Tender Triumph Read online

  "Katie, there is not much time."

  "I know."

  They walked back to the car and as they drove down Market Street, Katie idly suggested that he might like to drive down Lindell Boulevard. Ramon automatically followed her directions. They were driving west down Lindell when Ramon said, "What is that?"

  Katie looked up and to her right. "St. Louis Cathedral." She was amazed when he pulled up in front of the elaborate structure. "Why on earth are we stopping here?"

  Ramon turned in his seat and put his arm around her shoulders. "There are only a few days before we leave, with many decisions to be made and much to be done. I will help you pack and do everything I can, but I cannot tell your parents for you, nor can I resign your job for you.''

  "No, I know."

  His free hand touched her chin, gently lifting it, and the kiss he gave her was filled with persuasive tenderness.

  "But why do you want to go into a church?" Katie asked when he came around and opened her door for her.

  "Normally the finest skills the local craftsmen possessed at the time can be found in churches, no matter where in the world they are."

  Katie didn't entirely believe that was his reason, and her nerves, already ragged and strained, were completely jangled by the time they had climbed the flight of shallow stone steps leading toward the domed cathedral. Ramon opened one of the massive carved doors and stepped aside for her to precede him into the vast cool interior. Instantly she was swamped with memories of burning candles and altar flowers.

  Ramon placed his hand beneath her elbow, giving her no choice but to walk beside him down the cen­ter aisle. Katie kept her eyes moving over the endless rows of pews, scanning the distant vaulted ceilings with their spectacular mosaic scenes that glittered with gold, always avoiding the marble altar. Com­pulsively avoiding the altar. In the front pew she knelt beside Ramon, feeling like a fraud, an unwel­come intruder. She dragged her eyes toward the altar, then closed them against the dizziness assail­ing her. God didn't want her here—not like this— not with Ramon. It was too poignant being here with him. And too wrong. All she wanted was his body, not his life.

  Ramon was kneeling beside her, and Katie had the terrifying feeling that he was praying. She was even quite certain what he was praying for. As if she could cancel out his private appeal, Katie began to pray, quickly, incoherently, the panic beginning to mount. Please, please don't listen to him. Don't let this happen. Don't let him care for me so much. I can't do what he wants me to do. I know I can't. I don't want to. God— Katie cried silently. Are you listening to me? Do you ever listen to me?

  Katie jerked to her feet, tears blinding her as she turned and collided with Ramon's hard body. "Katie?" His low voice near her ear was filled with concern, his hands gentle on her arms.

  "Let me go, Ramon. Please! I've got to get out of here."

  "I—I don't know what came over me in there," Katie apologized, wiping her eyes with her finger­tips. They were standing in the brilliant sunlight on the church steps. Katie watched the traffic gliding down Lindell Boulevard, still too distressed and em­barrassed to even look at Ramon as she explained, "I haven't been to church since I was married."

  She started down the steps, halting at the sound of Ramon's stunned voice. "You have been married before?"

  Katie nodded without turning. "Yes. Two years ago when I was twenty-one, the same month I graduated from college. And divorced a year later." It still hurt her to admit that to anyone. She had descended another two steps before she realized that Ramon wasn't following her. Turning, she found him regarding her through hard, narrowed eyes. "Were you married in the Catholic church?"

  The harshness of his tone, as well as the seeming unimportance of the question, surprised her. Why was he more upset about whether she'd been mar­ried in the Catholic church than he was by the actual fact of her having been married? The answer hit Katie like a bucket of ice water, revitalizing, yet sharply painful. Ramon must be a Catholic. His re­ligion would make it difficult to marry Katie if she had been married in the Catholic church and then divorced.

  God had indeed answered her prayers, Katie thought with a mixture pf gratitude and guilt for the pain she was about to cause Ramon with a lie. She had been divorced, but David had been killed six months later so there was no actual obstacle to Ramon marrying her. On the other hand, he didn't know that and Katie was not going to tell him. "Yes, I was married in the Catholic church," she said quietly.

  Katie was scarcely aware that they had gotten into the car and were driving toward the expressway. Her mind was drifting into the painful past. David. Rug­gedly handsome David, who had needed a way to si­lence the gossip about his association with the wife of the law firm's senior partner, as well as several of the firm's female clients, and had done it by becom­ing engaged to Katherine Connelly. She was lushly beautiful, delightfully intelligent and suitably naive. Those who had believed the gossip, took one look at her and knew that they had been mistaken. After all, what man in his right mind would bother with all those other women when he had a woman like Katie?

  David Caldwell would. He was an attorney, an ex-college football player. A sophisticated man of great personal charisma, and an ego that fed itself on women. Every woman he met was a challenge to him. Every sexual conquest he made proved he was better than other men. He was such a charming man.. .until he was angered. Angered, he was 195 pounds of brutal, violent male.

  On the six-month anniversary of their marriage, Katie took the afternoon off from her job. She stopped at the market for some special items and drove to the apartment filled with excited plans to surprise David with a celebration. When she arrived, she discovered David was already "celebrating" with the attractive, middle-aged wife of the senior partner of his law firm. As long as she lived, Katie knew she would never forget the moment she had stood in the bedroom doorway and seen them. Even now the memory of it made her feel nauseated.

  But the memory of the nightmare that followed was far more painful.

  The physical bruises David inflicted on her that night had healed quickly; the emotional ones were scars now. They were healed, but they were still sensitive.

  Katie remembered the phone calls that came in the middle of the night after she left him: David insist­ing that he would change, he loved her. David curs­ing her viciously and threatening her with brutal reprisals if she dared to tell anyone what he had done. Even Katie's hope for a dignified divorce had been dashed. The divorce itself was quiet, on the grounds of irreconcilable differences, but David himself was not quiet. In angry terror that Katie might tell his secret, he set to work maligning her character and even her family to anyone and every­one who would listen. The things he said were so vile, so vicious, that most of the people he talked to must have turned away in disgust or begun to ques­tion his sanity. But Katie was too humiliated and de­stroyed to consider that.

  And then one day four months after the divorce, she dragged herself out of the pit of horror and mis­ery where she had been dwelling, looked at herself in the mirror, and said, "Katherine Elizabeth Connelly, are you going to let David Caldwell ruin the rest of your life? Do you really want to give him that much satisfaction?"

  With some of her old spirit and enthusiasm she set to the task of putting the pieces of her life back together. She changed jobs and moved out of her parents' house and into her own apartment. Her smile returned and then her laughter. She began to live again the life that fate had given her. And she lived it with a determinedly cheerful attitude. Except occasionally when it seemed so shallow. So terribly meaningless. So empty.

  "Who?" Ramon snapped from beside her. Katie leaned her head against the back of her seat and closed her eyes.

  "David Caldwell. An attorney. We were married for six months and divorced six months after that."

  "Tell me about him," he said harshly.

  "I hate talking about him. I hate thinking about him, as a matter of fact."

  "Tell me," he gritted.