argue. I've had enough of it this morning as it is.”
“Sweet old Uncle Herb on the warpath again, huh?” Bobbi questioned, with saccharine dislike. Catherine nodded. “Well, this is it; you won't have to put up with it after this.” When Catherine remained despondent, Bobbi's voice brightened. “I know what you're thinking, Cath, but don't! Your mother made her choices years ago, and it's her problem to live with them or solve them.”
“He's going to be in a rage when he finds out I'm gone, and she'll be there for him to take it out on.” Catherine stared morosely out the window.
“Don't think about it. Consider yourself lucky you're getting out. If this hadn't happened, you'd have stayed forever to protect her. And don't forget, I'll get my mother to drop in there tonight so yours won't be alone with him. Listen, Cath . . . you're getting out, that's the important thing.” She slanted a brown-eyed glance at her cousin before admitting with a grin, “You know, for that I'm not totally ungrateful to Clay Forrester.”
“Bobbi!” Catherine's blue eyes held a faint gleam of humorous scolding.
“Well, I'm not.” Bobbi's palms came up, then gripped the wheel again. “I mean, what the heck.”
“You promised not to tell Clay, and don't forget it!” Catherine admonished.
“Don't worry—he won't find out from me, even if I think you should have your bricks counted. Half the girls on campus would give their eyeteeth to exploit the situation you've landed in and you get a case of pride instead!”
“Horizons is free. I'll be all right.” Again Catherine resignedly looked out the window.
“But I want you to be more than just all right, Cath. Don't you see, I feel responsible?” Bobbi reached to touch her cousin's arm, and their eyes met again.
“Well, you're not. How many times do I have to repeat it?”
“But I introduced you to Clay Forrester.”
“But that's all you did, Bobbi. Beyond that, the choices were my own.”
They had argued the point many times. It always left Bobbi a little morose and crestfallen. Quietly, she said, “He's going to ask, you know.”
“You'll just have to tell a white lie and say you don't know where I am.”
“I don't like it.” Bobbie's mouth showed a little stubbornness of its own.
“I don't like leaving my mother there either, but that's life, as you're so fond of saying.”
“Just make sure you keep that in mind when you're tempted to give in and get in touch with her to see how she's doing.”
“That's the part of it I don't like . . . making her think I'm running across the country. She'll worry herself sick.”
“For a while she might, but the postcards will convince her you're doing okay and they'll keep your old man away from the university. There's no way he'll suspect you're still in town. Once the baby is born, you can see your mother again.”
Catherine turned pleading eyes to her cousin. “But you'll call and check on her and let me know if . . . if she's okay, won't you?”
“I told you I would, now just relax, and remember . . . once she realizes you've had the nerve to pack up and leave him, she might just find some nerve of her own.”
“I doubt it. Something holds her there . . . something I don't understand.”
“Don't try to figure out the world and its problems, Cath. You've got enough of your own.”
From the moment Catherine had first seen Horizons she'd felt at peace in it. It was one of those turn-of-the-century monstrosities with seemingly far too many rooms for a single family's needs. It had a vast wraparound porch, unscreened, festooned now with macrame pieces created by the various inhabitants who'd come and gone from the house. A few of the plants in the hangers looked peaked, as if they, too, had been touched by a late September frost like the maples that lined the boulevard. Inside, there was a wide entry hall, separated from the living room by a colonnade painted a yellowed ivory color. The
“Sweet old Uncle Herb on the warpath again, huh?” Bobbi questioned, with saccharine dislike. Catherine nodded. “Well, this is it; you won't have to put up with it after this.” When Catherine remained despondent, Bobbi's voice brightened. “I know what you're thinking, Cath, but don't! Your mother made her choices years ago, and it's her problem to live with them or solve them.”
“He's going to be in a rage when he finds out I'm gone, and she'll be there for him to take it out on.” Catherine stared morosely out the window.
“Don't think about it. Consider yourself lucky you're getting out. If this hadn't happened, you'd have stayed forever to protect her. And don't forget, I'll get my mother to drop in there tonight so yours won't be alone with him. Listen, Cath . . . you're getting out, that's the important thing.” She slanted a brown-eyed glance at her cousin before admitting with a grin, “You know, for that I'm not totally ungrateful to Clay Forrester.”
“Bobbi!” Catherine's blue eyes held a faint gleam of humorous scolding.
“Well, I'm not.” Bobbi's palms came up, then gripped the wheel again. “I mean, what the heck.”
“You promised not to tell Clay, and don't forget it!” Catherine admonished.
“Don't worry—he won't find out from me, even if I think you should have your bricks counted. Half the girls on campus would give their eyeteeth to exploit the situation you've landed in and you get a case of pride instead!”
“Horizons is free. I'll be all right.” Again Catherine resignedly looked out the window.
“But I want you to be more than just all right, Cath. Don't you see, I feel responsible?” Bobbi reached to touch her cousin's arm, and their eyes met again.
“Well, you're not. How many times do I have to repeat it?”
“But I introduced you to Clay Forrester.”
“But that's all you did, Bobbi. Beyond that, the choices were my own.”
They had argued the point many times. It always left Bobbi a little morose and crestfallen. Quietly, she said, “He's going to ask, you know.”
“You'll just have to tell a white lie and say you don't know where I am.”
“I don't like it.” Bobbie's mouth showed a little stubbornness of its own.
“I don't like leaving my mother there either, but that's life, as you're so fond of saying.”
“Just make sure you keep that in mind when you're tempted to give in and get in touch with her to see how she's doing.”
“That's the part of it I don't like . . . making her think I'm running across the country. She'll worry herself sick.”
“For a while she might, but the postcards will convince her you're doing okay and they'll keep your old man away from the university. There's no way he'll suspect you're still in town. Once the baby is born, you can see your mother again.”
Catherine turned pleading eyes to her cousin. “But you'll call and check on her and let me know if . . . if she's okay, won't you?”
“I told you I would, now just relax, and remember . . . once she realizes you've had the nerve to pack up and leave him, she might just find some nerve of her own.”
“I doubt it. Something holds her there . . . something I don't understand.”
“Don't try to figure out the world and its problems, Cath. You've got enough of your own.”
From the moment Catherine had first seen Horizons she'd felt at peace in it. It was one of those turn-of-the-century monstrosities with seemingly far too many rooms for a single family's needs. It had a vast wraparound porch, unscreened, festooned now with macrame pieces created by the various inhabitants who'd come and gone from the house. A few of the plants in the hangers looked peaked, as if they, too, had been touched by a late September frost like the maples that lined the boulevard. Inside, there was a wide entry hall, separated from the living room by a colonnade painted a yellowed ivory color. The
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