“Of course. What girl doesn't?”
He nodded, his gaze narrowing. “Do you want to marry me?”
I stared at him for the space of a heartbeat. “Are you proposing?”
“If you want me to.”
I didn't know what to say. Yes, I loved Rafe, madly, truly, deeply, but I couldn't help wondering how much of what I felt for him was from the depths of my own heart, and how much came from the Supernatural glamour that all Vampires possessed? And even if my feelings were 100 percent my own, did I want to be married to a Vampire? Did I love him enough to accept him as he was, to give up all thought of living a normal life, of having children and grandchildren? Once the excitement and the first thrill of falling in love wore off, as was bound to happen sooner or later, would I regret my decision? Did I want to live with a man who needed blood to survive, a man who would never age, never look any different than he did now? I was mortal, subject to sickness, old age, and death. What if he grew disenchanted with me when the passage of time began to leave its mark on my face and figure?
Rafe stroked my cheek. Had he been reading my thoughts again? Was that disappointment I saw in his eyes?
“It's all right, Kathy,” he said quietly.
“I do love you,” I said, fighting the urge to cry. “You know I do.”
“I know.”
“It's just…I just don't know…I don't want to be a Vampire.”
“It's all right.”
“But everyone in your family is like you. I'd never fit in, never really be a part of your family. I'd always be different, an outsider.”
“It's all right,” he said again in that same quiet tone. “I'm not asking you to change.”
I thought about his mother. She had lived with a Vampire husband until her sons graduated from high school, and then she had asked to be brought across. Had she ever been sorry she had given up her humanity? Did she miss doing mundane things like grocery shopping and going to lunch with a girlfriend? And what about his grandmother, Brenna? Had she asked to become a Vampire? The mere idea of anyone wanting to be one of the Undead was inconceivable. And yet…what would it be like never to grow old, to never be sick, to have a wealth of Supernatural powers? The fact that I was even thinking about it unnerved me. Thoughts gave birth to deeds.
I could tell, just by looking at Rafe, that he was reading my thoughts again.
“Do you want me to leave?” he asked.
“No! Can't we just go on the way we have been?”
“If that's what you want.”
“It is,” I said. “It really is.” But I couldn't help wondering whom I was trying to convince, Rafe or myself.
I thought about our conversation long after Rafe went home that night. Everything was changing. Oak Hollow was no longer the safe, peaceful place I had imagined. Susie had been attacked by a Werewolf. The Camerons' oldest son was still missing, presumed dead. The governor's daughter remained in the hospital in critical condition. The latest news bulletin stated she wasn't expected to recover. I wondered if Mara and the leader of the Werewolves would be able to put an end to the war between the Vampires and the Werewolves, if Susie's husband would be able to accept the radical changes her new lifestyle was bound to cause in their marriage, if Susie would be able to adjust to her new life, and how she would explain it to her children. I thought about Rafe's mother asking for the Dark Gift. Had it really been her own idea, or had his father coerced her? And what about his grandmother, the witch? Had she been a willing victim, or had the change been forced upon her?
Later, lying in bed, I stared up at the ceiling, wondering how things had gotten so complicated. I had come here looking for a quiet place to live and ended up in a hotbed of Supernatural activity.
I considered moving to another town, but where would I go? And how could I leave Rafe? Even as I asked myself that question, I knew that leaving now, before our relationship went any further, would be the smart thing to do. Just as I knew that I wouldn't go. No matter how things played out between us, I had to stay until the end.
I didn't feel like having cold cereal for breakfast Saturday morning, and I didn't feel like cooking, so I headed over to Carrie's Café. I wasn't the greatest cook in the world, and Carrie's buttermilk hotcakes were the best I had ever tasted. Besides, it was no fun cooking for one…something I would be doing for the rest of my life if I married Rafe.
Rafe. How had he managed to get under my skin so deep and so fast? Sooner or later, he would grow tired of me. I pushed the thought aside. He had said he loved me. I loved him. For now, that would have to be enough. But even as I tried to convince myself that the present was all that mattered, I couldn't help wondering what the future held for us. When we were together, I was certain that we could make it work. I loved the way he made me feel. I had never been happier, never felt more beautiful, more desirable, or more cherished. And when he kissed me…Lord have mercy, when he kissed me it took every ounce of restraint I possessed to keep from dragging him into my bed and having my wicked way with him, although, never having slept with a man, I didn't know exactly what my wicked way would be. But one thing I knew for sure. Making love to Rafe would be wonderful.
But now, with the sun shining high in the sky, I couldn't ignore the doubts that beset me. We were so different, how could we ever hope to make a life together?
I shook my head. Today had its own problems. Tomorrow would take care of itself.
I was wondering if I had enough time to run over and visit Susie and still open the store on time when Pearl and Edna breezed into the café. They spotted me immediately and came over to say hello.
This morning, they wore long-sleeved, frilly white blouses, broomstick skirts, white sneakers, and ribbons in their hair. I wondered if they called each other to confer about their wardrobe choices.
“Good morning, ladies,” I said. “What brings you out so early?”
Pearl held up a sheaf of papers. “We're posting flyers for the Halloween Haunt, dear,” she said. “Is it okay if we drop one off at your store later?”
“Sure. Or you can give it to me now and I'll put it in the window.”
Pearl beamed at me. “Thank you, dear. You're going to come, aren't you?”
“I don't know. I guess so.”
“You must come,” Edna said. “And you must wear a costume.”
“It's the day before Halloween, dear,” Pearl said. “You don't want to miss it. It's the highlight of the year.”
“I'll do my best to be there.” Halloween had never been my favorite holiday. One Halloween, when I was about five, the son of our next-door neighbor had come over wearing a hideous mask and a fright wig and scared the living daylights out of me. I could still remember how terrified I'd been. Even after John took off the mask, I had refused to go near him. I'd had nightmares about him and that horrid mask for weeks after that. Even now, when I knew, rationally, that it had just been a rubber mask, the memory of that night still gave me chills.