Ryan's Return, page 24
Ryan held up his hand as Kara's argument began to build. "All right. I'll take it, if only to shut you up." He picked up the watch. "Are you happy now?"
"Do whatever you want," she said, somewhat hurt by his answer. "Why should I care?"
"Now you're mad."
"Of course I'm not mad. Why would I be mad?"
"You're mad."
"It's none of my business."
"I appreciate your interest and your concern."
Her anger eased at his tender tone. "You do?"
He nodded, taking a sip of coffee.
"I'm sorry I butted in. I just can't help feeling sorry for your mother," Kara said.
"Why?"
"Because it's obvious that she wanted you to know that she loved you for all time."
"Nice play on words."
"I didn't mean it that way." Kara thought for a moment, wanting him to understand. "Sometimes I look in on Angel when she's asleep, and I think of how sweet and innocent she is. I want to protect her from the future, and I want to assure her that she'll always be loved, and I guess deep down in my heart I want to believe that if anything happened to me, she would remember that love and it would mean something to her."
"My mother didn't die."
"Maybe she did. Maybe that's why she never contacted you. Are you sure Jonas doesn't know what happened to her?"
Ryan hesitated before answering. "No, I'm not sure. I'm not sure at all."
The phone rang. Kara instinctively looked at the clock. "Another early bird," she muttered as she reached for the phone. "The Gatehouse. Can I help you? Just a minute." She put her hand over the receiver. "It's for you. Someone named Wallace Graystone from Time magazine."
Ryan took the phone from her hand. "Wally. What's up?" He listened for a long time. Wally spoke in his usual rambling manner, taking a good three minutes to get to the point. While Wally talked about the key happenings in Europe, Ryan watched Kara begin breakfast.
She pulled various bowls and food items out of the cupboards with confidence. This was a woman who knew her way around a kitchen, who felt comfortable in the role of homemaker. He liked watching her move, especially in the short, silky robe that molded itself to her body. Even with no makeup and her hair tousled from sleep, she looked gorgeous, real. Not like the women he had spent most of his time with in the past ten years. Their makeup cases had taken up as much room as their furniture. And they wouldn't have been caught dead sticking their manicured fingernails into a pile of bread dough the way Kara was doing now.
She kneaded the bread with loving, determined hands. She put one hundred percent of herself into every project, no matter what the sacrifice. He couldn't imagine why any man would let her go.
Didn't Michael Delaney know that a real diamond was strong enough to cut glass, to withstand incredible pressure without breaking? Kara was a diamond. And Kara deserved a diamond in return, a long-term commitment, a man who would share her breakfast every morning. Not a man like him.
"Ryan, are you there?" Wally demanded.
"When do you want me?" Ryan asked. Kara's hands stopped moving at his question. Did she care when he was leaving? Did it matter? His pulse raced at the thought. He tried to catch her eye, but she turned her back on him.
"I'm not sure," he said to Wally. "I'll get back to you. I know. It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I'll call you later."
"A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity? That sounds too good to pass up," Kara said brightly as she put the dough into a bread pan and placed it in the oven to bake.
"It might be. The royal family of Japan has agreed to allow me an intimate look at their daily life."
"Wow. You must be thrilled."
"Who wouldn't be? Can I have more coffee?" He set his cup on the counter.
Kara wiped her hands off on a towel and poured him another cup of coffee. "Have you been to Japan before?"
"Lots of times. Which is probably why they requested me. I made friends the last time I was there."
She shook her head, a look of complete bewilderment on her face. "What are you doing here?"
"You invited me."
"But you could be anywhere. You could be dining with kings. My country inn must seem like a slum to you. My baskets of potpourri must make you laugh."
"Kara -- "
"My needlepoint pillows must make you cringe, and the gingham curtains in the bathroom must make you feel like you're in the most hokey inn in America," she added, her bottom lip trembling with sudden anger.
"Stop it, Kara."
"Stop what?" she asked. "You're just like Michael. I could never compete with his world. Whatever I had at home was never good enough." She put a hand to her mouth in sudden horror. "God, where did that come from?"
Ryan looked into her eyes and saw right through to the heart of her, to the insecurity, to the open wound of past rejection. She usually covered it so well, but for a second it was all there for him to see. But he couldn't acknowledge it. That would only make her feel worse. Instead he said lightly, "Guess I hit a button."
She took a deep breath and let it out. "I'm sorry -- again. Maybe I should go back to bed and start over."
"It's okay."
"I just realized how different our worlds are, and it reminded me of Michael and how much he hated the home I made for him."
"Kara, I haven't felt more comfortable anywhere in this world than I have right here in your home. Because this is a home, not just an inn. It's filled with your warmth, your joy, your passion, everything that's you."
"But it's not exciting. It's not Japan. I'm not royalty."
"You're better."
"Oh, come on, don't patronize me. We don't live in the same world."
"The world isn't that big. I know; I've been around it a few times. Royal families are a lot like everyone else. I've done intimate portraits of world leaders dozens of times. And you know what -- they all sleep at night, they all go to the bathroom, they all love, they all hate, they all fight with their families, and they all wonder why they're not happy when it seems as if they have everything."
"Really?" The anger faded in her eyes.
"Really. Just like you and me."
"You're not happy, Ryan?" She answered the question before he could. "Of course, that's why you came back -- to find out what you were missing so you could decide what you want," she said, repeating his own words.
"But maybe I can't have what I want," he said, watching the emotions flow through her expressive blue eyes and across her beautiful face.
"That depends on what you want."
"What if I said I wanted you?"
"What if I asked you to stay?" she countered.
"What if I said no?"
"What if you said yes?"
God, he loved talking to her. She was so quick, so sharp. They communicated almost as if they were sharing one mind, one voice. Yet they were two very different people, and they wanted different things.
"Kara, I can't stay here." Ryan's gaze traveled to the calendar hanging on the wall. "I've already accepted assignments for March and April, even some in June and July. They're all over the world."
"Serenity Springs could be your home base. You could travel from here. And when your job is over, you would have a nice place to come back to. Your family is here, too."
"A family that doesn't want me in it."
"Maybe that would change with time."
Ryan rubbed his chin with a weary sigh. "People don't change. They are who they are."
Kara took a carton of eggs out of the refrigerator and broke them into a bowl. "I don't believe that, Ryan. I changed. I used to be a wimp. I never fought back, never demanded what was mine, never tried to make things different, never yelled at Michael like I just yelled at you," she added with a rueful grin.
"Why not? It sounds like he deserved it."
"I was afraid of rocking the boat, afraid of following in my mother's footsteps. My father left me, so I felt I had to hang on to Michael, no matter what he did."
"What did he do, Kara?" Ryan asked.
Kara took in a deep breath, then let it out. "A lot of things. He was in sales, so we moved a lot. I pretty much followed meekly behind. It took me years to realize that some of those moves were mandated by the mistakes Michael made."
"What kind of mistakes?"
"Women. Michael loved women, especially those who were taken, those who belonged to someone important, like his boss."
Ryan raised an eyebrow. "He liked to live dangerously."
"Yes. He cheated on me from the first month of our marriage. After awhile, it became a game. We'd go to a party together, and he'd disappear. One time I stood around so long, I got disgusted enough to leave. I found Michael zipping up his pants in the front seat of the car."
"Kara, you don't -- "
"But what really got to me was when he brought someone home to our house, to our bed...." Her voice caught as she struggled for control. "I couldn't risk Angel finding him there. I couldn't destroy her illusions about her father, so I asked for a divorce and I got out."
"Good for you."
Ryan's gaze held respect, admiration, all the qualities Kara had longed to see in a man's eyes. Michael had never looked at her that way, but then Michael had been too caught up in himself to even consider her feelings. And to be honest she hadn't done all that much to earn his respect or his admiration.
"I made a mess of things," Kara said. "I wanted to be married so bad that I overlooked everything -- lipstick marks, credit card receipts for flowers I had never received, hotel stubs -- you name it, it was all there. And besides the women, we had other problems. Michael didn't want to be married, and he didn't want to be a father, either. He neglected Angel long before the divorce. Now he doesn't even answer her letters." She sighed. "I made a lot of mistakes, Ryan, and I'm afraid Angel is still paying for some of them."
"The important thing is that in the long run you did what was best for Angel. You took her out of a bad situation and brought her into a good one."
"Too little, too late, maybe."
"I don't think so."
Kara smiled at him. "Thanks."
"For what?"
"For making me feel better."
"I'd like to make you feel a lot better," Ryan replied, offering her a devilish grin.
"I'll bet." Kara turned her attention back to breakfast. "So, when are you leaving?" she asked. "Today?"
"No, not today. I still have some photographs to take, slices of small-town America that the world desperately needs to see."
"You'll do it?"
"For you, yes."
"You are good at what you do, Ryan. Your talent is amazing, the way you capture life in such a way that all the truths are revealed. Every image is truly a moment captured for all time."
"The camera does the work."
"Hardly. I take pictures. I don't see what you see, and neither does my camera."
He smiled with genuine pleasure. "Now it's my turn to thank you."
"For what?"
"For understanding that what I do is important to me."
"Of course it's important. Why else would you do it?"
"Money."-
"I don't think you're motivated by money. If you were, you'd have more to show for it than a rented Ferrari and an apartment in L.A. that apparently doesn't have any furniture."
"How did you know the car was rented?"
She grinned at him. "Lucky guess. You don't look all that comfortable getting in and out of it."
His expression turned serious. "You see too much, Kara. I'm not sure I like it."
"Why, because I see through you?"
"I haven't let anyone get close to me in a long time."
"I'm not close to you. And you're not close to me. For that we would need time, which is exactly what we don't have." She paused, making her expression cheerful and bright. "Now, would you like pancakes or eggs?"
"Pancakes, with butter and syrup. I think I'll need my strength. After breakfast I'm planning to visit Jonas."
"I'll make you a big stack." Kara paused. "You know, Ryan, you should take your father's picture."
"What on earth for?"
"So you could see him objectively. The way you would look at any other subject. Capture the man on film."
"So that all the truths are revealed," Ryan finished, repeating her earlier statement. He shook his head. "I don't think so. I used to want the truth. Now I think I'd settle for a good lie."
Chapter Eighteen
Jonas pulled a pair of faded blue jeans over his white cotton briefs. He cast a quick look at the hospital room door, but it remained closed. Thank God. He actually had a few minutes' peace from Helga the nurse from hell, or whatever her name was. He walked over to the closet and took out his shirt. His fingers fumbled with the buttons as he hurried to get dressed.
With any luck the cab he had called would be waiting downstairs, ready to take him home. He would worry about paying the hospital bill later.
As Jonas headed for the door, it opened in front of him. He looked up, expecting to see one of the nurses or the doctor, but it was his son, his youngest son, the one who reminded him of all the mistakes he had made in his life.
"What the hell are you doing here? I don't see you for twelve years, and now I'm tripping over you every time I turn around."
Ryan's mouth curved into a reluctant smile. "It does seem like that, doesn't it? I came to keep you company, but it looks like you're on your way out."
"Damn right. And don't try to stop me."
"As if I could."
Jonas heard the bitterness in Ryan's voice. He pretended he didn't. "Get out of my way then."
Ryan didn't move. "How are you getting home?"
"I called a taxi."
"Ah, the getaway car. I don't suppose the doctor knows you're leaving."
"I don't need his permission. I feel fine, and I'm going home. I heard on the radio that the river is rising. I'm sure as hell not going to stay here when my house may be going underwater."
"It's not in any danger at the moment, and even if it was, what could you do? Hold the river back with your bare hands?"
"If I have to. At the very least I can put some sandbags out."
"No, you can't."
Jonas tried to walk past him, but Ryan grabbed him by the arm. There was as much determination in his eyes as Jonas had ever seen.
"You can't fill sandbags. You just had a heart attack," Ryan said.
"You going to do it for me?" Jonas challenged. Ryan didn't answer. "That's what I thought. You don't care about our home. You never did."
