dazed state, Cara knew the answer to that question. "Of course not."

Rand released her hand and stood. "That's what's going to happen if I don't go back and testify in her behalf." He sat back down. A muscle twitched along his jaw line. "French authorities have arrested Simone for the murder of Floyd Carlisle. They have also charged her with collaborating with the enemy because she turned the man they think was Richard Ford over to the Germans only days before the Americans liberated St. Die."

Cara was jolted from her dazed state by those words. "But that's not true."

"I know that and you know that, but no one else does."

"What about the Free French fighter? The one you knew only as Pierre?"

Once again Rand was on his feet and staring down at her. "Pierre was killed during the battle to liberate St. Die. That leaves only two people who know the truth, Simone and me."

This was even worse than Cara had feared. Like a drowning man, she began to clutch at straws. "Can't the American government intervene and explain what happened."

"All the authorities know is what I told them when I was liberated. They can't swear to anything. The world in general and the people of St. Die in particular now view Simone as a collaborator who shot her lover and turned over an American pilot to the Germans only days before the war ended. The only person who can save her now is me. When the villagers see that the man they think is Floyd Carlisle is alive, they will, hopefully, listen to what he has to say."

Cara's mind flew to the trial of major war criminals that had begun only weeks before in Nuremberg, Germany. "This is not a good time to be taking the side of a suspected collaborator. What if they don't believe you? What if they think you're a collaborator too?"

"That's a chance I have to take."

Once Rand had accused her of having her life hopelessly tangled with Evan's. Couldn't he see that his was just as hopelessly tangled with Simone's? "I suppose you do."

Rand backed to the chair across from her and sat down. Anguish clouded the blue of his eyes. "I can see not that I have no right to ask you to wait for me again. I would like permission to see the boys on a regular basis when I return."

Cold crept into the space around Cara's heart. This was really good-bye. "I would never try to keep you from seeing your sons."

Once more Rand stood, restless as a marauding animal, he paced across the floor. "Forget about me, Cara, and get on with your life."

Never before had she felt so abandoned and alone. What life, she wanted to ask. The man she had considered her best friend had betrayed her. The family she had embraced as her own had rejected her. The child she loved like a daughter had been snatched from her. Now she was losing the only man she could ever love. Cara's chin came up. She pushed herself to her feet. "Good-bye, Rand, and good luck."

"Thank you." Turning on his heel, Rand made for the stairs.

Cara watched him as he took the steps two at a time. Then slowly, dejectedly, she turned her reluctant feet in the direction of Elaine's old bedroom.

Through a dark and seemingly endless night, Cara tossed and turned as heartbreak took its treacherous toll. How did she break the news to her sons that they had lost their 'little sister'? How did she explain to them that even though their father was gone, he hadn't deserted them?

She couldn't, nor could she conceive of a way to mend her own shattered world. Words Cousin Effie had spoken only days before echoed through the empty corridors of her mind. That's the way war works. What it doesn't destroy, it changes. Her life had been deeply impacted by events brought about by the war. What had not been destroyed had been altered forever. Now she faced the monumental task of adjusting to a troubled peacetime with all its dubious promises and frightening changes, and she faced that task alone. In the dark of a lonely night, it seemed an impossible undertaking.

With the dawning of a new day, Cara's strength was renewed and her hope revived. She had two sons to bring up and a business to run. She decided to concentrate on the many tasks at hand and let the future take care about itself. The first item on her agenda was to get her sons home and to set about helping them adjust to the absence of Nancy and Rand. The sun had scarcely risen in the sky when she dialed Elaine's number and waited impatiently as the phone ran once, twice, three times. Elaine's sleepy voice interrupted the fourth ring. "Turner residence."

Cara was in no mood to mince words. "This is Cara," she snapped into the receiver. "I'll be by for Paul and Danny in thirty minutes."

Elaine sighed into the telephone. "You're angry, I know, but don't take it out on your children."

"Thirty minutes, Elaine." Cara slammed the telephone into its cradle.

Twenty minutes later she stopped her car in Elaine's driveway and pressed on the horn. It emitted two ear-splitting blasts.

Elaine came through the front door before the echo had died away. "Are you trying to wake the dead?" She was dressed in a robe and wearing backless house shoes, not adequate protection against the early morning cold. Striding across the lawn, she stopped beside the car and motioned for Cara to lower her glass.

With some reluctance, Cara rolled down the window. "Where are my sons?"

Leaning down, Elaine folded her arms across the door. "Don't start with me, Cara. I'm as miserable about what's happened over the past few days as you are."

Cara found that hard to believe. "Are you going to send my sons out or do I have to go inside and get them?"

"Those boys are Rand's sons too."

So Elaine wanted to play hardball. Cara could do that. "You can tell him that if you ever see him again."

Elaine straightened and placed her hands on her hips. "So he's gone again."

Cara's fingers gripped the steering wheel. "Get my sons out here."

Elaine folded her arms across her chest and shivered. "And you're blaming me."

Was she? Yes, in a way, but the opposite was also true. "And you blame me." As an afterthought, Cara added. "Get inside before you take your death of cold."

Elaine rubbed her hands along her forearms. "He'll be back." She pulled her robe more tightly about her. "Please come inside. Have breakfast with us."

The old Cara would have acquiesced, and let bye-gones be bye-gones. This was a new Cara. "No, thank you. Are you going to send Paul and Danny out or do I have to go in and get them?"

Elaine knew when to retreat. "I'll send them out," she said, and then asked, "Does this mean you won't be letting Paul and Danny come here again?"

So that was Elaine's reason for wanting to make peace, she didn't want to lose access to her grandsons. "I wouldn't be that cruel or that vindictive."

Elaine hurried toward the house, calling over her shoulder as she went, "I'll call you in a day or so. We can talk." With those words, she opened the front door and went inside.

Ten minutes later, Danny and Paul came through the door, carrying overnight bags and dressed in pajamas. As they neared the car, Cara leaned across the seat and opened the front door. "Get in. It's cold out here. Where are your coats?"

Paul pulled the back of the front seat forward and motioned for Danny to get in the car. "They're in our bags."

Danny got in, and using his bag for a pillow, stretched out on the back seat. "Why did you come so early?"

Paul settled in the front seat and slammed the door. "Where's Mop Head? Did she stay home with Dad?"

Cara started the car, and looking over her shoulder, backed from the drive. "Nancy is with Uncle Evan and Aunt Irene." Shifting gears, she drove down the narrow street. Keeping her voice light, she asked, "Have you had breakfast?"

"No." Paul wasn't fooled. "Dad left again, didn't he?"

Cara kept her eyes on the road. "Let's get home. I'll make breakfast and we can talk."

"I'm not hungry. Why did he even bother coming home in the first place?"

"Dad didn't want to leave you again. I hope you understand that."

Paul sighed. "I always understood. From the beginning I knew he wouldn't stay."

Her older son's calm acceptance came as no surprise to Cara. She had expected as much. What she hadn't anticipated was Danny's reaction. He sat up and leaned forward in his seat. "He would too have stayed if Mom had been nicer to him."

Cara was appalled that her younger son would level such a charge. She wanted to deny it. She couldn't, not and be honest with herself. In so many ways she was responsible for Rand's sudden departure. "Your father went on a business trip. He will be back."

Danny wasn't convinced. "Oh, yeah? When?"

That was the one question Cara couldn't answer. "I don't know." She rolled down her window to signal a left turn. "When he finishes with his business, I suppose." She rolled up her glass. "He didn't choose to leave you. It was something he had to do."

Paul shot her a doubtful side-glance. "You told me people always have choices."

She had said that. She believed it to be true. "They do."

"Then Dad did have a choice, and he chose to leave us again."

Should she try to explain to her sons something she was having problems accepting and believing herself? "Making choices and decisions is never easy. Dad was faced with a dilemma. If he didn't go an innocent person might be sent to prison for a crime she didn't commit."

From the back seat, Danny asked, "What's a dilemma?"

"It's when a person is faced with two unpleasant choices and has to pick one." Like I'm faced with now, Cara thought. Should she go ahead and tell her sons they had lost Nancy or should she wait until a more opportune time? Thinking that there might never be a more expedient moment, she plunged ahead. "There's something else you should know."

Danny asked, "Did something happen to Blue?"

"No. Blue's fine."

Paul stared out the window. "Is it about Nancy?"

Cara glanced briefly in his direction. "How did you know?" She wondered if Evan had been talking to her sons.

Paul shrugged his thin shoulders. "I heard what Uncle Evan said to you Thanksgiving Day."

Guilt mixed with Cara's anger. What was she doing to her children? "Uncle Evan has decided that Nancy should live with him."

Danny bellowed his protest. "No. Nancy belongs with us."

Paul's tone was sympathetic. "Uncle Evan's mad at you too, isn't he Mom?" Turning his head to one side, he studied her face. "Why is everyone mad at you?"

Danny leaned forward and placed his chin on the back of the seat. "Yeah, Mom, why is everyone mad at you?"

Cara turned the car onto Trent Avenue. "Are the two of you mad at me?" Reflexively, she told Danny, "Sit back."

Danny moved back. "I'm not mad at you Mom."

Paul smiled, but his eyes were sad. "Neither am I."

Cara pulled into her drive. "Then everybody isn't mad at me. Why don't we forget our problems and go inside. I'll make potato pancakes for breakfast." She opened her car door. "Don't forget your bags."

Danny pushed past Paul and ran toward the house. "Last one inside is a rotten egg."

Paul raced after him. "You cheated. You got a head start."

Cara gathered the forgotten bags and walked toward the house. Life went on. Wars raged, then abated, mighty nations rose and fell, atomic explosions rocked the world. Change seemed the only constant, and still life took its mundane and daily course. With a sigh, she opened her front door and went inside.

Chapter Eighteen

The days slipped by, turning as they went, into weeks. November passed into oblivion. Suddenly it was mid December. A new year was just around the corner. Cara knew from the papers and the news casts that Rand had stayed only a few days in New York before flying on to France. She began to realize as she listened to broadcasts and read newspapers, just how out of touch with the outside world she was. Her universe had been the narrow world of DDI and her home and family. She vowed never to let that happen again. From now on, she would stay abreast with what was going on in the wide world around her.

Time did little to improve Cara's relations with the other members of the Williams family. Except for reports she had given at board meetings, she hadn't spoken to Elaine since Rand's departure. Over the past month she'd been forced to have several meetings with Evan. At each encounter she was careful to discuss the business at hand and never to allude to anything of a personal nature. Not that these had been difficult tasks. Both Elaine and Evan seemed more than willing to keep their distance.

Cara stood now, staring out her office window. Today she would break her self imposed silence and speak to both Elaine and Evan about some very personal issues. It was time, she decided, to clear the air. Then she could begin the New Year with a clean slate.

She had asked Elaine to come to her office this morning at ten o'clock. It was nine fifty-five now. She wondered if Elaine would show. She hadn't bothered to respond to Cara's brief note inviting her.

Cara sat behind her desk. Over the past month, she had accomplished so much in her professional life. She'd secured a second manufacturer who accepted a short-term contract. She had found a lending agency willing to loan money to DDI. She'd had to make two separate deeds to the farm, and then mortgaged the unencumbered property as collateral for the loan. That made for a tight budget, but Cara wasn't too concerned. DDI was meeting the demands of a rapidly expanding market. In general, business was good and the future looked bright.

That was more than Cara could say about her personal life. She hadn't heard one word from Rand since his departure over a month ago. Once after a board meeting, Elaine caught up to Cara as she hurried down the hall. Catching Cara's arm she said, "I had a letter from Rand yesterday. He wanted me to tell you. . . ."

Cara snatched her arm away. "I'm not interested in anything Rand has to say." If her husband couldn't tell her himself what he wanted her to know, she was damned if she'd listen to it second-hand from his mother. Now she wondered aloud, "Did I make a mistake?" Better, she decided to err on the side of safety than to open herself up for more heartbreak.

A knock on the door broke Cara's train of thought. She sat up in her chair. "Yes. Come in."

Elaine came through the door and slammed it behind her. "I don't like being sent a summons to appear before you."

Cara extended one hand. "Would you like to sit down?"

"I would like to know why you called me here."

"If you will sit down, I'll tell you."

Elaine perched on the edge of a straight-backed chair. "This had better be good."

Cara shuffled papers about on her desk. "Would you like to have the boys Christmas Day?"

For the space of a few moments, Elaine was speechless. Finally she sputtered, "Y-you k-know I would."

Cara said, "You can pick them up around nine."

Suspicion narrowed Elaine's eyes. "What's the catch?"

Cara stacked the papers in two neat piles. "No catch. The boys miss you and Joe. They want to spend Christmas with you."

The lines in Elaine's forehead deepened. "Will you leave those papers alone and tell me what this is all about?"

Cara dropped her hands to her lap. "It's about my sons. You're their grandmother. They miss you. They'd like to spend some time with you."

That skeptical frown still creased Elaine's face. "I miss them too. I didn't expect you'd be so forgiving so soon." Her frown deepened. "Have you heard from Rand?"

Cara didn't intend to discuss her personal life with Elaine. "That's none of your business."

Elaine sighed. "That means you haven't."

Cara demanded, a little too forcefully, "Do you want the boys over for Christmas?"

Elaine's answer was just as strident. "Yes, I do." Her voice softened. "Maybe you'd like to come too."

Cara laced her fingers together and held them in her lap. "No, thank you."

Elaine settled back in her chair. "You have other plans?"

Cara warned. "Don't pry."

Elaine lifted her hands. "I wasn't prying - " Then let them fall into her lap. "I'm sorry I asked."

Once again Cara's anxious fingers worried the papers on her desk. "I'll tell the boys to expect you around nine on Christmas Day." She turned her full attention to the papers before her. "Good-bye, Elaine."

Standing, Elaine gripped the back of her chair. "Good-bye, Cara."

Cara didn't bother to look up as her mother-in-law hurried away. She was still sorting through papers ten minutes later when another knock sounded on her door. Cara called out, "Come in."

This time it was Evan who entered the room and closed the door behind him. With his hand still grasping the knob, he asked, "You wanted to see me?"

Cara nodded. "Yes. Sit down."

Evan didn't move. "If it's about that shipment to Leward's in Colorado, it's on its way."

Cara opened the top drawer of her desk and slid the papers inside. "What I have to say is personal."

A slow smile creased Evan's face. "Does this mean you've forgiven me?" He turned the chair around and straddled it. With his arms folded across the back, he rested his chin on his hands. "I knew sooner or later you'd come around."

In a way Cara supposed she had 'come around.' "I'm doing some rearranging at my house. I've taken Nancy's crib down and packed her belongings in boxes. Can you come by some afternoon this week and pick them up?"

"I suppose I could." The look of anticipation that replaced his smug smile told Cara he had put the wrong interpretation on her request. "Would you like me to bring Nancy along for a visit?"

Cara thought of Nancy's sweet face and remembered the feel of her cuddly little body when she held her baby in her arms. Almost, she relented — almost, then she recalled Nancy's baby voice crying out the last time Evan had taken her away: "Mommie! Mommie! I want Mommie." She couldn't put Nancy, or herself, through that again.

"Under the circumstances I don't think that would be wise."

"Why not?" Evan turned his head to one side and studied her for a long time before asking, "Do you think it's fair to punish our daughter because you're angry with me?"

Cara picked up a pencil and ran it through her fingers. "Nancy is not my daughter." That admission was a razor sliding across her heart. "For her sake and for my sanity, I have to stop pretending she is."

Evan stood and turned his chair, then reseated himself. "I've been a fool, again." Leaning forward, he placed his hands on his knees. "I thought if I fought for you, you'd understand how much I love you, how much I want the five of us to be a family." Leaning back, he clasped his hands behind his head and sighed. "I thought myself ruthless. Instead, I see now, I was only stupid."

Evan was, despite his weak and rather selfish nature, a proud man. Cara knew it had not been easy for him to make such a degrading admission. "What happened was not all your fault." She realized, even as she spoke, that she had been just as weak as Evan had been, and in some ways even more selfish. "I should never have agreed to marry you, but I did. I should have broken things off with you the moment I knew Rand was alive, and I didn't."

Standing, Evan walked behind his chair, and then gripped the back with both hands until his knuckles whitened. "I forgive you Cara. If you can forgive me, we can start over."

She had not only been weak and selfish, she'd been dishonest, not only with Evan, but with herself. "I can forgive you, but we can't start over."

"Is it because of Rand?" Evan asked. Before Cara could respond, he queried, “Do you have some idea that he might come back to you some day?"

Cara inhaled painfully, then let her breath escape on a long sigh. Did she? "I stopped trying to second guess Rand a long time ago."

Evan spread his hands in a helpless little gesture. "He's with someone else now."

He was speaking the sad and sorrowful truth. As difficult as it was to accept, Cara knew she must. She nodded toward the chair. "Sit down, Evan."

With reluctance, Evan stepped around the chair and sat down. "It would have been better for all concerned if Rand had never come home."

As cruel as that statement sounded, Cara could understand Evan's thinking it. "I didn't ask you here to talk about Rand."

"Why did you ask me here?"

Cara came directly to the point. "I've hired Sarah Duffy to be my housekeeper. There will be times she will need to stay over night. When she does it will be in Elaine's old room. I no longer have space for Nancy's things."

"You don't fool me, Cara. I know what you're doing. You did the same thing when you thought Rand wasn't coming home again. You took everything that belonged to him and gave it away, threw it out, or sold it. Does this mean you don't want to see Nancy again?"

Misery was a steel weight in Cara's stomach. "It's not what I want, it's what I have to do. Sarah will be moving in Saturday. I'd like you to get Nancy's things by Friday night."

Tears stood in Evan's eyes. "Don't do this Cara. Let's talk. We ca. . . ."

Cara's sharp cry cut across his pleading words. "Don't." That heaviness centered now in her chest but she honed her voice with cool precision. "When can I expect you?"

Evan's shoulders sagged. "I'll be by this evening around eight."

"Good." Cara opened a drawer and took out the papers she'd stashed earlier. "Good-bye, Evan."

Evan hobbled across the floor. His hand was on the door handle before he spoke. "You're making a mistake, Cara. Probably the biggest mistake of your life." With that cryptic announcement, he opened the door and was gone.

Cara's heart fluttered with misgivings. Was she making yet another mistake by cutting this child, so like her own, from her life? Pushing the thought from her mind, she tried to concentrate on the papers before her only to find it was an impossible task. Finally, she laid them aside and stared into space. In the final analysis, she had no choice. She must do what was in Nancy's best interest, and she would, even if it killed her.

Over the next two weeks there were times when she thought it might. Nothing she did, either at home or at work took away the sharp edge of loneliness that permeated her existence. She tried to stay busy, but with the completion of the last Christmas orders, business pressures subsided. Mrs. Duffy had assumed many of the household chores. That gave Cara even more time to think, remember, regret.

Christmas Day she hit rock bottom. Mrs. Duffy went to spend the holidays with her daughter in Pleasanton. Paul and Danny were with Elaine. Cara was alone. She didn't bother to dress but sat around in her robe the entire day rehearsing, one by one each terrible circumstance of her life. The man she loved had deserted her, again. The family she'd trusted had betrayed her. She might never hold her little girl in her arms again. Nothing in her life had turned out the way she'd planned.

As evening fell, miraculously her spirits lifted as a lone positive found its way through the maze of negativity that surrounded her. She had no way to go now but up. Cara squared her shoulders. She wasn't the only person having to start over in a bewildering post war world of upheaval and change. Instead of thinking about what she'd lost, she would concentrate on what she had, two sons, DDI, and the promise of a new year. That would have to be enough. She headed for the kitchen intent on finding food to put into her empty stomach.

The next day, Cara went shopping and bought several new dresses with swirling skirts only twelve inches from the floor, unpadded shoulders and padded bosoms. At least now she could be unhappy wearing the latest Christian Dior-like creations.

New Year's Eve, Cara allowed Paul and Danny to stay up past midnight. Through a long, but pleasant evening, they made popcorn, played games, and listening to music on the radio. There seemed to be little to celebrate in Cara's personal life. She decided to be thankful that one of the government's last acts in 1945 was an anti-inflationary measure. The National War Labor Board was abolished and replaced by the Wage Stabilization Board in what seemed an honest effort to break the spiraling wage and price rise cycle.

The new year came and went without flourish or fanfare. One by one the days slid by. In the midst of change, consistency prevailed. One cold morning in mid January Cara scanned the front page of the paper and discovered that Happy Smith's barn had burned the night before, Emperor Hirohito had addressed the Japanese Diet asking them to work for peace and prosperity, Pastor P.C. Simmons had resigned his church. There was a chance that 1946 automobiles would be stranded on the assembly lines because of strikes. As she turned to the second page, she saw a caption that caused a shiver of fear to snake up her backbone. It read: German General Alton Dostler is executed by firing squad in Aversa, Italy.

So the tribunal in Nuremberg was not the only court set on seeking out and punishing war criminals. The paper fell from her nerveless fingers. What if somewhere along the way someone decided Rand was a war criminal? She tried to push such thoughts from her mind, but that little niggle of worry wouldn't go away.

In February, The United Nations set up its world peace machinery. What an awesome task, Cara thought. She couldn't achieve harmony within her own family. Cara's loan application was approved. A rare snow fell on Valentine's Day. The same day Evan asked Cara to go out to dinner with him. She refused even though she would have welcomed the companionship of another human being. It was then that she realized how lonely she was.

The following Tuesday someone broke the lock on the jail house door and Cara accepted the bid from Engle and Sons Contractors to expand the Debbie Dimples plant. Sam Engle was a squatty little man with heavy jowls and the build of a prizefighter. "I can't give you a completion date," he said, frowning as he spoke. "Building material is hard to get. Some of it is still rationed. Both my sons have deserted me, gone off, they have to attend college under the GI Bill. I'm short handed. Two of the boys I held jobs for when they went off to war have moved to the big city where work's more plentiful and wages are higher." He wagged his head causing his heavy jowls to shake. "Times are sure a changing."

In March, Winston Churchill made his famous "Iron Curtain" speech in Fulton, Missouri and Cara presented her slightly less spectacular oration to the Summerville City Council protesting their annexation proposal. She arrived at City Hall to find the meeting room crowded, and the agenda long. She thought herself lucky when she discovered annexation was the first item to be discussed and she was the first speaker.

She could feel the animosity of the crowd behind her as walked to the speaker's podium and addressed the council members who were seated behind a long table in front of her. Looking Manny Rankin squarely in the eye and speaking in a firm voice, Cara enumerated her several valid reasons Summerville should reconsider annexing the property west of town. She had five minutes to state her protest, and she took every second.

She couldn't believe it when at the close of her speech, Manny responded in dulcet tones, "Thank you, Mrs. Williams. The council will take your objections under consideration."

Cara stepped from the speaker's podium. "Thank you, Mr. Mayor." She saw no reason to prolong her stay. Without bothering to look back, she hurried down the aisle and out the door. She was half way across the parking lot when someone calling her name made her stop in her tracks and hiss under her breath, "What now?" Squaring her shoulders, she turned with the thought that whoever was following her was going to get a piece of her mind. "What do you. . . ." Her sentence snapped like a twig in a gale. She had expected to see one of Manny's lackeys. The distinguished middle-aged man approaching her was someone she'd never seen before.

He extended one hand as he closed the distance between them with long sure strides. "Mrs. Williams, wait a moment, please."

"If Manny sent you out here to try to intimidate me or to get me to change my mind you can. . . . "

"It's nothing like that, I assure you." By now the man stood directly in front of her." Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Colonel Archibald Travers." He gave Cara's hand a firm shake. "I've been intending to come out to DDI and visit with you."

Cara eyed him skeptically. "You have? Why?" The name Travers rang a bell. "Have we met before?"

"Perhaps you've seen my picture in the paper, or you remember Agatha, my wife. She called on you some months back." The man's bearing and demeanor said he was someone of importance. "She came with Mayor Rankin. Agatha is the president of the Summerville Historical Society."

"Oh, yes." Cara recalled with a frown. "I remember."

"Can we go somewhere and talk?" Colonel Travers took Cara's arm. "Would you like a cup of coffee?"

She would like to know what the hell this man wanted. There seemed to be only one way to find out. "That would be nice."

Colonel Travers rested his hand under her elbow. "Your speech was brilliant."

Cara pulled back. "It was?"

"Sheer rhetorical magic. And very clever too. Reminding the city fathers that it would be incumbent upon them to supply you with fire and police protection once you became a part of the city should make them stop and think. They are in no position to do either of those things at this time." He guided Cara across the square toward the Blue Goose Cafe. "And asking them about providing you with sewer services and garbage pick up was nothing less than a stroke of genius."

Cara raised a questioning eyebrow. "Are you trying to flatter me?"

The colonel chuckled. "Now why would I do that?"

Cara didn't know why. She suspected she was about to find out.

Her suspicions were soon confirmed. The pair was scarcely seated in a booth near the back of the Blue Goose when Colonel Travers leaned across the table and announced: "I am the newest candidate in this year's race for mayor of Summerville."

Before Cara could reply, a waitress appeared. Colonel Travers ordered two cups of coffee then waited until the young woman was out of earshot to say, "Election day is the sixth of May."

"I know," Cara answered, then added, "You're up against a formidable opponent."

The colonel smiled. "And one you don't like very well."

Cara swallowed a gulp of coffee. It was flat and tasteless. "Colonel, why did you ask me here?"

The colonel sipped from his cup, then grimaced. "I'd like it if you'd call me Archie."

For the first time in nearly four months, Cara laughed aloud. Archie seemed an incongruous name for someone as distinguished and aloof as Colonel Travers. "Archie, why did you ask me here?"

The colonel chuckled. "I see you have a sense of humor." He sobered suddenly. "I'd like your support."

Not liking Manny was not adequate reason for Cara to support an opposing candidate. "Just because Manny's a bad mayor doesn't guarantee you'd be a good one."

Archie took another quick sip of coffee, then set his cup in its saucer. "Manny Rankin is not only a bad mayor, he's a dishonest and conniving man. If half the things he's done over the past several years ever come to light, he might well wind up in prison."

Cara pushed her cup from her. "That still doesn't give me reason to support you."

Archie turned his cup around in its saucer. "You're a shrewd young woman." Holding up one hand, he used his fingers to enumerate. "One, I care about this little city. Two, I'm immanently qualified to lead and make decisions. Three, I understand the intricacies of city government, Four, I'm much more honest than Manny. Five, I can erect a memorial and open and maintain a museum in this city at no cost to the tax payers." Pushing his cup back, he folded his arms and rested them on the table. "That museum and memorial will honor World War Two veterans in general and Sergeant Randall Williams in particular."

Cara felt a spurt of elation. "A museum and a memorial? At no cost to taxpayers?" Her euphoria was short lived. "Would there be an admittance fee?"

"Never." Archie turned his head to one side. "You're skeptical?" His question was in reality a statement. Leaning back, he said, "Let me explain."

Cara nodded. "Please do."

"The historical Society is funding the cost of the memorial, and a magnificent one it is, I might add. Agatha has found a young sculptor who was willing to donate his services. She has also persuaded the owner of one of the vacant buildings in downtown Summerville to donate it to the society and claim it as a tax write off."

"What about maintenance?" Cara asked.

"Simple." Archie answered. "Volunteers from the Historical Society will run the place. Sales from memorabilia and souvenirs will pay utilities and help hire a curator. The Historical Society will pick up the tab for the remainder of the curator's salary."

Cara was impressed. "Is this something you envision happening soon?"

"The grand opening is scheduled for July the Fourth of this year. Most of the credit goes to Agatha." Archie narrowed his gaze. "Will you support me?"

Cara smiled. "Since you had the good sense to marry your Agatha, yes."

Archie scooted to the end of his seat. "I'll be in touch." He stood. "Will you husband be pleased about the museum?"

Cara stood and picked up her handbag. Four years, even four months ago she would have had an answer for that question. She didn't now. "I don't know." She hurried toward the door, calling after her as she went, "I'll be expecting your call."

Chapter Nineteen

March had come in like a lamb and running true to form, seemed just as determined to go out like the proverbial lion. One blustery morning near the end of the month, Cara settled behind her desk and began her daily perusal of the newspaper. The headlines brought a wry smile. U.N. Assembly is now set to analyze serious world problems. She could tell them from experience that analyzing was a far cry from solving.

Sam Engle interrupted her reading with an early morning telephone call. "Is that you, Mrs. Williams?" Without waiting for verification, he went on. "I have good news and bad news. The good news is the forms for your new buildings are in place. The bad news is I can't get the reinforcement steel I need to pour the foundation until next month."

Cara wondered if she'd have to extend her contract with her second manufacturer. "When next month?"

"That depends on a lot of things. I'll let you know when I know."

What could Cara say? Nothing obviously. "Thank you for calling." She hung up the phone then flipped to the second page of her paper. The caption that caught her eye made her blood run cold. Three Japanese war criminals hanged in Singapore. A picture of three lifeless bodies swinging from a makeshift gallows was mute testimony of the veracity of that statement. Cara studied it with chilling fascination. Even with sacks over their heads, the wrenching bend of their necks was patently obvious. Maybe a firing squad wasn't the worst fate that could befall a war criminal. Cara wondered if Rand was even now somewhere in a prison awaiting some terrible form of execution. She had carefully scanned the papers each day since he'd left last November. Four months and there had been nothing, not one little item, not a single line to indicate where he was or what he might be doing. It was time she faced reality. Rand had gone back into his nowhere. He wasn't coming home, not now, not ever.

A knock at the door interrupted Cara's morbid train of thought. She had told Trudy earlier, "No visitors and no calls." She decided to ignore what she considered to be a rude intrusion.

The knock sounded again, this time louder and more persistent. Elaine's voice called from the other side. "I know you're in there, Cara. Open up. We have to talk to you."

We? Cara raised an eyebrow. "Make an appointment with Trudy."

Another, deeper voice answered. "Let us in, Cara. This is important."

"Evan." Cara mouthed in disgust. So he and Elaine were conspiring together, again. Her voice lifted. "Come back tomorrow."

Elaine's answer was to open the door and march boldly inside. "This nonsense has gone far enough." She dropped into a chair and motioned for Evan to come in. "And shut the door after you."

Evan obeyed, closing the door behind him.

Cara laid her paper aside. "What is this all about?"

Elaine scowled at Evan. "Sit down for heaven's sake so we can get on with this."

"Get on with what?" Cara asked as Evan dragged a chair from the corner of the room and set it beside Elaine.

Elaine's voice snapped with impatience. "Evan, for God's sake sit down."

Evan eased into the chair. "I'm not sure Aunt Elaine should be here."

Cara agreed with that statement. "Then why is she?"

Elaine answered, "Because Evan was too spineless to come alone."

Evan bristled. "That's not so." He hung his head. "Aunt Elaine wants to talk to you."

Elaine shot him a lethal look then turned her toxic gaze in Cara's direction. "I see no point in bandying words. I'll come straight to the point."

"What is the point?"

"As if you didn't know," Elaine snapped.

Cara's patience was wearing thin. "Know what?"

"What you are going to do about Nancy?"

"Nancy?" Cara wondered how Nancy had become a part of this conversation. "Me?" Sudden anger improved her posture considerably. "I have no say in Nancy's life anymore. Your nephew has made sure of that." She scorched Evan with a searing look. "Tell your aunt what you told me."

Elaine waved a dismissive hand in Evan's direction. "He already has." She leaned forward in her chair. "I warned you about Evan. But did you listen to me? No."

Before Cara could begin to defend herself, Evan catapulted from his chair. "Now just a damn minute."

Elaine impaled him on yet another stabbing stare. "Sit down and shut up."

Evan fell into his chair. "Maybe we should go."

Elaine spoke with spiked malice. "Not yet."

By now Cara was more puzzled than angry. She was beginning to worry. "Is Nancy ill?"

Elaine shook her head. "No, but Irene is."

Cara felt a little pang of guilt. She'd completely ignored Aunt Irene over the past four months. "Is she going to be all right?"

"She's going to be fine," Elaine answered. "But she is no longer able to care for Nancy."

Fear was replacing Cara's worry. "What will happen to Nancy now?"

Elaine hissed like a deflating balloon. "That's up to you." On a trapped breath, she added, "Nancy still asks for you."

Evan chimed in, "She does, every night, she asks over and over, 'Where's Mommie? Where's Mommie?" He cut his eyes in Cara's direction. "We thought you might care for Nancy for a while. Just until Mother is better or we can make other arrangements."

Her baby wanted her and oh how she wanted her baby. As much as she would have welcomed Nancy back into her life, Cara knew she couldn't be that selfish. How could she bear to keep her darling for a few months or even a few years and then have her torn from her arms again? "I can't keep her." She heart swelled to bursting. "You will have to find someone else."

On a resigned note, Elaine declared, "There is no one else."

Evan's hostility sent him catapulting to his feet. "How can you be so cruel? I can understand you wanting to punish me, but how can you reject Nancy?"

Cara swallowed the tears in her throat. "I'm not rejecting Nancy. I'd love to have her with me, but I can't take her again unless it's on a permanent basis."

Evan surprised her completely when he asked, "What would you consider a permanent basis?"

A faint flicker of hope warmed the coldness that had settled in Cara's stomach. Without batting an eye, she said, "I’d want custody."

Evan sat back down. "I don't know. . ."

His ambivalence fired Cara's hope even more. "I'd like to adopt Nancy."

Evan shook his head. "Not that."

Elaine intervened. "I think it's a damn good idea."

Cara's eyes widened in surprise. "You do?" She decided to push her advantage. "Evan, please. You could see her on a regular basis. I'd love and care for her always. She'd have a home and a mother and two adoring brothers."

Evan's lips thinned. "And no father."

Cara was quick to assure him. "You will always be Nancy's father."

Evan's countenance brightened. "And you won't be angry with me anymore?"

She was angry with him now. The thought that he would barter his daughter to win her forgiveness infuriated Cara. She bit back a caustic reply. "We can talk about that later."

Evan seemed near tears. "I'm sorry I lied."

That brought a quick response from Elaine. "You lied about what? Evan, damn it, you swore to me you'd told nothing but the truth."

Cara didn't intend to let a petty family quarrel destroy her opportunity to gain custody of her daughter. "Stay out of this, Elaine." Coming around her desk, she put her hand on Evan's shoulder. "I forgive you. Let me call Dave Warren." She wanted Evan's signature on a legal document before he had a chance to change his mind. "And ask him to come over right away."

Evan was reluctant. "I don't know. . . ."

"I do." Elaine countered. She nodded to Cara. "Call." Then said to Evan, "Why don't you take the day off? Go home. Visit with your mother."

Cara thought Elaine had some nerve, giving her employee the day off. She was too happy over the prospect of gaining custody of Nancy to reprimand her mother-in-law. "I think Evan should stay here until this is settled."

"It is settled," Elaine answered, and then told Evan. "Go home."

Evan questioned, "Cara?" It was evident he wanted to escape.

Cara wondered why. She decided not to ask. "Go home, if that's what you want."

"Mother could use my help." Evan scooted toward the door. "Call me when the papers are ready to sign." He paused in the entranceway. "I'll bring Nancy to you this evening after dinner." So saying, he fled down the corridor.

Cara retraced her footsteps back behind her desk. Her heart beat high with happiness. Without being prompted, indeed without even being asked, Evan had said this evening he'd bring Nancy home. It was almost as if he wanted to be rid of the child. As she sat in her chair, a disturbing thought took her. That's exactly what he did want. Elaine and Evan had come here with the distinct purpose of pushing Cara into demanding custody of Nancy. As elated as she was at the prospect of having her daughter back, she couldn't shake the feeling of having been duped. Leaning back in her chair, she stared across her desk and into the pleased countenance of her mother-in-law. "You and Evan planned this, didn't you?"

Elaine huffed out a sigh. "Are you complaining?"

"No. It's what I want. I hope Evan doesn't change his mind."

Elaine snorted, "Not a chance."

Cara wanted to believe that. "How can you be so sure?"

"The past few months have been difficult for Evan. He's been stuck with caring for his ailing mother and seeing after an active, inquisitive toddler. He's more than ready to throw in the towel." Elaine's voice softened. "Nancy belongs with you, Cara. That's why I agreed to help Evan give her back to you in a way that would leave his pride intact."

Cara's mind raced to the time she would have Nancy with her. "Paul and Danny will be so happy." She shifted in her chair as another sobering thought took her. "They may not want to come to visit you this weekend."

The only sign of Elaine's tension was her hands gripping the arms of her chair. "Maybe Nancy could come with them."

"You want Nancy too?"

"Is that so hard for you to believe?"

It wasn't. Whatever Elaine's faults, she loved her family and that included Nancy. "No. It's not. You'll have your hands full."

"With Joe's help. I'll manage."

After a second of silence, Cara said, "Thank you, Elaine."

Elaine's fingers relaxed as a half smile touched her lips. "If you want to express your appreciation you can tell me who Evan lied to and what he lied about."

As grateful as she was, Cara didn't want to do that. "It's not important." She was getting her daughter back and, despite the pain it brought, she could accept that Rand had vanished back into his nebulous nowhere. Why awaken sleeping dogs? "It doesn't concern you."

"Anything that concerns this family concerns me."

"Let it go, Elaine."

Elaine was as perceptive as she was tenacious. "Evan lied to Rand about you. Oh, God, what did he tell him?"

Elaine wasn't going to shut up until she had some kind of explanation. "Evan has a clever way of manipulating the truth. He told Rand some untruths then ended by saying that I'd promised to marry him."

Elaine sat up and looked surprised. "Had you?"

This woman was impossible. "Yes, and that one truth made all Evan's lies sound like gospel."

Elaine's eyes narrowed. "Is that why Rand left?"

"I don't know why Rand left." Dull despair reduced Cara's voice to a whisper. "All I know is he isn't coming back, so can we leave it there?"

"Is that what you believe?" Elaine clucked her tongue as she shook her head. "What an idiotic assumption."

Now she was being insulting. Cara sat up and squared her shoulders. "Don't you have somewhere to go or something to do?"

Elaine stood and ran her hands along the sides of her hair. "I do, as a matter of fact." She smoothed her skirt. "I'm preparing for my son's homecoming."

Disbelief brought Cara's head up. "Rand is coming home?" She pushed down a surge of elation. Even if her husband came home, it wouldn't be to her. "I'm glad for you."

"This is all such a mess." Elaine looked every day of her sixty-three years. Suddenly, impetuously, she leaned across the desk and caught Cara's hands in hers. "I'm sorry I listened to Evan about that terrible deal with Manny." Dropping Cara's hands, she moved back. "I'm sorry, period. Irene and I should never have interfered." Before Cara could respond, she turned and raced from the room.

As Elaine hurried down the corridor and disappeared around a corner, dissenting thoughts blew across Cara's mind like dry leaves caught in a whirlwind. She had her daughter back. That was reason for both joy and consternation, for it meant, like it or not, she had Evan back in her life again too. Elaine had apologized and not in some round about, half-hearted way. She had come right out and said, 'I'm sorry.' That realization left Cara at once pleased and confused. Why? What did she want now? What did she expect from Cara in return? Rand was coming home! That thought simultaneously brought a rush of gladness and a chill of fear. How long would he stay this time? In a matter of weeks or months would he drift once again back into that other world that Cara could never share?

A cautious little voice whispered through her mind, telling her, not what she should do, but warning her against what not to do. "Don't," the voice admonished, "ever let any of them close to you again." Distance, that's what she must maintain, distance. The voice taunted, "And don't go spinning foolish dreams. If Rand stays or goes, he doesn't want you." How could Cara argue with that statement when she had Rand's words to reinforce it. Forget about me, Cara, and get on with your life. She would forget him in time, she had to, meanwhile, she'd go about the business of day-to-day living.

The first step toward 'getting on' she decided, was to call Mrs. Duffy and ask her if she was willing to become a part time nanny as well as a housekeeper. "It would mean an increase in salary," Cara told the older woman as she twisted the telephone cord around her hand. She wasn't sure how she could work another expense into her already tight budget, but by the same token, she could hardly ask Mrs. Duffy to take on more responsibility without offering remuneration.

Even with the promise of more money Mrs. Duffy was reluctant. "I'm not sure I'm up to coping with a two-year-old six days a week."

"How about five days a week? Cara asked, and then held her breath.

The voice on the other end of the line was indecisive. "Maybe."

"With more money and an extra day off, you could visit your daughter and that grandbaby you adore every weekend." Cara knew she was using unfair tactics. She soothed her conscience by assuring herself this was an emergency.

"I suppose we could give it a try."

"Good. I'll be home early this evening and we can iron out the details." Cara hung up the phone and turned her attention back to the papers on her desk.

The days came and went in endless secession. April arrived shaking a rain tambourine and wearing flowers in her hair. Shirley Temple disclosed her engagement to Sergeant John Agar. The navy announced that The USS McKinley would be the flagship of the peacetime atomic bomb tests, and Bikini Atoll in the Pacific would be the place. Paul and Danny, with Mrs. Duffy's help, finally got around to making a cake to celebrate Nancy's homecoming. The steel arrived for the building's foundation. Cara wondered if a priority offered to veterans who wanted to build homes would result in further building material shortages. She decided she would have to extend her contract with her second manufacturer for six more months.

The following Saturday morning Paul, Danny, and Nancy went to visit Joe and Elaine. Alone and looking forward to enjoying a quiet afternoon, Cara settled in an overstuffed chair and flipped through the pages of the novel she had borrowed from the library the evening before. She was completely absorbed in the introduction on the dust cover when she heard the scraping of a key in the front lock. Laying the book aside, she called out, "Who's there? Mrs. Duffy?"

A deep masculine voice responded, "It's me, Rand." Coming through the door, he pocketed his key and set his suitcase on the floor. He was dressed in dark pants and a white shirt that was open at the collar. His suit coat was slung over one arm. "Hello, Cara."

After four years or four months, seeing him again brought the same responses, a rush of unfettered joy that accelerated her heart rate followed by an uneasy weight of sorrow. "Hello, Rand."

His eyes scanned the room, then his head pivoted to look up, then down the hall. Turning his gaze back toward Cara, he asked, "Are you alone?"

Cara swallowed, trying to bring her fluttering pulse and her run-away emotions under control. "The boys and Nancy are with your mother."

"I know." Lines of weariness etched Rand's face. "I talked with her on the phone."

"When did you get. . . . " She was set to say home. This wasn't his home. "...back?"

"About an hour ago." Rand laid his coat on the back of the couch. "I flew in and took a taxi from the airport. Who's Mrs. Duffy?"

"Adele Duffy, Burt Duffy's widow." Cara's pulse was slowing to approximate normal. She wondered why Rand had come here instead of going to Elaine's. "She helps with the housework and minds Nancy on week days."

Rand dropped onto the couch. "I didn't know Burt was dead."

Anger moved in to occupy the vacuum confusion had created in Cara's brain. After four months of silence, how dare this man enter her home and fall so casually into trivial conversation? "Burt has been dead for almost a year." He was waiting, she was sure, for her to ask what she was dying to know, why this visit? She was damned if she'd give him that satisfaction. "The children won't be home until tomorrow afternoon."

"I know. Mother told me. Are you expecting Mrs. Duffy today?" Rand pushed nervous fingers through his hair.

Cara noticed it was longer now and beginning to curl along the nape of his neck. "She won't be back until Monday morning."

Leaning back, Rand stretched his arms across the top of the couch. "Good, then we can talk."

Cara's anger escalated. Four months age she'd begged him to talk to her and his excuse for refusing had been he 'had more pressing matters on his mind'. Then he'd walked out on her, for the second time. She hadn't heard a word from him since. Did he think he could, without notice, calmly waltz back into her life and take up where he'd left off? He had better think again. "We have nothing to talk about."

"Yes, we do. We have two sons and from what Mother tells me we're in the process of acquiring a daughter."

Confusion nudged in around Cara's anger. "Are you talking about Nancy?"

"Who else?" Rand shrugged one shoulder. "Mother says we're adopting her."

She should have known. He was running scared again, afraid she was saddling him with yet another child. She could soon set his mind at ease. "We are not adopting Nancy. I'm adopting Nancy. You're not responsible for her in any way."

Rand's expression hardened. "What about our boys?"

Her eyes locked into his. "You weren't concerned about them four months ago, or four years ago. Why should you care now?"

He met her condemning gaze with cool composure. "You're being damned insulting, and more than a little unfair."

She was being unfair? This man was unbelievable. "Relax, Rand. You're off the hook. I can take care of my children without any help from you or anyone else."

He had the audacity to ask, "Does this mean Evan is out of the picture?"

She stared him down. "You have some nerve asking that, but yes."

Rand looked away. "I'm doing this badly." Suddenly, he was on his feet and pacing across the room. "I'm not trying to shirk my responsibility, far from it."

She could have told him that he'd been doing just that for a very long time now. As her pain subsided, common sense prevailed. That would be both cruel and useless. "Why don't you come to the point?"

"I should have been a little more sensitive to your needs four months ago when you wanted to talk." Coming to an abrupt halt, he turned to stare at her. "My only excuse is I was hurt and confused and angry. Finding out about you and Evan really knocked me for a loop."

He still believed she'd slept with his cousin. Cara opened her mouth to refute that charge, and then changed her mind. What good would it do? "Is that why you went running back to Simone?"

Rand's jaw tightened. "I didn't go. . . ." He sat in a chair near the door and dropped his head into his hands. "I've done a lot of thinking over the last four months."

It was on the tip of her tongue to inquire about what else he'd done. Instead she asked, "Why didn't you write?"

Rand raised his head to stare upward at nothing in particular. "I thought you were with Evan until Mother wrote me a few weeks back and told me you weren't. By then there was no use. I could be home by the time a letter arrived."

That sounded more like an excuse than an explanation, but Cara accepted it. She still didn't know why he'd come here and she had the feeling he wasn't going to tell her until she asked. She decided to humor him. The sooner he said what he'd come to say, the sooner he'd leave. "Why did you come here?"

Rand smiled. "I thought you'd never ask."

"Now I have, so tell me, then you can go."

His smile vanished as once more he said, "I'm doing this all wrong. I should have asked you out, taken you to some fancy restaurant, plied you with food and drink, asked you to forgive me for being so unfeeling." He smile again, then ducked his head.

Cara's heart picked up an uneven beat. This had all the earmarks of a bid for some kind of truce. What did he want? Like a bolt from the blue it hit her. He wanted his freedom. That meant only one thing. He was trying to find a way to ask her for a divorce. He was going back to Simone. Deep inside she'd always suspected he would. That didn't lessen the pain. "What makes you think I'd go out with you?"

"I'm not sure you would." Leaning back in his chair, Rand took a deep breath. "I'm not sure of anything anymore." He looked past her to stare into space, with something remote and wretched buried deep in his gaze. "Europe is a shambles, Cara. There's nothing there but chaos. Families are separated, people are displaced, the cities have been destroyed, and the countryside is ravaged." His face was grim. "I saw more horror in four months of peace than I witnessed in four years of war." His hands clenched into fists. "Lost, hungry children, maimed young men, vacant-eyed women, old people begging and picking through rubble trying to find enough food to stay alive. I saw bodies reduced to skeletons and minds vacant from suffering beyond imagination. Those were the survivors of Hitler's concentration camps." Slowly, his hands unclenched. "Man's inhumanity to man is beyond belief."

Even second-hand, a glimpse of such atrocities was mind altering. "It sounds terrible."

"It is and what's worse, the war with all its killing, raping, pillaging and destroying didn't bring peace."

A chill traveled down Cara's backbone. "But we are at peace, and now we have the United Nations."

"We keep crying, 'Peace, peace. ' but there is no peace, just a different kind of war." Rand shook his head. "The United Nations can no more solve the world's problems than I can fell a forest with a pen knife." His face could have been carved in granite. "The dream of a brave new world is a mockery, an illusion, a snare."

He did know how to evoke her sympathy. "I'm sorry it was so painful for you." He had gone to that chaos on a mission of mercy. It was suddenly important to Cara that she know its outcome. "How's Simone?"

"She's well, and free, and happy." The tense lines in Rand's face softened. "And looking forward to starting a new life."

That was enough to jar Cara to the tips of her toes. She didn't have to ask who Simone would be starting that new life with, she knew. "Then she wasn't convicted of a crime?"

"No. It took some time and some doing, but the case was dismissed." Rand waited, apparently expecting Cara to ask more questions. When she didn't, he shrugged and asked, "Does Evan come to see Nancy often?"

In the wake of Rand's recent revelation about the destruction of a continent and the decimation of its people, Cara's anger seemed petty and trivial. In a much more civil tone, she answered, "He sees her when she goes to Elaine's on the weekends."

Once more, Rand stood and moved nervously around the room. "Only then?"

"Sometimes not even then."

Rand perched on the arm of the couch. “I’ve hired a literary agent who has in turn found a publisher for my book. It will be released the first day of July." He slid down onto a couch cushion. "I've signed a contract for a second novel."

That all seemed well and good, but Cara wondered why he was telling her all this. "You seem to have put your life in order."

"Not quite, there's one other thing." He paused as if trying to gather courage. "I don't know how to go about asking you this. . . ." His voice trailed away on a sigh.

This was the end. Cara knew that. She braced herself and waited.

Rand swallowed, then sat as mute as a statue. No words he could have spoken would have been as telling as that stretch of soft silence. Finally, Cara urged, "Yes? What?"

"If you'd let me, I'd like to come home to you and the boys and Nancy."

Gradually his words found lodging in Cara's brain. "You don't want a divorce?"

"My God! No!" He moved swiftly to stand before her. "What happened between you and Evan while I was away doesn't matter anymore. It's past history. We can put it behind us."

Cara swallowed over the knot in her throat. "What about Simone?"

Pulling Cara to her feet, Rand guided her to the couch, sat down and pulled her down beside him. "We can put her in the past too. That's where she belongs." He drew her to him in a loose embrace.

The warmth of his body enveloped her. She could feel the strong beat of his heart against her breast before she pushed him from her. "You're not going back to her?"

Rand grabbed her shoulders and stared into her eyes. "Why would you think that?"

Cara pushed his hands away. "That's what you said." He hadn't, not in so many words. "That's what I thought, assumed."

"You thought wrong, you assumed wrong. Simone is marrying the police officer who investigated her case." Rand jumped to his feet. "Forget Simone. Forget what you thought I said." He was once again pacing across the room. "Can we concentrate on us?" With a sigh he dropped into a chair. "I've been half out of my mind with worry, afraid you'd toss me out before I had a chance to set things right." His smile was beguiling. "Thank God, you didn't."

Were things right? Cara supposed they were as right as they ever could be. So many new and struggling thoughts were floating around in her head. Having him back would be heaven. It would also be temporary and an invitation to heartbreak. A calm sadness settled in the nether regions of her heart. She couldn't do this, not again.

Rand leaned forward. "Say something, Cara."

Whatever her choice, she would live to regret it. For once she let her head rule her foolish heart. If she ever intended to stop this pattern of desertion followed by absence then return and reconciliation, she had to do it now with one clean break. "The answer is. . . ."

Rand raised his hands palms out, as if to deflect a reply he didn't want to hear. "On second thought, don't, not yet." He stood and made an awkward move toward the door. "Before I go, I'd like to get the duffle bag and writing material I left upstairs."

Cara had given all that to the museum committee weeks ago, and she told him so. "They want to make a display." She extended her hand. "May I have my door key?"

"So it's come to that. Once again you've ridded yourself of anything that reminded you of me." Rand put the key in his pocket. "Do you mind telling me why you refuse to try again?"

"I'm not interested in a temporary husband." Cara snapped her fingers. "Give me that key."

"That's an improvement. Last time around you weren't interested in a husband period." He made no attempt to surrender the key.

That's what it had been, Cara thought, the last time. "I can always change the locks."

"I'll be back in a few days." He hurried through the door and slammed it behind him.

Cara blinked back tears. When and if he showed up again, she would just have to deal with him.

Chapter Twenty

Late the next Wednesday evening, Cara was sitting at the kitchen table, balancing household accounts and wondering where she could cut corners when she was interrupted by a deep masculine voice calling her name. "Cara?"

She looked up to see Rand standing in the doorway. "What are you doing here?"

"You and I have some unfinished business." He came inside and shut the door.

Cara waved her hand over the cluttered table. "As you can see, I'm busy."

"Go ahead, I'll wait." He came across the room and sat in a chair across from her.

Cara closed her ledger. How could she concentrate with him sitting there staring at her. "What do you want?"

"I want to come home."

She didn't intend to be three times a fool. "You think I'm going to let you just walk back in here after the way you left? You should know me better than that."

"That's the problem," Rand said with a little shake of his head. "I don't know you at all. When I went away, I left a little clinging vine who was unable to decide what to serve for dinner. I returned four years later to find in her place a shrewd business woman who could not only manage her own life quite well, thank you, she was doing a fine job of steering a successful enterprise as well."

Did she seemed that different to him? "I've changed, I know. So have you."

"I do hope so." His smile invited confidence. "I'd like to get acquainted with the new Cara. Would you like to get to know the new Rand?"

It was disquieting for Cara to realize that she just might. She was suddenly at a loss for words. It seemed strange that after all these years she should feel uncomfortable in his presence. "I can't make any promises."

"I'm not asking for any. I want to hear about the evolution of Cara."

Cara blinked. "Evolution?"

"Yes. You said you'd changed. "Why? When? How?"

"You sound like a newspaper reporter," Cara found herself pondering over questions she'd never thought to dwell on before. "Why did I change?" After a moment's reflection she knew. "The war is why. It altered my life."

Rand nodded his understanding. "All catastrophes are catalysts for change. Personal catastrophes change individuals, national catastrophes change countries. The war was a global catastrophe. It changed the world."

"It played havoc with mine." Cara hesitated, unsure if she should continue. The truth would be less than complementary to the man who sat across from her.

Rand urged, "Go on."

She gave him a rueful smile. "My husband dropped out of sight. I was penniless, I had two children to support. My little town suddenly became a bustling city filled with strangers who had no concern for what was happening to me. I had to learn to be strong for my children." Old memories brought a rush of pain.

Rand touched the back of her hand with his fingers. "Was it that bad?"

"It wasn't all bad. Some good came from you leaving and your father dying so suddenly. I got to know Elaine and discovered, much to my dismay, that I liked her. Not many women would take in their dead husband's pregnant mistress."

"Having Marsha live with you was Mother's idea?"

His surprise made Cara smile. "You know how your mother is about family. The irony of the situation was that after a while she and Marsha became friends. And then there was Nancy. If Baron had lived, she would never have been born."

"You really love that little girl, don't you?"

"Very much, and I always have. When she was a sexless embryo with no name, I cared about her. I know what's it's like to grow up without parents or family. I didn't want that to happen to the baby Marsha was carrying."

"So you persuaded Evan to marry her?"

Cara admitted, despite the discomfort is caused, "It was my idea." She didn't want to elaborate further. "That's when the 'when' began."

Rand's eyebrows shot up. "What?"

Cara smiled, "Not what, when." then sobered. "You asked me when I began to change." She pondered, rehearsing past events in her mind. "I can't pinpoint some dramatic event or happening. I can't cite some specific date or time." Her life had been, for the most part, a long series of ordinary days. "You went away. Baron died. Elaine was devastated because she'd lost her husband. Evan was depressed because his business was in shambles. Aunt Irene couldn't cope with the thought that she was bankrupt. Marsha was destitute and pregnant. I had to do something to change all that. In the process of doing, I changed.

Rand looked at her with something akin to admiration lighting his face. "You've evolved into a most extraordinary woman."

She hadn't, not really, but it brought a sense of shameless pride to hear him say those words. She reached to touch him, and then drew her hand back. "That leaves only the how. I'd like to tell you that all this change created in me some profound sense of destiny and purpose. It didn't." Hesitantly, she admitted, "I'm not a thinker of deep philosophical thoughts, and I never will be. I suppose there are some things about ourselves that we can't change."

Rand cocked an eyebrow. "That's an amazingly profound statement for one who denies the ability to philosophize."

She glanced up quickly. Was he laughing at her? He looked more perplexed than amused. There were so many things she could have said. Discretion dictated caution. "It's your turn. Now you tell me about the evolution of Rand."

Leaning back, he smiled. "Fair enough. What would you like to know?"

"We can begin with why, when, how."

He frowned as he rubbed his hand along his cheek. "Why? Because I moved from one world to another and became someone else." He looked over her head and stared into space, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

Cara sat, silent and pensive, waiting for him to expound or explain.

He did neither. Instead he grimaced and asked, "When did I change?" He answered his own question, "When I moved from illusion to disillusion. When yesterday's unheeded dream became today's lingering nightmare." He pushed himself to a standing position. "I assumed another identity, became a man I didn't like, couldn't respect, in the vain hope that the end would justify the means. It didn't. That brave new world I thought I was helping to attain will never be."

She felt his pain. "I'm so sorry."

He sat back down. "And so wise. You could see from the onset that destiny is preordained and there is no purpose to life. My how was late in coming. I had to see post war devastation to know that conflict and killing massacre and murder is not the key to achieving a better world."

Sadness shadowed the hazel of Cara's eyes. "You think everything you did was in vain?"

Rand scoffed, "I don't know. I doubt it was worth the price I paid."

This was more than idle rhetoric. She sensed in his words a deep-seeded desire to recapture that sense of promise and expectation life had held for him, for both of them, before war, separation and upheaval had taken them away. He could never do that, nobody could. Broken promises and shattered expectations were like youth and Innocence, once lost, they could never be reclaimed.

The silence between them expanded before Cara said, "Would the new Rand like to have dinner with the new Cara next Sunday?"

"The new Rand would like that very much."

Another pause weighted the air.

In an attempt to revive the dead silence that sprawled between them, Cara asked, "Are you excited about your book being published?"

One side of Rand's mouth turned up in a half grin. A sure signal that he accepted her tacit offer of a temporary truce. "I am. I've had some good reviews."

Cara had read some of those reviews. They had been much more than just good. She recalled such phrases as: A spectacular new voice in contemporary fiction, and A rare jewel of a story that touches the heart. "You're being modest."

"I'm trying to be realistic. The book is controversial. It raises issues and speaks to problems most people don't want to acknowledge, let alone face."

Surprise tilted Cara's voice. "But the book's fiction." After a moment's consideration, she asked, "Isn't it?"

"It is, but fiction is nothing more than an individual truth." He swung his head to one side. "Who knows what the final outcome will be? However, there's a movie deal in the offing and I've signed a contract for a second book."

At last they had found some safe ground. "I look forward to reading it."

"I'll bring you a copy when I come for dinner Sunday." He turned on his heel and walked away without a backward look.

Cara had thought the next few days would drag by. Instead they fairly flew. Saturday, on the way home from work, Cara stopped at a grocery store. She was going make a sumptuous Sunday dinner for her husband and her children.

Her spirits were still soaring the next morning as she rose early and began preparing a pot roast. Some of that elation died when the telephone rang and Elaine announced that she was 'Coming right over'.'

"Whatever for?"

"I'll explain when I get there."

Cara thought as she hung up the phone that her mother-in-law was probably had some ulterior motive for calling and then inviting herself over on such short notice.

Cara was peeling potatoes when the knock sounded on the door. Dropping her paring knife, she hurried to answer. She skidded to a stop when she saw Elaine standing on the other side of the screen with her hands on her hips. "What now?"

Elaine yanked on the door. "Open up. I need to talk to you."

Cara unhooked the screen. "Be quiet. The kids are still asleep."

Elaine came inside, and let her eyes scan Cara from head to toe. "What are you doing up at this ungodly hour?" The conciliatory note in her voice made Cara as wary as bachelor at a wedding supper. Elaine, who was usually blunt to the point of rudeness, was engaging in pleasant small talk?

"I'm cooking Sunday dinner." Cara held the door open. "Come on into the kitchen." Elaine was here for some definite purpose. Cara wondered what it was. "We can talk while I work."

Elaine followed Cara into the kitchen. "Are you sure you're up to this?"

"I'm sure." Cara picked up her knife and pointed it toward a chair. "Sit down, Elaine. I know you didn't come here to inquire about my health. What do you want?"

"But I am concerned about your well being." Elaine slid into the chair and hitched it toward the table. "Cara, dear, shouldn't you be resting on your day off instead of bustling about in the kitchen at daybreak, trying to cook a meal?"

Cara's eyebrows shot upward. "Cara dear?" She laid her knife aside. "I am cooking a meal. What are you doing here at this hour on a Sunday morning?"

"My, aren't we contentious and cantankerous today?" Elaine asked, then added with a touch of sarcasm. "Thank goodness. I'd hate to think you were becoming mellow with age."

Cara sat in the chair across from her mother-in-law, and smiled at the older woman as a rare flash of insight made her realize that she appreciated Elaine's candor. She admired her loyalty. She could abide her insolence. Cara never had to question where she stood with Elaine Turner. "I know you came here for some specific purpose. What is it?"

Elaine returned Cara's smile. "You and I know each other pretty well, don't we?" Her smile disappeared. "My son is a very unhappy man."

In an instant, Cara's smile vanished also. "I know that."

"You're as miserable as he is."

Cara took a long breath. "I know that, too."

"What are you going to do about it?"

Cara jumped from her chair and hurried toward the cabinet. "I don't know what to do." Picking up her paring knife, she began to peel potatoes as if her life depended on her completing the task at hand. "Maybe you can come up with some brilliant suggestion."

Elaine spoke with characteristic candor. "I might come up with an idea or two if I knew what the problem was."

Cara laid the knife on the counter's smooth surface and turned to face her mother-in-law. "The problem is too many things have changed."

Elaine nodded toward the chair Cara had recently vacated. "Sit down." Cara obeyed. When she was seated, Elaine asked, "Does that mean some things haven't changed?"

That question was enough to tilt Cara's equilibrium. "Time changes everything." The disturbing thought that she could be wrong, made her tag her statement with an uncertain, "Doesn't it?"

Elaine's brow wrinkled. "I have always believed that there are a few abiding forces in this world that are as changeless as the heavens."

Cara scoffed. "Thanks for the lesson in philosophy."

Elaine stood and pushed a strand of hennaed hair back with from her face. "You're welcome." She slid her chair under her table. "Now get the children up and dressed. I'm taking them home with me. I'll make breakfast for them there."

That was Elaine, high-handed as always. "I will not. Their father is coming to dinner. They need to be here."

"They do not. You and Rand need some time alone." When Cara moved to stand, Elaine held up one hand. "Please, go on with your cooking. I'll get them up myself."

She was almost to the door when Cara called out to her, "Elaine?"

The older woman turned. "What now?"

"Thank you."

Cara read in her mother-in-law's set expression the intent to give some barbed reply. After a few moments her face softened. "I'm not doing this for you, I'm doing it for Rand." Her features relaxed into a smile. "But you're most welcome."

As Elaine disappeared through kitchen door, Cara leaned her elbows on the table and dropped her chin into her hands. She wasn't sure she wanted to be alone with Rand. As the front door slammed, she pushed herself to her feet and moved toward the cabinet. She wondered, as she began once more to peel potatoes, if Rand had asked his mother to come for the children.

As Cara cooked her Sunday meal, she mused over Elaine's unexpected visit. She sighed as she put a pot roast in the oven. She and Elaine had been at cross-purposes since the day she married Rand and yet, Cara both liked and respected the woman. Not many people had the guts to stand up to life the way Elaine Turner did. Not many people possessed her insight. Cara straightened and adjusted the oven control. She should thank Elaine for making her face some very elemental truths. Her sigh converted to a wry smile. She could imagine what Elaine's response to that would be.

Cara completed her dinner, showered, did her hair, skillfully applied makeup, and put on a new Dior-style dress. She was sitting in the living room when Rand came through the front door a few minutes after twelve noon.

He was carrying a bottle of wine in one hand and a copy of his book in the other. "Hi." He set the wine on an end table and put the book in her outstretched hand.

It was a small volume with a smooth hard cover. Emblazoned in silver letters across the front were the words: Dark Odyssey. Below the title was scrolled in smaller letters: A novel by Randall Williams. Cara ran her fingers down its spine. "This is your book?"

"It's yours now." Rand dropped sat beside her. "I hope you will read it."

"I want to read it." Opening the book, she stared down at the flyleaf. Written there in bold script were the words, To Cara in remembrance of what was and with hope for what can be, Rand. Her head came up in surprise as she realized the book was not a loan, but a gift. "Thank you. I'll treasure it always." She continued to turn pages pressing each one with her fingers as she went. "Did you write about your war experiences?"

"I wrote about the human condition." One side of his mouth turned up in a half smile. "I hope you approve."

She was beginning to understand, now that it may be too late, how the two of them could be so close and still so far apart. Rand was a far-sighted visionary. She, on the other hand, seldom looked past the problems of today.

"You cooked?" Rand cocked an eyebrow.

"Pot roast." Cara laid the book aside and walked toward the dining room. "Your mother came for the children."

Falling in step with her, he said, "I know."

So Elaine had been here at Rand's behest? Once in the dining room, Cara waved toward the table. "Sit down. I'll bring in dinner."

Rand's eyes followed her every movement as she bustled about, setting food and drink on the table. Not until she had put the finishing touches on the meal and sat down across from him, did he break his self imposed silence. "This is all very festive."

"I even used Aunt Sophie's lace tablecloth." Cara spread her napkin across her lap. "And the good china." She avoided looking him in the eye.

Rand helped himself to a generous portion of pot roast. "How's business?"

"Good. I'm hoping that soon I can start a day care center at Debbie Dimples." She had wanted to do this for a long time. Maybe when the new buildings were completed, she would have both the room and the finances to launch the venture. "Most of my employees are women with children. A day care center would a real boon to all of us." She pushed half-filled plate from her. He appetite was gone. "Would you like dessert?"

"Not yet." Rand took another bite of roast and chewed thoughtfully. Then he swallowed and took a sip from his wine glass. "Evan came to see me a few days ago. He admitted what I'd already begun to suspect, that the two of you had never been lovers, except, as he so quaintly put it, 'in his dreams.'"

"Not everything Evan told you was a lie, but the part about us being lovers was. When did you first suspect Evan was lying?"

"It took a while. At first I was so hurt and confused that I believed every word he said. Later when I had time to reflect and think, some of what he'd told me didn't ring true."

It seemed at last they were really communicating instead of just throwing words at each other. "How much later?"

Rand hesitated, as if debating with himself whether to speak. Then with what had to be sudden resolve, he said, "It was Simone who first made me begin to doubt."

"Simone?" A wave of jealously dampened Cara's elation. "You talked about Evan and me to Simone?"

"I felt a real need to unburden myself to someone. She was there. When I told her about you insisting that Evan marry Marsha, she said that didn't make a lot of sense to her. Then she asked me if I thought you would have wanted me to do the same thing under the same circumstances. I had to say no. You would never have entertained the idea of me marrying another woman under any circumstances."

He was damn sure of himself, he was also right on the mark, she wouldn't have. "I'm glad you know the truth." A tremendous weight lifted from Cara's heart. "I can rest much easier now. I wouldn't want you to leave again still believing I'd betrayed you." She shuddered to think how near she had come at one time, to doing just that. Standing, she tossed her napkin on the table. "I'll bring dessert."

Rand called after her, "Wait a minute,” Jumping to his feet, he followed her into the kitchen. She was slicing pie when he caught up to her. Taking the knife from her hand, he pulled her around to face him. "You and I have to settle the matter of me leaving and we have to do it here and now."

Cara had rather be tied to a rack than ask him to once again postpone seeking his freedom. "You're free to go anytime you choose but. . . " She hesitated, praying he wouldn't misinterpret what she was about to say. "I'm hoping we can delay any legal proceedings until Nancy's adoption is final."

Rand used his arms to make a cage that pinned her to the cabinet. "Is there some problem with Nancy's adoption?"

"No, but don't you see. . . ." She tried to duck under his arm.

He was too quick for her. Cutting off her escape route, he fastened his hands around her shoulders. "I don't see a damn thing."

He was agitated. She couldn't blame him. Cara expelled a long breath. His touch made it difficult for her to hold onto her composure. She needed to put some distance between them. "Let's have our desert."

"Dessert can wait. Explain, Cara."

"Come into the living room. We'll be more comfortable there."

Rand's grip tightened. "Not until you tell me what it is that I don't see."

"It's really very simple. If one of us files for a divorce now it might hinder the finalization of Nancy's adoption in October."

Rand's hands fell to his sides. His voice caught in his throat as he asked in stunned surprise, "Is that why you asked me here today? Was it only to assure that I'd hang around until Nancy's adoption was final?"

A smothering sadness tightened in Cara's chest. "No." She hurried toward the living, room calling over her shoulder as she went, "I took it for granted that you'd want to leave just like always before."

Rand pursued her, almost stepping on her heels before he grabbed her arm. "Why must you always assume and take for granted." He pushed her onto the couch and came down beside her. "Did it ever once cross your mind to ask me how I felt, or to question me about what I wanted?"

"I didn't see any point in it since before you left to go back to Simone you'd told me to forget you and get on with my life."

He vaulted to his feet. The words burst from his mouth. “Damn it, Cara, I didn't 'go back to Simone.' at least not in the way you're implying. But I couldn't let her go to jail for something she didn't do. Telling you to forget me was a last-ditch desperate ploy. I thought, I hoped, you might relent or reconsider and say we could try again when I returned. Your refusal put a hole in my heart. I've been bleeding ever since."

Was what she had considered indifference in reality desperation? It was difficult to believe she had misread him that completely. "I thought you were looking for an excuse to get away again."

"I don't want to get away from you and I couldn't even if I did." He stopped his pacing and stood very still. "I learned that the four years we were apart. You're in my heart, my mind, my blood, my bones, the very fiber of my being. You're a part of me and I don't want to escape, not now, not ever. If you'll give one more chance, I'll spend the rest of my life showing you how much I love you."

Were her ears deceiving her? "Did you just say you love me?" Cara's heart warmed with hope.

"I'm sorry. . . ."

He was going to apologize. What for? A slip of the tongue? She moaned low in her throat. "Please, no."

"I know words mean very little, it's actions that count, but, yes, I love you. I kept thinking those four years I was away that I might never have the chance again to show you how deep and enduring that love is. I came home with such high hopes, but there were so may changes, so much had happened. I didn't know where to start."

His words held such a ring of sincerity. She had to believe him. "You love me?"

"I always have, from the moment I first saw you and I always will, until the day I die." Realization moved across his face as he struck his forehead with the heel of his hand. "You thought I was rejecting you?"

"The idea crossed my mind." Cara pushed down a rising tide of delirious, unrestrained joy. "There were times you thought I was using you."

One corner of his mouth turned up in a half smile. "Too many times that idea crossed my mind."

She had to convince him that wasn't so. "I wasn't. I didn't. I wouldn't. I love you too much to ever do anything that would hurt you."

He stared at her with an incredulous wonder shining in his eyes. "After all that's happened, after all I've done, you still love me?"

She met his bold gaze, all the love in her heart spilling from her eyes. "I do. I always have, from the moment I first saw you, and I will until the day I die."

In the space of a heartbeat, he was across the floor and sitting beside her. "Do you think there's a chance for us, Cara?"

She wanted to believe there was, but so much had happened, so many things had changed. From nowhere, words Elaine had said to her earlier in the day floated through Cara's mind. I have always believed there are a few abiding forces in this world that are as changeless as the heavens. Did she dare believe that the love she and Rand had once shared was one of those abiding forces? Was it a constant they had lost somewhere in the midst of chaos and conflict? Could they ever hope to find it again? "I don't know, but I'm willing to try if you are."

"I am, I am." He pulled her into his arms and brushed his lips through her hair. "It won't be easy."

Cara reasoned that nothing worthwhile ever was. Putting her arms around his waist, she laid her head against his chest. The quickened beat of his heart was music to her ears. "Where do we start?"

"Here," He tilted her chin and captured her lips in a sweetly seductive kiss that sent a delicious wave of yearning shivering through her chest and tingling between her legs. It sent erotic fantasies dancing like apparitions through her head. He teased his tongue into her mouth. Little fingers of fire erupted along her nerve endings. Lifting his head, he smiled into her eyes. "And now. . . ." He kissed her again. His lips were soft and warm, like moist velvet, and more intoxicating than heady wine. "I want to make love to you, Cara." The heat from his body scorched through her leaving no doubt that his need was potent and pressing and very real.

He was right, words couldn't hold a candle to actions. This was the affirmation Cara had needed for so long. She melted into his embrace, returning his kisses with rising abandon, matching his ardor with a fire of her own. Her hands slid from caressing his face to unfastening the front of his shirt. One by one, her fingers undid buttons until she could slip her hands through the opening and tangle her fingers in the hair that grew in abundance on his chest. The taste of desire siphoned through her mouth leaving it powder dry. She gasped and opened it for more of his liquid kisses.

A low moan escaped from somewhere deep in Rand's throat. His hands caressed the contours of her breasts. "Cara, this time I. . . ."

Cara stopped his flow of words by placing her fingers across his lips. "Sh-h. This is not the time for words." She didn't want to hear, she wanted to feel. Pulling his head down, she pressed her lips to his and suctioned his tongue into her mouth. The taste of him flooded her senses. Slowly, reluctantly, she moved her mouth from his and let it move along the side of his face. The beginning stubble of a beard caused an erotic friction. She moved her mouth to his ear and blew in it before whispering, "Show me."

He shivered as the moan transmuted to laughter, rich and deep. "So it's deeds you crave?" Standing, he pulled her to her feet and moved against her, letting her feel his hard and expanding need. Then his seeking mouth found hers. His silky tongue invaded its recesses to caress, probe, explore. He slipped the straps of the sundress down over her shoulders. It fell in a crumpled heap around her feet leaving her standing before him clad only in a strapless bra and a pair of skimpy panties. He held her from him and drank in the sight of her scantily clad body. "You are so beautiful."

Cara shivered as her entire being fused with heat and rosy color. She lowered her eyes and tugged at his shirt sleeve. "Let me help you take this off."

Rand lifted one arm. "Please do." He smiled and watched as she anxiously divested him of his shirt.

Cara tossed the garment over her shoulder and moved closer. His body was a firebrand against her naked skin. She reached for the buckle of his belt. Over the click of metal against leather, she said, "These have to go too." She began to unbutton his fly. The tumescent bulge in front made that no easy task. Her fingers shook as she worried the last button from its mooring and slid his pants down over his hips. They bunched around the tops of his shoes.

Laughing, he fell onto the couch. "I'm hobbled."

Cara untied his shoes and pulled them from his feet. "Good. Now you can't escape." She yanked his pants off and cast them aside. He shivered as she ran her hands up his calves, over his knees and along the sides of his muscular thighs. She stopped just short of invading his most private area. "Can you get these off?" She tugged at the sides of his underwear.

Lifting his hips, Rand slid his broadcloth shorts down. Two wiggles and they fell around his ankles. He used one foot to kick them aside. Then he lifted his arms and in a voice that shimmered with passion, said, "Come to me, Cara."

She would in due time, but not before she removed every barrier that lay between them. Cara stood and reached behind her. Her nimble fingers undid her bra in seconds. It fell to the floor leaving her breasts free to move erotically as she stooped to dispense with her panties. They were wet with her moistness. She rolled them into a ball and tossed them toward a chair. "Now," she whispered as she put her knees on the couch and straddled Rand's body. Very carefully she settled herself over him and guided his throbbing shaft into the soft cavity between her legs. An electric thrill shot through her. She tightened her pelvic muscles.

Rand groaned and with their bodies still joined, stood.

Cara locked her legs around his waist and tightened her arms around his neck. She had forgotten how big good and hard he felt inside her.

Rand carried her to the bedroom. Each step he took increased the friction that was building inside her. Before he was through the bedroom door she was panting, "Hurry, please hurry."

He fell onto the bed without breaking their tenuous connection ."Easy, darling, easy. We have all night." Slowly, carefully he inched around until he lay in a prone position with Cara atop him. "How's that for maneuvering?" He was still buried deep inside her when he rolled over and tucked her under him. Then he began to move slowly, sensuously, up and down, in and out.

Cara moved with him, her need raging like a fever as he took her with him toward the heated splendor of a shattering fulfillment. The sweet abandon of rising desire took command. The world reduced to the narrow confides of this bed, this man, this moment.

As they reached that climactic peak, a splendor of falling stars exploded in Cara's head. Wave after wave of unbridled ecstasy rode through her convulsing body. She met Rand's low growl with an answering shriek as he poured himself into her. Bathed in perspiration, they clung to each other through long moments of unchained bliss.

Slowly passion receded and reason returned. With their bodies still connected, Rand turned on his side and held Cara close to him. "Was that action enough for you?"

The liquid relaxation of sexual satiation had left Cara lax and gratified. "Uh huh." Her eyelids fluttered.

Rand kissed the tip of her nose. "Then sleep."

Cara was already drifting. "Tomorrow. . ."

She woke the next morning to see Rand raised on his elbow with his chin resting in his hand. He was staring down at her. "Good morning."

Would it be? Cara wondered. They still faced some seemingly insurmountable obstacles. "Did you sleep well?"

He smiled and yawned. "Like a rock." Then put a pillow against the head of the bed and leaned back on it. "I've been lying here watching you sleep and wondering how two people who know each other so well could have misunderstood each other so completely. I thought during these last long terrible weeks I was giving you the time and space you needed. You thought I was rejecting you."

"Puzzling isn't it?" Cara stretched and smiled up at him. "Did you come up with an answer?"

He nodded. "I think I've figured out a part of the problem."

Cara's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh?"

He pushed a strand of hair from her forehead. "Obviously, we didn't know each other well enough."

When Cara began to protest, Rand waved his hand. "Do you know what troubled me most about your relationship with Evan?" With a contemptuous snort, he asked, "Who am I kidding? I'm still troubled by it."

Cara sat up. "Rand please, not now." She didn't want to hash over the past or project too far into the future.

His eyes shone with love. "We have to, my darling."

The knowledge that she was still his darling made her nod her consent. "Okay."

He took her hand in his. "Evan understands you much better than I ever have."

Cara wanted to protest. She couldn't because he had spoken the truth. After some thought, she said, "That's what I hated most. . . ." She corrected herself. "No. That's what I hate most about your relationship with Simone too, the simple fact that she understands you and I don't." She added a qualifying "Not all the time anyway."

Rand pressed her fingers to his lips before asking, "Why do you think that is?"

Cara turned the question over in her mind and came up with an answer that was at once disturbing and consoling. "Understanding is built on trust. Maybe that's why it exists more readily between friends than it does between lovers."

"I agree, and even though you and I are fantastic together as lovers, we never have really been friends." He wooed her with his eyes. "I want to be your friend, Cara, as well as your lover."

Cara realized that recognizing the need to trust was only the first step down the rocky road toward reconciliation. "I want that too. I want to be there for you when you reach out to me."

Rand spoke as if he had just been privy to a revelation. "The problem lies mostly with me. I've never been very good at reaching out."

Cara's mind skipped back to the first years of their marriage. "Before you went away I wasn't someone to whom you could reach out. I was immature and self- centered."

Rand raked his fingers through his uncombed curls. "We both did a lot of growing up during those war years. You became a woman in every sense of the word. I'm very proud of you."

It occurred to her, quite suddenly, that she'd never told Rand how proud she was of him. "And you came home a conquering hero. I'm proud of you too."

"There are those who are still arguing that point. I don't seem to fit the pattern of what some consider a hero."

Cara moved closer and laid her head on his chest. When had Rand ever fit the pattern for anything? "That's because you're extraordinary in every way."

He ran his fingers through her hair and down her bare back. "So are you. Maybe that's why we strike such sparks." His hand stilled. "I want to be here for you too, from this day forward." His lips brushed the top of her head. "Your hero is home to stay."

Rand jumped from the bed. "I'm starving. Get dressed. I'll take you out to breakfast. Then we'll drive out to DDI." He looked around the room. "Where are my pants?"

Cara laughed. "In the living room, I think." She hopped from the bed and began to rummage through the top drawer of the chest. She was still sorting through its contents when Rand returned. He was buck-naked. His pants were draped over his arm. In his other hand he held a worn billfold.

"I have something that belongs to you." He pitched his pants on the bed and opened the billfold. His long fingers searched around in a small compartment. He smiled as he extracted a wide gold band and held it up for her to see.

Cara clapped her hands together. "My wedding ring."

Rand threw the billfold on the bed and came, in three long strides, to stand before her. "Hold out your hand." She did and he put the ring on her third finger. "With this ring I thee wed. To have and to hold from this day forward."

He was reciting a wedding vow to her while standing before her in his birthday suit. She couldn't suppress a little giggle. "You're dressed for the occasion, or should I say undressed?"

Rand chuckled. "So are you."

Cara suddenly realize she wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing either. She burst into laughter, and then sobered. "I'll never take it off again."

Rand wrapped her in his arms and kissed her tenderly. "Promise?"

"I promise." She moved from him. Much more of this and they'd never make it to DDI. "Let's get dressed. We can go by and collect our children first." A smile wreathed her face. Maybe, just maybe they were going to make it after all.

Epilogue

Cara hummed as she bustled about the kitchen preparing Saturday morning breakfast. Memories of last night in Rand's arms made her smile. She hated his having to go away, but how she loved his coming home again. It was like. . .

A voice called, breaking her chain of thought. "Mom?"

She turned to see Paul standing in the doorway, "Yes, sweetheart?"

He frowned. "Don't call me that." Then narrowed his eyes and stared at her. "Dad's home from his book tour, isn't he?"

"How did you ever guess?"

"You always sing in the mornings when Dad's home. When did he get here?"

"He came in last night long after you'd gone to bed." Cara thought that her older son was a little too perceptive. "He'll be home for a while now. His next book tour doesn't start again until April of next year and it's only the first of November." She added a whispered, "Thank God."

Rand 's footsteps sounded down the hall before he came to stand behind his son. He was carrying Nancy in his arms. "Look what I found beside my bed when I woke this morning."

Paul turned. "Hi, Dad."

Rand smiled down at his older son and laid his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Hello, Paul. How have you been?"

Paul shrugged his shoulder free. "Okay, I guess."

Cara wondered as she watched the two of them together if they would ever be close. Paul accepted Rand now, but with reservations that were unspoken but evident.

Rand shot Cara a resigned look as he moved around Paul and toward Nancy's high chair. "Nancy came to tell me that she'd gone to the potty by herself." He set the little girl in her chair and fastened the tray in front of her.

Nancy announced with solemn assurance, "I'm big girl now."

Rand patted the top of her head. "Yes, you are." He turned to Cara. "There's not a lot of difference in her waking me to tell me she wants to go and her waking me to tell me she's gone."

"Not to you, maybe," Cara laughed and tiptoed to kiss her husband on the cheek. "But it makes a world of difference to Nancy and to me."

Rand pulled a chair from the table just as Danny entered the room clad in pajamas and stretching and yawning. When he spied his father, he dropped his arms, raced across the floor and grabbed Rand around the waist. "You're home, Dad. Hurrah!"

Rand returned his younger son's hug. "You bet, and this time to stay."

Paul sat down at the kitchen table. "That's something I wouldn't bet on."

Danny pulled out the chair next to Paul and sat down beside him. "Grandma says Dad's book is going to be a best seller."

Rand sat down across from his sons. "I wouldn't bet on that either."

Cara put bowls and a box of corn flakes on the table. "It's possible."

Rand chuckled. "I suppose anything's possible. The biography of Douglas McArthor is a best seller in Japan right now." He distributed bowls around the table. "But it's not likely."

Cara set milk and sugar in the middle of the table and warned her sons. "Don't waste sugar and be careful not to spill corn flakes. They cost eleven cents a box now." She surveyed her family seated around the kitchen table and felt a glow of warm happiness. Hers was not a perfect world, but it did seem complete.

Rand put corn flakes and sugar into a bowl and poured milk over them. He set the concoction on Nancy's high chair tray and gave her a spoon as he asked Cara, "How's business?"

Cara sat down between her sons and her husband and scooted her chair near the table. "Better. We're settled in our new facilities. We're going to be able to handle the holiday rush without the help of a second manufacturer." She accepted the bowl Rand slid across the table to her. "But prices keep skyrocketing and taxes. . . .” Cara shook her head. "Did you know that Americans now pay one out of every three dollars they make in taxes?" She reached for the box of corn flakes. "I have some good news too. We opened a day care center at DDI."

Danny pushed a spoonful of corn flakes into his mouth and asked, "Are we going to Grandma's today?"

Paul admonished his brother, "Don't talk with food in your mouth." Then he asked his mother, "Are we?"

Nancy stopped eating long enough to echo Paul's question. "Are we?"

Cara nodded. "Grandma will be here around ten."

Paul ate the last of his corn flakes and drank the remaining milk from his bowl. "Can I be excused now?"

Danny pushed his bowl back. "Me too?"

Cara said, "You're both excused."

The minute the boys were out the door, Rand asked, "Is Nancy going with Grandma too?"

Nancy dropped her spoon and tried to lift her tray. "Me too."

Cara took a bite of corn flakes. "Yes, Nancy is going too."

Rand helped the child from her high chair. "Does that mean you and I will be left alone?"

Mischief danced in Cara's eyes. "I'm afraid so."

Rand sat Nancy on the floor. "What ever will we do?"

Cara smiled her most seductive smile. "We'll think of something."

The End