Her Perfect Life

by Hinze, Vicki

  She smiled, hugged him and rested her head on his chest. “Unconditional.”

  “Ah. The heavy stuff.” He planted a kiss to the top of her head. “How’s it feel to be out of the hospital?”

  “Pretty good.” Sunlight streamed across the edge of the porch, and she winced to block the glare. “I see you got me a phone.”

  He nodded. “The basics. Do whatever you like to the place.”

  This was temporary. He had plans for the cottage—or did he? “For how long?”

  “As long as you want it.” His arms looped around her shoulders, he tugged at a lock of her hair.

  “Thanks.” She squeezed his sides. “I’m going to buy a car, then go see my folks. I’ll get beyond the basics here when I get back.”

  “How long are you staying in New Orleans?”

  “A day,” she said. “Maybe two.” She shrugged. “I need to see them, but I don’t want to be away from the kids for long.”

  “Why not take them with you?”

  She pulled away, looked up at him. “Sam would never agree to that.”

  “Why not?” C.D. looked genuinely surprised. “They are your kids.”

  “But they don’t know me.” It was a ridiculous idea—wasn’t it?

  “Well, they’re not going to get to know you unless you spend some time together.” C.D. lifted a hand. “They’re used to visiting your folks. A trip there wouldn’t be strange to them. Sounds like an opportunity to me.”

  She was tempted. So tempted. But things were still tense and trying for all of them. Would a trip home with her be a good thing for the kids?

  “Tell me.”

  She looked over at C.D. and sighed. “You know,” she tilted her head, “it’s really hard to be with someone who reads your every thought without you telling them.”

  “It’s a good thing. We decided that on the mission over the Devil’s Triangle when our instruments went nuts, remember?”

  They had, and she did remember. “I remember that we were both pretty rattled.”

  “At least we didn’t have heavy cloud cover, too.”

  “True.” She sat down on the top step, leading out to the yard, and propped her arms on her knees. “I think we’d have both fainted.”

  “Probably.” He laughed, and sat down beside her.

  Staring at the flowerbeds, she felt her smile fade. “It’s hard being with the kids. They don’t remember, but I do. Every scrape and spat and new word and—all of it.” She paused and let the knots in her stomach relax. “I guess I’m weaker than I thought, C.D.”

  Coward. Coward. Coward.

  “You’re not weak, Katie.”

  “I feel weak,” she confessed. “I just don’t know if I can take a day or two of being that tense without a break.” Sunlight sparkled on the grass, and just being outside in the humidity raised a sweat. “The exhaustion…”

  “You’re scared.”

  Leave it to C.D. to not even give her graceful wiggle room. “Yes, I am.”

  “Would it help if I went, too?”

  She studied his face, but couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Pure neutrality was all she could read in his expression, in the set of his jaw, or in his eyes. “It would,” she admitted. “They like you.”

  “Then let’s do it.” He stood up and extended a hand to her. “Go call Blair and set it up.”

  He made it sound so easy. Reach up and pluck a star, Katie. “It’s not that easy, C.D.”

  “Why not?”

  “What if I establish a pattern of asking Sam and Blair for permission about the kids, and Blair refuses?”

  “Ah, succession of power. I get it.” He frowned. “In that case, you change the rules and assert your own power. At the end of the day, you share equal risks, Angel. Go for it.”

  “True.”

  “I can’t see Blair refusing,” C.D. said. “Sam? Yes. He’ll try anything to retain control of everyone and everything around him. But not Blair.”

  Katie happened to agree with that, so with heavy steps, she walked into the cottage and snagged the phone. She summoned the courage to dial and then paced between the sink and back door, too nervous to be still.

  Blair answered on the third ring. “Hello.”

  “Blair, it’s Katie.”

  “Hi. How are you?”

  “I’m okay. I’m, um, out of the hospital.”

  “That’s good news,” she said, sounding as if she meant it. “Where are you?”

  “I’ve rented a cottage from C.D.”

  “Oh, good. You’re not too far away, then.” She paused to tell Molly to drink her milk. “Sorry. Afternoon snack,” she explained, then went on. “Why don’t you and C.D. come over for dinner, Katie?”

  Flabbergasted, Katie didn’t trust her ears. “Excuse me?”

  “Come for dinner and bring C.D.,” she said again.

  Maybe Sam had remembered her birthday, after all, and he wanted to her to celebrate it with the kids. That was a big assumption to make with Sam. He wasn’t cruel, just unconscious about those kinds of things. “Why?”

  “I don’t know if you’re interested in them, but when I boxed up all your things at the old house, I couldn’t make myself get rid of them. I thought the kids might want them later. But now that you’re back… Well, if you want them, they’re here.”

  “You kept my things for the kids?” A bubble of excitement burst in Katie. Her things. Her stuff. Proof of her life she could have with her. Sainthood? The woman was pushing for something like it, doing that.

  “I told you. I decided not to compete. I wanted them to know you, and you can learn a lot about a woman from her things.”

  Which meant Blair had learned a lot about Katie, too. Apparently she hadn’t hated what she’d learned or she’d have burned the stuff. “That’s very good of you.” Actually, it was amazing. A little hard to believe, but definitely amazing.

  “When you come to dinner, you can pick it all up. It’ll give you a chance to see the kids in their natural environment, too.”

  Ah, see the kids in their home. Accept that they were at home there, and not with Katie. Now, that made sense. She looked at C.D., whispered the invitation, and then lifted a questioning shoulder. When he nodded, she said, “That’d be great. What time?”

  “Seven?”

  “Okay,” Katie said. “Can I bring anything?”

  “Just yourself.”

  “See you then.” Katie hung up the phone, shaking all over. Shaking in ways even the tormentor, Lieutenant Ustead, had never been able to make her shake.

  “What’s wrong?” C.D. swallowed a drink of ice water, then set his glass down on the counter.

  “She’s not normal.” Katie snitched his glass, took a sip. “No one is that good.”

  He laughed. “She’s trying to stay on the right side of you so she doesn’t lose the kids. That’s all.”

  “Considering the circumstances, sharing is best. But even if it weren’t, it’d probably be working. I’d feel as if I were snatching the heart out of the Easter bunny or something.”

  “Which proves she’s an excellent strategist.”

  Katie considered that for a second. “I think that’s just a perk. She’s confident, secure in who she is and with the life she’s built. I really think she’s just doing what comes natural to her.”

  C.D. frowned. “Now that’s scary.”

  Katie rolled her eyes heavenward. “Only if you’re trying to match her.”

  “Which of course, you’d never try to do.”

  “No, I wouldn’t.” Katie didn’t have to think about that. “I want to live my life my way. I paid for the privilege.”

  And she had. Dearly.

  * * *

  C.D. went to take care of some business at the bar, and Katie stood hands on hips in the back yard and checked out the little garden. It needed work, but the beds were in decent shape. It had potential.

  There was a little potting shed at the back lot line, and it wasn’t locked. S
he opened the door, and inside saw new gardening tools, gloves and kneepads. “C.D.,” she smiled, “you awe me, baby.”

  Though tempted to pull out a spade and get busy, she fought the urge to get her hands in the dirt and went back inside to look around. After hanging some of her clothes in the closet and stuffing some in drawers, she went to the kitchen for something to drink. There were fresh lemons in the fridge, and tea in the pantry—he’d remembered that, too—and so she put the kettle on the stove. A pitcher of iced-tea would hit the spot.

  The bare white front of the fridge mocked her. There were no kids’ colored pictures hanging there. No magnets in funny shapes or with cute or profound quotes on them. No notes scribbled in a hurry. No pending appointment reminders. It was bare. Barren. Empty.

  Like me.

  “Don’t go there,” she warned herself. “Do something. Even if it’s wrong, do something to fill the space.”

  Scrounging in a kitchen drawer, she found a notepad and two pens. One was a clear-barrel Bic, and a long ago memory flashed through her mind.

  Katie Cole and Her Perfect Life.

  Her list. She smiled, brushed her hair back from her face and mixed up the tea in a pot, since she didn’t have a pitcher. What had she been—seven? No, she’d just turned eight. Eight years old, and she’d known exactly what she’d wanted for the rest of her life. Wow, what she’d give to be that sure of anything now. Anything at all.

  With a half-grin, she pulled a glass from the cabinet near the window over the sink, then went to the fridge for ice. The motor clicked on, humming, sounding almost friendly.

  One thing about that kid and her list… by George she’d gotten every single thing on it. Reaching into the bin, she pulled out a couple cubes of ice, plunked them into the glass. A husband, a son and a daughter, to be a pilot and have a house with a big front porch.

  Pouring hot sweetened tea over the ice, she recalled how she’d felt when writing that list. Empowered. Strong. In control of her destiny.

  The ice crackled, melting fast in the heated tea, and she added more cubes. She’d known what she’d wanted, gotten it and lost it.

  So what do you want now?

  Good question. Of course she wanted her children with her, at least part of the time. She had to be realistic about that. And she didn’t want to be in the military anymore and risk being called away from them. She’d done her part; it was time for others to carry the torch. So what else did she want?

  She sat down at the kitchen table and stared at the notepad, but she couldn’t make herself pick up the pen. Maybe she was being a coward. Maybe she didn’t want to put in writing that, unlike when she was eight, now she didn’t have a clue what she wanted. And maybe she was most afraid to commit to ink that she wasn’t through with her old life yet.

  You need time. That’s all. Then you’ll be able to write your new list.

  Grateful for the self-imposed reprieve, she grabbed her glass of tea, hit the back door in a full run, and headed for the potter’s shed. She wasn’t running away from anything, she told herself, reaching for the shovel, then stepping back outside into the sun. She was just taking everything to a place where she didn’t feel so pressured to solve all her problems at once. She needed to think. And she’d always been better at thinking in the garden. She’d always been better at everything in the garden. It was her sanctuary, her sacred space, and she’d mourned it as she had mourned the loss of everything else important to her.

  This wasn’t the same garden, but she’d work it and claim it and make it hers. For now, that would do…

  Hours later, she heard C.D. call out to her. “Katie?”

  Hot and sweaty, she stilled the shovel and looked around but didn’t see him. “Where are you?”

  “Up here.”

  She looked above the bar, up to a little balcony, spotted him, and smiled. “Ah. I didn’t notice that. Nice little retreat.”

  “It’s almost six. If we’re going to make it to His Majesty’s by seven, you might want to hose off the dirt pretty quick.”

  Almost six? Good grief, she had no idea. “Thanks. I guess I lost track of time.”

  He smiled, clearly happy to hear that. “I figured you would. Most women like stores. You, I turn loose to play in the mud, and you’re happy.”

  She was happy. It startled her. For the first time since she could remember, she felt peaceful and calm and not at all anxious. “You’re not fooling me. You bought these tools so I would make you a beautiful garden, not so I’d get busy playing and lose myself. Then you can up my rent.”

  “Did I say buying the tools wasn’t mutually beneficial?”

  “No. But you would have, if you could’ve gotten away with it.”

  He harrumphed loud enough to make sure she heard it, then turned to go inside. Stopping suddenly, he looked over at her.

  “What?” She shielded the sun with her hand cupped at her brow.

  “You didn’t take exception to me calling Sam, His Majesty.”

  She hadn’t noticed. Odd. Why hadn’t she noticed? She’d always given C.D. a rash for that. “Defending him is Blair’s job now. I’ve been…” She hesitated, not sure what to say. Put out to pasture? Retired? Tossed out with the garbage? Replaced by a new, improved model?

  “Liberated,” C.D. said. “We should celebrate.”

  Maybe they would. She tried to tamp any expectations about this dinner, but she couldn’t squelch a tiny sliver of hope that her babies would tell her happy birthday. That would really make the day special; proof she was home.

  Don’t, Katie. You know Sam. You know the odds of that are slim to none. Why put yourself through the disappointment? Do you really need more disappointment?

  “When it’s time.” She put her tools in the shed, slapped the dirt from her gloves, hung them on a peg, and then shut the door.

  They should wait to celebrate until she could celebrate without having to fight the urge to cry her heart out.

  * * *

  Sam and Blair’s house was a cozy thirty-five hundred square feet red brick mansion in a gated community on the bay. The landscaping was photo perfect, and inside, everything was photo perfect. Decorated mostly in gray and various shades of red, it was formal but not cold. Family photos littered the walls, and thick rugs with geometric designs were scattered on gleaming hardwood floors. A winding oak staircase led up to the second floor, and Katie quickly averted her eyes. She didn’t want to think about what happened in that part of the house.

  The first fifteen minutes were sheer agony. Everyone was uncomfortable and the tension was too thick to cut with a knife, you needed a machete. But once they sat down at the dining room table and started eating, everyone relaxed. Katie couldn’t say exactly why. Maybe it was the simple smells of hot bread and zesty spaghetti sauce. Or the refreshing sips of iced-tea and sweet wine. Or maybe everyone just got tired of being tense and said spit upon it.

  For Katie, it was the latter, and before she realized it, they were halfway through a simple and surprisingly pleasant, casual dinner. Jake talked about a science test, and admitted that he’d gotten velocity confused with momentum again. Molly told Blair that her friend, Jessica, had gotten detention for passing notes in Mrs. Holloway's class for the third time, and once more, and she’d be suspended. And Sam announced that the Jefferson’s cat was expecting kittens again, and they all knew what that meant. Simultaneously, all four said Mrs. Jefferson would be having another baby.

  Laughing, Sam explained to Katie and C.D. that whenever the cat had kittens, Mrs. Jefferson soon had a baby. The vet had confirmed Daisy's pregnancy that morning, so a resigned Mrs. Jefferson, who’s already the mother of four, called in for her appointment with Sam.

  Katie laughed until her side ached.

  Jake swallowed a bite of crunchy hot bread. "So what have you been doing since you got out of the hospital?"

  Katie appreciated his asking. "Settling into the cottage,” she said. “It has a little garden, and I spent the afternoon wo
rking in it."

  “We have a yard man. He likes to do everything by himself.” Molly's eyes gleamed. "Maybe I could help you plant some flowers in your garden sometime.”

  A knot lodged in Katie's throat. "I would love that." She glanced at C.D. Now was as good a time as any. "Actually, I have something I want to ask all of you. I'm going to buy a car in the morning, and tomorrow afternoon, I'm going to drive to New Orleans to see my parents. I was hoping that you guys—” she looked from Molly to Jake “—would like to come along." She glanced from Sam to Blair. "If that's okay."

  Sam’s lips flattened into a straight line. Obviously he wasn’t too happy about her suggestion, but Blair smiled openly, far more receptive. “I think it’s a great idea. It’s about time for the regular visit to see your grandparents, and I’m sure they’d be thrilled to have you guys there with your mom.”

  Molly sent Blair an uneasy look. “Will you come, too?”

  “Not this time.” Blair didn’t miss a beat. “I think it’d be good for you to spend some time with your mother. Remember? We talked about this.”

  Molly nodded, then cast an even more wary look at Jake.

  Sam started to voice his objection. “Don’t you think it’s a bit too soon?”

  “Too soon?” Blair looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “It’s the perfect time, Sam. Katie’s waited an awfully long time already, don’t you think?”

  Resigned, he nodded. “Yes, I guess she has.”

  “What time would you like for them to be ready, Katie?” Blair asked.

  Katie paused, studied Molly and then Jake. They looked caught and cornered. If she took them on this trip, they’d go, but only because she’d be dragging them. It’d probably work out okay in the end, but shoving this down their throats wasn’t an option. She couldn’t do it. Wouldn’t do it. “Would you guys rather not go this time? Maybe wait a bit and do that later?”

  Molly looked her in the eye. “I don’t want to go.”

  “Okay,” Katie said, swallowing her hurt. The child didn’t know her yet, and forcing Molly to get to know Katie wasn’t something Katie was willing to do. “Jake, what about you?”