by Karen Cimms
“I’d prefer a beer.”
She gave him a sharp look.
“But cocoa would be great.”
“You’re barely old enough to drink,” she reminded him.
“You were only eighteen when you met Dad, but if some of his stories are true—”
“Your father talks too much,” she snapped. “Besides, things were different then.”
“C’mon, Mom. Even you wouldn’t buy that excuse.”
“Still. You don’t need to be in a hurry to drink. Alcohol and drug addiction is rampant on your father’s side, which means you could be predisposed to it as well.”
This was a lecture she’d given a million times, and the look he gave her said as much.
“It doesn’t hurt to be reminded.” She turned away to pour the milk into a saucepan.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m well acquainted with my father’s predilection for substance abuse. I grew up with him, remember?”
Kate had always believed that she’d shielded her kids from Billy’s worst behavior. Now it seemed that all she’d really done was make excuses for it. She added enabling wife and ineffective parent to her growing list of failures.
When the cocoa was ready, she set the two mugs on the kitchen island.
“Whipped cream or marshmallows?”
Devin frowned. “What do you think?”
“Sorry.” She dropped a handful of mini-marshmallows into his cup, then topped it with a healthy squirt of whipped cream.
“Damn straight.”
She gave her own cup a quick squeeze from the can, then sat down to face him.
“How was your date?”
He smiled broadly. “Good.”
“That all? Just ‘good’?”
“For now, yeah. That’s all you get.”
“Nice girl?”
“She is.”
“You deserve a nice girl. Is she pretty?”
“Yes, Mom, and that’s all. Seriously.”
She frowned.
“I don’t want to talk about her, okay?”
Devin was no longer the little boy who shared all his secrets. It shouldn’t hurt as much as it did, but she was so damn raw she couldn’t help it. To cover her disappointment, she took a too-large sip of cocoa and burned her tongue.
“Fine. How’s school?”
“I aced midterms, and I should do just as well for finals.”
She beamed at him over the rim of her mug. “What’s your favorite class this semester?”
“British Lit.”
She groaned. “You’re your father’s son. I hated British Lit. He loved it.”
Devin twirled the spoon around his mug. “Funny. I don’t think of myself as my father’s son at all.”
The intensity of his gaze made her uncomfortable. “Devin.” She drew his name out slowly, but he blundered ahead.
“He still staying with Rhiannon and Doug?”
She nodded.
“You guys going to marriage counseling or anything?”
“Not right now. There’s too much going on, and he’s back on the road filling in with other bands when he can.”
This was not a conversation she wanted to have. Not with Billy, and certainly not with Devin. She tried to sidestep the issue by assuring him they would all be fine.
“It’s not all of us I’m worried about. Are you sleeping?”
“Of course.” Not a wink.
“Doesn’t look it. You have dark circles under your eyes, and your hands shake like you’ve had too much caffeine. You’re also really thin.”
Did she look that bad? How would she even know? She couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually looked at herself in a mirror. She slid off her stool and turned her back to him as she rinsed her cup out in the sink.
“I’m fine. Just tired. Knowing you’re home safe and sound, I’ll sleep like a baby.”
As if he needed proof, she yawned.
He came up beside her. “Then go to bed. I’ll make sure everything’s locked up.”
It was a wonderful feeling to have someone look after her, even if it was her twenty-one-year-old son.
“Good night, sweetheart.” She reached up to kiss his cheek. “Sweet dreams.”
“You too, Mom.”
Sweet dreams? Oh, what she wouldn’t give for just one.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Kate looked about to hyperventilate, a gloved hand dripping with pumpkin guts pressed to her chest. The way Billy’s heart was pounding, he should have been clutching his own.
“Jesus Christ, Katie!” He didn’t want to yell, but she’d scared the shit out of him. “You can see it’s me. Why the hell did you scream like that?”
“What are you doing here?” she demanded once she’d caught her breath. She snapped off a yellow rubber glove and tossed it onto the table next to the blue-gray pumpkin she’d been disemboweling. Mud stains covered the knees and seat of her pants, and her hair was wound into a messy knot on top of her head.
She eyed the duffle bag he’d just dropped at his feet.
“Devin picked me up. I came to help you.”
“He didn’t say anything to me.”
“Because I told him not to. And don’t worry, I’ll sleep on the futon.”
For a moment, he thought she was going to turn him around and send him right back out the way he’d come in. It sucked that he had to practically plead with her to stay in his own home.
She yanked off the other glove. “Fine. I guess I could use the help.”
To prove he was a man of his word, he did everything from cleaning bathrooms to polishing silver.
By six, the entire downstairs had been cleaned, dusted, vacuumed, and polished. The pumpkin centerpiece was finished and set out on a hand-quilted table runner. The table was set, and each place setting included a white pumpkin bearing the name of the family member who would be sitting there. Serving dishes were laid out on the sideboard, each with a scrap of paper that detailed what it would hold the next day, and next to each dish was the proper serving utensil.
The carrots had been peeled and steamed, and so had the Brussels sprouts. The yams had been cooked, peeled, sliced, and caramelized. Even the golden Yukon potatoes had been cooked, mashed, and seasoned, ready to be reheated in a crock pot the next day.
It could have been any other Thanksgiving.
Kate was finishing a batch of homemade cranberry sauce while he sat on a stool and watched. His stomach complained loudly. “I don’t suppose there’s anything for dinner tonight?”
She shook her head. “I wasn’t expecting you, and I didn’t think Devin would be home until late.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I think that’s getting serious.”
“He’s too young.”
“You were younger than he is.”
“Fortunately, he’s a lot smarter.”
He leaned back, hurt. “Ouch.”
Kate’s shoulders drooped. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t right. I didn’t mean it like that.” Her cheeks pinked and she struggled to smile. “No matter what happens with us, I’ll always love you.”
Not exactly what he’d been hoping to hear. “That’s small reassurance.”
She struggled with something to say, then changed the subject. “You’re hungry?”
He nodded. “Yeah, but—”
She gave the cranberry sauce a final stir and turned off the heat. “I have a lasagna in the freezer downstairs. Let me run down and get it.”
He stood and tugged the dishrag from her hands. “You’ve done enough. Let’s go out and eat.” He forced a smile, even though her remark still stung. “How about a date?”
“A date?”
“Yeah, a date. Dinner and a movie.”
Kate snorted. “You hardly took me on dates when we were dating.”
He flashed her a smile and leaned against the counter. “We were in a hurry to do other things back then. Now we have time to date.”
She picked flecks of dried pumpkin fl
esh from her shirt. “I don’t know . . .”
“C’mon. Go get changed. We’ll grab something to eat and catch a movie. Life of Pi opens today. I know you want to see that.”
To see her face, you would have thought he’d ask her to walk a tightrope thirty stories up. He put his arms around her.
“It’ll be fine. I promise.”
She winced. “Maybe I’ll wait until it comes out on DVD.”
“Please? I want to go out with my wife. I want you to relax, and I want you to see that you’re safe. I’d never let anything happen to you.”
She chewed on her bottom lip. “I do want to see it.”
“Good.” He almost slapped her ass as she turned but caught himself in time. “Go get ready. I’ll find out when the movie starts. It’ll be good. We need this.”
They needed a lot more than dinner and a movie, but it was a start.
The evening was a disaster. Billy promised Kate they would get there early enough so she could have her choice of seats, which meant grabbing dinner at a drive-through and eating in the car. Once at the theater, she struggled to find a seat. There were plenty, just none that suited her.
“There.” She’d finally pointed to a back corner. “It’s close enough to the door, and with our backs to the wall, no one can come up behind us.”
She spoke so matter-of-factly, it killed him. He nodded, got her situated, and went to get drinks and popcorn. The burger and fries had only whet his appetite.
By the time he returned, Kate had moved to the seat closest to the wall. He had hoped to sit on the aisle, where it would be easier for him to stretch his legs, but like most things these days, he wasn’t about to argue with her.
The previews began and the volume in the theater accelerated to just below ear-splitting. By the time the preview for Les Misérables began, Kate was white-knuckled and gripping the armrest.
“I can’t,” she whispered, her voice tight with panic. “Get me out of here.”
He held her hand as they squeezed past the others in their row and led her into the lobby. Her face was ashen, and she was trembling. There was nowhere for her to sit, so he slid her down onto the floor and had her lean forward. By the time her breathing returned to normal, a small group of theater employees and patrons had gathered to gawk at the drama. Her pallor was replaced with the flush of embarrassment.
“Are you okay?” He knelt beside her, brushing a damp strand of hair off her face.
“Can we go? Please? I just wanna go home.”
Billy’s stomach churned on the drive home. It might have been from the fast-food dinner he’d gobbled down, but he didn’t think so. More than likely it was because Kate wasn’t getting any better. In fact, she was actually getting much worse.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Kate’s exhaustion was bone deep. She had hoped—prayed—that with Billy just down the hall and Devin asleep in his own bed, she might be able to have one night of peaceful sleep. Instead, she woke in a cold sweat, a scream stuck in her throat. The nightmare was so bad she couldn’t bring herself to close her eyes again.
The temptation to sneak down the hall and climb into bed with Billy was strong, but she was afraid if she fell asleep again, she’d fall right back into the dark abyss waiting to swallow her.
She was nursing her third cup of coffee when Billy came downstairs. He took one look at her and shook his head.
“You didn’t sleep?” he asked, his own eyes barely open. He didn’t look exactly ready to start the day himself.
She shrugged.
“Katie, you can’t go on like this. If the sleeping pills aren’t working, you need different ones, and you need to start seeing the therapist. If you don’t care about what happens to you, I do. We all do.”
A therapist. That was his answer for everything these days. Why didn’t any of them understand that there wasn’t a damn thing a therapist could do for her? A therapist couldn’t bring Joey back or Eileen, or any of those poor people who died because of her. And a therapist couldn’t erase what Billy had done either. What was the point? Nothing could be fixed. Didn’t he see that? There was no fixing it.
She rubbed her face with her hands and asked him what he wanted for breakfast.
“I’ll take care of that. What do you want?”
What do I want? Such a loaded question. I want my life back. “I’m not hungry. I’ll just have a piece of toast.”
He made her two pieces of toast, then buttered them and sprinkled each with cinnamon and sugar, just like she used to do when Rhiannon and Devin were little.
When she finished eating, he turned on the stereo.
“Dance with me,” he said, taking her hand and wrapping his arms around her. Rocking her, he sang softly as he rested his chin on the top of her head.
“Billy.” Every time he touched her he threw her into a tailspin, weakened her resolve. He probably knew it, too. She tried to pull away. “I have things to do.”
“This is more important.”
She let out a long sigh. “Two minutes, that’s it.” It was easier to give in, so she let him dance her around the dining room. The song ended, but he didn’t let go. She reminded him how much work she had to do, but he silenced her with his mouth on hers, holding her so close she couldn’t move.
Sometimes he made it seem so easy, as if they could just take a step backward and pick up where they’d left off. He kissed her until her legs turned to rubber. And she let him.
“Come back to me, Katie.” He whispered so low she wasn’t sure if he’d meant for her to hear.
“How do you do that?” she whispered back.
He arched an eyebrow.
“After all we’ve been through, and all that has happened, how do you still make me weak in the knees?”
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Because. You love me. And I love you. Can’t you see that?”
She did. But was it enough?
Chapter Fifty
The conversation around the dinner table was loud, jovial, and as far as Kate was concerned, forced. They were each trying to be their most charming, most engaging. She appreciated the effort, but her head throbbed and it was becoming difficult to pretend she was enjoying herself just to make everyone else feel better.
The wine should help numb the pain. She’d already polished off several cups of hot apple cider punch. Hopefully, the Riesling would finish the job.
She stood, and as she did, her chair banged into the wall behind her. “I want to make a toast.” She raised her glass. “I know we’re all trying to ignore the elephant in the room.” Her eyes swept the ceiling. “Yes, Joey, I mean you. I’m sure you’re looking down at us right now, wishing you were here.”
It was difficult talking around the lump lodged in her throat. She gripped the linen napkin she held in her other hand and swayed, sloshing wine onto the table.
Billy’s chair scraped along the floor, but Devin was up faster. “Mom? May I?”
“Please.” Kate collapsed into her chair, relieved. Something monumental should be said, but she didn’t have it in her to figure out what that something should be.
Devin raised his glass. “To Uncle Joey. There was never a kinder, sweeter, funnier, more generous man alive. You live on in our hearts and in our minds every day.”
There were a couple of murmured amens and other unintelligible syllables, followed by an uncomfortable silence. They’d said their goodbyes in July. Moved on. She was the only one stuck.
The chatter started again. Which was worse, the silence or the noise?
She mumbled an excuse and slipped into the kitchen, where she turned on the faucet. Leaving it running, she walked out the back door.
Despite a light breeze that carried the hint of a chill, it was warm for late November. Long strands of hair drifted across her face. Kate tucked them behind her ears before pushing her hands into the pockets of her plaid woolen skirt.
The field bordering their land had been cut weeks earlier. Acres of sh
ort, jagged stalks remained, sharp teeth ready to chew up anyone foolish enough to stumble forward. At the far edge of the cornfield, three large boxwood hedges caught the last rays of the setting sun—chartreuse gumdrops against the deepening twilight.
She leaned against the ancient outhouse, which had been reincarnated into a rabbit hutch, and more recently, a garden shed. Shielded from prying eyes, she could finally give in to the tears she’d been struggling to hide all day.
Thanksgiving, and she could think of nothing to be thankful for. Not one thing. Further proof she didn’t deserve to be here.
Her knees gave way, and her body began to slide against the worn shiplap siding. Strong hands stopped her descent, catching her before she landed in the damp earth.
Billy pulled her up and held her in place.
She studied his face. His hair brushed his shoulders, multiple shades of gold and not a single strand of silver. His face was clean-shaven and smooth. Tiny lines had taken up residence at the corners of his eyes, but other than looking more tired than usual, he looked like the same heartbreakingly beautiful man she’d fallen in love with. Just a little older, if not any wiser.
He lifted her face in both his hands. Blue-gray eyes searched hers, dipping into her very soul, sparking something—if only for a second—deep inside.
His thumb traced over her bottom lip. “I’m staying the rest of the weekend. I don’t care what you say.”
Devin was there, she wanted to remind him, but she’d hardly seen Devin since he got home. She settled her hands on Billy’s waist and leaned her forehead against his chest.
“Okay.”
The sun had dropped below the tree line behind them. The glowing shrubs faded into the darkness, and the cornfield grew more sinister.
“You ready to go back inside?”
No. “Yeah, sure.”
Her hand dwarfed in his, he led her toward the house. Rhiannon and Doug, who had been peering out the kitchen window, ducked out of sight.
Billy looked down at her and smirked. “Smooth.”
