1. FREQUENT, UNEXPLAINED VISITS TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM.
Anna and Alan never took me to the emergency room, but I was most certainly abused. What some parents do to a kid’s psyche can be worse than any broken bone. Kathi sets down her uneaten candy bar and pipes up in a scratchy voice.
“Crystal?”
“Yeah?” Should I mention the streaks of mascara darkening the shadows beneath her eyes?
“Can we talk?”
“Be my guest.” I fold my arms tight and work to zipper the fraying seams of my heart.
“You won’t leave me, will you?”
“Leave you?” It must be the drugs talking. Has she forgotten I brought the wrath of god upon her family? Blew up her perfect life?
“I mean, after it’s over. When we’re done with all of this. Will you stay in Santa Barbara?”
I shrug. “I don’t think so. There’s nothing for me here.”
She takes a quivering breath. “But where would you go?”
“Maybe Arizona or Texas. Somewhere big and warm.”
“Can’t you stay here?” She drops her gaze and scours the floor. “Can’t you stay with me?”
I hesitate before I speak. “I told you I’m the one who screwed you, right? Van Meter might’ve been the murderer, but I lit the fuse.”
Kathi’s voice shrinks so small it could fit inside of a thimble. “I think . . . well . . . I think you did what you had to. And I think we deserved it. What Rich did . . . what I did to you . . . it was totally selfish. It was wrong.” She reaches out and takes my hand, and I quickly pull mine away. I don’t like that she’s getting mushy. It doesn’t fit with the story in my head.
“It’s better if I leave.”
“But we just found each other.”
I slowly shake my head. “No. You just found me. I’ve known about you for years.”
She looks at me in confusion. Maybe the shock drug hasn’t worn off. “Please stay,” she says. “I need you. I need my family. So does Jack. He wants you in his life.”
“You think?” Wait till he hears what I’ve done.
“Yes. He’s horribly angry at me for keeping you a secret.” She looks up at me, tears blurring her eyes. “He won’t speak to me. He’s left the country. I may never see him again.”
So there it is. “You want to use me to get your son back.”
“No. That’s not true. No matter what happens with Jack, I want you. I want my daughter, Rose.”
Her words cut through the seams of my heart. Blood rushes to my face. I think I want to slap her, but Kathi’s contrition fumbles on.
“We did something terrible years ago, and now I’d like to make it right. Please give us a chance to start over.”
I stare at the list above her head. There’s no saving that little girl. Her hurt is way too deep. “It’s not as simple as pressing reset. In real life, there are no do-overs.”
“There could be. I mean . . . we could start over from here. From today forward. I want to make up for my mistakes. I want to be the mother I should’ve been. I want you back in my life.”
“Back? I never was in your life.”
Kathi shudders like I punched her. I feel kind of bad about that. But I’m going to tell her what I know, and we’ll see what happens after that. I search her tortured face. “I read your journal entries,” I say. “I know why you gave me away.”
“No,” she says, raising her hand to her mouth. “You read my journals?”
“All of them. Including the last one. I know why you didn’t want me.”
She grapples at her hair. “But that hospital entry is just a couple of lines. It doesn’t tell the whole truth.”
“It told me enough.”
“But when I wrote those words, I thought Rich was being honest. That there was something wrong with you.”
“You were too lazy to out his lie?”
“Too tired. Too depressed. Too confused. Too ignorant. I was all of those combined.”
“But even so, you were willing to give me up because . . . why? I was big? I was swollen? I was different?”
She drops her head in her hands and sways back and forth. “I know it sounds terrible. I admit I was weak and naive. And I was depressed. Horribly so. My mind wasn’t working right. Somehow I lost myself in Rich. I’m just finding my way out now.” Kathi looks up, her eyes pleading. “I hope you can see there’s an upside to all we’ve been through. I lost my husband. I lost my home. But those things don’t matter. Because I found you.”
I gulp down my Coke and finish off my chocolate, my mind working overtime. I can picture the words from her journal entry. Big. Swollen. Different. But I’ve had my revenge on this woman, and in the end, she saved my life.
“I can only promise to stay a few weeks. We’ll see how it goes after that.”
“Thank you,” she says, a smile lighting her face. “Thank you so very much.” She begins to pluck at her wrist again. “There’s one more thing I have to tell you.”
“What’s that?”
“I love you.”
I open my mouth to answer. Then I shut it just as quick. “Do me a favor. Don’t say those words again. I’m not ready for them yet.”
Kathi nods. “I understand. I won’t push you. We’ll take this one day at a time.”
Epilogue
KATHI
August 1, 2020
“It’s here—it’s here!”
“What’s here, Mimi?”
“Your new novel. We just got the box. Can I open it? Please? Please? Please?”
“Of course.”
I stand over Mimi, smiling at her excitement. She’s such a sweet girl. So kindhearted. It’s like having a child at home. She rips open the package, and a dozen candy-colored copies of my latest novel fall out: Honest Love at Play. It’s the second in my Honest Love series. Last year I self-published Honest Love at Work to fantastic online reviews. Its Amazon sales ranking topped twenty-five thousand, which is amazing for a first try. I’m certain this one will do even better and that Harlequin will beg to take me on.
“Can I have a few to sell at the piazza?” Mimi asks.
“Of course.”
She brushes her hand across the glossy cover, her fingers lingering on my pen name. “It’s funny how you use Crystal’s old name.”
Crystal goes by Rose these days. Rose Taylor Wright. She changed it on the day of the double adoption. Mimi opens my book to the dedication page.
To Jack, Rose, and Mimi. The three loves of my life.
“That’s sweet,” she says.
“It’s true.”
She returns to her easel, and I sort through the rest of the mail. Picking up a legal-sized envelope from Leo, I pour a glass of ice tea, head for the terrace, and settle into my favorite lounge chair. Mr. Calico lifts his head and stretches. Then he yawns and falls back to sleep. He spends most of the time curled in his basket. He’s old, and his bad leg bothers him. He doesn’t move around much anymore.
I take a sip of tea and stretch out my legs, all toned and tan. I’ve gained a few pounds since we moved to Sicily, but I’ll work them off in no time. Our rock-walled rental is set hundreds of steps up from the harbor cove. It’s at least another three hundred steps into town. Our villa is cozy—three tiny bedrooms and one bath—but we enjoy some of Taormina’s most breathtaking views. White clouds race across an indigo sky. Tiny boats bob in the turquoise sea. Happy chatter floats up from the throngs of tourists who swarm the white pebble beach below.
I open Leo’s envelope and sift through the documents. A copy of the sales contract for the Aspen property. A summary of my various investment accounts. A handful of business and personal letters. He’s included an article clipped from the Santa Barbara Times about the sale of Pacific Ocean Bank to a Chinese conglomerate. It went for pennies on the dollar. The article goes on to weave a lurid tale that reads like the front page of a tabloid. It tells of Rich’s greed and fall from grace, along with his gruesome murder on the train tra
cks. The piece finishes with Arthur’s attempt to silence the witnesses in a devastating fire that killed an elderly neighbor and consumed hundreds of homes. Poor old Mabel McCarthy. No one deserves to die that way.
Inside the package there’s a handwritten note covered in Leo’s messy scrawl.
Sheila and I are engaged. We plan to be married next summer. Honeymoon in Taormina? Sheila wants to meet you. She says she’s your biggest fan.
My biggest fan? Wow. So exciting. Who knew I’d ever have fans? I think on this until the doorbell rings, and I head inside.
Rose stumbles in carrying a backpack and two bulging bags of groceries in her strong arms. She’s dressed in khaki shorts, a sleeveless T-shirt, and hiking boots. A red baseball cap is pushed low on her head. Her blue eyes sparkle beneath the rim.
“I think I got everything you asked for,” she says. “You sure Jack will eat mussels?”
“He’s says he’s given up on the vegan thing.” I’d love to reach out and give Rose a hug, but she still prefers not to be touched. I grab a bag brimming with fresh vegetables and blow her a kiss instead. “How was work?” I ask.
“Nice. I took some Americans up the trail to Castelmola. They bought me lunch and gave me a good tip.” She whips a hundred-dollar bill from her pocket and waves it at Mimi. “Want this?”
“Yay.” Mimi jumps up, clapping her hands in the air. “I can buy lots of pretty pastels with that.” Mimi paints miniature landscapes and sells them cheap to the tourists in the nearby town square.
“That’s a hard climb,” I say to Rose. “Could your tourists handle the heat?”
She nods. “They’re part of a running group touring the south of Europe. They were actually in very good shape.” Rose works for an adventure tour business that specializes in hikes in and around Taormina. Not the career I pictured for my daughter, but I’ve learned to keep that thought to myself. “Tomorrow I’m leading a hike up Mount Etna,” she says.
“Tomorrow?” I turn to her. “But won’t that take all day?”
“Most likely.”
I slowly unpack the groceries and drop a bag of fresh mussels into the sink. “But Jack will only be here for a short time. I was hoping we could spend the day together.”
“I wish I could, but I can’t.”
I give my wrist a pluck. “But Rose. He’s your brother. He’s flying halfway across the world to see us.”
She folds her arms and makes a face. “I thought he was flying halfway across the world to attend a friend’s wedding. We’re just a stop along the way.”
“Now, Rose—”
“And he didn’t give us much notice, did he? I can’t just bail on work.”
“How could he? He’s so very busy with his career.”
“And I’m not?” Her cheeks redden. “I’m going for a swim.”
“Now? But Jack will be here soon.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be home in time for dinner.” She hurries into her bedroom and returns with her workout bag. “Back in a couple of hours.”
“Go ahead,” I say, as if I mean it. “We can prepare dinner all on our own.”
“You mean Mimi can,” she replies with a not-so-nice laugh. The front door closes with a thump.
Mimi looks up from her easel. “I don’t like it when you fight.”
“We’re not fighting.”
“But you’re not happy.”
“I’m always happy.”
“Hope so.” She sets down her paintbrush and hurries across the room to give me a hug. “You can help me with the zuppa di cozze,” she says. “There’s lots of scrubbing and chopping to do.”
“Thanks, Mimi. I’d love to.”
After I’ve cleaned the mussels and chopped the tomatoes, I retreat to my bedroom for a short rest. I’m a little irritated by Rose’s attitude, but I quickly shake it off. Tonight! Jack arrives tonight! I’m so excited I could sing. My mind flips this way and that, thinking about the chores I haven’t finished. Set out clean towels. Sweep the floor. Brush away a cobweb or two. I finally give up on the idea of rest and get up and search through my drawers. There I retrieve my very first journal, one of my few possessions to survive the fire. I open the smoke-infused pages and retrieve my favorite Polaroid. I like to look at it every now and then. It reminds me of how far I’ve come.
The photo is of Aunt Genny hugging me tight at the entrance to her farm. Snow coats the ground, poinsettias line the porch, and hundreds of lights twinkle overhead. Our first Christmas together. It was a sad one. You can see it in my downcast eyes. “It’s going to be okay,” I whisper. “You’re going to be happy one day.”
“Kathi?” Mimi calls. “Can you come out here? I want to set the table extra pretty.”
“Be right there.” I replace the Polaroid between the pages, a smile lifting my heart. The upside of dark? I got my children back. And what could be better than that?
CRYSTAL, A.K.A. ROSE
August 1, 2020
The workout kicked my ass. It’s the last one before my first-ever triathlon—a short course—to be held at the end of the week. I’m a slow but steady runner and fairly strong on the bike. But swimming? That’s my weak link. You’d think I was bulky enough to float like a log, but I have to work double time, or I sink to the bottom like a stone.
Swimming has become my favorite challenge. It channels my energy and keeps me focused. Holds my inner demons at bay. My team holds their daily practices on the open water, swimming from cove to cove. The first time I joined in, I nearly drowned. Since then I’ve gradually improved.
“Join us for a beer,” Salvatore calls out from a crowd of near-naked studs. Salvatore is our unofficial coach—he bartends at my favorite café. Tall and wiry, he’s a terror on the bike, runs a 5:30 mile, and glides through the water like a seal. He always seems to be smiling, which makes him the polar opposite of me.
“Sorry,” I reply, wrapping up in a towel. “My brother’s arriving from the States tonight.”
“Next week, then?” he asks, his face full of hope.
“Sure. Maybe next week.” I jog up the narrow steps, wondering if that’s his way of asking me out. He’s been hinting around the past few weeks. Not sure how I feel about that. The thought makes my stomach churn.
When I arrive home, Jack’s already there. Dressed in all black, he looks like a model—no one would guess we’re family. We share blue eyes but little else. He’s long and lean, with an easy laugh, and wears his dark hair up in a bun. His chin is hidden beneath a trim goatee that Kathi clearly doesn’t like.
“Did you grow that thing for a movie?” she asks Jack shortly after I arrive.
“No. I grew it for me.”
She tilts her head, eyes narrowing, as if examining a piece of art. “I think it makes you look older,” she says.
“I think it makes me look good.” Irritation scurries across Jack’s face and settles into his thin shoulders. Been there, bro, I almost say. He winks at me like he knows.
This is the fourth time I’ve met up with Jack, and I’m beginning to feel at ease. Like he’s almost become my real brother. Like I’m not scared of him judging me.
We dine on the terrace beneath a star-studded sky, party voices wafting from the bars below. The table is set with a dozen candles that flicker softly in the evening breeze. The soup is beyond good—the mussels steeped in garlic, the tomato broth fresh and salty. It goes well with Mimi’s homemade bread and a jug of our neighbor’s white wine.
Jack entertains us with stories about his upcoming movie, the gnat-like paparazzi, and his most recent crush. Mimi describes an elderly patron who buys a painting from her every week. Kathi tells a funny story about two romance novelists locked in a power struggle over a blog. Her face is flushed but her smile serene, as if she has everything she could ever want. She slowly sips on her single glass of wine—that’s her absolute limit these days. When there’s a lull in the conversation, she turns to me with a sudden look of concern.
“You’re awfully q
uiet tonight, sweetheart.”
Warning bells go off in my head. “I’m not quiet,” I say. “Just listening. That’s what some people like to do.”
“Was Salvatore at practice tonight?”
My shoulders stiffen. “Yeah.”
“Salvatore?” Jack smiles and arches an eyebrow. “Does Rose have a Sicilian lover?”
I draw into myself like a snail that’s been poked. “No. He’s just a friend.”
Kathi giggles. “That’s not true. He has a crush on her. I can see it in his dreamy brown eyes.”
I snatch a piece of bread from the basket and slather it with a wad of butter. Then I take a huge bite and stare at Kathi, daring her to say another word.
“Are you still hungry, sweetheart?” she asks, her smile all but sucked away. “If so, mussels are better for you than bread.”
“I’ll eat what I want,” I mumble, stuffing the rest of the bread in my mouth.
Jack glances from Kathi to me, a worried look settling on his face. “Sorry, Rose,” he says. “I shouldn’t have teased you. Obviously it’s not a joke.”
“Whatever. It doesn’t matter. If you’ll excuse me, I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” I stand, clear my plate, and head directly for my room. After shutting the door, I plop on the bed and ball my hands into fists.
What is the worst? The very worst?
Those words can still engulf me in anger. I let them sizzle and burn until humiliation quenches the flame.
It’s nearly midnight when I creep from my bedroom and cross through the darkened house. I quietly step onto the terrace and settle into a lounge chair. The ocean oozes its spicy evening scent; the parties have all quieted down. A full moon hangs high in the sky, painting silver across the sea.
“Can I speak to you, sweetheart?” Kathi whispers, poking her head around the open door.
“Why not,” I say, feeling foolish. Jack must think I’m a jerk.
Kathi takes the seat next to me and immediately starts in. “I’m sorry,” she says in a shaky voice. “I shouldn’t have mentioned Salvatore. Or anything about the bread.” Her head droops to her chest. “I really don’t know what comes over me. Why I say such stupid things.”
What She Gave Away (Santa Barbara Suspense Book 1) Page 28
