by Karen Cimms
He dragged his hand through his hair and slipped his phone into the front pocket of his jeans.
“I don’t suppose that was the doctor.” Kate had showered and dried her hair. She’d even put on makeup. And judging by the look on her face, she knew it wasn’t the doctor. Shit.
“Look, Katie. A really important job’s come up. I have to leave Sunday afternoon. I’m flying out of New York first thing Monday. I’ll be on the road for a few weeks.”
He followed her into the kitchen.
“I need to work. I’m sure you understand that, more than anyone. I know I said I’d go to the doctor with you, but I’m not going to be able to now. I wish I could.”
The look on her face said she didn’t believe him.
“It’s going to be a quick tour, pretty much crisscrossing the country, but I’ll have my phone on me all the time in case you need me.”
“I’ll be fine. I told you, you don’t need to worry about me.” Her voice was flat and unemotional.
She picked up the coffeepot and began to fill it with water. Just what they all needed. More caffeine. His blood pressure was on the rise without it.
“Well, I do worry about you. I want you to stay with Rhiannon while I’m gone.”
“Ha! Did you mention that to her?”
“No. I’ll call her later. When you take me back Sunday, you can just stay.”
“We don’t have to wait.” She slipped the carafe into the coffeemaker and hit the button. “I can take you now.”
“I don’t want to go now,” he said evenly. “I’ll go Sunday, like I said.”
“Why do you think you get to call the shots?” she asked defiantly, almost challenging him to a fight.
“That’s enough, okay? I’m not leaving till Sunday, and I’m not discussing it.” He wanted to put his fist through a wall. Probably not a good idea. “I’m gonna get the Christmas stuff down from the attic, and I’ll help you do the decorating. This way you don’t have to worry about it.”
She turned her back to him. “Trust me. I’m not worried about it.”
He ran his fingers through his hair and wondered why he had any left or why it hadn’t all turned gray. He reached for her, but when his hand touched her shoulder, she pulled away.
“What happened this morning? Last night was . . . It hasn’t been like that in so long. What the fuck happened this morning that all of a sudden you’re mad at me again?”
Her casual shrug hurt, as if answering him wasn’t worth the trouble. When she turned to walk away, his frustration got the better of him. He caught her by the arm and tugged, causing her to stumble.
“Don’t shut me out, Katie. It’s not fair.”
“Let. Go.” She snarled, pulling her arm back. “You made your choice. Obviously it’s not me.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Not that again.” He let go. He needed to get it together, or he was going to erupt. “You need to listen. I love you. I’ve always loved you. Why the hell won’t you believe that? I don’t want anyone else. I never have.” He took hold of her upper arms. His voice was barely a whisper. “I love you more than anything? Can’t you see that?”
He searched her eyes for some connection, a spark, but he saw nothing but dull, blank orbs.
“Let me go.” As angry as she’d been a few moments ago, now there was nothing.
He wanted to kiss her or take her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. Instead, he did as she asked. He let her go.
She turned and stomped up the steps.
Fuck coffee. He spun toward the kitchen and the bottle of Jack over the refrigerator, and found Devin and his girlfriend standing in the doorway. Devin’s eyes narrowed into cold, dark slits when they met his.
“Here we are again,” Devin announced, glaring at him. “Home, crap home.”
Since coming to her decision, Kate felt strangely detached. As if she was just going through the motions. It was like preparing for a big party or a holiday, only she was the only one invited.
She was sorting through her clothing, trying to decide what she might want to be buried in when Billy knocked. He waited for her to invite him in before entering. Then he took a few tentative steps into the room and waited, his hands shoved into his pockets.
“Do you really want me to leave today?”
She held up a long white dress. Without a tan, it made her look washed out, so she put it back in the closet.
About to say yes, she wanted him to leave, she changed her mind when she saw the look on his face. He looked stressed and anxious. She assumed that was her fault. Had she always made him crazy? That could explain the drinking. She certainly made herself want to drink.
There was another reason she didn’t say yes. Despite what he’d done to her, she didn’t want his last memory of her to be of them fighting. Besides, she wasn’t about to give him to Christa or Jessie or whoever else he was fooling around with any sooner than she had to.
She choked back the lump in her throat and shook her head. “I’m sorry. You can stay.”
He didn’t smile. He just nodded and looked defeated.
“We got the Christmas decorations down,” he said. “Devin went up to White’s for the wreaths. When he gets back, we’ll hang them.”
“So you weren’t planning on going back to Rhiannon’s today, were you?”
“I would’ve finished the wreaths and then asked Devin to take me. Like I said, if you want me to go, I’ll go. I’m sorry for upsetting you, although I’ll be damned if I know what I did.”
He looked sincere. And if she didn’t know what was stashed away up in the attic, it would have been easy to believe that he was. He would’ve made a damn fine actor.
“Forget it. I’ll be down in a few minutes to make the bows.”
This time he did smile. “Devin’s girlfriend is working on them.”
“Danielle? She’s here?”
“Yeah, and apparently she knows how to make bows. Devin says she’s hooked on Pinterest or something. They look terrific.”
“That’s great.” Kate swallowed. “You don’t even need me.”
The smile faded. “Don’t ever say that. I’ll always need you.”
She turned back to the closet, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tear that made its way from the corner of her eye.
“What’re you doing?”
She tugged another dress from the closet and tossed it on the bed. “Just thinking about giving some clothes to the Salvation Army. You know, stuff I don’t wear.”
“You want me to go through my stuff?”
She shook her head. “There’ll be plenty of time for that later.”
He was almost out the door before he popped his head back inside. “How about we go to dinner tonight with Devin and his girl? How’s Mexican sound?”
“Sounds good,” she said, glad for the time she’d get to spend with Devin. “As long as it’s not turkey, I’m in.”
He closed the bedroom door behind him.
She rested her head against the wall. This would be good. She’d get to spend some time with Devin, meet his girlfriend. After that, she just needed to make her peace with Rhiannon, and then it would be time.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Devin left early Sunday to return to Williamsport in Eileen’s car. Kate had called Eileen’s nephew and arranged to buy it. At least she had one child no longer angry with her.
After sending him off, she got ready for church. She hadn’t been in months. All things considered, it was the right thing to do.
“Do you want me to go with you?” Billy asked as she slipped into her coat.
She stared up at him in surprise. “Since when do you want to go to church?”
“I’ll go if you want me to,” he said with a shrug.
“Thanks, but no. I’d rather spend my time praying than wondering what you’re up to. I’ll make breakfast when I get back.”
It was too early for nine-thirty Mass. The church was empty. She chose a seat on the far side
of the last pew, knelt, and made the sign of the cross.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” She stopped. That was the prayer for confession. Everything in her head was muddled; she couldn’t even remember her prayers. At least God knew what was in her heart and why. She didn’t need to tell him anything. Would he consider what she planned to do a sin if she was only righting a wrong?
She began again. The words of the Our Father and the Hail Mary, then the Act of Contrition, came back to her by rote. She tried to pay attention to the words, but she couldn’t focus. She said a prayer for Joey and one for Eileen and another for the other victims, just like she did every day.
When she finished, she sat on the hard wooden pew. Early worshippers had begun making their way into the church. A few glanced in her direction, some whispered. This was one of the reasons she hated going anywhere. She wished she could just be a fly on the wall and not the subject of Sunday’s dinner table conversation. Maybe this was a bad idea.
She stood and was about to sneak out the side door when Father Patrick cut her off.
“Hello, my child,” he said in his warm brogue. “It’s good to see you.” He guided her back into the pew. “How’re you doing? I’ve not seen you in a while.”
Kate nodded. “I’m sorry. It’s been . . . difficult.”
“I know, but remember we’re here for you, Kate.” He motioned to the mostly empty pews. “We’re your family, too, you know.”
“I do.” She smiled weakly. “Thank you.”
“So truly, how are you?”
“Honestly, Father? Not good.” Her throat felt tight.
“Aw, darlin’.” He patted her hand. “I’ll be needin’ to get ready for Mass now, but why don’t you come see me afterward? You know I’m a fine listener.”
“I do. Thank you. Maybe I will.”
“That’s a good lass.” He patted her hand again. “I’ll see you in a little while then.”
Once he disappeared into the sacristy, Kate slipped out the side door. She felt guilty, but she couldn’t sit down face to face with him or anyone else to talk about what was bothering her. No one could help her, and she didn’t want anyone to feel guilty later, wondering what they could have done differently. There was already way too much guilt.
Kate pulled into her driveway and climbed out of the truck to the sound of Billy whaling on his guitar. The amplifier was turned up high enough to fill MetLife Stadium. It was a wonder no one had called the police. She let herself in, then covered her ears as she climbed the stairs to ask him to turn it down.
When she got to the music room, his back was to her. On the amp was an almost full bottle of Jack Daniels—a recent purchase, she assumed—and a half-empty glass. He must have sensed her presence, because he turned.
Without a word, she stormed down the hall. She had no right to be angry, but she was. It was just further proof of his lies and that he would never change.
He called after her, but she didn’t stop. She slammed the bedroom door behind her.
He followed—this time, without knocking.
“Don’t start with me, Katie. I’ve got a lot on my mind, and these next few weeks are important. I’m just stressed out.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You don’t have to. Your face says it all.”
“Hey, if drinking helps you make it through the day, knock yourself out. I wish it worked for me.” She kicked her shoes into the closet and took off her belt. “Maybe that’s it. I’m jealous.”
She pulled the sweater dress over her head, leaving her hair in a halo of static. She hurled the dress onto the bed and marched down the hall.
“In fact,” she called over her shoulder, snatching the bottle off the amp, “I don’t think I’ve ever tried whiskey. Wine just isn’t doing it for me, but I never really gave this stuff a chance.”
She tilted her head and took a big swallow of the dark amber liquid. It burned, and her eyes watered. She shivered from her chin down to her knees and began to cough. Oh dear God, this was nasty.
Billy watched with a resigned expression. When she stopped sputtering, she took another swallow. Tears sprang from her eyes and she took several quick breaths, afraid it would come right back up the way it had gone down.
When she tipped the bottle a third time, he yanked it from her hands.
“That’s enough,” he said quietly. “You still have to drive me to Pittstown, remember?”
She glared at him defiantly, breathing through her mouth and still hoping to keep the whiskey from coming back up. Billy’s eyes raked over her, and she recalled how ridiculous she must look standing there in just a bra and a pair of black tights.
She tried to leave the room, but he blocked the door.
His lips curled into a smile. “You know, I’ll be away for three weeks. We have a few hours before I need to go.”
Caging her against the wall, he gave her a whiskey-flavored kiss. She shivered again in spite of the warmth from the alcohol coursing through her veins.
A part of her longed to return that kiss, to step back in time and sweep all the ugliness from her mind, but it was too late. Instead, she raised her hands and pushed against his chest, causing him to stumble backwards.
“What the fuck?” His hands dropped to his side.
“Don’t,” she said, searching for words that wouldn’t tip her hand or make her sound as if she’d completely lost her mind, but she found none. “Just don’t.”
She darted down the hall and into the bedroom, continuing on into the bathroom, locking both doors behind her.
This time, he didn’t come after her. The walls began to vibrate as a rapid stream of staccato notes played at ear-splitting levels filled the air. He had to have turned the gain up to eight and been pushing the amp into overdrive. The mirror trembled on the adjoining wall.
She slipped back into the bedroom, closing the bathroom door behind her to deaden the sound. The music pumped angrily as she crouched to sort through the jumble of clothing on the bedroom floor, looking for something to wear.
It was so loud, she couldn’t even hear the voices in her own head.
By the time she was ready to burn the house down, Billy must have worked out most of his anger. After shredding his guitar for a good half hour, he plugged in his acoustic. Pounding riffs were replaced with the fluid tones of Bach’s Lute Suites. She stopped packing leftovers to send with him to Rhiannon’s and leaned against the kitchen counter, letting the sound wash over her.
The house eventually grew quiet. She put the kettle on for tea and finished packing up the leftovers. She was loading them into a box when Billy came downstairs, carrying his guitars and duffle bag. His eyes were red and she detected a faint whiff of pot.
“You’re never going to change, are you?”
He stared at her coldly. “And all you’ve done is change.”
“Forget it.” She finished filling the box.
“I called Rhiannon to come get me, but she can’t.”
Kate rolled her eyes. Did he seriously expect their daughter to drop what she was doing and come running? “Why not?”
“They went to the fucking zoo, and they’ll be back too late to drive all the way out here, so you’re going to have to take me.”
The fucking zoo. That was a new one.
Chapter Fifty-Six
The drive to Pittstown was mostly silent. Billy attempted to start a conversation, even trotting out clichéd comments on the weather and something about how much he was going to miss eating her leftover stuffing. When she failed to respond with anything more than a nod or a clearing of her throat, he gave up.
Since she rarely wanted to listen to music anymore, he tuned in NPR and picked up the Thanksgiving broadcast of A Prairie Home Companion. He hoped Garrison Keillor was on his A game tonight. A few times, Kate emitted a one-note laugh. As short as it was, it was a nice sound to hear.
When they arrived in Pittstown, she pulled into the driveway and stared straight ah
ead, unmoving.
“I feel like this is the end of a very uncomfortable date, and you’re not sure if you can kiss me good night or not,” he said.
Her fingers gripped the steering wheel.
“You can, you know.” He leaned closer.
“Can what?”
“Kiss me good night.”
She nodded and gave him a tenuous, almost painful smile.
He leaned across the console, lifted her chin, and gave her a soft, tentative kiss.
“I love you, Katie.”
She blinked a few times and nodded. It hurt, but he wasn’t going to push her.
He climbed out and grabbed his bag and guitars from the back seat. He stood in the driveway with the door open, waiting, praying she would say something, something he wanted to hear, but she didn’t say a word. He reminded her that Rhiannon would be there in the morning to take her to the doctor, then he promised to call every day while he was on the road.
She nodded, her mouth working, but instead of saying anything, she just chewed on her lower lip.
“Okay, then.” He closed the door. A sick feeling was brewing in his gut, and his heart was telling him not to walk away. He took a few steps, fumbling in his jacket pocket for the keys. Nothing about this felt right.
He looked over his shoulder. She raised her hand in a sad, little wave, but made no move to leave.
He set his load down and pulled the passenger door open.
“I’m not going. I can’t leave you now. I can’t do this.”
Her mouth dropped in surprise, but she shook her head. “I told you I’m fine. I mean it. Really.”
She opened her door and climbed out. He rushed around the front of the truck and met her before she had taken more than a few steps.
The woman who stood before him was haunted, broken. It was killing him that he didn’t know how to fix her—more so because he was responsible for some of the deepest cracks.
