by Karen Cimms
Something was about to burst in her brain. Sharp pain stabbed behind her eyes. Flashes of light made it all but impossible to see. Billy stood there looking at her like he had no idea who she was. Their eyes locked, and she saw their life together flashing before her. This must be what dying felt like.
The crunch of gravel brought her back to the present.
Rhiannon. Kate dropped her forehead against the doorjamb. Daddy’s little girl.
Well, wasn’t this just perfect?
Chapter Nine
Kate watched the silver Volvo make its way up the driveway and over Billy’s boot.
Rhiannon neared the bend that would take her behind the house. She lowered the window and waved. “Hi, Daddy! The boys can’t wait to see you!”
Identical blond heads bobbed in the back seat, craning to catch a glimpse of their Poppy.
Kate headed to the kitchen. This was the last thing she needed. She set the knife on the cutting board. The usual commotion could be heard from the driveway. One boy was screaming, and the other was yelling something unintelligible.
Rhiannon had had her father wrapped around her little finger since the day she was born. Blond and petite, with Billy’s blue eyes and charming smile, she’d been head cheerleader and homecoming queen in high school and president of her sorority at Rutgers. She’d met Doug during the short time she actually held a job, working in an off-campus pub. The relationship blossomed, although the job didn’t last. Rhiannon claimed the late hours and required weekends cut into her study time. Barely carrying a 2.5 GPA, she couldn’t have been studying all that hard.
Doug had been in his first year of law school when they met, and although Rhiannon was only a junior, they married as soon as he graduated. They enjoyed a delayed honeymoon to Turks and Caicos after his sitting for the bar exam, then settled into a five-thousand-square-foot McMansion in an upscale Pittstown neighborhood.
The screaming grew louder as Rhiannon came through the kitchen door carrying the source of the noise in one arm and dragging the second twin, who looked suspiciously guilty, by the hand.
“Can you help me? Please?” She spoke as if this was somehow her mother’s fault.
Kate took the crying child and carried him to the sink, where she wet a paper towel with cool water and started to gently dab his face.
“What’s the matter, buddy?” she cooed.
Dalton stiffened like a board and screamed. Kate cringed, certain her eardrum had just been pierced.
“He wants a cookie,” explained Rhiannon. “I stopped at Starbucks, and he demanded a cookie. I said ‘No cookies.’ I gave him a cracker, but he didn’t want it, so he’s been screaming for the last twenty minutes. My head is about to explode.”
Kate set Dalton on the floor, where he continued his tantrum, kicking her in the process.
“I have homemade oatmeal cookies.” Kate stepped over the child and reached for a large glass apothecary jar on the counter.
“I said no cookies!” Rhiannon snapped. “You listen as well as they do.” Then, as if someone had flipped a switch, her mood changed, her face brightening as if lit from within. “Where’s Daddy? Is he still out front?”
All smiles, she rushed to the front door.
Billy sat on the steps. He had one boot on and was trying to work his foot into the one crushed by the Volvo.
Rhiannon flew through the door and threw her arms around his waist when he stood. “I’m so happy to see you. Did you and Mom have fun last night? I’m sorry I didn’t get here yesterday, but the boys were so cranky. They wouldn’t nap. You know how it is. What’re you doing out here?”
She stopped squeezing him long enough to look up and froze. “What happened to your face?” She turned to her mother, her mouth open in horror.
“Why are you looking at me?” Kate asked. “I didn’t do it.”
Billy glanced at Kate. “Somebody took my phone and—”
“You were mugged?” Rhiannon threw her arms around him as if he were Lazarus returned from the dead.
Kate rolled her eyes and watched from inside the screen door, holding Dayton while Dalton’s screams from the kitchen unwound from air-gulping sobs to low whimpers.
Billy returned his daughter’s hug, giving Kate a pleading look over the top of her head. She frowned and held open the door.
“How’s the tour going?” Rhiannon took her father by the hand and led him into the house. “How long are you home? I asked Mom, but she never knows what’s going on.”
Kate stood to the side as they walked past into the dining room.
“Where’s Dalton?” Rhiannon asked, her smile fading.
“On the floor in the kitchen.”
“Mom!” she cried. “You left him lying on a dirty kitchen floor?”
Kate handed Dayton to Billy, who proceeded to cover the boy with kisses and tickles while she went to retrieve the tearstained, sweaty Dalton. Despite a whimper now and then, he had fallen asleep on the cool tile floor. She thought about joining him.
Instead, she picked him up and carried him into the dining room.
“You two catch up,” she whispered as she headed upstairs with the sleeping child. “I’ll put him down in the music room.”
Once she’d settled Dalton into the portable crib, Kate sank down onto the futon, exhausted from lack of sleep. On the wall above the crib hung several guitars: a Fender Telecaster and a Jazzmaster, a couple of basses, and an Epiphone acoustic. A mandolin with rosewood and turquoise inlays Kate had bought Billy the first Christmas after they were married hung in the center.
Directly across from her hung a large family portrait Joey had taken not long after Devin was born. As outrageous as it was, it had been her idea, and Billy loved it. He’d used it on the back of one of his early albums, and it had been used in several articles about him years ago. It was Kate’s version of American Gothic: Billy on the right, holding Rhiannon instead of a pitchfork, and Kate on the left, holding a newborn Devin. The unconventional part was that they were all naked, or at least they appeared to be. Kate’s long hair covered her breasts, and the picture stopped above her belly button—no long, vertical scar from her emergency C-section—and a critically private point on the much taller Billy.
The portrait had been a silent dig at her controlling, disapproving mother. It had hung over the fireplace for years until the day Devin demanded it be removed. His friends seemed to gravitate to it, and truthfully, having preteen boys leering at her was just plain creepy. The photo was moved to Billy’s music room, which was off limits to even the most precocious prepubescents.
So many memories, Kate thought, looking at the portrait and the collection of instruments, some hanging in their assigned places, others on stands waiting for Billy to bring them to life. Her eyes stopped on an empty stand, and she felt the nausea return. His favorite, the Martin, belonged there. She hoped it hadn’t been damaged when she’d thrown it.
Feeling the room and the memories closing in on her, she made a hasty retreat just as Rhiannon was coming up the steps.
“He’s fine,” she whispered. “He’s sleeping.”
“You need to come downstairs.” Rhiannon looked somber. Damn it. Billy must have told her what happened?
“Look, sweetheart, I really don’t want to get into this with you.”
“There’s a police officer here, Mom. You need to come downstairs.”
Kate’s heart nearly stopped. “Oh my God. Devin?”
Rhiannon shook her head fiercely. “Devin’s fine. He’s here to see you.”
Digger Johnson waited in the doorway. Billy remained seated at the dining room table, holding Dayton and trying to make small talk, but Digger just stood there looking uncomfortable.
“Rhiannon, could you excuse us?” The officer asked after Kate appeared.
“Daddy?” She turned to Billy.
Of course Rhiannon would believe her father trumped the chief of police.
“I’m sure everything’s okay,” Billy said. “Ju
st do as he asks.”
Rhiannon took Dayton, then looked from Billy to Kate, back to Digger.
“Why don’t you and Dayton go pick me a nice bouquet for the table?” Kate asked.
“Flowers! I forgot. I have flowers for you.” Rhiannon squinched her face. “Happy belated birthday.”
Although her stomach was churning, Kate gave her daughter a reassuring smile, then motioned with her head toward the backyard.
Digger waited until Rhiannon left, then walked into the kitchen to make sure she was out of hearing range. Billy and Kate exchanged angry glances.
“I’m responding to a complaint of a domestic in progress,” Digger said, sounding very official. “Since it doesn’t look like anything’s going on, other than that,” he pointed at the shattered vase, “one of you better start talking.”
Shards of broken glass and wilted flowers littered a puddle of water between the door and an antique cupboard.
Billy cocked an eyebrow at her. “Really?”
“I didn’t call anyone!” She turned to face the officer. “Digger, I did not call anyone. I don’t know what—”
“No, Kate,” he interrupted. “The call was about you.”
She gasped. “What?”
“We got a report of a domestic in progress—with a weapon.”
Digger walked back into the kitchen and returned with the knife she’d been waving in the air not too long ago.
“I . . . I just . . .”
Billy rose and moved toward Kate.
“Freeze!” Digger ordered. “I mean it. Sit down!” He motioned to the seat Billy had vacated.
Billy hung back, but he didn’t sit.
“What’s going on, Kate?” Digger spoke calmly, but she continued to trip over her words.
Billy held up his hands. “C’mon, Digger. Is this a joke? Katie wouldn’t hurt a fly, and you know it.”
“Billy,” Digger snarled. “Sit down and shut the fuck up. I don’t wanna hear a word out of you unless I ask for it. I’m not falling for your bullshit now, just like I never fell for it in the past.”
Billy glared at Digger, the muscle in his jaw flickering.
Kate blinked rapidly. Exhaustion, anger, and now fear had taken control of her brain. A low hum buzzed in her ears as if a swarm of bees had somehow gotten into the house. She began to rock.
“Look what you’re doin’ to her!” Ignoring the officer, Billy crossed the room. He slipped his arm around her shoulders, and her body naturally gravitated toward his.
Digger moved his hand to his service revolver and warned Billy again to back away.
“No. You don’t come into my house and terrorize my wife. Who the hell called you? There’s nothing going on here.”
Digger pulled a small notebook from his shirt pocket. “We got a call that there was screaming and yelling coming from your residence. A man exited the front door. Following that, Mrs. Donaldson stood in the doorway, waving a large knife in a threatening manner. She then threw a large object out the door, hitting said man”—he pointed at Billy—“in the shoulder, followed by a pair of shoes.”
“Boots,” Kate corrected softly.
Billy squeezed her shoulder, probably warning her to stay quiet. Her anger from earlier resurfaced as she remembered the twitching curtain.
“Who called you? Mrs. Howard?”
“Katie.” Billy’s voice carried a warning note.
“You be quiet,” Digger commanded.
“No. Katie, please. Let me.” Billy sounded almost desperate. “Yeah, we had a fight. Okay? Yesterday was Kate’s birthday and I forgot. Can you blame her? I mean, I’m a jackass, right?”
“Shut up, Billy. I’ve known you were a jackass for years, and I also know what happened yesterday and the night before. You made the national news, rock star, so don’t feed me any of your bullshit, ’cause I’m not buying it.”
National news? Kate glanced up at Billy, but he was focused on Digger.
“Digger, c’mon. We’ve known each other a long time. Kate was pissed, but she didn’t threaten me, and she didn’t throw anything either. I don’t know what that old bat saw.”
Billy pulled Kate in front of him and wrapped his arms around her. “I love this woman with all my heart, and she loves me. I’d never hurt her. Same goes for her. Let’s just say it was a case of mistaken identity and call it a day. Okay?”
Digger didn’t seem like he was buying it.
Kate forced a smile. “Yep,” she said, choking on her words. “Forgot my birthday.”
Even all these years—long after his high school crush on her should have faded—Digger still looked at her a little too long and made her a little too uncomfortable. She leaned back into Billy’s embrace, then lifted her hands to rest on his arms.
“Just a lover’s quarrel,” she continued. “This man makes me crazy sometimes.”
She tilted her head and smiled up at Billy.
He squeezed tighter, then bent to whisper so only she could hear. “You know how much I love you, right?”
“Uh-huh.” She nodded, still smiling at Digger.
Looking defeated, Digger put the knife on the dining room table. “If I get another call, I’m running you both in. And you—” He pointed at Billy. “Don’t even cross against the light, or I swear to God I’ll make it my business to see you serve time.”
“Absolutely, officer.”
She couldn’t see him, but she knew he was giving Digger a cocky grin.
Even after the door to the cruiser slammed shut and the engine started, they didn’t move. Billy’s arms remained wrapped tightly around her. He dragged his nose through her hair, then rested his cheek on top of her head.
“You can let me go now,” she said softly.
“No.”
“Billy, please.” She tugged on his arms, but he held on tighter.
“I can’t.” His voice was a frightened whisper. “I’m afraid if I let go, I might never hold you again.”
A chill skittered up her spine.
She closed her eyes and breathed in his achingly familiar scent—lemongrass, Jack Daniels, and something very much his own. She leaned back and let him hold her. Maybe it would be the last time. She swiveled in his arms, put her hands on either side of his face, and kissed him. He pressed a hand against her waist, pulling her to him as her knees turned to jelly.
“What the hell is going on?” Rhiannon demanded.
Kate broke free. She wiped her mouth and noticed the iron taste of blood. She didn’t know if it was hers or if the cut on Billy’s lip had opened again. “Nothing, sweetheart.” She called on every ounce of strength she had. “Everything’s fine.”
“Well,” Rhiannon continued, indignant, “I was scared out of my—”
“Honey, could you please help your dad out?” Kate wrapped her arms around her own torso. “He needs a place to stay.”
“Katie!”
“And we’d really appreciate if you could help him until he can find a place of his own. You’ve got that big house, and the boys really haven’t had much time with their poppy.”
“Mom!”
“Thanks, sweetheart.”
The look on Billy’s face was one she hadn’t seen before. He seemed destroyed, and it almost made her change her mind.
“I love you. I do. I just can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry.” She spoke with no emotion. “Could you lock up on your way out? And Rhiannon, would you please turn off the stove? I’m sure my sauce burned a while ago.”
Kate started up the stairs, reminding herself to keep moving, since it seemed her body had forgotten how: right leg, left leg, repeat. “Good night.” Her voice was hollow.
“Mom!”
She kept walking.
“Mom?” Rhiannon spoke softly, a hint of fear in her voice. “It’s only three o’clock.”
When she reached her room, Kate locked the door behind her, then sat stiffly on the edge of the bed. There was a soft tap on the door.
“Mom?”
“Baby, please open the door. We can fix this.” He jiggled the handle. “Katie, please talk to me.”
She didn’t move.
He cursed and demanded to know when she’d had a lock installed. The lock had always been there; he’d just never been on the other side of it. There was a soft thud and by the muffled sound of his voice, Kate pictured his battered face against the door. He begged. He pleaded. He finally apologized. His voice grew hoarse, but he never stopped talking, reminding her of the good times, of how much he loved her, of everything that was at stake. After a long while, she heard the full length of him slide down the door and onto the floor.
Her body had gone numb. She no longer felt the intense heat. Her skin was dry, and the jabbing pain behind her eyes was gone. She had checked out. Blessed nothingness. The fact that her spine was still holding her in an upright position as she sat on the bed seemed nothing short of a miracle.
She stared out the window. Tall stalks of corn swayed in neat rows behind the house. Beyond the field, she could see the top of the bleachers at the far end of the high school stadium. Every now and then, the crack of a bat or the distant roar of a small crowd floated toward her. A child cried. Dayton. Or Dalton. Maybe both.
The shadows lengthened. Rhiannon’s car started up. Then it was gone.
Dusk arrived. The shouts from the stadium faded. The sun made its descent on the opposite side of the house.
It was quiet, yet Billy was still there. Once Rhiannon left, he must have started drinking. It wasn’t long before he was pounding on the door, demanding she open it. Then he threatened to kick it in. When that didn’t work, he pleaded again and cried her name out loud.
Kate lay down. She had never experienced this level of exhaustion. She didn’t want to think. She didn’t want to feel. She just wanted to go to sleep for a good, long time, but she couldn’t. She continued to stare, numb and dry-eyed, at the wall.
Other than the occasional mumble, Billy had grown quiet.
