Читать книгу Undercurrent - Sara K. Parker - Страница 12

THREE

“Well.” Alice crossed the room and dropped onto the bed. “I was looking for excitement when I signed up for this cruise, but a falling chandelier and a fire were not what I’d anticipated.” She took off her hat and tossed it on the nightstand beside her.

“I’d offer to call for some tea, but my hands are still shaking something fierce,” Grandma said.

“It would probably be a while before someone could bring it to us, anyway,” Kat said. “Would you like me to make you some?”

“No, no. Tea brewed in a coffee pot always tastes like coffee. But how sweet to offer. You just sit down for a bit. You’ve been through a trauma, Kathryn.”

“Thanks, and you can just call me Kat.” She perched on the edge of a brown leather chair, bare feet peeking out from under her gown. Sam caught a glimpse of sparkly silver toenails before she rearranged the hem of her gown to cover her feet. She clasped her hands together in her lap, absently twisting a plain gold band on her right ring finger.

“I wonder how something like this could happen,” his grandmother said. She ran a hand along her straight white hair, smoothing it down. She’d given up coloring it long ago and now just bleached it white every now and again. It was better than gray, she said, and more believable than blond.

“Trouble does seem to follow you, Grandma,” Sam said wryly. It’d been a running joke long before he’d joined the family as a troubled foster kid looking for roots. He closed the door with a quiet snap, his gaze settling on Kat.

“Which is why you came to babysit me, right? Imagine that.” Alice huffed, her hair nearly vibrating with the force of her indignation. “A seventy-two-year-old being treated like a toddler. It’s ridiculous, don’t you think, Kat?”

“Well, I...” She met Sam’s eyes.

He could tell she wasn’t quite sure how to respond to his grandmother.

“Should I remind you that you’re the one who insisted I come with you?” he pointed out.

His grandmother huffed again. “That was only because I knew you had more time available than the rest of them.” She looked at Kat. “Until this cruise, he hadn’t taken a day off in two years!”

He caught the speculation in Kat’s gaze. Grandma had a way of turning the conversation back to him, but he had another agenda, and before Kat could comment, he got to it.

“You and Max don’t seem friendly. How do you know each other?”

“We dated for a while.” She rubbed at a smudge of soot that stained the blue fabric of her dress. He could have told her it would never come out. The fancy dress was tomorrow’s trash, which was too bad. But at least Kat was okay.

“And you both just happen to be on the same cruise together, or did you come together and then separate?”

“He’s a journalist. He’s writing a travel piece for his magazine.”

Convenient. The smarmy ex-boyfriend had followed her on board. Why? To get even with her for something? Rig the chandelier to fall when Kat was performing? Even Sam knew his imagination was stretching there. Any number of things could have caused the explosion, and Max didn’t strike him as someone who could successfully plan and implement such an elaborate scheme. The guy probably came on board to try to win Kathryn back. Even so, Sam never operated on assumptions.

“What’s his last name? And what magazine does he work for?” At least he could look into the guy, corroborate the reasons for his trip.

“Pratt. Maxwell Pratt. He works for Miami Motions.” Kat pushed a strand of damp hair away from her shoulder. Whatever makeup she’d been wearing had faded, leaving only traces of mascara smeared under her eyes. The sprinklers had drenched her hair and soaked her gown. She shivered, and Sam snagged a blanket from the end of the bed, tucking it around her shoulders.

“Thanks,” she murmured, pulling it closed around her wet dress.

“Looks like your ex-boyfriend is still pining for you,” Grandma said, eyes glinting with interest. It would be better if Sam could interview Kat alone, but there was nowhere else to go, and he didn’t plan to wait.

“He’s been hoping we’ll get back together. But it’s over,” Kat said. He saw the finality in her expression and didn’t doubt her words.

“How long did you two date?” Sam asked.

“A little more than a year.” She didn’t want to talk about Max. He knew it, from her rigid posture, her brief answers. But Sam needed information, and he would get it.

“When did you break up?”

She looked at him then, brow furrowed. “I don’t want to be rude, but I’d rather not discuss Max.”

“I get that, and I don’t mean to pry. I’m just trying to piece together the facts.”

Kat’s gaze narrowed and she pulled the blanket tighter around her slender frame. “And my relationship with Max matters because...?”

She clearly wasn’t following his line of thought, and why would she? Any number of things could have caused the explosion. But Sam’s instinct told him whatever the cause, it wasn’t accidental.

“It may not matter at all,” he said. “But sometimes the smallest details help.”

“In this case, I don’t see how,” Kat insisted. She looked young and vulnerable, and Sam wondered why she was even here. Why would a world-class pianist take a gig on a cruise ship? It certainly couldn’t be for the money. Exposure? She didn’t seem as if she was desperate for it.

“Don’t mind him, Kathryn,” Grandma chimed in sweetly from her reclined position on the bed. “This is just who Sam is. That’s the problem with his being a Secret Service agent. He always thinks he’s on duty.” His grandmother looked as if she were watching a movie play out. He was tempted to offer to get her a bag of popcorn and a soda for all her interest in their conversation.

* * *

“Secret Service?” Kat met Sam’s eyes.

He shrugged as if it weren’t a big deal. Maybe to him it wasn’t, but it would be more valuable information to supply to Morgan later. Kat smiled as she imagined telling her friend all the details of the day. Knowing Morgan, she’d be disappointed she missed out on all the action. Kat, on the other hand, just wanted to rewind to those moments on the balcony before her performance. When she’d felt tranquil and safe. She didn’t enjoy chaos or drama.

“So you live in DC, then?” she asked, latching on to the chance to change the subject.

“No. I’m at the Miami field office,” he said, but moved right on with his objective. “You don’t have any enemies, do you?” Sam asked.

The question caught her off guard, and she looked at him seriously, trying to read his expression.

“That’s an odd question.”

“Not when you were nearly crushed by a chandelier,” Sam said.

Connecting the chandelier’s fall to foul play was a leap, in Kat’s opinion. She opened her mouth to say as much, but Sam suddenly pulled the other chair over and sat across from her. She almost laughed. His grandmother was right. It was as if he was in his own interrogation room with her. Samuel West did have the appearance of a Secret Service agent. Not that she’d ever met one. But he fit the image she’d stored in her imagination. Tall, muscled, dark hair, sharp eyes.

Only, he wore blue jeans and a black polo instead of a suit and tie. And they were in the middle of the ocean on a cruise, not back on land in a federal building.

“Enemies?” he prodded.

“None that I know of,” Kat said.

“So, you weren’t running from something when you took this job?”

“No!” The word came out a little too forcefully, and Kat knew it. She had been running from something, she supposed. From loss. Her father, the house, her relationship with Max. All of it, gone.

“Then why did you take it?”

She wanted to tell him it was none of his business, that she’d had enough of the interrogation, and she wanted to call down for her key. But Sam had saved her life, and she owed him more than an ungrateful response.

“It was time for a change. I wanted to try something new. My best friend has been working on cruises for years. She suggested it.” There. Simple, but true.

He searched her face, as if he could read her thoughts. She hoped he couldn’t, because her attention had been drawn just then to the way his polo stretched across a muscled chest.

“You needed a change from touring the world doing concerts...so you decided to work on a cruise ship. Touring the world, doing concerts.”

He saw right through her, she knew. But she didn’t want to discuss Dad. The fire. All the other reasons she’d taken the job. She looked into his piercing eyes and knew her efforts were futile.

“I canceled my tour back in November when my dad had a stroke. I moved in with him for a few months and started teaching piano at the University of Miami. My dad passed away in January. I needed a little time away.”

She didn’t mention the fire. She didn’t want sympathy points from anyone. The fact that her house was being rebuilt while she was away was only a small reason she’d left Miami. Max was another. Only he’d still found a way to stay close. She simply wouldn’t share everything about her life with a stranger.

Even if that stranger had saved her life.

“I’m sorry about your father,” Alice said. “It’s hard to lose someone you love.”

“Thank you.” She stood, unwrapped the blanket from her shoulders and laid it over the back of the chair. “I’d better call for my key. I’d like to get back to my room and out of this dress.”

She moved toward the phone, but Sam snagged her hand. She looked back at him, and her breath caught. The tenderness in his gaze tugged at her heart, a deep longing rising from where she’d shoved it away. Longing for constancy, companionship, family.

“I was hoping you’d stay with my grandmother while I talk to ship security down below.”

She tugged her hand out of his grasp and set to tying her wet hair back into a low bun. The cool dampness did its job and she pushed her feelings away.

“I do not need a babysitter.” Alice muttered the words under her breath. Crossed her arms defiantly.

“Noted, Grandma.”

Kat looked from Alice to Sam. It was none of her business, but she found herself increasingly curious about this man who had taken leave from work to care for his grandmother on vacation and then taken on Kat’s protection as his responsibility. Her cynical side reminded her that people who seemed too good to be true usually were. But the woman in her—the part of her heart that longed for companionship—sensed that Sam was everything he seemed to be. And more.

Alice stood and walked over to the balcony door. “What I need is a little fresh air and some company.”

Kat grinned. Yes, just like Morgan, Alice had a flair for drama. “I don’t imagine I’ll have access to my room anytime soon. I’m happy to stay until then.”

And she was. Even though she really wanted a shower and some clean clothes, she also didn’t relish the idea of going back to her room alone just yet. Surely the incident in the atrium had been an accident, but she was still shaken by how close she’d come to losing her life. And she had to admit she’d like to get to know Alice a little better.

“Thanks,” Sam said. “You should get some fresh air, too. You still look pale.”

“I did nearly get crushed by a chandelier,” she said, mimicking the words he’d used and trying to lighten the mood.

But Sam’s expression darkened. “Glad you haven’t forgotten.”

A cold chill swept up Kat’s nape, and her hand came up to press it away.

“Sammy, enough with your gloom and doom,” Alice chided. “I hardly think she could forget what happened just thirty minutes ago.”

Sam glanced at his grandmother and a sheepish expression softened his face. “Good,” he said. “Hopefully, that will keep you both out of trouble while I’m gone.”

His eyes held a teasing glint, and Kat’s stomach flipped. She moved toward the phone and away from all the feelings he stirred up.

“We’ll be fine,” she said and picked up the phone to call the concierge station as Sam left the room. After the phone rang several times with no answer, Kat gave up for the time being. “I’ll try again in a few minutes.”

“You coming, then?” Alice asked as she stepped onto the balcony, then looked back at Kat. “Or maybe you’d like to freshen up first? It might feel good to splash some water on your face.”

“I think I’ll do that,” Kat said. “I’ll join you in a few minutes.” She walked to the bathroom, her side aching where the scars stretched taut, shoulder bruised from rolling off the stage. Her gown was ruined, but that was the least of her concerns.

A deep shadow of unease swept in and stole the relief she’d felt earlier after escaping the chandelier. Could Sam’s intuition be on the mark? What if someone had deliberately caused the explosion? She tried to push the thought away. Sam may be suspicious of her ex, but the idea of Max setting a bomb off was ludicrous to anyone who knew him. That wasn’t the kind of fire he played with.

Regardless, Kat wanted to know what exactly had happened in the atrium. And she wanted off this ship before something else happened.

Days from land in every direction, she knew she was stuck.

She closed herself in the bathroom. The mirror glared back at her in the bright fluorescent light and she winced as a headache flared. What a mess. Debris dotted her hair. Dust smudged her nose and her right cheek. Her eyes were bloodshot, burning from the too-familiar sting of smoke. Mascara smudged under her eyes. Hard to believe only an hour had passed since she’d left her cabin for her performance.

She sent up a silent prayer of thanks that she had survived, but she didn’t feel relieved in the least. An eerie sense of danger crawled along her spine, dread pitting in her stomach. The opportunity to travel the world for the summer on a cruise ship had seemed like a gift—a chance to recharge and renew her spirits.

Sunshine. That was what Morgan had said. You need lots of sunshine. And to put some distance between you and Max.

It had worked, for a little while. Performing and sightseeing and experiencing the peace and relaxation of the open waters, Kat had begun to feel more like herself again. Over the past couple of days, though, alone in her room, the quiet had gotten to her. The sunshine she’d been hanging on to replaced with shadows of sadness from the past, and the enormity of what she’d be returning to at the end of the summer...a brand-new house, empty of everything that made it home.

The photos and videos. The scent of her father’s cologne. The piano she’d woken up to Christmas morning when she was six years old.

Gone. All of it.

At least she had escaped.

Not your time to go. That was what her dad would have said. He’d believed that everything happened for a reason, and Kat had always believed that, too.

Lately, though, she’d begun to question. Her losses kept stacking up, and she wasn’t sure what else she had left to lose.

What purpose had her parents’ deaths served? And why would God spare Kat’s life but allow a fire to destroy her home—the home she’d grown up in—and with it all her tangible memories?

The questions swirled through her mind, but she had no answers. For now, she’d just have to clean up and be happy she could do it.

She turned on the faucet and washed her face, grateful for the warm water running over her chilled hands and rinsing the grime away. She pulled her hair out of its makeshift bun and finger combed it, then wet a hand towel, rubbing it along her arms and neck. She looked a little better, but still she stood, staring back at her herself. Willing herself not to think about what would have happened if Sam hadn’t been in the atrium tonight. Forcing herself not to think about his questions, but, of course, she couldn’t stop thinking about them.

Enemies? No one came to mind. She wasn’t prone to conflict, never had been. Growing up as an only child had instilled in Kat a sense of peace and order that she’d carried with her into adulthood. She didn’t like to make waves, and she tried not to hang around people who did. Life was too uncertain, she’d found, to allow anger and bitterness to fester.

Even after Max’s betrayal, she tried not to let her emotions take control. Letting him go had been much easier than she’d expected. She realized that perhaps she’d been more in love with the idea of settling down and starting a family than she’d been in love with Max.

Now she wasn’t sure what she wanted to do after her contract was up. There was a certain allure to the sea, but it was a short-term gig. She could go back to teaching at the university, or she could open a private piano studio. She could take a year off and concentrate on composing music for a new CD. Nothing sounded enticing lately, and she hoped her path would become clear given a little more time.

“God is in control,” she whispered at her reflection. She used to believe that. Even after her mother’s death, Kat’s trust in God had never wavered. Lately, though, she’d wondered.

Surely, He could have given her just a little more time with her father. Why bring her back home and draw her in deep only to take him away so soon?

At least you had some time with him. That was what Morgan had reminded her quietly, and Kat knew she was right. But it hurt. And now she was more alone than she’d ever been.

Watching Sam with his grandmother reminded her of what she was missing, what she’d been missing for most of her life. A real sense of family. People to share life with. Morgan was the closest thing she had to family now, and she was anxious to get back to her room so she could check on her.

A quiet tap sounded at the bathroom door. “Everything okay in there?” Alice called from the other side.

Kat opened the door. “Yes, thanks. I feel a lot better now.”

Alice swept a quick glance over Kat and nodded. “Still in one piece, and all cleaned up. Too bad about the dress.”

Kat stepped out into the room. “It was my favorite one. My dad bought it for me.” And since the dress had been at the dry cleaner’s the week of the fire, it had been one of the only things she had left of her father.

Through slurred speech that was painful to listen to, he’d apologized for missing out on so much, for being too absorbed in his own grief to help Kat through hers. Said he should have done the things a mother would have done, like taking her for manicures and buying her a prom dress. So he’d told her he wanted to buy her next concert gown. Morgan had gone with her, snapped photos of Kat in her favorite choices. Later, Kat had come home to show her father the pictures and ask his opinion.

He’d never see her in a wedding gown or walk her down the aisle, but she’d at least shared those moments with him and seen the love shimmering in his fading brown eyes.

The memory hit her suddenly and without warning, and she felt the heat of tears threaten. She walked to the chair and grabbed the blanket, facing away from Alice so she wouldn’t see.

“Still chilly?” Alice said. “I got through to the concierge while you were in the bathroom, and they said they’d get your key to you soon.”

“Oh, thank you. It’ll be nice to change into some dry clothes.”

“For sure. Come on out to the balcony with me. Knowing Sam, he’ll be a while yet.” She smiled, pride lighting her eyes. “He was born for the work he does. It’s as if God gave him an extra little bit of bravery and honor. He’s just...not your average young man. But I’m sure you noticed.”

“He was the only one running toward me while the chandelier was coming down.”

“Exactly!” Alice nodded as if they’d just agreed on some deep philosophical truth. “Now, let’s sit down and try to enjoy this evening,” she said cheerfully. “It isn’t every day we face death straight on and live to tell about it.”

Her words did anything but cheer Kat. She hadn’t faced death once, but twice, and she didn’t want to face it again anytime soon.