A COWBOY'S PROMISE Page 8

  Charlie, who knew better than to beam, smiled determinedly as he got to his feet. "Hey. Out catching babies tonight?"

  "What are you doing here?" Cait demanded.

  Her father's eyes widened at her tone. "Caity! Where are your manners?"

  Cait bit back the reply that sprang to her lips. "I'm just … surprised to see him here." She kept her accusing glare for Charlie, who was looking like innocence personified.

  "I brought back your ice chest."

  "You needn't have bothered."

  "Well, I wanted to say thanks. And," he grinned faintly, "I was sort of hoping for more ice."

  "Staying off your leg would do more good than coming clear over here."

  "Can't do that. Gotta keep an eye on those bears. Besides, I am taking care of it. I watched where I was going today."

  "Still—"

  "I didn't wear it out. I had a good day. Took some shots of bears and berries." He grinned. "And then I brought the cooler back."

  It all sounded very straightforward. But Cait didn't believe for a minute that was all there was to it. There was a look in Charlie's eyes that she recognized all too well. It was the same look he got whenever he'd been hot on the trail of good photos.

  But she couldn't challenge him now—not with her father such an avid spectator.

  "Well, thank you," she said grudgingly.

  "I invited him to stay for supper," her father said cheerfully, looking brighter than she'd seen him in months. "Was sorry you missed him. But I asked him to stick around. Figured you'd want to see 'im. An' after we ate, we set out here an' talked."

  Which sounded rather ominous. What had Charlie been telling her father? What had her father told Charlie?

  "Well," she said briskly, "thank you for bringing the ice chest back. If you need some more I'll give you some and—"

  "I'll live without it," Charlie said. "I really came to see you. To thank you." He was looking at her intently, so intently she had to look away.

  Nervously she began to straighten the magazines on the coffee table. "You're welcome," she said. "But you didn't need to come all this way for that."

  "It was the least I could do."

  "No, it wasn't. You could have ignored me completely."

  "Caity wouldn't do that. She'd never turn her back on a friend," her father said cheerfully. "Don't know why you didn't tell me where you were goin' last night," he said to her.

  Cait lined up the magazines in precise rows. "It wasn't important."

  "Not compared to your hot date," Charlie said.

  Cait saw her father's eyes go wide. "Hot date?"

  "Steve and I were going to see a movie," Cait told him, shooting Charlie an annoyed glance. "But Steve had an emergency, so I just came back here instead. We went out tonight," she said for Charlie's benefit.

  His brows lifted and he glanced at the clock. "You're home early." The implication being that the date hadn't been all that hot.

  "I thought Dad was alone," Cait said irritably. "Obviously, I was wrong. So thank you for staying and keeping him company. You don't have to hang around now."

  Her father was positively sputtering at her rudeness.

  Charlie seemed completely unfazed. "Oh, I enjoyed it. We had a good time. Besides, I sort of felt like I already knew you a little," he said to Walt. "Cait told me a lot of stories."

  "Did she?" Her father was smiling like the Cheshire Cat. Then he fixed his gaze on Cait. "You," he accused, "didn't tell me anything."

  "You were hardly in any shape to be entertained by my war stories when I got here. You were in Intensive Care."

  "Well, after," Walt grumbled. "You sure never said anything much about this feller here."

  Cait didn't look at Charlie. She shrugged. "I had nothing to say." Then she did glance at him and added dismissively, "Charlie was in and out of my life so quickly."

  "And now I'm back," Charlie said.

  "Briefly," Cait acknowledged. She yawned widely, doing nothing to mask it, hoping he would take the hint. When he didn't move, she said to her father, "I'm tired. I think I'll turn in."

  Her father gave her a disapproving look, which Cait determinedly ignored. Instead she dropped a light kiss on his cheek, then turned to Charlie. "Thank you for returning the cooler."

  "Have dinner with me tomorrow night."

  She stared for a split second. "What?"

  "Have dinner with me." He repeated the words she hadn't wanted to hear in the first place.

  "No. Thank you."

  Her father looked shocked. "Caity!"

  "I've got things to do."

  "He's an old friend."

  "I'm teaching tomorrow night. My birthing class."

  "After your class," Charlie said, all accommodation.

  "I don't finish until nine."

  "I'm allowed up after nine," Charlie said with gentle mockery, making her father chuckle and Cait furious.

  "I'm engaged," she hissed at him.

  "So? He won't let you have dinner with an old friend?"

  "He doesn't have anything to say about it!"

  "Well, then…" Charlie spread his hands. "Old friends need to catch up."

  Friends? Cait looked at him skeptically.

  "You're engaged. What else could we be?"

  She glared at him. "Dad will be alone again and—"

  "Enjoying every minute of it," her father cut in firmly. "You don't need to rush home on account of me, Caity girl. I'm feelin' fine."

  Surprisingly he looked brighter, as if he'd taken a turn for the better, as if something had come along to inspire him.

  Charlie?

  Surely not!

  "You might not be feeling good tomorrow night."

  "Humph," her father snorted. "I reckon I'll survive. Quitcher fussin' and g'wan out with Charlie."

  Quit her fussing? Cait gaped at him. Who had been demanding that she hover over him like a broody hen for months and months? Who had been saying he just wanted her around? Who had felt too poorly to be left alone?

  Now he looked brighter than she'd seen him in ages. There was a hint of life and challenge in his eyes—as if he were daring her to have dinner with Charlie.

  "Fine," she said shortly. "Be at the hospital at nine."

  "If I come early can I check out your class?"

  She blinked. "You want to watch a bunch of expectant mothers breathe and pant?"

  "I like to see women pant." Charlie grinned, and her father smothered a chuckle.

  "Come ahead then," Cait dared him. "I'll put you to work."

  Charlie grinned. "I'll count on it."

  Cait tossed and turned all night. It was because of the wedding, of course. She'd never planned a wedding before. She had so many things to think about. The wedding itself, the reception, the music, the flowers, her bridesmaids, the guest list.

  Charlie.

  She shoved the thought of him away. But, as persistent in her mind as he was in person, he came right back. "Fine," she muttered, crushing her pillow against her chest and staring at the ceiling. "I'll invite you. You can watch me marry Steve. You can eat your heart out."

  Oh, yes. Sure he would.

  She knew better. He was pushing her now because he thought he wanted her. If she ever said yes, she'd marry him, he'd turn and run so fast she'd be left staring at his dust.

  Well, she wasn't going to say yes to Charlie. She'd already said yes to Steve. She just wished Charlie would go away and leave her alone.

  She hadn't been thrilled to see him with her father tonight. She wasn't thrilled to know he was meeting her for dinner tonight. If she could have called him up and declined later, she would have. But the McCalls' cabin had no phone, and if he had a cellular, she didn't know his number.

  So she spent the day hoping he wouldn't show up.

  But at seven that evening he was standing outside the classroom, waiting, when Cait came around the corner.

  The very sight of him caused that familiar quiver deep inside that she always fel
t when she saw Charlie. She used to think it meant she was in love with him. Now she knew better. It was just a hormonal response to a handsome man. It had nothing to do with love.

  "You're early," she said.

  "I'm interested."

  "In a bunch of pregnant women?"

  "And their teacher."

  She felt her cheeks warm. "Don't, Charlie." She brushed past him to go into the classroom.

  "I'm telling the truth, that's all."

  "We're friends, remember? That's what you said. If you're changing the rules, you can leave right now."

  He shrugged. "Fine, we're friends." He followed her to the front of the room and caught her hand before she could jerk it away. "We were always friends, Cait."

  They had been. It was she who had wanted more, who had hoped for more, had thought they had more. She tugged to get her hand away from him, but he didn't let go, and she knew he wouldn't until she agreed with him.

  "All right," she said, annoyed, "we're friends."

  "Good. I thought maybe I could take some pictures."

  "Of what?"

  "Your students."

  She stared at him to see if he was joking, but he seemed perfectly serious. "I've been doing a lot of moms these days. And kids." He glanced around. "Maybe a few dads, too. Relationships."

  "Relationships?" Cait said doubtfully. That didn't sound like Charlie.

  He nodded. "What you need to pass on. Connections. That sort of thing. What mama bear taught her young 'uns. I saw this elk with her calf this morning." A delighted grin lit his face. "Coolest thing." Then he looked a little embarrassed, as if his enthusiasm betrayed him. But finally he just shrugged. "I'm working it out as I go along. Photographing what interests me."

  "Moms and kids?" Cait said, allowing herself to sound sarcastic.

  "Yeah. I'm just gathering material. I'll look for the themes later."

  "I thought you had a theme—inhumanity."

  "Had," Charlie agreed, propping one hip against the edge of the counter that ran along beneath the windows. "But there's more to the world, thank God. More I need—want—to explore." He looked reflective for a moment, then continued. "I've seen enough inhumanity, God knows. I've helped other people see it. That's what my work was, what my book was. But after I got shot, well, I started thinking there was a lot of life I hadn't ever focused on. I'd only half lived. Gaby told me it was time to move on. She's right."

  Cait was surprised at his sincerity. Still, it was hard to imagine Charlie doing mothers and babies. They were the opposite of everything he'd done before. Positive, not negative. Life affirming, not a record of death and destruction. Harbingers of hope, not despair. And they were usually settled.

  Charlie had never been settled. She had seen that, in retrospect. He'd always been restless, eager to be moving, dashing here and there, intent on what was just over the next hill or in tomorrow's news.

  "I'll ask my students if they mind," she said. "I'll introduce you to them and we'll see. We've got seven moms in all." She nodded toward the back of the room where they were beginning to congregate.

  Most, of course, brought their husbands or boyfriends, but occasionally they brought a friend or a relative. After all, Mary had brought Gus before they were married or even really going together again. The birthing class had brought them together.

  "And damn near frustrated the life out of me," Gus had told her ruefully not long ago. "But at the time it was the only way I could get my hands on her."

  Cait had never thought of her class as an erotic experience before and had said so.

  "It's all in the mind of the beholder," Gus had told her with a wink and a grin.

  Cait was determined not to let any erotic thoughts cross her mind. She'd had plenty about Charlie in the past, but that was over. All her thoughts were for Steve now.

  Charlie was just part of the furniture. He could hang around. She would even go to dinner with him. But that was as far as it would go.

  Finally the last couple arrived—Angie Mayhew, barely seventeen and the youngest of the moms-to-be, came in with her coach and foster mother Maddie Fletcher, seventy-five if she was a day. Angie was looking her normally sulky self, but long-suffering Maddie was beaming as always.

  "Sorry we're late," she apologized.

  Angie kept on scowling until she saw Charlie, then her normally truculent expression changed and her gaze grew interested, speculative.

  Cait felt an even greater than normal irritation with the girl. Putting it aside, she cleared her throat. "We have a visitor today, a friend of mine from California, Charlie Seeks Elk. Charlie is a professional photographer, and he's asked if you would allow him to take some photos of our session. I'm not exactly sure what he has in mind, so I'll let him explain what he wants to do."

  If Charlie was surprised that she put him on the spot, he didn't give any indication. He looked up from tightening the lens on his camera and grinned that beguiling Charlie grin that, within minutes, had everyone eating out of his hand.

  He used to take pictures of grim stuff, he told them. Misery and pain, he said, had been the hallmarks of his work. And then he'd seen the light. "I finally figured out that if I only focused on that, I was missing a big part of life," he told them, "the best part. I shot a lot of photos of death and dying. Now I'd like to look at the other side. So I'd like to take some photos here—of birth and getting ready for it. Unplanned. Unposed. If I get good ones, with your permission, I'll hang them in a show I'm doing down in Santa Fe next spring. What do you say?"

  The women, except Angie, looked embarrassed, but nodded. Angie preened. Charlie, Cait could tell, noticed.

  "Just ignore me," he said to all of them. "Listen to Cait and pretend I'm not here."

  It was like telling them not to think of pink chickens, Cait thought. Whatever you do, don't think of pink chickens!

  Charlie was the most noticeable pink chicken in the room. They eyed him warily out of the corners of their eyes. They glanced back over their shoulders to see where he was and what he was doing.

  In fact, Charlie wasn't doing anything. He was holding his camera, but he wasn't shooting. He just held it easily in his hands and waited for Cait to start.

  Cait was as self-conscious as her students. Maybe more so. But everything depended on her, so she began. This was the third week of the six-week course. The time of birth was getting close now. Several of the women were experiencing contractions. One had already been hospitalized overnight when labor had appeared imminent.

  It was time to give them a view of what to expect instead of just talking about it. "We're going to look at a video first tonight," she told them. "A time lapse of labor and delivery so you know what to expect. You can see the breathing techniques in practice and watch for the transitions. It will help make some sort of sense of what we've been doing."

  As she talked, she, too, flicked glance after glance in Charlie's direction, but he still wasn't moving, just listening. Everyone else—except Angie—had stopped turning around by this time.

  She expected Charlie to wander off during the video or possibly shoot some low-light photos, but he never lifted his camera once. Instead, once the film started, he stayed right where he was, perched on the counter at the side of the room, and watched, entranced, as the on-screen labor progressed.

  Everyone else watched the movie, too. Cait watched him.

  She'd seen the movie already—about a dozen times. That was her excuse. There was also a little curiosity about Charlie's reaction. She'd seen him tender and gentle with Resi, but she knew better than anyone that he never really got involved. So it was a little surprising that he looked almost shaken when the video ended with the mother holding her brand-new child in her arms.

  The other viewer who sat in complete silence was Angie. She looked scared to death.

  About time, Cait thought.

  The girl's cavalier attitude and general flippancy had irritated her from the start. Only the fact that Maddie had come with he
r, determinedly supportive and making up for Angie's general rudeness had convinced Cait to put up with her in the class.

  "All right," she said after punching Rewind on the VCR. "Now that you've seen what you're in for, let's get to work again on some of the breathing techniques. Everyone get a mat."

  Charlie began to move around the room, taking pictures as everyone got a mat. The pregnant women, grumbling and laughing at their own awkwardness, lowered themselves to the floor. Their coaches knelt beside them, all except Maddie who was moving a little slowly. "It's these damned arthritic knees," she said with an expression halfway between a grimace and a grin. "I'm not as young as I used to be."

  Angie was looking impatient, not helping at all.

  "Here," Charlie said to Maddie, dragging over a chair beside the mat where Angie sat. "You sit here."

  "I'm supposed to help," Maddie protested.

  "You can help from there," Charlie said firmly. "If you need anything done on the floor, I'll do it."

  "She's supposed to put her hands on my belly," Angie informed him with a sly, speculative look.

  Charlie just shrugged. "I can do that."

  Angie brightened considerably, and Cait felt an unpleasant and unwanted shaft of annoyance spear her. She turned her back and began to start the breathing sequence. "Okay, everyone. Let's go."

  She didn't think Charlie took another picture for the rest of the class, but he did manage to keep Angie focused on what she was supposed to be doing. Of course she was doing it to impress Charlie, but at least she was doing it. She had only come to the earlier classes because Maddie had insisted.

  "I'm leading the horse to water," Maddie had told Cait privately. "God knows if she'll drink."

  She would, Cait decided irritably, if Charlie was around to help her.

  She tried not to notice them as she went around the room, helping out each couple who had questions. Naturally Angie didn't have any questions. Except for Charlie.

  Even after the class was over and the mats put away, Angie was sticking close to Charlie, her expression equal parts lust and hero worship as she followed his every move with her eyes. Charlie was talking to Maddie, but he was smiling at Angie and resting a hand on her shoulder.