"Doing what? Where are you living?"

Now there was the question of the hour, she thought. "I've been in a small town north of Cheyenne," she said.

"Doing?"

"The same old thing," she said, unable to hide a note of defensiveness. "Working in a diner."

"You were always good at that," he said with what sounded like genuine admiration. "You had a way of making every customer feel special, even the grumpy ones."

She shrugged. "Better tips that way."

"Why do you do that?" he asked, regarding her with a puzzled expression. "Why do you put yourself down? There's nothing wrong with being a d.a.m.n fine waitress."

"No, there's not," she agreed.

He grinned. "That's better. Besides being a waitress, what have you been up to? I imagine raising your son takes most of your time."

She swallowed hard. Obviously he knew about Jake's existence, so there was little point in denying it. "Yes."

"I saw him, you know."

Fear made her stiffen. "You did? When?"

"The day you drove into town. I saw you go speeding past the ranch. He was with you."

She breathed a sigh of relief. Only from a distance, then. He couldn't have seen much, a glimpse at most.

"How old is he?"

"Nine."

"Then you must have had him not long after we broke up," he said, his expression thoughtful. Then, as if a dark cloud had pa.s.sed in front of the sun, his eyes filled with shadows. His gaze hardened. "You didn't waste a lot of time finding somebody new, did you?"

She wanted to deny the d.a.m.ning conclusion to which he'd leaped, but it was safer than the alternative, safer than letting him make a connection with the timing of their relationship. "Not long," she agreed. She studied him curiously. "I didn't think it mattered what I did, since you were long gone."

"So, we're back to that," he said, his tone cold. "I wrote to you. I explained that my father insisted I go back to college right then. I asked you to wait, told you I'd get home the first chance I got."

"And I'm telling you that I never got such a letter," she said. "If I had, I would have waited." She started to add that she had loved him, but what was the point of saying that now? Whatever she had felt had died years ago.

"I would have understood," she told him, her voice flat.

"Oh, really? That wasn't how it sounded in the letter I got. You sounded as if you didn't give a rat's behind what I did."

She looked him straight in his eyes as she made another flat denial. "I never wrote to you. How could I? I didn't even know where you'd gone."

"I have the letter, dammit."

"I didn't write it," she repeated.

He studied her unflinching gaze, then sighed. "You're telling me the truth, aren't you?" He stepped away from her and raked his hand through his hair in a gesture that had become habit whenever he was troubled. "What the h.e.l.l happened back then?"

Suddenly, before she could even speculate aloud, he muttered a harsh expletive. "My father, no doubt. He had something to do with it, you can be sure of that. He forced me to go, then made sure my letter never reached you. I'm sure he was responsible for the letter I got, as well."

"Wouldn't you have recognized his handwriting?"

"Of course, but he wouldn't write it himself. He'd have someone else do his dirty work."

If that was true, Ca.s.sie didn't know how she felt about it. It would be a relief to know Cole hadn't abandoned her after all, but it didn't change anything. Too much time had pa.s.sed. And there was Jake to consider. Cole would be livid if he found out the boy was his.

"It doesn't matter now, Cole. It was a long time ago. We've both moved on with our lives."

He scanned her face intently. "You're happy, then?"

"Yes," she said. It was only a tiny lie. Most of the time she was...content. At least she had been until Jake's mischief had made it necessary for her to leave the home she'd worked so hard to make for them.

"You didn't marry your son's father, though, did you?"

"No. It wouldn't have worked," she said truthfully. "Jake and I do okay on our own."

He smiled. "That's his name? Jake?"

She nodded.

"I like it."

She had known he would, because they had discussed baby names one night when they'd allowed themselves to dream about the future. Cole had evidently forgotten that, which was just as well.

"He's a good kid?"

"Most of the time," she said with a rueful grin.

"Being your son, I'll bet he's a handful. What sort of mischief does he get into?"

She found herself telling him about the computer scam, laughing now that it was behind them, admiring-despite herself-her son's audacity. "Not that I would ever in a million years tell him that. What he did was wrong. That's the only message I want him to get from me."

"We did worse," Cole pointed out.

"We certainly did not," she protested.

"We stole all the footb.a.l.l.s right before the biggest game of the season, because I was injured and the team was likely to lose without me."

Ca.s.sie remembered. She also remembered that they'd been suspended from school for a week because of it. In high school she had loved leading the older, more popular Cole into mischief. It was only later, when he'd come home from college, that their best-buddy relationship had turned into something else.

Thinking of the stunts she'd instigated, she smiled. "That was different. No one was really harmed by it. And they played anyway. The coach went home and found a football in his garage. The team was so fired up by what we'd done, by the implication that they couldn't win without you, that they went out and won that game just to prove that they didn't need you to run one single play."

Cole laughed. "It was quite a reality check for my ego, that's for sure."

"Okay, so we chalk that one up as a stunt that backfired," she said. "Anything else you remember us doing that was so terrible?"

"There was the time you talked me into taking all the prayer books from the Episcopal church and switching them with the ones at the Baptist church." He grinned. "Why did we do that, anyway?"

She shrugged. "It seemed like a good idea at the time. And I think I was mad at my mom, because she kept pointing out prayers she thought I ought to be learning to save my soul from eternal d.a.m.nation. I was tired of hearing the same ones over and over again, so I thought a switch would give her some new material."

The mention of her mother snapped her back to the present and the worries that had been stirred up about her health, first by Cole, tonight by Karen and even by that incident in town.

Suddenly she simply had to know the truth. She handed Cole her gla.s.s. "I have to go."

"Where?" he asked, his expression puzzled.

"Home. I want to talk to my mother before it gets to be too late."

The fact that he simply nodded and didn't challenge her abrupt decision to leave confirmed her fear that something must be terribly wrong. Moreover, Cole obviously knew what it was. There was too much sympathy in his expression.

"Give her my regards," he said quietly.

She considered trying to question him again about what he knew, but it was pointless. Cole could keep a secret as well as anyone, and it was evident he intended to keep this one out of loyalty to her mother.

"I will," she said.

She started across the parking lot, but he called out to her. "Ca.s.sie?"

She turned back. "Yes?"

He lifted his gla.s.s in a silent toast. "Thanks for the dance."

"Anytime," she said.

He grinned. "I'll hold you to that. There will be a great country band at the picnic tomorrow, and I haven't had a decent Texas two-step partner in years."

"You might still be saying that after tomorrow," she retorted. "I haven't been dancing in years."

And then, because she was far too tempted to go back and steal a kiss as she once would have done without a thought, she turned on her heel and strode away without another backward glance.

At home Ca.s.sie kicked off her shoes in the living room, then noted with relief that there was still a light on in her mother's room. She padded into the kitchen and brewed two cups of tea, then carried them upstairs. In her bedroom Edna was reading her Bible as she had every night before bed for as long as Ca.s.sie could remember.

"I made some tea," she announced.

Startled, her mother's gaze shot up. Worry puckered her brow. "You're home awfully early. Weren't you having a good time seeing all your friends?"

"Cole was there," she said, as if that explained everything.

"I see." Her mother set aside her Bible and patted the edge of the bed. "Come, sit beside me." She smiled. "I remember when you used to come in here after one of your dates and tell me everything you'd done."

"Almost everything," Ca.s.sie corrected dryly as she set the teacups on the nightstand and sat beside her mother.

"Some things a mother doesn't need to know."

Ca.s.sie leaned down and pressed a kiss to her mother's cheek. "I'm sorry I made things so difficult for you."

"You were testing the limits. It was natural enough. So, tell me, did you and Cole talk tonight?"

"Some, but I don't want to get into that right now." She took her mother's hand in her own, felt the calluses on the tips of her fingers put there by mending countless shirts, sewing on hundreds of b.u.t.tons and hemming at least as many skirts, month after month, year after year. "I want to talk about you."

"Me?" Her mother withdrew her hand and looked away, her expression suddenly nervous. "Why would you want to talk about me?"

"Because of that spell you had in town and because twice in the past few days people have said things, things that didn't make any sense to me."

"About?"

"You." She studied her mother's face. "Are you okay, Mom? Is there something going on that you haven't told me?"

A soft smile touched her mother's lips. She raised her hand to tuck a wayward curl behind Ca.s.sie's ear. "I'm glad you're home for a visit."

The evasion only made her impatient. "Mom, tell me."

Her mother drew in a deep breath, then blurted out, "I have cancer."

There it was, that single, plain-spoken word with the power to instill terror. Ca.s.sie was devastated. For a full five minutes after her mother said the words, Ca.s.sie simply stared at her in shock.

"But you don't look sick," she whispered finally, her voice catching on a sob. "Except for that little spell yesterday afternoon, you've looked just fine since I got here."

"They tell me I'm going to look a whole lot worse before they're through with me," her mother said, managing to inject an unexpected note of wry humor into the solemn discussion. "And that spell was because of the heat, not the cancer."

Tears spilled down Ca.s.sie's cheeks as she reached for the woman who'd had to endure so much by having a daughter who was always causing trouble.

"I want to know everything the doctors said. When did you find out?"

"I found the lump in my breast two weeks ago and had a needle biopsy that was positive. They wanted to operate right away, but you were coming home. I told them they'd just have to wait."

Ca.s.sie was appalled. "You haven't even had the surgery yet?"

"There will be time enough after you've gone back home."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm not leaving you here to go through this alone."

"You've made a life for yourself," her mother countered. "You can't know how grateful I am that you and Jake are doing well. I won't disrupt that."

"You don't have a choice," Ca.s.sie said decisively. "We will call the doctor first thing next week and schedule the surgery. You'll need someone here when you're going through treatment, too. Will you be having radiation? Chemotherapy?"

"That will depend on what they find when they operate, but I have plenty of friends who will stand by me," her mother insisted. "I'm sure that's how Cole and Karen know. People are already rallying around with offers to drive me wherever I need to go. I don't want you turning your life upside down on my account, especially not with Cole snooping around. Who knows what sort of trouble that man and his father might stir up?"

Ca.s.sie's gaze narrowed. She had never heard her mother say a harsh word about Cole. In fact, she had always treated him as if he were her own son. Of course, if she had known all along about Cole being Jake's father, that would have colored her opinion of him.

"Cole's not important right now," Ca.s.sie said fiercely. "The only thing that matters is getting you well." Tears stung her eyes again. "Oh, Mom, you're going to beat this. I know you are."