Enlightenment 21
"Dad, you're really going to wear that?"
Kate had given up on trying to get him take off the hat an hour ago.
"Absolutely. I cannot, in good conscience, serve barbequed Texas beef brisket with Dora's daddy's secret sauce and not wear a cowboy hat."
He was walking back inside from the grill out on the patio for the fifteenth time in the past six hours.
"You really don't think she's going to feel like you're making fun of her? Wearing that in the house? With the boots? And the Wrangler jeans?"
"Hey, I did not buy that western shirt with the piping. I totally could have. It had fringe."
Kate was snickering quietly while icing down the tea. He really had almost bought the god-awful rhinestone-encrusted monstrosity online. She had convinced him to opt for flannel instead, which was now mostly covered by his black apron with the phrase: "You can't beat my meat," in white letters across his chest. At least the one he'd made her wear was slightly more benign: "All this and I can cook."
"And listen, I got this hat in San Antonio, at Paris Hatters. Fitted and blocked just for me. They're a world renowned source for authentic cowboy hats. Kid Rock bought a hat there. The last Pope did too!"
"Yes, and obviously they are the benchmarks for cowboy hats in Texas…"
"Fine. Merle Haggard. Dwight Yoakum. FOUR Presidents. And—" he paused for effect—she'd heard this part three times in the past week—"Johnny and June Carter Cash."
Alexis rolled her eyes and went back to mixing the dressing for the potato salad.
Kate couldn't complain about the hat—it was a classy-looking straw, not too big or dude-ranchy. And she certainly couldn't complain about the skin-tight dark denim. She kept having to remind herself that Alexis and Martha were in the room every time he walked back and forth through the kitchen.
The Pandora "George Strait" station was adding atmosphere, and they had Shiner and Lone Star icing in a cooler by the wine room. There was something that looked suspiciously like white bread, sliced thick, that Rick kept referring to as "Texas toast" on one counter. A pecan pie was sitting on a cooling rack, looking like it had been baked in their over rather than in the bake shop around the corner from his loft. And her contribution had been her mom's coleslaw. Rick took the lid off of the pinto beans and stirred once, tasted, and added salt.
If bluebonnets had been in season, she was sure he'd have imported some. Unfortunately, they had peaked in March this year (warm winter), so he had settled for two mini cactuses as a centerpiece on the dining room table, holding down the giant sheets of brown paper he had insisted upon using to cover the table itself.
Martha was swirling the glass of red wine in her hand with an inquisitive expression.
"I never would have thought that they could make decent wine in Texas, but this—what did you say this was, darling?"
"Claret. Becker claret. They grow it in the Hill Country. Had it when I was down there. Goes great with brisket."
"It's really quite serviceable."
"And we are all familiar with your extravagant tastes."
"Well, I can't help it if I've developed a palate after years of careful study."
Everyone had gone along with Rick's request to include something "Texas-inspired" in their wardrobe. Alexis and Martha were in denim. Martha was taking the phrase "denim and diamonds" literally, though, with her largest studs dripping off her ears to counterbalance her jeans. Alexis had at least done Texas colors—blue denim skirt, red tank, white button-down tied at the waist. Kate had gone with jeans, too, but she wore a black tailored shirt. Rick had insisted on pinning a tiny Texas flag pin on her shirt pocket, though.
With the whole family in the kitchen, it was a bit of a tight squeeze, but they generally had not tripped over each other. It helped that Rick disappeared to the grill so frequently. Then it had been just her and Alexis actively cooking, with Martha cheering them on.
She'd shown Alexis the recipe for the coleslaw, and she'd gotten the run down on the potato salad. Apparently her father liked it creamy, with mustard and sweet pickle relish. It hadn't exactly been a staple at Kate's house, so she absorbed it while shredding cabbage.
The group potato peeling contest was probably the most fun she'd had in a kitchen since her mom was with her. She and Rick and Alexis had all had their own peelers, each had an equal pile of Yukon Gold's washed and dried in front of them, and Martha was officiating. Rick took the early lead, but to his dismay, Martha called him for leaving too much peel on his potatoes and he had to go back and re-do half of them.
Alexis obviously knew what she was doing, going after each potato in an orderly and thorough skinning that left them pristine. Kate, on the other hand, fell somewhere in between. She couldn't help it, she liked a little bit of skin on her potatoes. And she didn't have quite the same methodical approach to cooking as she did with murder. At the end of the day, if your potato had some skin on it, no one was going to get acquitted of murder as a result.
Kate actually made it through her pile first, but Alexis took honors in cleanliness and artistry. Rick just started swapping his scrappy potatoes for Alexis' when she was turned toward the garbage can dumping peelings. In the end, the potatoes were all peeled and cubed and boiling in a pot on the stove, and Kate just had to keep pinching herself. All of this was real. All of it was happening. Things that she had never dared to hope were materializing with minimal effort or thought or planning on her part. She hadn't had to orchestrate a single thing in this day, this glorious, easy, fun day off from the precinct in which she cooked a meal with… her family.
A knock at the door snapped her out of her musings.
Martha, being closest and without a culinary implement in her hand, opened the door to reveal her father, clad in jeans, though no cowboy hat or boots, and carrying a grocery bag with a stalk of mint sprouting out the top.
"Thank you for coming, Jim!" She stepped back to make way.
"It's a pleasure, Martha. I hate to admit it, since you probably get this all the time, but I'm a fan." He shook her hand warmly and then turned to the kitchen. "Katie, I found mint. What is this for anyway?"
He was taking a chair and handing the bag across while reaching to shake Rick's hand.
"Iced tea, dad. It's a southern thing. They like fresh mint in their glasses, according to Rick."
The mint passed across the kitchen to Kate, who removed, rinsed, and began to pinch off sprigs.
Alexis had just coated her potatoes with the concoction of dressing and set them in the fridge as Jim entered, so she circled to sit next to him.
"You must be Alexis. I've heard a lot about you."
"If it came from my dad, none of it was true. If it came from Kate, all of it was."
She shook his hand from her chair alongside him.
"I really do feel like I know both of you, even though we haven't met."
"We're just thrilled you could come to this crazy Texas barbeque. Have you met this Dora woman we are all waiting to entertain?" Martha took up the seat at the end of the counter.
"I haven't, but I've heard a lot about her, too. I get the feeling she's going to fit in here just fine."
He smirked in the direction of Castle's cowboy hat.
Kate handed him a glass of iced tea.
"You get to be the guinea pig, Dad."
He raised his glass to the room and sipped.
"Sweet… and minty. I kind of like it."
She handed one to Alexis.
She clinked her glass with Jim's.
"Here's to guinea pigs."
She sipped cautiously.
"Not bad."
There was another knock at the door, and this time Kate motioned Martha to keep her seat at the next to Alexis.
Kate rounded the counter, kissed her father on the cheek, and dashed to the door. When she opened it, there she was, the Texan herself.
Kate almost did a double-take. Dora was wearing jeans, well-worn brown boots, and a button-down cotton blouse, and her hair was braided down her back. She was wearing make-up, but it was subtle, and her string of pearls was tucked under her collar.
She was carrying two Tupperware containers stacked in one hand and a bouquet of hydrangeas in the other.
"Hello, Katie, darlin.' Thank you so much for havin' me."
"What's all this?"
"These are for you." She handed Kate the flowers and used her now free arm to pull her into a hug. "And these are my momma's deviled eggs."
Rick had followed behind Kate to the door. He hugged Dora and relieved her of the food.
"I'd be happy to put these in the kitchen."
"And in your belly, no doubt. Nice hat." They followed him back toward the kitchen.
"Dora, I'd like for you to meet our family. This is my mother, Martha, and my daughter, Alexis. And this is Kate's father, Jim."
The three had stood and now shook hands with their guest of honor.
"It's lovely to meet you all. Rick, you never told me you had such beautiful ladies at home. No wonder you're such a charmer."
"I take no credit nor blame for just how charming he can be," Martha deadpanned.
Kate found a vase for the flowers, then poured Dora a glass of tea.
Rick had opened the plastic containers and pulled out the two trays of eggs.
"Now my only warning is that one tray is Rattlesnake eggs."
Rick had already popped an egg in his mouth and was happy chewing, but his eyebrows suddenly went up.
"What's a rattlesnake egg? Not really…" Alexis was doing her best not to seem aghast.
"No, baby girl, of course not a real rattlesnake eggs! They have fresh jalepeno diced into the filling, and there's chipotle chili powder on top instead of paprika. What's the verdict, grill master?" She directed what could only be called a challenging glance at Rick.
His face had flushed slightly and a few beads of perspiration popped out on his forehead. He was reaching for a beer from the ice bucket as he answered.
"I had always wondered why they were called 'devilled eggs,'" he opened a bottle of Shiner and gulped a few times as Alexis snickered. "Definitely have a kick to them." He reached for another one though.
"I figured if any city slicker oughtta be able to handle a little extra heat, it would be Richard Castle."
#####
"Oh my Lord, I'm glad I wore my comfy jeans to this shindig! Do you happen to have a wheelbarrow to get me out to my car later?"
"You saved room for pecan pie, didn't you?" Alexis quirked an eyebrow across the table at their guest.
"Now you hit me with pie? After all that brisket? And the potato salad? Honey, I need that recipe, by the way."
"I'll trade you for the devilled egg recipe. With and without the rattlesnake."
"Deal. But on the question of pie, I think I need a breather."
"How about a little tour?" Rick shoved back away from the end of the table.
"I thought you would never ask! Show me the rest of this palace."
As Rick and Kate took her through the rooms, she ooohed and aaahed politely at his paintings, his book collection, his taste in furniture, but when he walked her by the marble sculpture, she stopped in her tracks.
"So this is the infamous art! I'll admit I saw the photos when the Times reviewed the artist, but two-dimensions just do not do this work justice. Look at how she's set this up, the rock-solid foundation supporting, keeping steady, letting the ribbon find its own way, realize its potential, be free."
Huh. A foundation, not a wall. Kate had been staring at it for two months now, and every single time she had seen it the other way around. Dora seemed to snap out of her own little trance staring at the sculpture as the song changed on the Pandora playlist. Kate was the first to admit, she didn't listen to much country music, so she had no idea who most of these artists were, but Dora's eyes had lit up when certain songs had come on, and she was lighting up again now.
"Now you have all this honky-tonk music playing, making me homesick for Billy Bob's, but this song—this is a two-stepping song. I'm going to hazard a guess that none of you city kids knows how to two-step."
"And I think you'd be right." Rick smiled apologetically.
"Well, how about something a little more useful at charity balls—the fox trot?" She stepped up to Rick and held out her arms to dance with him.
"I have been known to hold my own with the fox trot."
He stepped up and took her offered hand, placed her other one on his shoulder, and reached around her back.
"I just thought you might. Now, pretend you're doing the fox trot with a little less finesse. Start with your left, and your timing is quick, quick, slow, slow, at the start of the measure."
Martha and Alexis were watching intently from the kitchen sink, where they were sudsing pots and pans and loading the dishwasher. Jim paused from slicing up the pie and moved around so he could see past the island. Apparently they were all just as wary as she was that Rick was stretching the limits of his grace, style and coordination.
"And don't be nervous with my toes. That's what the boots are for."
He smiled and nodded his head in time with the measure, then very impressively took off on his left foot and proceeded to guide her across from the far corner by the wine room, past the island and the dining room table. He was approaching the stairs with a somewhat nervous glint in his eye.
"Now just a little quarter turn to your left. You always progress counter-clockwise with the two-step."
Kate was truly impressed. He skirted around the corner neatly and continued, then turned them again to cut between the coffee table and the chairs in the living room, ending back almost where they had started.
"See? Now wasn't that just as easy as pie?" She grinned up at her partner.
Dora stepped back and clapped for him, setting off a round of applause from the whole group.
"Dad, how did you do that? You already knew how to two-step—admit it!"
"Daughter, I can honestly say that until this moment, I had never danced a single step to a country and western song."
"This is not just any country song—this is George Strait. Where I come from, people who don't like his music get sent to Oklahoma." Dora turned and faced Jim, who was smiling at the edge of the kitchen. "OK, Jim—your turn."
"Oh, now, I don't think I'm quite as light on my feet as Rick, here."
"Dad, you're such a liar. You used to take mom dancing all the time."
"We never two-stepped though." He glared at his daughter, unhappy to have been ratted out.
Dora took his hand and tugged him over to the empty strip of hardwood floor between them and the front door.
"Now don't be shy. With the ladies outnumbering the gentlemen two-to-one here, you would be doing us a great disservice if you didn't at least give it a try."
He smiled and shook his head slightly.
"You have a persuasive way about you, do you know that?"
"I may have been told that a time or two, yes. Now, start with your left, quick, quick, slow, slow, from the start of the measure."
Though he wasn't quite as agile as Rick had been, no toes were stepped on as he made the circuit. When they reached their starting spot, the song changed.
"Oh, Vince Gill. Also a great one to two-step to. OK, Rick take your lady around. This tempo is nice and easy. We'll teach the girls."
"We? I'm suddenly promoted to teacher now?" Jim's eyes widened.
"Best way to learn, Jim, as you go. Come here, Martha, let's give it a try. You've danced a time or two on the stage, I'm betting."
"I'm game. Let's give it a whirl." She stepped up and took Dora's hand, as the Texan had now turned herself to do the gentleman's part.
Jim and Alexis each raised an incredulous eyebrow, but they took up their positions next to Dora and Martha.
Rick had Kate halfway around the room before she knew it.
"You're good at this!"
"Don't sound so surprised. You've dance with me before. Same idea, we're just setting it to different music, changing the tempo." He leaned in and gave her a peck on the lips. "And now I get to do that."
Martha let out a cackle at something Jim was muttering to Alexis as they tried not to run over one another. Dora was just grinning ear to ear.
######
That night, after all the pie had been eaten and dishes done, guests sent home with full stomachs and left-over brisket, Rick had kissed his redheads goodnight and tugged Kate to their room. But rather than giving into the exhaustion of the day and heading to bed, he pulled her in close, took her hand, and started to sway to a love song in his head.
"I like dancing with you."
She did. She always had. They hadn't done it enough.
"Me too." He hummed in her ear.
"It feels different today, though."
"You mean the country and the twang and the two-stepping?"
"No, I mean a feeling. Everything just felt so light today."
"I know. Something about Dora—she has that effect on people. It's a lightness of spirit, I think."
"Did you see her flirting with my dad?" She chuckled into his shoulder.
"It was absolutely adorable—the way she gave him her business card before they left. He's totally going to call her."
"I don't know; she might be a little more than my dad can handle."
"Jim? Are you kidding me? After he recovered from the initial shock, he was flirting right back!"
"He kinda was, wasn't he?"
He was silent for a moment, pressing her close, breathing into her hair.
"Does it bother you?" He was solemn, now.
She thought about it. She knew he had dated a few times, seen women off and on since he got sober, but she'd never met any of them. She assumed if one had been serious, he would have introduced them. She hadn't had to process the fact that her father might be falling for someone other than her mom. But if something really came of this little flirtation over barbeque? Well, she wasn't sure she would mind.
"Maybe if it wasn't Dora it might."
"I think she's got all of us a little bit entranced." He turned her around, pulled back to look at her.
"You did say her lingerie had magical powers." She raised an eyebrow and quirked half a grin.
"Speaking of which, what exactly do you have on under these cowgirl duds?" His right hand, which had been settled demurely against her shoulder blade, suddenly took a dip down to the waistband of her jeans.
"You'll just have to look and see."
They had enjoyed getting the cowgirl duds off. Especially once he saw what she'd had underneath.
"And you wouldn't let me wear fringe today?"
"There's a difference when the fringe is on your shirt as opposed to when it's on your underwear, Castle." She rolled her eyes as he slid her jeans off her ankles.
"Where did this come from?"
"You bailed out on me right at the end at Dora's last month to plot and scheme about how to fill my new lingerie drawer. This was one of the ones you missed." She did enjoy tormenting him.
He traced his fingers all the way around the bottom edge of the row of black fringe dripping off the waistband of her thong.
"You heard that song today, didn't you? The rock-a-billy one about saving the horse…"
"Ride the cowboy."
"I think that police horse might actually have been named Leroy…" he stood and slid his hands around her ribcage, bringing her in contact with his naked chest.
"Oh good grief." She was going to have to look this up once and for all, now.
"And I kind of am the only John Wayne left in this town." He got a disparaging glance for that one.
"Can you sing me some Willie Nelson?" She groaned slightly as he attached his lips to her neck, just below her ear.
"I could probably manage Johnny Cash," he growled in her ear.
"I guess that'll have to do…" at least she managed to be breathy and low-pitched for once.
But she giggled as he crooned softly against her ear: "The taste of love is sweet…" kissing as he made his way down her neck, "…when hearts like ours meet."
He crossed her collarbone, "I fell for you like a child…" dipped down to taste between her breasts in the deep V of her bra "…oh, but the fire went wild."
He kissed across the edge of the band of her bra, "I fell in to a burning ring of fire," he licked his way down to her belly button and swirled his tongue inside. She was laughing so much she had to steady herself on his shoulder.
"I went down, down, down, and the flames went higher," he made it to the top of the fringe and untied the bows at either hip. She gasped as the underwear fell away and he continued his journey downward.
"And it burns, burns, burns…" he ran his tongue along the crease of her thigh "…the ring of fire, the ring of fire."
######
He had dozed after their second round. She must have tired him out, but he seemed to enjoy her cowgirl skills, both forward and reverse.
Now she lay half over him, naked thigh draped over his hip, arms around his broad chest as it rose up and down steadily with his breathing.
She kept running through the day in her head. The cooking, the laughing, the dancing, Dora's glee at getting every last one of them to two-step at least once around the living room. And then the love-making, and the fringe and the Johnny Cash.
The lightness of spirit Rick had spoken of had completely overtaken her today.
And as much as Rick wanted to give credit to their Texan friend and lingerie source for that feeling, Kate knew that the real source was right here, heart beating under her ear.
She knew things would get harder. His daughter would move out for college, and he'd be beside himself. Someone would have a close call on a case. Her mother's killer would shove his way back into their lives, and they would both be in danger of getting lost in it. She would freak out about spending his money, being in the tabloids, maintaining her independence.
But it all came back to this.
At the beginning and the end of every day, they would be here. And no matter what life threw at them, this foundation would be enough to get them through.
"You do know your brain wakes me up when you're thinking that loudly."
She chuckled against the rise of his pec.
"Go on, spill. I can hear the wheels turning, but not the actual words…"
"I was just thinking about today. About us. I like us. I think I like us better than I like me." She nudged her face against his ribs.
"Oh, now that's just silly. We're only us now because we were already you and me. We couldn't be this good together if we weren't good on our own. And you're my favorite person in the whole world, so don't you trash talk yourself. I'll take it as a personal insult to my judgment." His warm fingers stroked along the curve of her waist under the sheet, absentminded, single-minded.
"Funny. You're pretty much my favorite, too." She kept just a hint of the teasing in her tone.
"Pretty much? Pretty much your favorite person?" He gripped her ribs, like he was going to resort to tickling at any moment.
"You are so easy, Castle." She settled herself, calm and unconcerned, against his chest again.
"You cannot fault me for believing every word you say."
"Okay, fine, I may have been hedging slightly."
"May?" Persistence. She had to remember persistence was what he did best. Especially when rooting out her inner truths.
"Fine. Yes, you are my favorite person in the whole world. Happy now?" Her tone was supposed to sound put out with the admission, but she was fairly sure the veracity of the statement had shone through.
"Yes, Kate, I am." He kissed her hair, nuzzled his nose into it. There was no question his words had been genuine, as he had always been with her heart.
"Good. So am I."
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A/N: Oh my. I had no idea how hard it would be to write a last chapter to this story. I mean, I knew exactly what I wanted to say, had all the scenes worked out in my head, but I kept procrastinating about actually writing it. I finally realized today it was because I didn't want it to be over! I love this story. If I didn't, I wouldn't subject anyone else to it. This is who I wish they could be before hitting whatever comes in the finale. I'll write the sequel, but it will probably come out after the finale and maybe take whatever that gives us into account, if at all possible. If not, I promise I'll write it in this 'verse one way or another. I'll work on some other things between now and then, so keep an eye out. In the mean time, thank you to every single person who favorited, alerted, reviewed, followed or reposted on Tumblr, or even just clicked and read a chapter. I have no words to describe what you have all done for me. I can only hope gave you a fraction of that joy in return. -KC