"He left?" Caitlan echoed. A frisson of alarm shot through her. "Where did he go?"
Cutting out round discs of dough, Paula placed them on a baking sheet. "He said he had some things to take care of in town and that he wouldn't be back until this afternoon."
Caitlan silently reprimanded herself for allowing her emotions to make her remiss in her duties to J.T. While she'd been wallowing in sorrow he'd left. Without her to protect him. "Did he go by himself?" Urgency tinged her voice, but she couldn't help it.
"He took Kirk with him." Paula sent her a curious glance. "You should have told him you wanted to go with him. He probably thought you'd be bored."
More likely he left without telling me so he wouldn't have to deal with me as a tagalong. Taking a swallow of coffee, she glanced out the window above the sink. A gray dawn was just breaking, and Caitlan could see the bustle of the hands down at the barn as they prepared for the day. She searched for her nemesis but couldn't find him. "Have you seen Randal this morning?" she asked in a neutral tone.
"No. I usually don't." Finished with her biscuits, Paula washed her hands and dried them on a terry towel, giving Caitlan a shrewd look. "Just a word of advice, Caitlan: Stay away from Randal. I don't know what's gotten into that boy lately, but he's a fuse just waiting to be lit."
Caitlan nodded and rinsed her cup. "I will."
"Good." Paula dismissed the topic as quickly as it had been brought up. Bustling to the pantry, she brought out a container of sugar and two cans of pineapple rings. "Ever made a pineapple upside-down cake?"
Caitlan smiled. "No."
"Well, you're about to learn." Paula handed her an apron from a kitchen drawer, winking at her conspiratorially. "It's J.T.'s favorite. Maybe it'll soften him up some."
Caitlan doubted it, but she was desperate enough to bridge the rift between them to try anything.
Paula left the house a little after two in the afternoon, once Caitlan had convinced her she'd be fine until Laura arrived home from school in an hour or so. The house was spotless, and dinner was ready to pop into the oven later that evening. The sweet, heady fragrance of the cake they'd made permeated the house.
Wandering through the big, quiet ranch house, Caitlan wondered what she could do to keep herself, and her mind, occupied so she wouldn't think about what had happened between her and J.T. last night, and this morning. Going to the barn to see King was out of the question; too many fresh, sensual memories lingered there. She didn't think she'd ever be able to smell the sweet scent of hay without thinking of J.T. and the way he'd made love to her.
She thought about sketching, but discarded the idea. She wasn't in the frame of mind to deal with the confusing visions that usually plagued her when she drew. Heading toward J.T.'s office, she decided reading a book would be the best way to divert her thoughts.
The floor-to-ceiling bookcase offered a variety of reading material. Perusing her way down the shelves, she discovered books on American history, accounting, cattle ranching, and literally a dozen other subjects. A set of encyclopedias occupied the second-to-last shelf, and below that were a row of photo albums.
Interest piqued, she sat cross-legged on the carpet and withdrew the first album. Opening the tan cover, she immersed herself in what she assumed was the Rafferty family. Pictures of J.T. and Debbie as children graced the pages, and there were even a few photographs with Randal in them. She realized Randal had the same belligerent, cocky air about him then as he did now. Picking out J.T.'s parents was easy to do; J.T. resembled his father and Debbie had the fair looks of her mother. She recognized a few shots of Frank and Paula, but other than that no one looked familiar.
Whiling away the next hour, she went down the line of albums, seeing the progression in J.T.'s and Debbie's childhood, all the way up to their teen years. When she pulled out the last album she noticed a cigar box tucked into the corner of the shelf, out of sight until she removed the last volume.
Sliding the album back into its slot, she picked up the box, then laid it on the carpet in front of her, debating on whether or not to open it. No tape or locks secured it, and there was nothing to indicate the contents were of a personal nature. Assuming it held more photographs, she lifted the lid and looked inside.
Her gaze inventoried a small stack of letters and papers, photographs, a lock of blond hair tied with a pink satin ribbon, and a black velvet ring box. Each piece of memorabilia shimmered with a strange life of its own, beckoning to a deep, secluded portion of her soul. Drawn by unknown forces, she picked up one of the letters and unfolded the page, realizing as she read the flowery script that it was a love letter to J.T. from Amanda. Her medallion warmed between her breasts, a tingle of warning she knew it was best to heed, but she couldn't put the letter down. The heartfelt words wove through Caitlan, and she closed her eyes and recited the rest of the prose out loud as easily as if she'd memorized the words, or written the letter herself.
Shocked by her ability to repeat each line word for word, she quickly returned the letter to the pile. Her heart pounded in a heavy rhythm and apprehension climbed up her spine. She now realized the purpose of the medallion's warming was to caution her, and possibly to protect her from discovering something. She ignored the warning, more determined than ever to find out what that something was. All her visions and emotions for J.T. were linked to the medallion, and she wanted to know why.
Reaching into the box again, she grasped the loose photographs and flipped through them, recognizing Amanda from her visions. The snapshots were of J.T. and Amanda as teenagers. They looked so in love with one another, Caitlan's heart gave a sharp twist of longing. Replacing the pictures, she found sketches of J.T., the paper yellowed by years, the pencil markings smudged. Upon closer inspection, she realized these sketches were the exact ones she'd drawn from her visions a couple of nights ago. How could that be possible, when she'd never seen these sketches before? Her hand trembling and her stomach clenching in trepidation, she returned the papers to their precise spot. Unable to stop herself, she touched the lock of silky hair, then fingered the ribbon. A deep, heavy pressure settled in her breast, and she swallowed back the sudden thickness in her throat. What was happening to her?
Pulling back her hand, she stared at the black velvet box. The urge to open the lid and see what it contained overwhelmed her. She chewed on her bottom lip, telling herself to put the cigar box back where she had found it and leave J.T.'s office. Without a doubt he'd be furious to know she'd gone through his personal momentos of Amanda, but stronger elements she didn't understand guided her.
The moment she touched the velvet box her medallion singed her skin. Gasping, she quickly brought the gold pendant out from her sweatshirt, but the heat was so intense it burned through the heavy cotton material. Ignoring the increasing heat, she defiantly opened the lid. A solitaire diamond engagement ring sparkled up at her, the gold band smooth and shiny. Impulsively, she removed the solitaire from the folds of velvet and slipped it on her left-hand ring finger. Instantly, a maelstrom of sensations invaded her body and mind, pulling her into a vortex of emotions so powerful she couldn't escape. The medallion burned like fire through her sweatshirt; then the startling heat slipped under her skin, spreading an unnerving tingle throughout her entire body. Her temples throbbed, and she squeezed her eyes shut to block the confusing fragmented visions swirling inside her mind.
"Will you marry me, Amanda Hamilton?"
"Are you sure?" Amanda whispered in a voice mingled with happiness and insecurity.
"Absolutely." J.T.'s. eyes shone with love and adoration. "You've always been mine, Amanda… "