Let's get started then, she said. On her clipboard she began to divide the benefit food into categories. I've already committed to the desserts, she told Kat. My team will do the cakes for the cake walk, of course, and a dozen or so each of pies and dessert breads, but mostly we plan to focus on quantity and ease of presentation, as opposed to haute cuisine.
Rice Krispies treats? Kat asked.
You know it. Madeline went down the list in great detail. I've got at least six women on each committee, except for meats, which has more, and breads and rolls, which has fewer. I'm afraid there'll be some store-bought items from that crowd, since none of them are handy in the kitchen.
Whatever you say. Kat looked overwhelmed.
Is there anything we might have missed?
Kat's mouth fell open a bit. Madeline, I just called you two days ago.
How in the world did you get all this done so fast?
This sort of thing is right up my alley, she said, actually feeling good about contributing to the event. She packed up her bag and got ready to go. So, have you decided whether you're going to let Joanna Loveless do her annual Thanksgiving Day feature on you?
Kat blinked. Uh…
She's the head of your meat committee, you know. Madeline told Kat that in the hopes that she'd understand the gravity of that particular responsibility. It appeared she didn't, so Madeline broke it down for her. Joanna's got twenty women on her team, and you can only imagine the cost involved in something like thatwe're talking ribs, smoked hams, turkey breasts, pit beef, steamers, sausages…
That's lot of meat, hon, Nola said to Kat.
Madeline smiled as she left. As soon as she hit the sidewalk she was on the phone with Joanna, telling her the Thanksgiving article was a done deal and that Kat would be hosting a houseful.
Riley was on call and had an admission in Elkins that night. Kat was tired but filled with the feeling that she could accomplish whatever she set her mind to. After a long, hot shower, she got into her softest cotton nightgown, matching robe, and warm slippers and headed to the end of the upstairs hallway. She opened the door and retrieved the open box from the bottom step of the attic stairwell, where she'd left it. She carried it to the floor of her bedroom, and told herself to breathe.
It had taken her more than a week to get the courage to look in here.
She knew this box would be the easiest because Riley had told her what she'd find. But even without surprises, she knew when she laid her eyes on these things from her pasttouched them and smelled themit might be overwhelming.
The coat was on top, folded lengthwise and then in half. When she pulled it out and saw the little sleeves and the black velvet collar and buttons, a deluge of emotion washed over her. She remembered how she would poke her arms inside the sleeves, fiddle with the buttons, and try her best to keep it Sunday clean.
She remembered that her mother had been smiling the day she bought this coat. That's what made that day seem so special to Kat. BettyAnn seemed lighthearted, glad to be out enjoying the day, alone with Kat. The day had been infused with magic.
Kat raised the coat to her nose and breathed in. Yes, she got a noseful of dust, but she detected the slightest hint of something elseher mother. Her perfume clung to this fabric, and it struck Kat with awe.
Had BettyAnn actually held this little garment close before she packed it away in this box? Had it meant that much to her, too?
Kat hung her head and let the tears pour out of her, right onto the red velvet. She cried and cried, clutching the coat to her heart and face, trying to get inside the scent of BettyAnn Cavanaugh.
Suddenly, Kat straightened. The tears stopped. With a sense of wonder, she saw the pieces fall together in her mind without the slightest bit of effort/bam, bam, bam/and there it was, the reason that day had been so extraordinary. Virgil had been out of town! It was one of the few times he'd left them alone overnight. They celebrated their freedom by going shopping, then dined on root beer floats at the pharmacy soda counter. Mama bought Kat a charm bracelet at the five-and-dime. Then they went home, got in their jammies, and played Uno until it was way past her bedtime, and Kat remembered being fascinated by how the bracelet sparkled under the dining room light fixture.
She recalled falling asleep in her bed that night feeling loved. Safe.
Completely sure there would be no hitting and screaming and shouting that night. Because it was just her mother and her.
Kat sat for a long while cross-legged on the floor, realizing that BettyAnn might have been free to be herself with Kat only when Virgil was away. Kat's heart constricted with sadnessit must have been hell to be so squashed by a man like that. To think, BettyAnn couldn't even express love to her daughter without facing his jealous rage. Why didn't BettyAnn leave? Why wasn't she ever strong enough to leave and take Kat with her?
But she had saved all these treasured mementos of their time together.
She'd loved Kat. She really had. And being able to see that calmed Kat's spirit. Gingerly, she draped the coat over her shoulders and went rooting through the resther prized one-eyed stuffed bunny that she'd inexplicably named Cher; drawings from kindergarten all the way to Kat's tenth-grade autumn art show, where she'd done a mixed-media collage that she had to admit wasn't half-bad. Maybe she'd get it framed. Other than that, the box was chock-full of old books. Except for something shiny she noticed at the very bottom.
Her charm bracelet, from that very same day! It dangled with a roller skate, an LP, a paintbrush, a telephone, a softball, and a heart. With trembling fingers, Kat worked diligently to get the bracelet around her adult-sized wrist. It fit.
She was charged up by these amazing discoveries, and curious what the other two boxes contained. With the coat still draped on her shoulders, she grabbed a pair of scissors and returned to the attic door. She sliced open the box on the second step, peered inside, and found school yearbooks, records and tapes, and every report card she'd ever brought home. It all made Kat smile, but in her heart she also felt disappointmentobviously, the box containing her coat had been the one filled with a personal message from mother to daughter.
Suddenly, she felt tired, and told herself she'd get to the last box some other time. With her charm bracelet dangling on her wrist and the dusty red coat and one-eyed Cher clutched tight, Kat climbed under the covers and slept. No nightmares. Just blessed sleep.
SIXTEEN
Are you sure about this? Riley's legs were much longer than Kat's, but he had to walk at a fast clip to keep up with her.
Oh, I'm positive, she said, barreling up Main Street.
Even though it was a Sunday, the downtown was busy with students and locals, and many of them had stopped to ask Kat questions about the upcoming clinic benefit. Riley was flabbergasted at how Kat had whipped together something so complex in such a short time. From what he could tell, half the town was involved. He wondered if maybe Kat should ditch the psychology degree and just go straight to being the president's chief of staff.
You were right, Riley, she said, gaining steam as she headed to the intersection of Forest Drive. He can't hurt me anymore, and I can't believe I've been here almost three weeks and I'm just now believing that!
Riley didn't have a good feeling about this. I take it he has no idea we're coming.
I don't think he's gonna have many scheduling conflicts, Kat said sarcastically.
Riley didn't respond. They kept walking. He glanced over to Kat, shoulders back, head up, feet a blur. Eventually he figured he should bring up another possibility. He might not be feeling well.
Her eyes flashed.
He's missed two appointments now. The guy's had an angioplasty and needs follow-up care with his cardiologists but refuses to go.
Have you called Rita?
Riley nodded. She told my nurse that she's happy to drive him and has offered to do so, but he tells her he's too busy.
Kat laughed. It guess it takes real time and effort to be the biggest asshole in the state of W
est Virginia.
Kat. Riley reached for her arm, stopping her.
She shrugged away from his grasp. Yes?
Are you sure you want to approach him like this?
She put her hands on her hips and looked peeved. What do you mean?
Look at youyou've been going non-stop lately and now you're charging over there to tackle your father like he was just another item on your to-do list.
She blinked at him. If you didn't want to come with me, all you had to do was say so.
Riley looked up to the sky to ask for patience. When his gaze returned to earth again, Kat's demeanor had changed. She took his hand.
You're right, Riley. She brushed her fingers over the tops of his. I am pretty jazzed right now, but I think it's time to start talking with him. As Rita said, he won't be around forever. Kat looked up at Riley with sadness in her eyes. Please come with me, she said. I could use your support.
Riley gave Kat the tightest squeeze he could without cracking her spine, lifted her up, and kissed her. It's a deal, he said, putting her back down on the pavement. All I ask is that you take it slow. You don't have to try to right every wrong in one visit.
I hear you, she said.
A few minutes later they stood on the walkway leading up to the front stoop. Kat took several steps forward, pulled the storm door away, and knocked firmly on the wooden door. When she got no response, she knocked again, this time somewhat more firmly. The third time was a straight-out pound.
Kat?
She didn't answer Riley. She let the metal storm door slam shut, its spring mechanism busted.
Riley was about to suggest they try the back when Kat headed across the yard toward the back gate. Riley jogged to catch up before she reached the kitchen entrance. This time, she skipped the warming-up knock and went straight to the pounding.
The door flung open. They both gasped. Riley wasn't sure what he was seeing, and reached for his cell to call EMS.
What do you want? Virgil looked like a ghost. His face, neck, chest, arms, and hands were covered in a coating of fine white powder. His eyes seemed to pop from his colorless face, pink-rimmed and crazed.
Kat turned to Riley and said matter-of-factly, Marble dust.
Riley put his phone away.
Well? Virgil looked at each of them like they were strangers. I'm on lunch break. I'm busy. What the hell is it?
I wanted to talk to you for a minute, Kat said. Ever hear of calling in advance?
Riley noticed that Virgil's hands shook and he was unsteady on his feet.
Would you have answered? Kat asked.
Fuck, no.
Riley knew that if Virgil had decided to pick up the bottle again after twenty years of sobriety, he'd be a human grenade with the pin already pulled. Not only did he get violent when he drank; he also was on a laundry list of meds that would lose their efficacy when combined with alcohol, if not create a toxic soup in his bloodstream. His third heart attack would be just around the corner.
Did you ever stop drinking, Dad? Kat asked the question with such innocent disappointment that it broke Riley's heart.
Virgil grunted. He wrapped his white claw around the door and stepped outside, then took a wobbly step toward Kat. I don't know. Did you ever stop being a whore?
Riley was a nanosecond from kicking the old man's feeble ass when Kat quietly moved closer to her father and reached for his hand. Riley hadn't known what to expect, but what Kat did was the last thing in the world he would have imaginedshe leaned in and kissed Virgil's cheek. He was as stunned as Riley was.
I was really hoping we could talk some things through, Kat continued. I have some questions I wanted to ask you about what happened when I was a kid. I even thought Her eyes flashed to Riley as if to warn him that she was pulling out the big guns. I thought if the talk went well, and if you felt up to it, you could join us for Thanksgiving dinner.
Oh yeah? he asked. Well, a fine howdy-do to you, too, Mother Teresa, but I think I'll pass.
Kat sighed. She turned toward Riley, her face a mask of sadness, and he reached out for her hand. Let's go, she said.
You fucking bitch! Without warning, Virgil threw the door wide and lunged for Kat. Riley got between them and grabbed Virgil firmly around both of his thin upper arms, pushing him back against the side of the house. He felt as light and hollow as a bird.
Virgil, get hold of yourself. This is not what you want to do right now.
Riley made sure Virgil was focusing on him and not Kat. You're going inside to sleep it off. If you don't, I'll get the ambulance here and they'll take you back to Davis and I'll admit you.
Fuck you, you fucking /Bohland/.
Let's go. Kat tugged on Riley's sleeve.
Stay and fight like a man! Virgil screamed, the spit flying everywhere.
Riley guided him back inside the kitchen door, then shut it.
The walk back to Kat's was much slower. It was also completely silent except for the phone call Riley made to Rita, informing her that her brother was in a drunken rage and needed to be taken to the hospital.
When they reached Kat's place, she took Riley by the hand and headed upstairs. She led him to the bed, peeled off his coat and then her own, and brought him down to lie next to her. Please hold me, she said.
He did. They fell asleep in their clothes. /Grinding, grinding, sanding, sanding…/ the faces of women were emerging from the stone now, women who'd pleasured him, women he'd controlled, women he wanted to control, women who pissed him off or turned him on, women who got him so angry they deserved to be pushed out of windows, women who made him feel lucky to be a man.
To most sculptors, this part of the process was the least enjoyableall the work, hours and hours of dipping silicon carbide sandpaper in water, slowly working your way from the coarser to the finer grits, wearing down the marble in an imitation of the ways of nature, the millions of years of rain and wind and dust and light and heat and cold it would have taken to get the same gloss. But Virgil loved it. He loved the physicality of it. He loved how he got to be God in human form, how the baseness of his efforthunched over and pushing, pushing, pushing the sandpaper over the rockresulted in such beauty. /Grind, grind, sand, sand…/ the women exposing themselves to him, just as he knew they would. And they were exquisite, every one of them.
Good Lord, that's the most hideously ugly thing I've ever seen in my life.
Virgil didn't even bother looking up. Then stay away from mirrors, Rita.
He hoped that if he just kept working, she'd go away, but instead he sensed her moving closer.
There should be a limit to how many heads can go on a single sculpture.
Get out.
Riley called me, she said.
So what?
He said you were in a drunken rage and needed to go to the hospital. So I'm here to take you.
Do I look full of rage?
You look very ill, Virgil. You've just had a heart procedure. And obviously, you've been drinking.
Fuck you. Fuck the procedure. Fuck Bohland. Fuck /everyone./ For some inexplicable reason, Rita decided that that was her invitation to sit down on the sculpting stool and cross her varicose-veined legs like she was getting settled in for a nice long visit. Virgil ignored her. He dipped. He hunched. He sanded.
Did Kat say anything to you today?
Yeah. She invited me to Thanksgiving dinner, if you can believe that.
Rita was quiet. Virgil looked out of the corner of his eye to see her staring in disbelief. Finally, she said, I'm sure she was crushed to hear that your dance card was full.
I told her to fuck off.
At least you're consistent.
Go away.
What I meant was… Rita's voice trailed off. Well, I was wondering if Kat said anything about her childhood, you know, anything about BettyAnn or you.
Virgil threw the 150-grit sandpaper sheet onto the studio floor, right at Rita's feet. I am working. I don't want you here. I don't want to discuss my de
ad wife. Now, get out.
It's just that Riley's office has been badgering me, Rita persisted.
They said you really need to get back to the cardiologist.
I don't want to go to that foreigner! Leave me alone!
You're killing yourself, she said, like she was his principal, the principal of the world.
If I die, I die. He was growing really tired of this conversation. And up until that moment, I'd like to work in solitude.
Rita groaned.
This is my masterpiece.
It's a piece of something, all right, she said.
Virgil tried to stand up tall, but his body began to sway. Rita, he said, pointing at her with a wavering arm, you're an ugly old-maid schoolmarm who couldn't get laid if her life depended on it, and forgive me if I don't see the value in your critique, but you don't know shit about art or life or passion or… He staggered, catching himself on the edge of the worktable. Anyway, you're ugly. Get out.
With a deep sigh, Rita stood up from the work stool. Her lips were pursed, and Virgil noticed how old she looked. When did that happen?
I hate you, she said flatly. I always have. I don't know why I ever moved to this town to be near you. You may have been my only living relative, but you are a waste of humanity. I'm sorry for every kind thing I ever did for you, because you deserved nothing. Then she turned her back on him and headed for the door.
Not as much as I hate you, you wrinkled old cow.
By the way, she said, clearly about ready to deliver her parting shot.
That's no masterpieceit's a freak show. I hope you rot in hell.
Thank God she was gone. He could get back to the lovely ladies. Virgil knew they'd missed him.
I absolutely refuse to do that, Carrie said.
You have a better idea?
Yes, in fact, I have a great idea, Madelinehow about you just drop it?
How about you get over yourself? Find a hobby? I can tell you from personal experience that it feels fabulous!
Uh-huh.
I've met someone!
Madeline couldn't resist. So, when's the wedding? she asked.
The girl most likely to… Page 24
