by Ev Bishop
In the early years, she’d tried her best to counteract those unspoken lessons through words: You can share any story. You can tell any detail. You can talk about anything. Nothing has to be secret. And now, or for the past two years anyway, she’d tried to teach it by example, but it was hard to know, to believe, to trust, that she could undo the damage that had been done and could keep a sense of silence and shame from being a life sentence—especially if she couldn’t get her kids away from Steve permanently. So no, she’d never fault Lacey for being open and truthful or tell her not to talk about certain things . . . but honestly, was it too much to ask that she escape this day with one shred of dignity left?
Katelyn shook her head briskly. “I wouldn’t say that exactly. I mean we gave notice on our apartment, and—”
“There’s a zero percent vacancy rate,” Lacey piped in.
Shit. Katelyn bit her lip. How on earth had she overheard all that? It made her feel like her heart was caving in to hear it relayed so matter-of-factly. That was the worst part of this whole mess of trying to break free of Steve’s control—how much the kids picked up, how much of their innocence was robbed, how many adult cares it put on them, despite her best intentions. Lacey must’ve eavesdropped the last time she and Janet talked on the phone.
“Is that true?” Brian asked, frowning.
Katelyn shrugged. She needed to get rid of him. Her affairs were none of his business. “Look,” she said. “I appreciate your kindness, but the kids need to eat and I need to adjust my plans and get stuff organized for tonight. I can handle things from here.”
He looked at her for a moment, then nodded. As he stood up, her phone rang. She forced a smile, waved, and looked at her call display. Unknown caller. Biting her lip, she pressed Talk. “Hello?”
“Katelyn, honey, I hear there was a mix up at the airport and you couldn’t take off as planned. What happened?”
Steve. She let his concerned (oily and fake) voice finish his sentence, then nodded as if considering something. “Yes, there was some confusion. I can’t talk about it right now though. Thanks for calling.” She clicked End before he could get another word in, hoping beyond hope that she had sounded genuinely unfazed.
She’d read somewhere that people like Steve thrive on knowing that they’re getting to you, that you’re afraid or intimidated. That all they want is to continue being in a relationship with you, no matter what, so any form of engagement—arguments, fear, begging, warning, reasoning, bartering—all feels like a win.
Katelyn recognized the truth in the advice, but honestly, it was a lot easier said than done.
She popped a fry into her mouth, but could hardly chew and swallow. Brian was still standing there.
“How are you getting to town? Do you need a ride to a hotel?” he asked.
Her eyes narrowed. “It’s disconcerting to have someone refuse to take no for an answer,” she said. “I have no idea why you’re being so pushy, and I don’t care if I seem rude. I appreciated your help with the cart, but that’s enough. It’s not gallant to force aid on someone who has told you they’re fine. It’s inappropriate.”
Brian stepped back as if slapped and his face reddened. “Uh, yeah, sorry. I thought . . .” He didn’t bother to elaborate on what he’d thought exactly, just apologized again and left.
Lacey looked down at her plate.
What now? Katelyn thought. What now?
“I might have accidentally told him that you quit your job and sold our car for extra cash,” Lacey blurted—again quoting Katelyn’s words to Janet almost verbatim.
“I’m sorry,” Lacey added before her mom could say anything. “I know I don’t need to tell everyone our life story.”
Ouch, the kid really was a parrot!
“I just thought he was nice, plus he knows Auntie Janet. I was trying to be polite and talk so it wasn’t all weird and quiet.”
Katelyn exhaled and willed away the stupid tears threatening yet again. She smiled with sincere fondness at her daughter. “One: you can tell people anything you want. No secrets, remember? Unless it’s something fun like a surprise birthday party or something. Two: Brian probably is nice, but sometimes seeming nice isn’t the same thing as actually being a good or safe person, so always be careful, okay? Most people are safe and kind, but some are not. It’s good you told me what you guys talked about—and never, no matter what, go off with anybody without clearing it with me first, right?”
Lacey nodded.
“And three,” Katelyn smiled again, “like you could ever go five minutes without talking.”
Lacey giggled. “Yeah, that’s true.”
“Now eat up, you guys. I’m going to find us a place to stay tonight.”
Sawyer made a small dinosaur growl, and both Katelyn and Lacey looked at him in surprise. He chomped a nugget.
Lacey grinned. “Grrr yourself!”
Katelyn took one of Sawyer’s small hands and one of Lacey’s, and squeezed them softly.
“It’s going to be okay, right, Mom?” Lacey asked, squeezing back.
“Yeah, right, Mom?” Sawyer echoed, surprising Katelyn again.
“It’s going to be better than okay,” Katelyn said with forced optimism. “It’s going to be great.”
And inside her head, she said, Please, let that be true. Please. And please help me figure out what to do.
Chapter 3
Brian couldn’t decide which was more irritating, the idiots standing in the queue to see where their missing bags were, or the airline for having only one—one!—customer service rep on duty. Could the line move any slower? Could it? The hairy, foulmouthed jerk ahead of him obviously thought so. He seemed to be on a personal mission to hold things up further by cursing a blue streak and generally being a douche.
By the time it was Brian’s turn to step up, however, his temper wasn’t much better than the jerk’s. The woman at the counter, a curvy redhead with tired eyes, whose name tag identified her as Susan, explained that his suitcases had been held back in Vancouver. Then she lifted her hands slightly as if to ward off a verbal beating. Brian was sure the gesture was unconscious, but it made him feel badly all the same—and it took all the piss and vinegar out of him.
“And I thought I was having a bad day,” he drawled.
Susan looked up at the note in his voice, cautiously curious. A wan smile played over her lips. “It’s not bad news to find out your luggage didn’t land with you?”
“Oh no, don’t kid yourself, it sucks. I’ve been awake for over twenty-four hours, and I just want to be home, but it still beats being the person who has to tell irate Greenridgers they’ve been separated from their loot.”
Susan’s smile deepened. “It’s true that I’ve had better days.”
Brian sighed with mock seriousness. “I hear you, and I didn’t even bring booze in my carry-on. What am I supposed to do without my duty free?”
“I have a feeling you’ll survive.” Her eyes twinkled a bit now.
“I guess I’ll have to,” he agreed.
“Thank you for being so understanding,” Susan glanced down at his ID, “Brian.”
“You’re very welcome . . . Susan.”
She grinned prettily once more and repeated her scripted apology, something about a last-minute change of planes in Vancouver because of a mechanical problem and less room in the cargo department.
Brian listened patiently, although the explanation didn’t help him now. He checked his watch. He’d been on the ground, in this airport, for almost two hours. First the family of tough breaks. Now this. What a waste of time!
Why are you so worried about time anyway? a little voice nagged. It’s not like you have anything to do or anyone to see, except your family. You should thank the airline for their ineptitude.
“So my suitcase will come in on the eleven-thirty flight?”
“Yes, but by the time they’re unloaded, it will be closer to midnight. Do you want me to call you?”
“No, no, t
hat’s fine. Thanks, though. I’ll come back.”
He had started to walk away when Susan said, “Um, Brian?”
He turned.
She bit her lip and looked up at him from slightly lowered lashes.
“Yes?” he asked.
“I was wondering, if, well . . . I’m going on break in a few minutes. I could buy you a coffee if you wanted, or a beer and I’ll have the coffee.”
He wished he could scrounge up one iota of interest, but he couldn’t. “I’m sorry, you seem really great, but it’s not a good time for me.”
She shrugged. “Can’t blame a girl for trying, right?”
“Absolutely not, and thanks for the invite. You’ve boosted my ego for at least a week.”
She beamed and wished him a good night.
He didn’t bother heading to his condo. He was starving and he’d emptied his fridge before he left, knowing he’d be away for months. Instead he went to a country bar that he rarely frequented, figuring it was his best hope for privacy, and took a booth far away from the stage where live bands occasionally played.
He ordered a massive burger called the Big Bear with fries, then stared at some survival show playing in silent mode on the big screen above his head while he ate. His cell phone was going crazy with missed call alerts, but he decided not to listen to the messages. He’d been back in Greenridge for what, a couple hours? Give him a break. What was such a huge emergency that folks couldn’t leave him in peace until he shook off the tarmac’s dust?
It was hard to believe he’d been gone the better part of six months—and even more difficult to face the fact that he still didn’t know what he was going to do. He’d taken an unprecedented leave from work, much to the irritation of his boss, a.k.a. his father, to think things through—or that’s the excuse he’d given his mother anyway. Really he’d just been desperate to avoid, for once in his pathetic life, being caught in the middle of his parents’ terrible relationship. Fat lot of good it did him. All he’d actually succeeded at was burning through his savings and backlogging his cases at his dad’s firm. What should have been the trip of a lifetime was tainted by an endless reel of unhappy memories that moved relentlessly through his mind.
Duncan and I are getting a divorce. Our son Brian will be handling the details. Even now, almost a year since the farce of a thirty-fifth wedding anniversary party, where instead of a misty-eyed toast, his mother had made the shocking announcement that she was ending the marriage, the words were as sharp and freshly painful as when Brian first heard them.
What kind of mother assumed, without even asking, that her son would happily handle her divorce—from his own father? And what kind of father couldn’t seem to care less whether his son acted against him in a divorce settlement?
“Truth is, I’m relieved. I thought she’d get someone better,” had been Duncan’s only response when Brian asked if he should do it, or if it would come between them and affect things at work. And Brian had laughed at the comment, actually laughed, knowing full well that he was a damned good lawyer—and knowing his father knew it too. No doubt this inability to feel things or to articulate feelings in a remotely human manner (a quality Brian sometimes feared he’d inherited) was just one of the reasons his mother had finally had enough of Duncan.
Brian scrabbled at his plate for another fry, only to find he’d already eaten them all. He closed his eyes. For months after the anniversary party, he’d agonized about what to do. Then, still undecided, he’d fled for a “holiday.” And now? Now he was back, tanned but not rejuvenated, and still with less than no idea what the right thing to do was.
“That’s not true,” an inner voice intoned. “You know what to do, you’re just a wimp.”
When he returned to the airport just before midnight, his luggage, mercy of mercies, was finally ready for him. Even better, no crying women or children blocked his way. He was striding past the cafeteria, suitcase rolling smoothly at his side, when a now-familiar voice stopped him, and he realized he’d thanked luck too soon.
“You don’t know how grateful I am.” Katelyn had changed out of her fancy pumps into sneakers and was pacing near the airport café’s entrance, almost yelling into her cellphone. “Thank you so much. I’ll see you soon. Thank you,” she repeated.
Brian wondered why she was still in the airport after all this time, and caught himself feeling curious about the identity of the recipient of all that gratitude. He gave himself a mental kick. Why should he care?
He was almost at his jeep when he heard fast feet sprinting up behind him. Someone was in a hurry. He stepped to one side, wheeling his suitcase out of their path. To his surprise, the runner didn’t bolt past.
“Brian, thank goodness. You’re still here.”
“Uh huh?”
Under the grimy yellow glow of a nearby streetlight, Katelyn looked jaundiced and even more tired and stressed than when they’d spoken earlier. She blinked rapidly and swallowed hard, as if trying to steel herself to do or say whatever was coming next.
“Brian, I . . . ” She inhaled deeply. “I do need your help, after all. A ride, if you’re still offering.”
“I . . .” he started, then looked around. Where were her two appendages, a.k.a. children, not to mention that pathetic excuse for a dog?
Apparently she read his mind. “A friend of mine happened by the cafeteria. She’s grabbing a coffee before her flight and agreed to watch the kids and Monster while I chased after you.”
Brian opened his mouth to speak, but didn’t get a chance.
“I wouldn’t bother you,” she rushed on, “but that was before I realized there’s only one business in this whole forsaken valley with space left for the night. I finally got that sorted, and then, just now, was trying to rent a car, but there are none left, if you can believe it.”
She was babbling and Brian struggled to keep up. The first thing out of his mouth wasn’t an agreement or a refusal to help, however. It was a ridiculously inane observation that made him cringe even as he made it. “I can believe it,” he said. “Greenridge is so busy these days with hopes and dreams of natural gas pipelines and a big business boom that the existing infrastructure can’t support the influx of people to the area.”
Katelyn looked at him blankly.
“Oh, right,” he said. “Not really the point. Yes, I can give you a lift. Where to?”
“A little place a bit off the beaten path, I’m afraid. River’s Sigh B & B.”
Brian gawked at her. “Seriously?”
Katelyn’s eyes widened and her voice sharpened with concern. “What? No, don’t tell me. Is it a total dive? Is it unsafe in some way?”
Brian shook his head emphatically. “No, nothing like that. Not at all. It’s just of all the places you might end up . . . River’s Sigh B & B belongs to my brother Callum and his wife Jo.”
“No way!”
“Yeah, if you can believe it,” he said, unintentionally echoing her earlier words.
“Oh, I can believe it all right,” she echo-muttered too. “Greenridge really, really, really is an armpit.”
Brian laughed. “Well, I don’t know about that, but it is pretty small all right.”
“So you know how to get there?”
“As easily as I can find myself in the dark.”
She gave him a weird look, apparently finding his wording as awkward as he felt. “Okay, great. And thank you so much. I’ll grab Lacey and Sawyer and our gear and we can be off.”
His jeep was full to bursting as they headed out of the airport’s parking lot and onto the highway. Katelyn’s kids, safely secured in the back seat, were oddly quiet to Brian’s way of thinking—though he was the first one to admit he was no expert on children. Plus it was after midnight; they were probably asleep with their eyes open. Katelyn was quiet too, leaving Brian to his thoughts and the formulation of some tentative plans.
He’d drop off his unexpected cargo, say hello to Callum and Jo—and maybe talk Callum into letting their p
arents know he was back, thus stalling his having to see them. There was definitely an advantage to being the baby in a family. Your older siblings happily—or at least routinely—took on responsibilities for you. If only Callum was still practicing law instead of being some baker-slash-bed-and-breakfast-proprietor, Brian bet he could’ve sweet-talked him into the chore of being their mom’s legal counsel, no problem. But then again, though he’d never admit anything as sentimental to Callum, he was happy for him. Not only had his older brother escaped the talons of their father’s law firm and the work he’d never enjoyed, he’d somehow found a love that seemed real and enduring. Time would tell whether Jo and Callum would make it over the long haul, but chances looked good. Their relationship didn’t inspire Brian though, or give him false hope. They were outliers. Flukes that flew in the face of statistics. Their apparently genuine affection—and made for movies story of unrequited young love that got a second chance years later—did not a rule make.
Still, nice as it would be to see Callum and Jo again, what he was looking forward to most was hunkering down in his own space again. Maybe returning home wasn’t the worst thing in the world. His phone buzzed with yet another incoming call, and Brian forgot his plan to leave all communications until the morning. He hit the blue tooth answer button on his dashboard, so he could talk hands-free.
Callum’s voice, weirdly intense, blared from the jeep’s speaker. “Brian, your plane got in. I checked. You need to call me back.”
“Whoa, big bro, it’s not voicemail. I’m here.”
“Thank God. Have you been home yet?” Callum still sounded bizarrely on edge.
“Come on man, where’s the fire? They lost my luggage, so I went out for dinner before—”
“No, that’s just it,” Callum interrupted. “There has been a fire. Your whole place is gone.”
Katelyn gasped, and from the back seat, Lacey revealed she wasn’t asleep after all. “Is the fire at our cabin?” she asked shrilly.
“No, honey,” Katelyn said, turning in her seat. “Close your eyes and try to rest. Everything will be okay. This is about Brian—”
