Remember Love

by Jessica Nelson

  No, he’d worshipped his bitterness. Honored and served it.

  Just like Widow Carmichael.

  Heaviness dragged his head to the steering wheel. He pressed his forehead against the leather, pushing, groaning.

  No wonder he wasn’t happy.

  What did God want from him? No answer boomed down from the sky to rain across his heart, but a tiny trickle of understanding seemed to spread through him.

  God wanted love. He wanted the son who’d wandered in search for better things. Jesus wanted Alec Munroe, on his knees, bare of sin, covered by the love of his King.

  What better place than at church to recommit himself? He swung the car door open. The enormity of his pride, his greed, and his anger bent him double before he even reached the steps of the church.

  It hurt, knowing he’d turned his back on the one who’d died for him.

  Lord, I’ve been wrong, looking for life in dead places. Forgive me, God. For my unforgiveness. My anger and idolatry. Wash me as you cleansed David. Make me white as snow, Jesus.

  He hunched down, his knees pressed against the rough stone steps of the church, the warm November day embracing him, and he let the ugly gush out. Received the new.

  When he stood, the emptiness was gone.

  Two days later Alec sat at the makeshift desk in his hotel room, poring over a contract. The shrill ring of his phone startled him. "This is Alec."

  "Hey, Grant here. You working today?"

  "Every Saturday. What’s up?"

  "Just wanted to let you know about Steve. He escaped custody."

  Alec recoiled. How did a crazy guy escape a jail cell? He bit back his questions and asked the most pertinent one. "He shouldn’t be too hard to find, right?"

  "He’s got friends that might hide him. Our force is small. It might take awhile."

  "I’ll take care of it."

  "Just stay on the right side of the law." Grant’s tone carried a quiet authority that almost made Alec smile. They’d come a long way since high school.

  "You know me."

  "I do. How’re things going with Katrina and her store?" Grant’s voice streamed through the phone tight and controlled.

  Sunlight filtered across the papers on the hotel desk, highlighting the article that announced the sale of Kat’s Korner’s building. Alec cringed. "She doesn’t know I own her building yet."

  "Aren’t you selling her store, or something? I thought I heard that."

  "She doesn’t want to sell."

  A grunt.

  "I’m not going to hurt her, Grant." Alec straightened the contract, lining its edges against the desk.

  A pause on the other end, then, "It’s not her I’m worried about. You were a rough kid, but you had passion. Verve. Look what she did to you."

  "You told me about the building for sale. I had to come check it out." Alec thought for a moment. "She didn’t mess me up. Unforgiveness did."

  "Spare me the religious stuff you picked up at that church." Grant cleared his throat. "I know I already said this, but if I’d known Joey was yours, I would’ve told you. I’m sorry, man."

  Alec tapped his pen against the contract. "I know. We’re cool."

  "Okay. Stick to the law, Alec."

  Alec closed his phone, brow furrowed. Despite Grant’s dislike for Katrina, he’d urged Alec home. Now, knowing Joey had been Alec’s, Grant really couldn’t stand Kitty.

  But blame didn’t matter. Forgiveness did. They’d both been young and unwise. God willing, she’d marry him. Give their love a second chance.

  A stronger chance.

  He went back to the contract in front of him, hope curling his lips into a smile.

  *****

  Katrina held tight to her bundle, humming as she made her way up the steps to the state prison.

  "Hey, Katrina!" A guard raised his hand in greeting and she waved back, not slowing her pace. She’d closed the store for an extended lunch and was short on time. She’d drop the package off and then hurry back. Alec couldn’t watch the store today and Saturdays were busy. Her pace quickened.

  Alec was right. If sales didn’t pick up soon, she’d be forced to close Kat’s Korner. But this errand was important, she reminded herself.

  She pushed through heavy doors into a large room filled with long tables and folding chairs. A lone inmate slumped over a hard, rectangular table in the corner.

  She flashed him a smile, ignoring the sharp twinge she felt every time she saw him.

  He didn’t smile back but as she moved closer she noticed his focus on the package in her arms.

  "Thanksgiving leftovers," she said, setting it in front of him and lowering herself to a chair.

  "Thanks." His faded blue eyes hung on the package before lifting to meet her gaze. He looked thinner.

  "How’ve you been, Anthony?"

  "Same as always, I guess."

  She took in the way his clothes hung over his skinny frame and her heart stung. Anthony had been joyriding three years ago when he lost control of the car he’d stolen from his foster parents and run her mother and Joey off the road. He’d blacked out on the scene, not from injuries, but from too much alcohol.

  A conviction wasn’t long in coming. Katrina had stayed away from the trial but two years afterward she’d felt compelled to confront the man who’d murdered her mother and child.

  What she’d found had been little more than a boy.

  Every time she visited, she tried to push past the pain and reach out to him. She’d asked Rachel to dig into his background. The details had been heartbreaking.

  She studied him now, shoulders stooped, chin low, and wished she could ease his guilt.

  "You can stop looking at me like that. I ain’t some little kid in need of your pity." The eyes that appeared lifeless sparked suddenly. "Why do you come, lady? I got no use for religion. Take your do-gooder self somewhere else." Anthony looked away, curling down in his chair and crossing his gangly arms.

  She wanted to blurt out who she was, why she came. She wanted to tell him that she forgave him, the same way Jesus would. But the words stuck in her throat and so she pushed the food toward him and stood.

  "Now you listen to me, young man," she said in her best mommy voice. "You’re hurting. I understand that. I’ll come whether you like it or not and acting like a child won’t stop the chocolate or the books." She glanced up at the clock on the wall. She had to go. "I’ll see you in a few weeks. Any requests?"

  "You don’t understand nothing," he said, face averted.

  Katrina left the room without saying anything else. What could she say? He carried a heavy burden and she felt powerless to do more than bring gifts and pray for his redemption.

  Hopefully Alec hadn’t looked up the driver in the accident. He hadn’t said anything. She frowned and pushed through the jail’s front doors. Sunlight spilled across the parking lot, but she shivered. If Alec did pursue contact with Anthony, his anger might destroy the teen’s fragile spirit.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  His son’s killer rested somewhere within. Alec stepped into the prison and asked for directions. He‘d made an appointment. Guards patted him down, their palms thick and strong. A heavy-set guard beckoned him to a door.

  Alec went through it and found himself in a dark corridor. It stank of sweat and disillusionment. Low voices ricocheted off thick cement walls, bounced off stark concrete floors and followed Alec as he walked with the guard to the last cell. He glanced down at the papers in his hands one more time. Anthony Gilmore, age nineteen, in for vehicular manslaughter.

  It had been a busy week since Thanksgiving, what with trying to take care of business from a hotel room and coercing Katrina into selling Kat’s Korner. He’d finally taken a break from contracts today to peruse Katrina’s stash of documents from Joey’s death. He’d found what he wanted. The name of the prison where the driver had been sent.

  He’d known the kid’s name for awhile now but the details of his incarceration had remained a m
ystery. Google hadn’t turned up much and the defense attorney never returned his calls.

  But now he knew. And some strange compulsion urged him to leave his hotel room to confront a killer. He pressed his lips together, trying to ignore the small voice inside that whispered for him to forgive.

  Like he’d forgiven the citizens of Manatee Bay.

  Like he’d forgiven Katrina.

  But this, Lord?

  Gilmore had stolen his child. Made stupid choices and killed an innocent little boy. Alec kept up his stride, battling what he should do with what he wanted to do. Maybe it was odd for him to feel violent over a little boy he never knew, maybe not. Joey had been his flesh, his blood. Katrina’s child.

  The guard in front of Alec paused, unlocked the visitation room door, and Alec stepped through. The door clanged shut behind him.

  A transparent bullet-proof partition stretched across the room, dividing it. Alec was the only one on his half. Anthony Gilmore sat on the other side of the partition. He looked fourteen. His limp blonde hair curtained faded blue eyes and beneath those, the skin was dark and bruised.

  Lack of sleep, Alec noted. He sat down.

  "Who are you?" The kid didn’t even meet Alec’s gaze. His voice was a threadbare whisper.

  "I’m the father of Joey Ross." His voice echoed strangely in the small room. He studied Anthony’s face. It seemed to turn gray. His mouth moved wordlessly, but then Alec realized he was saying sorry. Over and over again, chanting it with no voice.

  Alec’s palms turned clammy. This was Joey’s killer? This sad child? Anthony was weeping now, great gulping sobs that racked his skinny body.

  Alec’s back hurt, it was so stiff. He knew he could make a choice. Clearly God was giving him another opportunity to change. A familiar anger lit his blood, but beneath the feeling, and stronger, compassion flowed.

  *****

  The scream of a fire truck jolted Katrina from deep sleep. Already the shrill siren was fading, but she got out of bed anyway, curious.

  Pushing the curtains on her window aside, she looked out over her street. Across from her house rested the police cruiser, no doubt housing some weary officer assigned to guard her. A ridiculous waste of time, she thought. Despite her skepticism, Alec and Grant insisted Steve might try to come after her again. She hoped not.

  Her gaze shifted upwards. To the west, an orange glow lit the night sky. As she studied the ominous view, the phone rang in the living room.

  Releasing the curtains, she rushed out of her room. Who would be calling at this time of night? Sharon. Please, God, let her be okay. Grant had called last Saturday and told her Steve was missing. She’d been careful since then, but now she wondered if Steve had somehow discovered Sharon’s whereabouts. She snatched up the phone.

  "Hello?"

  "Katrina, it’s Grant. You might want to get down to Kat’s Korner."

  "Why?" But thoughts of Sharon had already fled, and she knew with sudden clarity that Kat’s Korner was on fire.

  "It’s on—"

  She slammed the phone down, not bothering with good-bye. She threw on some Levi’s and a faded t-shirt. Ten minutes later she pulled up to what was left of Kat’s Korner.

  Dazed, she parked the car. She got out and walked up to the building, each step like wading through mud. She crossed her arms, pressed her fists tightly against her ribs.

  The firefighters had subdued the flames into small, angry licks of light that illuminated rubble. They hissed and crackled, they drowned out the peaceful night.

  Katrina swallowed.

  Rubble.

  Her eyes stung. From pungent clouds of smoke or bitter tears, she didn’t know. She wanted to crumple to the ground. The one thing she’d had, now a pile of ashes. She trembled, and neither folded nor wept but stood rigid, afraid to move lest she shatter.

  "Katrina." Alec came up behind her and slipped something over her shoulders. His jacket, smelling of leather and cologne. Warm, but not enough to melt the icy clutch of fear that gripped her.

  "Grant called me," Alec said.

  "What am I going to do?" She didn’t expect an answer and didn’t get one.

  He gently took her arm and steered her toward his car.

  "I can’t leave."

  "There’s nothing you can do right now. We might as well warm up."

  "I don’t want to warm up. I want my store."

  "C’mon, Katrina. Get in."

  She felt like screaming no and running off like a little kid, but she slid onto the passenger seat instead. She wasn’t a child, and running away wouldn’t change a thing.

  "It was my idea to get Kat’s Korner," she said when Alec sat beside her and the doors were closed. The urge to talk settled deep. "Mom wanted me to finish college but I wanted to start a business, set my own hours. After Joey was born, I saw how mom adored him. It worked to leave him with her while I ran the store in the mornings. She came in the afternoons so I could go home with Joey. He crawled around in there. Read his first book there." Her words shook. "I always thought God helped me get the store. The bank had refused giving me a loan. We all prayed, because I was so young. No credit. Mom took the loan out under her name but made me a partner." She stared at the heap in front of the car. "Now it’s gone."

  "The Pizza Place burned down too."

  "I know." She blinked. "We’ll build again."

  "If the owner of the building wants to." The flickering lights cast Alec’s profile in darkness.

  A ripple of unease passed through Katrina. "Why wouldn’t he? Or she?" She didn’t even know who owned the building she leased her store out of. The checks were made to the corporation's name.

  "This is a good section of town," she said, pushing her unease to the side. Hope barreled through her. "We’re on Main Street, next to the other businesses, close to the headsprings of the river."

  "Katrina. Open up." The rap on the window startled her and she looked away from Alec. Rachel’s face floated outside, strangely hazy in the gray pall of destruction.

  Katrina pressed the window button and the glass slid down.

  "I just heard on my police scanner. Are you okay?" Rachel peered into the car.

  "I’m unharmed." Physically. She shivered.

  Rachel waved at the heavy smoke lingering in the air. "That’s not what I meant. Come over to the apartment. I’ll make you some tea."

  Why not? She wouldn’t sleep now. "Give me a minute."

  "Okay, I’ll see you— is that Alec?" She bent down, her squint changing into a glare. "What is it with you?"

  "Enough, Rachel." Katrina rolled the window up and turned to Alec. "Sorry. Look, I’m exhausted and emotionally, I’m just out of it." She pushed her hands up over her eyes, pulled her hair back, and yawned. "I’ll call you tomorrow."

  Alec took her hands in his. "We have a lot to discuss."

  "I know." His grip felt warm and strong. Welcome. Needed. Would it hurt so much to marry him? It could. She knew how easily life could be snatched away. How easily she could be abandoned. She sent Alec a slight smile before pulling her hand from his and opening the door.

  She avoided looking at the skeletal remains of her store and concentrated on driving to Rachel’s small apartment without sobbing.

  Tears were for later. For now, she’d get some tea and make plans for the future Kat’s Korner.

  *****

  She ended up sleeping on Rachel’s couch. Morning came too soon and she realized the couch had been a bad idea; it kinked her neck. She rubbed her eyes, then dragged the ruby colored chenille blanket off her legs and sat up.

  The thick aroma of bacon hung heavy in the air and for a moment, Katrina didn’t remember why she was there, just inhaled with a smile.

  A second later memory, an unwelcome guest, seeped through her foggy thoughts. Kat’s Korner was gone.

  Destroyed.

  Shouldn’t she feel more sad? She waited for a minute, waited for the ache of emptiness, for the loss of meaning.

  It didn
’t come. She felt marvelously free instead. A shaky breath escaped her lips.

  Rachel stuck her head out of the kitchen. "You’re up. Good. Food’s almost done." She popped back in.

  Folding the blanket, Katrina laid it carefully over Rachel’s leather couch.

  Rachel liked things neat as a pin. The apartment, though homey and comfortable, had nothing out of place. Katrina knew from experience that a rumpled blanket on the couch could send Rachel into a tizzy. She patted the chenille and then headed into the tiny kitchen.

  "Can I help?"

  "No. Sit." Rachel brought a plate loaded with eggs, bacon and toast and set it in front of her. Rachel’s sleek cream blouse rustled with the movement and her gold hoops glinted in the weak kitchen light.

  "Are you going to work?" Katrina bit her bacon and chewed, not hungry.

  "I have a client meeting at ten." Rachel slid into the chair across from her. Her mouth puckered.

  Katrina knew that look. It was her "I’ve got bad news and I’m trying to figure out the best way to tell you" look. She swallowed, then eyed Rachel. "What?"

  "I found out something while in New York."

  Katrina set the bacon down, wiped the grease from her fingers on the napkin beside her plate. Faced her friend. "And?"

  "I don’t want to hurt you but. . ." Rachel folded her hands. "There’s something you should know about Alec." She took a deep breath, gaze skipping around the room before returning to Katrina. "Alec is a businessman, first and foremost."

  Katrina sipped her orange juice. "Before you say anything, are you sure it’s what I need to hear?" She wiggled in the chair, knowing she was only trying to bury her head in the sand again.

  An odd look crossed Rachel’s face. Uncertainty? "You’re right. I’m going to double check my sources before I say anything."

  "Are you sure?" Katrina set her cup down a little too hard. The sound split through the kitchen.

  "Absolutely. The last time I ran my mouth about Alec, I was wrong." Rachel stood, leaned forward and hugged Katrina. "I’ll stop by the store—"

  "No Kat’s Korner." Katrina could feel the tightness in her smile. "I’ll be at home, until I figure out what to do."