"Goodnight."
He brushed his fingers across her jaw, and she thought he might kiss her. Instead he turned and walked down the sidewalk. As she watched him move away from the light of the house, she felt an irritating little tug of disappointment.
He walked in front of the HUMMER and looked back at her. He raised his hand in an abbreviated wave, and she got that feeling again. The dangerous one that said maybe he wasn't such a bad guy. He'd apologized twice now for running out on her the other night with nothing
more than a hasty thanks. He'd gotten out of bed in the middle of the night to help her search for Stanley.
Kate watched him pull out of the driveway before she walked into the house. Even if he wasn't such a bad guy, he wasn't the guy for her. She was tired of relationships that ended in a broken heart. And Rob Sutter was a smooth-talking heartbreak, just waiting to happen.
She hung her coat by the back door and had just finished putting on her pink-and-white-striped flannel pajamas and brushing her teeth when she heard her grandfather's truck. She moved to the dark doorway of the kitchen and waited. Her grandfather entered as quietly as possible, then he turned and slowly closed the back door.
Kate flipped on the light, and her grandfather spun around on the heels of his wingtips. He froze like a kid sneaking home after curfew.
"I didn't think you'd still be up," he said as color rose up his neck to his cheeks.
She folded her arms beneath her breasts. "I was worried you'd been wrecked in a ditch."
"I was with Grace."
She didn't bother mentioning that she already knew where he'd been. "You could have called. The last time I talked to you was this morning when you left for Boise."
"I'm sorry you were worried, Katie." He took off his coat and hung it by the back door. "I've asked Grace to marry me."
Kate dropped her hands to her sides. "What?"
"I've asked Grace to marry me. She said yes."
"But…" Kate stared at him, sure she'd misunderstood. Married? People didn't get married after one night in the sack. That was afterglow. Not lasting love. "But Granddad… just because you have sex with someone doesn't mean you have to get married. It's the twenty-first century, for God's sake. Don't be so old-fashioned."
He slowly turned and looked at her. "I may be old-fashioned to you, but I am an honorable man. I would never disrespect a woman. I would hope that a woman I cared about would expect me to be honorable. That's what's wrong with your generation, Katherine. You reduce sex to fornication."
Katherine? She moved toward him. "I'm sorry. It just seems sudden."
"My feelings for Grace started the night I heard her poetry at the grange and have gotten deeper ever since."
"Don't you think you should date for a while first?" She'd never had a marriage proposal, and she'd dated men for as long as three years.
"Katie, I'm in my seventies. I don't exactly have a lot of time to mess around with dating." He patted her on the shoulder as he moved past. "When two people are in love, why wait?"
Kate could think of a lot of reasons. She kept them to herself. If Grace made her grandfather happy, then what kind of granddaughter would she be if she rained on his parade? She just hoped he knew what he was doing. "And you are positive this is what you want? And you're not just feeling-you know-afterglow?"
"This is what I want. I want a woman who is worth more to me than"-he paused and his cheeks turned pink again-"afterglow." He shook his head. "You are worth more than that too, Katie. You are worth everything a man can give you."
Now it was her turn to get red-faced. "I know." But knowing it in her head and not getting "afterglow" until she got a marriage proposal were, two different things. That pony was already before the cart. Or was it that the pony was already out of the gate? Or was it that the pony was giving the milk for free? She wasn't sure.
There were a few things she did know for sure, though. There was no way the pony was going back in the gate. Not when the pony was thirty-four and really liked pulling the milk cart. But her grandfather was right. She deserved more than relationships that went nowhere. Which left her in the same quandary she'd been in the day she'd arrived in Gospel.
Sixteen
"What kind of bread you selling-today?"
"Focaccia."
Ada Dover scrunched up her nose and leaned in for a closer look. Her hair was perfectly sculpted, and the scent of Emeraude engulfed her like a toxic cloud. "It's weird."
"It's very good."
"Still looks weird."