by T. L. Haddix
“He was wrong,” Eliza said now. “I told him then he was being stupid. I tried to change his mind, but the damned fool was as stubborn as they come. If he’d listened to me, things might have been different. I went against him and dared him to say a damned word to the contrary. I wasn’t about to let him cut me off from you too. And I can’t forgive him for that stubbornness, as much as I’ve tried.”
Not knowing what to say, Kathy just sat there. She couldn’t disagree that her marriage might have had a vastly different outcome if her father had still been alive, if their relationship hadn’t been in such disrepair. She might not have turned to the sympathetic shoulder Clay had offered her, and so much might never have happened…
It was true that Eliza had ignored Ira’s edict that Kathy be shunned, a flagrant display of defiance that had seemed like a cold comfort to Kathy at the time. She’d never understood until now just how difficult that had to have been for her mother who, aside from that disagreement, had adored her husband.
“Why is it that you’ve never blamed me?” she asked her mother almost desperately as the tension in the kitchen threatened to overwhelm her. “You never have, not once. Why?”
Eliza’s sigh held the weight of the world, and she got a pair of coffee mugs down with a shaking hand. “I have blamed you, Kathleen. I just realized that blame wasn’t rational before it could develop into resentment.”
She brought the coffee pot over and poured each of them a cup, then she sat, holding her hand out across the table. Kathy took it gladly.
“See, I know you’re not innocent in this. You had no business messing around with Clay Morton. But I also understand why you did, why he appealed to you. If I’d been in your shoes, I might well have done the same thing. How can I blame you for surviving a bad situation the best way you knew how?”
Kathy saw nothing but honest resolve in her mother’s face, tempered with a heavy sadness that was as familiar to her as her own reflection.
Eliza wasn’t finished. “Let me ask you this, sweetheart. If our situations were reversed or if, God forbid, this had happened to your sister or your brother… knowing what you know now, looking at them with the eyes you have now, how would you see things? Don’t answer me right away. Just ponder on that.” Eliza patted her hand and stood just as the phone rang.
After hearing it was Nancy who was calling, Kathy headed out to the backyard to take in some fresh air. The evening was stiflingly hot and humid, and storm clouds were rolling in from the west. They were no match for the emotional storm Kathy was facing.
Eliza had given her a lot to think about. On top of everything she was learning in therapy, her mother’s comments had opened her eyes. Maybe it was the medication, maybe it was just that Kathy was in a different place now than she’d been. Whatever the reason, her mother’s words resonated in a way they’d never done before, and for the first time in years, Kathy felt a little less certain about the ugliness of her role in things.
Chapter Ten
Sarah Jane Brow Campbell! The Kama Sutra is most assuredly NOT a book of poetry. Young lady, you have some explaining to do.
K.
—A short note to Sarah from Kathy in early August.
Kathy dithered outside the library for five minutes on Friday afternoon before she called herself a ninny and headed up the steps. Half expecting to be met at the door by a stern security guard who would toss out on her rump, she squared her shoulders and went inside. To her very great relief, no one gave her a second glance—except for the friendly woman at the front desk who’d saved her bacon during her first visit.
With a small wave, Kathy headed in her direction. She handed the lady, Shannon, the books she was returning.
“I’m glad to see you back in here,” Shannon said with a smile. “I wondered if Camille had run you off.”
“Almost.” Kathy’s cheeks heated at the memory of last Friday’s visit. “I figured the doors would be barred.”
Shannon laughed quietly. “Surely not. Did you find the bookstore well enough?”
Kathy gave a rueful chuckle. “I did.”
When she’d come into the library last week with the list of Sarah’s recommendations, she’d added quite a few titles that she wanted to look for. Chief amongst them was The Kama Sutra, a book Sarah had mentioned years earlier while she was still dating Owen. Kathy’d never heard of the book before—or since, for that matter—and she thought it sounded exotic. So after she’d browsed the library for a while without finding the book, she’d asked for assistance from the matronly woman at the reference counter.
“I beg your pardon, young woman? What did you just ask me? I never!” With an affronted glare at Kathy, she huffed and puffed for all she was worth with offended dignity.
The commotion had caught Shannon’s attention, and she hurried over. “Is there a problem?”
Clutching her pearls to her throat, literally, the older woman raised her nose in the air. “I refuse to repeat what she asked me for.” With that, she left in a huff.
Kathy, feeling about as embarrassed as she’d been in years, was nearly in tears. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t… I just asked for a book.”
Shannon grimaced. “Please don’t take Camille’s attitude personally. She tends to think anything outside of the Bible and a handful of religious-themed tomes handpicked by her pastor is the work of the devil. Truly, if her husband wasn’t on the board… I shouldn’t say that. Which book were you asking for? Maybe I can help.”
“It’s one my sister mentioned a few years back—The Kama Sutra. Have you heard of it?”
To Kathy’s surprise, Shannon’s eyes widened ever so slightly, and her cheeks turned pink. “Um. Well. Yes? You say your sister mentioned it to you?”
Kathy nodded, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. “In a manner, yes. Is it a book of love poems?”
“Not exactly. And it’s not a book we have here in the library.” Shannon gave a soft chuckle and wrote an address on a scrap of paper then handed it to Kathy. “This is a used bookstore here in town. Go in and ask for Aloise. Only speak to her for the book—no one else. Do you mind if I ask—what was the context of your conversation with your sister, and why didn’t she explain the book to you?”
Kathy folded the paper and tucked it into a pocket in her purse. “My brother-in-law… they were dating at the time, and he’d just given her a book. I teased her, maybe a little meanly,” she confessed with a grimace, “and asked if it was a book of love poems. She said it was and told me the title, said I should check it out someday. Do I even want to know what it is?”
Shannon was biting her lip to keep from laughing. “I’m not making fun of you, I promise. It’s just that if my sister did that to me and I ended up looking for it in a library—and it’s likely my sister would do that, as mischievous as she is—I’d find a good way to pay her back. It’s a book written a very long time ago, and it details, um, sexual positions,” she said in a low voice, leaning in so no one else would hear. “It’s very explicit.”
Groaning, Kathy closed her eyes. “Oh, my God. Oh, I’m so embarrassed.”
Shannon laughed out loud. “Don’t be. Please, it’s okay. I’m not offended, I promise you. Now, Camille? Her I’m not so certain about. I just wonder how in the world she knows what it is.” She winked at Kathy and grinned.
Kathy shook her head, finally seeing some of the humor in the situation. “You know, when it happened, I wondered why Owen, my brother-in-law, turned about twenty shades of red. I thought it was because he was embarrassed at being caught giving her a book of poetry.” A bubble of laughter surprised her, and it escaped before she could catch it. In seconds, she and Shannon were both laughing, holding on to opposite sides of the counter for support.
It had been a memorable meeting to say the least.
“Did they have it?” Shannon asked her as she checked Kathy’s books b
ack in.
“They did, and I bought a copy. Do you know, I hurried home and hid that thing in my bedroom, in the back of my closet? I’m a grown woman, I was married, and I’m hiding books from my mother.” She straightened a nearby stack of bookmarks that were slightly out of order. “I also wrote my sister a note, and I’ll be demanding an explanation the next time we talk.”
“She doesn’t live here in Savannah?”
Kathy gave a sad smile. “No, she’s in Kentucky where we grew up. She just had her second and third babies—twins. A girl and a boy. I won’t see her for quite some time.”
Shannon tilted her head, studying Kathy. “That has to be difficult, to be so far away.”
“It isn’t easy. I’d best get to browsing for these books,” Kathy said, holding up her new list. “I’ll see you in a little bit.”
The call from Owen had come in early Tuesday morning. “Sarah had the babies yesterday evening late. One of each, can you imagine? A girl and a boy—Emma Jean and Benjamin Wayne. They’re all three doing very well.” He’d sounded tired but happy. “They should be able to come home Thursday or so.”
Kathy, who’d been home and taken the call, closed her eyes on a wave of sadness and relief. “That’s wonderful news. Congratulations, Papa Campbell. You finally have that little girl you’ve been dreading though. Are you sure you can handle that?”
She could practically hear the man’s grin. “Yeah, well. She’s the prettiest little thing, head full of dark hair, and she’s already smiling. She’s going to be a sweet child, no trouble at all. I can tell. I don’t know what I was so worried about.”
“Owen, newborn babies don’t smile! You silly man. I’m so happy for you all. How’s John liking being a big brother? Has he met them yet?”
“No. He probably will tonight if Sarah’s up to the visit. You’ll tell Eliza?”
Kathy rolled her eyes as she laughed. “Of course I will. Give Sarah our love?”
“I will.”
As she browsed the library shelves, picking up various books here and there, she pressed her lips together. Now more than ever, she needed something to focus on, to draw her attention away from her own losses.
When she’d met with Dr. Milton yesterday for their biweekly appointment, the doctor had cautioned her about the possible repercussions for her of the babies’ arrival. “Don’t underestimate the grieving process. You’ve been doing very well the last few weeks, Kathy. If you need me, if things get too tough the next three or four days before we meet again, don’t hesitate to call me. I can come in and meet you here any time, day or night.”
Though she wanted to be strong and resist the need to talk to Dr. Milton, Kathy didn’t know if she could. She was finding that she felt a lot of anger about the births, not directed at Sarah but at the unfairness in the world. The main stressor, as Dr. Milton would have called it, that had led to Kathy’s suicide attempt was the hysterectomy she’d been forced to undergo for medical reasons back in the spring. With the news of Sarah’s pregnancy, Gilly’s pregnancy, and her own sterility staring her in the face, it had all been too much.
Now, with Emma and Ben’s births, Kathy was reliving those anxious feelings and despair. Clutching the books she’d selected to her chest, she hurried to the front to check out. Shannon wasn’t available, and fortunately neither was Camille. Instead, a woman she’d not seen before was manning the desk. With little fuss, Kathy was ready to go, her books stuffed in her book bag. She made a beeline to the atrium to use the payphone she’d seen there.
Shaking all over inside, she was surprised to see her hand was mostly steady when she dug a dime from her coin purse. She hated to call Dr. Milton. She really did. But she felt as though she was coming apart at the seams. It had hit so suddenly she’d not had a chance to brace for the emotional flood.
Dr. Milton herself answered the call.
“It’s Kathy, Kathy Browning. I need… can I come in?”
“Of course. I’m just wrapping up some paperwork for the week. How soon can you be here?”
The library was only a short walk from Dr. Milton’s office. “Ten minutes, maybe? I’m downtown.”
“I’ll be waiting. Kathy? It’s going to be okay.”
As she hung the receiver back on its cradle, Kathy felt like crying, but she held the tears at bay. She hoped Dr. Milton was right because at the moment, she didn’t feel as though things would ever be okay again.
Chapter Eleven
Had Charles known he was walking into a trap when he passed through the front door of his mother’s house, he’d never have accepted her dinner invitation. But truly, he’d not had the first clue she was setting him up.
“Come over Thursday evening, Charles. You need a good meal, and your sister will be here. Stanton’s out of town for business, and she’s lonely.” Augustina Kelly didn’t issue invitations that often to her two children—not for small dinners through the week anyhow—so he’d accepted.
His sister met him in the hall, presumably on her way back from the powder room. With wide eyes and a tense smile, Daphne accepted his hug.
“You’re in for it tonight. I’m so sorry,” she muttered as she took his arm. She raised her voice as they reached the wide double doors of the parlor. “Mother, look who I found.”
“There you are,” Augustina said, her smile pleased. “I was just telling Evelyn about the important cases you’re working on these days. I’m sure that’s why you’re late tonight.”
Charles froze in the door, his muscles going rigid. “Mother. Evelyn.” He nodded stiffly at the pretty blonde seated beside his mother. “I didn’t realize we were entertaining tonight.”
Augustina waved and laughed. “Oh, poo. Evelyn’s practically family. Do come in, Charles. Pour yourself a drink while Cook finishes dinner.”
Since turning around and running out the door would have made him look like the utmost coward, Charles went to the bar. He made sure to give the couch a wide berth, however, not trusting the gleam in his mother’s eye.
“Did you know that Evelyn recently completed a degree in art history, Charles?” his mother asked.
He put the stopper back in the whiskey decanter with very precise movements. “I did not, no. Congratulations, Evelyn.”
“Thank you,” she replied softly. “I’m looking forward to putting what I learned at school to good use.” Her eyes were bold and direct, a contrast to her demure tone, and that she meant the words as a double entendre wasn’t lost on anyone except perhaps his mother.
Charles’s eyebrow rose when his sister coughed. “Okay, Daph?” He patted her back, maybe a little more firmly than was strictly necessary.
“Fine.” Her voice was strangled as she glared at him as though sending him a message. “Just fine.”
He wasn’t as oblivious as she thought he was. But he wasn’t about to give his mother or Evelyn any chance to snag him in their traps.
Dinner was a tense affair with his mother trying determinedly to pull him into her matchmaking plot. Charles was just as determined not to be pulled, and by the time the last plates were removed, he was feeling the strain of the evening.
“We’ll take coffee in the parlor, Roberta,” his mother told the maid.
“Actually, I can’t stay.” Charles’s words dropped into the dining room like bombs. “I’m afraid I’m coming down with a headache, and since I have a particularly challenging day scheduled tomorrow, I’d best head home and get some rest.”
“I need to go as well,” Daphne hastily put in. “I swear there’s something in the air. My head is throbbing. Would you mind giving me a lift home, brother dear?”
“Of course not.”
“Charles! Daphne! We have a guest.” Augustina scowled at them darkly. “You can’t just leave. Besides, your sister lives not five minutes away.”
“Yes, and she’s not feeling well. I’d be rem
iss in my duties as her only brother if I didn’t see her home. I’m sure Evelyn understands, Mother.” Charles wasn’t about to stick around and take the chance that Augustina would hang him with an obligation he couldn’t get out of.
Judging by the glare she sent him, his mother wouldn’t be forgiving him any time soon. He felt a twinge of guilt over that, but a glance at Evelyn quashed it. As quickly as he could, he ushered Daphne outside.
Once they were in the car, she let out a sigh, rubbing her forehead. “I swear the three of you really did give me a headache. You could have cut the tension in that room with a knife. I’m sorry I couldn’t warn you. I didn’t realize until I walked in.”
Charles shrugged and loosened his tie. “It wasn’t your fault. I know exactly where the blame lies.”
Daphne snorted. “Yeah, with Little Miss Scholar. I’ll bet she made straight A’s in her extracurricular activities.”
He held up a hand. “Stop right there. Please don’t put that image in my head any more than it already is. Will you be okay by yourself?” he asked as he pulled into her driveway.
“I’ll be fine. I’ll grab something when I get inside.” She sighed and looked into the shadows beyond the garage. “I don’t agree with her methods, but Mother is right about one thing—you need someone in your life. I’d like to see you happy.”
“I am happy.”
She shot him an incredulous look as they got out of the car. “Sure, you are. You go right ahead and play dumb, dear. We’ve both been through too much of the ringer tonight for me to lecture you further.”
He chuckled. “I appreciate that consideration.” The air was still quite warm, but now that fall was settling in on the region, it wasn’t as humid as it had been a few weeks earlier. “When will Stanton be home?”
