Kathy

by T. L. Haddix

  Charles propped his arm on the back of the bench and watched her as they discussed books they’d both read. The intensity and insight with which she debated the merits of a recent bestseller confirmed the impression he’d formed of her the first time they met—there was a hell of a lot more depth to Kathy than what she allowed to show through. He had the feeling that if she knew how much of herself she was revealing as they spoke, she’d clam up tightly. He wasn’t about to let it slip that he was on to her.

  They sat and talked until the door to the ballroom opened and a group of revelers came out, laughing and joking.

  Their privacy shattered, Charles checked his watch with a frown. “Oh, my. It’s eleven thirty. I had no idea we’d been out here this long.” He stood and held out his hand. “Ready to go back in?”

  Kathy slipped her fingers into his briefly until she was on her feet, then she clasped her purse in an almost-hug. “Actually… I think I’m going to get a cab home. They’ll be starting the fireworks soon, and I’d prefer to be home when that starts. I don’t like loud noises.” She didn’t look at him as she spoke.

  Guessing her dislike stemmed from her past, he offered her his arm. “I don’t particularly care for fireworks myself. How about I drive you home?”

  She looked at him, clearly preparing to refuse his offer, but the sound of an early firecracker going off burst from somewhere in the darkness beyond the edge of the veranda, and she jumped, her face going pale.

  “Kathy, let me get you home safely. Please?”

  “I’d appreciate that. Thank you,” she said quietly. “I just need to let my mother know.”

  They ran into Eliza as they were going into the ballroom.

  “There you are. Are you ready to head home, sweetheart?” she asked with concern.

  “I am. Charles has offered to drive me home. Mama, you should stay here. Enjoy the rest of the evening.”

  Eliza searched her face then studied Charles. “Are you sure? I don’t mind going home now.”

  Kathy nodded. “But then you’d miss the fireworks. Stay. Have fun. I’m a big girl. I have to learn to stand on my own at some point, right?”

  Charles said quietly, “I’ll make sure she gets in safely, Mrs. Browning.”

  She tapped his arm. “Young man, I thought I told you to call me Eliza. If you’re sure,” she said to Kathy, hugging her. “I’ll be home before too long.”

  Knowing they needed to get going, Charles didn’t tarry once inside the ballroom. In a couple of minutes, he and Kathy were waiting on the curb as the valet brought his car around.

  “Do you really not like fireworks, or are you just being a gentleman?” Kathy asked. There was a thread of tension in her voice, though she was clearly trying to not let it show.

  “I like them well enough every now and then, but really, if you’ve seen a good show once or twice, they’re nothing to write home about. I can take them or leave them.”

  The drive to the little house Kathy shared with Eliza took fifteen minutes, and this time, they shared a bit more conversation than the last time Charles had driven her home. Once again, when they reached the corner, Kathy offered to walk.

  “If I don’t see you to your door, I’d have to surrender my gentleman’s card, and I’d have your mother, your aunt, my mother, and my sister to answer to,” he told her.

  “You’re being silly,” she chided softly.

  “Well, it’s my silliness, so I’ll own it. One of these days, maybe you’ll meet my sister and the two of you can commiserate over my old-fashioned ways.”

  Kathy laughed softly. “You make her sound like a hellion.”

  “She is one! She can be the perfect lady if she wants, but that’s usually only when she needs to get our mother off her back. The rest of the time, she’s a handful, and she keeps her husband on his toes. They have two boys, and if she didn’t have another child on the way, she’d be out climbing trees with them.”

  When Kathy sucked in a breath, he remembered that she’d lost two children. Cursing his clumsy tongue, he opened his mouth to apologize, but she spoke first.

  “My sister’s like that. Her son John, he’s almost three, and the babies of course are only a few months old, but when they get bigger, she’ll be right in the thick of things with them. My poor brother-in-law won’t stand a chance against them, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Part of me wishes I was back there, watching them grow up.”

  They reached her house, and he parked in the driveway, turning off the engine. “Just part of you?”

  She nodded, her gaze on her hands. “I’ll never go back there. Not even for a visit. Just the thought of making that trip is enough to make me sick.” She exhaled with a shuddery breath. “They all come down here as often as they can, and since Owen’s a writer, they tend to stay for a while when they come. He can work anywhere, you see. My brother, Jack, and his wife, Gilly, they don’t get to come as often, but we do get to see them at least once a year. They just had their first child a couple of weeks ago, a little girl named Michelle.”

  “Does it bother you?” he asked quietly.

  “That they’re having children and families while I don’t? Sure, it does. I hate them sometimes for that,” she confessed, glancing at him with a wry smile. “But we play the cards we’re dealt, you know. I don’t want to be a mother again. I don’t think I could handle that. Now you probably think less of me.”

  “Why? Because you’re human?”

  She snorted. “I’m abnormal, Mr. Kelly. I’m a woman who doesn’t want children.”

  He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “Ah, I see. Does that same desire make me abnormal as well then?”

  “It isn’t the same for you. You’re a man.” She touched the door handle.

  “That’s stuff and nonsense, Miss Browning, and you know it. I happen to believe we shouldn’t pigeonhole people based on silly things like their sex.”

  Kathy stared at him. “I was right earlier. You are decidedly odd.” She opened the door and got out.

  Charles followed. “Is that a compliment or a complaint?”

  She stopped on the walk, halfway between the driveway and the house, for a moment before continuing. “I’m not exactly sure.”

  Charles hid his grin as she unlocked the door. They’d gone from her not liking him a couple of hours earlier to her being uncertain. True, she still thought he was odd, but as that was a statement he couldn’t readily argue with, he didn’t mind it. They were making progress even if he wasn’t sure what it meant for the future.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Kathy didn’t quite know what to do with herself. She’d expected to get a cab home from the party, to be alone as she endured the inevitable fireworks her neighbors would shoot off as part of the New Year’s celebration. Anytime there were fireworks, her anxiety ratcheted up. The loud noises disturbed her, reminding her too vividly of what Randall had done.

  Instead, she was with Charles, trying to pretend she wasn’t a bundle of nerves, which she absolutely was. Not just on the traumatic memory front either. No, part of her anxiety stemmed from the fact that she’d enjoyed the last couple of hours more than she’d enjoyed anything in ages, maybe even forever.

  As soon as she’d seen him step onto the veranda, dressed nattily in a slate-gray three-piece suit that set off his blond good looks, she’d known she was in trouble. For the last few months, she’d tried desperately to ignore Charles when he came to the offices. She’d made a point of being just short of rude to him—mostly to keep herself distant.

  All that effort might as well not have been expended because as soon as they’d started discussing books, she was lost. Though Charles was vastly more educated than Kathy, he’d never once belittled her opinions or made her feel as if she wasn’t smart. Instead, he paid rapt attention to her comments and seemed genuinely interested in how she’d perceiv
ed elements of the stories.

  No man had ever been that interested in hearing what she thought, what she felt. At that point, if Charles had been positively homely, covered in warts, bald, and chubby, she’d still have adored him. For the first time in her life, someone had appreciated her not just for her face or her body but for her mind. Subsequently, Kathy was terrified.

  “Come on in,” she told him as she unlocked the door. She laid her purse on the little table in the hall. “Would you care… can I offer you a drink? I could make some coffee.” She crossed her fingers, not sure which she wanted more—for him to take her up on the offer or for him to leave.

  “I don’t want you to go to any trouble.”

  “It’s no trouble. I’ll get a pot on.”

  As she turned toward the kitchen, the first fireworks sounded outside, and that fast, she was taken back to that awful day when her world had ended. Her fight-or-flight system, as Dr. Milton called it, lit up and took off running. Before she knew it, she was cowering in the corner, shielding her head with her hands, trying to block out the sounds and sights that were both real and remembered.

  Strong, gentle hands touched her shoulders, pulling her back into reality enough that she understood she was still in the hall, still in Georgia.

  “Shhh, Kathy, it’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe. Come with me now,” Charles said softly. “It’ll be okay.”

  He pulled her up, and half carrying her, he got her into the living room to sit on the couch. When she flinched at the sight and sound of bottle rockets being set off across the street, he hurried to the window and wrenched the curtains closed.

  “It’s too loud here. I’m sorry. I have to go,” she sobbed. Cursing the world, she ran for her bedroom and the quiet corner in the very back of the room beside the bookcase where she kept floor pillows ready for moments just like this.

  A second later, Charles was there with her, fumbling for the switch on the lamp. He found it and turned it on, bathing the room in a warm glow. Moving slowly, he eased into a crouch beside where she sat, and he extended his hand. There was concern on his face and a measure of sadness, his blue eyes worried behind the lenses of his glasses.

  “Let me try to help,” he said. “Please.”

  Another round of explosives went off outside, and needing the comfort of another human’s touch, Kathy took his hand.

  “Happy New Year,” she whispered.

  Very carefully, he pulled her into his arms and settled down beside her on the pillows. “I’ve had worse New Years,” he teased gently. “Let’s just keep breathing and we’ll get through this, you and me. It’ll be better before you know it.”

  Kathy laughed through her tears even as she clung to him, jumping every time a loud bang sounded. She was embarrassed by her need for comfort as much as she was grateful not to be alone. “I’d hate to know what’s worse than this.”

  Charles rubbed his hand up and down her arm. “Nothing worth going into tonight, believe me.”

  To her utter amazement, he reached onto the bookshelf, pulled out one of Owen’s books of all things, and started reading aloud to her.

  Before she knew it, Kathy grew drowsy. The energy that had raced through her body when the panic attack hit was wearing off, the downside of the adrenaline surge that had caused the reaction in the first place. Charles had finished the first book and started the second when she closed her eyes, and the last thing she remembered thinking before she went to sleep was that she’d not felt so safe in ages.

  Charles continued reading for a while after he felt Kathy drift off. He didn’t want to risk waking her by stopping, and the words comforted him as much as her. Seeing her sheer panic and bone-deep devastation had shaken him. He’d known she was troubled, but until tonight, he’d not realized how very deep her wounds went.

  Whatever had happened to Kathy, it had to have been horrific to cause the reaction he’d witnessed.

  Not long after he finished the second book, the sound of the door opening and closing echoed through the little house.

  “Kathy, I’m home,” Eliza called. “I saw Charles’s car. Are you two here?”

  When he realized how it might appear, he felt his cheeks heat. Needing to answer but not wanting to wake Kathy, he whistled softly. A moment later, Eliza appeared in the doorway, understanding moving across her face when she saw where they were sitting.

  “How bad was it?” she asked, coming into the room and sitting on the cedar chest at the end of the bed.

  “She was pretty upset. I didn’t think she needed to be alone, so I stayed. She’s been asleep for a little while now.” He glanced at Kathy, who was resting against his side, then looked at Eliza. “What do we do?”

  Eliza smiled sadly. “If you could help me get her in bed, I’d appreciate it. She’ll probably be out for the rest of the night. The panic attacks, they take a lot out of her.”

  “Of course.” Moving as carefully as he could, he got to his knees then managed to scoop Kathy up. Nestling her against his chest, he stood with a small grunt, crossed to the bed, and set her down where Eliza had pulled back the covers. “I can’t believe she isn’t waking up.”

  “She’s always been like that,” Eliza said as she slipped off Kathy’s shoes. “My sweet girl, she can sleep through anything once she’s out.”

  Charles stepped out while Eliza finished taking care of Kathy. He made his way back to the living room. The silk shawl Kathy’d been wearing was on the floor next to the couch, and he picked it up, running the smooth fabric through his hands as he waited. When Eliza came out, he looked up.

  “I know it’s late, but could we talk for a few minutes?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Of course. I’m too keyed up to sleep right now anyhow. Come on in the kitchen, and I’ll get us something to drink.”

  To his surprise, when she opened a cabinet door, she grabbed two glasses and a bottle of whiskey, holding it up for his approval.

  “That’d be much appreciated.”

  “I thought it might. What Kathy goes through with those panic attacks, it’s gut-wrenching to witness. I should have come home with her. I’m sorry, Charles. I just hoped maybe now that she’s getting some help… well, I hoped it would be easier on her. She is getting better, but it’s a process. Step forward, step back.” She poured two fingers of the amber liquid into each of their glasses then sat at the little table in the corner. “What is it you want to talk about?”

  Charles sat as well and sipped the alcohol, welcoming the burn that raced down his throat. “I know from talking to Roy that Kathy’s a widow, that there was a terrible accident with her husband, that she lost him and her children too. Please tell me to mind my own business if I’m prying too much, but I’d like to know what happened. Why is she so afraid?”

  Though he didn’t practice criminal law, he’d seen enough of that system to know that a woman who had the kind of reaction Kathy’d had tonight often had a damned good—or bad depending on how you looked at it—reason to do so.

  Eliza swirled her whiskey, looking into the glass as though she could see the answers he sought. “You’re interested in her, aren’t you?”

  He didn’t want to answer that question. His feelings for Kathy, if he could call them that, were private, something that should have been between him and her and no one else. But given the circumstances, he figured speaking bluntly with Eliza was his best option.

  “Yes, I am. I have been since the first time I saw her.” He shrugged when she looked at him, eyebrow raised. “She has a secret fire. It intrigues me.”

  “A secret fire. Oh, that’s apt.” She sighed and downed the whiskey with a grimace. “I’m going to tell you very bluntly what happened. I’m not going to pull my punches. I warn you—it isn’t a pretty story.”

  “I don’t expect it to be.”

  So she told him. As promised, she didn’t suga
rcoat a single bit of it. By the time she was finished, Charles was devastated.

  “And he killed them all—the children too?” he whispered.

  Eliza nodded. “He gave the babies something to make them sleep first, so at least there was that mercy. They never knew what happened so far as we can tell. Kathy… I was here. I’d lost my husband not long before, and I lit out of Kentucky as soon as I could. I couldn’t bear to stay there without him. So after the call came, it took Nancy and me a few days to make it home. It’s a long drive.

  “Sarah and Jack and Gilly took turns staying with her until we got there. She was so horribly broken, physically and mentally. If I’d passed her by on the street, I’d not have known her she was so bruised. He broke several of her ribs, one of her arms, some fingers…” She drew in a deep breath and met his gaze. “He did everything to her he could short of killing her.”

  Charles’s jaw was tight, and he was so helplessly angry for Kathy he felt as if he might explode. He understood exactly what Eliza was saying—Kathy’d been raped. Just imagining her having to endure that sort of torture was enough to churn his stomach.

  “I feel so selfish now,” he confessed. “My God, I had no idea.”

  Eliza’s brow furrowed slightly. “Why do you feel selfish?”

  He shrugged. “For wondering if she was well enough to… I don’t know.”

  “Well enough to have a relationship?” Eliza patted his hand. “Sweetie, that’s not being selfish. I’m thrilled to death someone as solid and as good as you is interested in her. Something you have to remember is that underneath all that tragedy and sadness, Kathy’s still very much a woman. Just because this awful thing happened to her, that doesn’t mean she should be put on a pedestal and wrapped in gossamer or protected from anything that could possibly hurt her. That’s just not realistic. She still has feelings and hopes and desires like everyone else, though she’s shoved all that aside since the accident.”