Welcome Home, Katie Gallagher

by Seana Kelly

  She had beautiful shoulders—ones I’d wanted to kiss, but hadn’t known how to talk about as a kid. And her hair had been a mass of curls when she was younger. It hung straight now. I followed her back through the station house, scowling when I noticed Mikey, my newest officer, checking out her ass. Her ass was none of my business, but that didn’t keep my jaw from clenching. “Still waiting for that report, Officer.” That did it. Eyes back on his desk where they belonged.

  I trailed her through the front door, stopping on the steps. “Okay, fine. Your hair was really curly when you were younger. How can it be straight now?”

  “Oh, well...” She spun away from me but not before I noticed a tinge of red touch her cheeks. “I’ve been straightening it for years.”

  Hands on my hips, I studied her. Her embarrassment was clear. “Why the hell would you do that?”

  She turned back quickly, surprised. “You liked my hair?”

  “What’s not to like? It was beautiful. I mean, it’s nice now, but—hell, it’s your hair. Do whatever you want with it.” Damn it, what was it with this woman? I might as well have been eleven again.

  She opened the rear door of her car, letting Chaucer trundle back in. She had her back to me when I heard “He didn’t care for it, thought it was too much.” She turned back around, a hand unconsciously smoothing her hair before she dropped it heavily to her side.

  “Too much,” she echoed, shaking her head.

  “You could shave your head, and you’d still be one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen.”

  Note to self—shut up.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Kate

  “DID YOU HEAR THAT? He said I was beautiful.” I grinned stupidly, but then remembered. “Unfortunately, I’m pretty sure he also thinks I’m a nutjob.”

  Chaucer stood up and rested his head on my shoulder. He rendered the rearview mirror moot, but the weight of his head was comforting. I scratched his ruff. He’d witnessed my humiliation and still loved me.

  “Scowling, leering, crying. What do you think, buddy? Could I have added to that fairly impressive list of asinine behaviors? I suppose I could have wet myself. I’ll try to take comfort in the fact that my pants are dry.” Sniffing grape, I added, “You know, mostly.”

  I rolled down the windows and breathed deeply, the air crisp and biting. Driving back through the leaf-strewn town, my eyes were drawn to a woman with a stroller. I hugged Chaucer once more, pushing away unwelcome memories, and headed up through the hills.

  Gran’s house, a charming stone cottage, was nestled back against the forest. I found it surprisingly easily, my mind no longer consumed with self-doubt, listening instead to the gruff-sounding beautiful echoing through my thoughts.

  To one side of Gran’s house, the cliff dropped to a rocky shore below. From the wraparound porch, rolling emerald hills ran down to the town and the harbor beyond. The far side, opposite the ocean, was Gran’s baby, her garden. Hydrangea blossoms floated down like pink snow, settling on the peonies below. At the back of the house, Gran kept a large vegetable patch, preferring the old practice of stepping out the kitchen door to pick the food for that day’s meals.

  As I crested the driveway, taking it all in, I worried that in the month since her death, her house had been damaged or broken into. I still couldn’t believe Justin, the selfish bastard, hadn’t told me she’d died until after her funeral.

  They’d called the house about Gran, but it was after I’d already moved into my friend Christine’s apartment. Justin had apparently taken the message that Gran was really sick, and that I needed to come now. However, he’d never bothered to pass it along to me.

  When the lawyer finally tracked me down through my mom, I’d learned of Gran’s passing and of her bequest. Rage and guilt warred. I should have been there, should have told her how much I loved her before she died. That fuckknob had kept her from me. I’d been ready to tear his balls off when I’d tracked him down at his country club. He was in his car on the phone, turning away from my knock. He thought smugly ignoring me would work when my grandmother was buried without me? I put an end to that shit.

  His golf bag and clubs were standing by his open trunk. I grabbed one of his clubs, put all my weight and fury behind it and swung for the bleachers. I’d intended to break his clubs, but instead broke his back window. I stopped and stared at what I had done. Never in my life had I engaged in vandalism. I was a vandal. It felt good. I was terrified of myself, but swung again to check my response. Yep, still felt good.

  Years of pent-up frustration and betrayal fueled my frenzy. At some point he jumped out of the car. I heard him yelling, but he was like a yapping dog in a neighbor’s yard. Annoying but easily ignored.

  The cops showed up. I never knew if it was the country club who called or Justin. It didn’t matter. One of the officers drew a gun on me. That sobered me up real fast. His partner stepped in front of the gun, telling the other guy to put it away. Good cop asked me questions, looking in my eyes, trying to determine if I was hopped up on PCP. That’s what I assumed, anyway. His expression was a combination of concern and wariness. I would have answered his questions, but I couldn’t hear anything over the buzzing in my head.

  Bad cop grabbed at my arms. I slapped his hands away, so resisting arrest was added, and I was handcuffed. I don’t remember anything about the drive to the police station. One of them apparently snagged my handbag from my car, so at least I had my ID and phone.

  Once we got to the station, bad cop took off to do bad-cop stuff. Good cop told me his name was Officer Kinney. He had dark skin, kind eyes and a soft, deep voice. He let me call my mom for help, but warned me that Justin could still press charges, and that the country club was deciding if they were going to, as well. He said he’d talk to his partner and try to get the resisting charge dropped.

  I broke down and told the poor guy everything. I sobbed on his desk. He patted my back reluctantly, but I appreciated it all the same. Mom showed up and drove me back to the country club to pick up my car. It was gone, although Justin’s was still there. I stared at it, shocked. I had broken and dented a gem of Bavarian automotive engineering. Holy crap! I was kind of scary.

  I brushed the glass off the seats and drove to the house, wanting to confront the asswipe. I sat steaming in the driveway for an hour, and then rethought my plan. Talking to Justin never helped. I reluctantly went into the house that had never truly felt like mine to pack and leave for good. Justin didn’t come home that night, which made the process easier. I traveled from room to room, picking up a photo here, a book there. Everywhere I looked, I saw Justin’s stamp.

  I was done there. I didn’t want to ever see him, or this house, again. I found boxes in the garage and started packing what was mine. The fact that it all fit in the trunk demonstrated how little of my life was actually my own.

  Good or bad, my life was my own now. I stopped the car when the drive leveled out. I took in Gran’s house. “Look at it, Chaucer. Isn’t it beautiful?” I closed my eyes and let out the breath I’d been holding. Home.

  I parked to the side of the front steps, near a pear tree, and let Chaucer out. I stretched, slamming the car door before sitting on the whitewashed front steps. I inhaled the sharp scents of hemlock and salt water.

  Home. “Thank you, Gran. You knew even when I didn’t how much I needed to be here.” Chaucer walked up the steps and lay down on the porch, his front paws and head hanging over the edge.

  A moment later, his head popped back up. He found his feet, standing alert and still. I heard it, too. It sounded like it was coming from the backyard. I walked up the last step and followed the porch around the side of the house. White wicker furniture still sat out, facing Gran’s magnificent garden.

  Whack. I scanned the tree line, trying to locate the sound. Chaucer stood beside me and gave a quiet woof while
looking toward the rear of the house. I saw him, too—a man with his back to us, holding an ax and splitting wood.

  Normally, a strange man swinging an ax would be enough to send me scrambling in the opposite direction, but there was something familiar about him. He had a shock of white hair and was wearing a red plaid work shirt. He had strong, broad shoulders, although time had worn away at his posture.

  I walked down the side steps, Chaucer at my side. “Mr. Cavanaugh, is that you?”

  He spun around, startled and staring, his eyes getting wider. “Nellie?” he asked breathlessly. His hand rose to his chest and rubbed.

  “No, Mr. Cavanaugh. Nellie was my grandmother. I’m Kate.” I’d heard before that I favored my grandmother, but the only pictures I had of her were as an old woman.

  The poor man dropped down heavily onto the stump he was using to split wood.

  I rushed forward, kneeling in the soft, dark soil before him. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to give you a start,” I faltered. He appeared pale and drawn, shaky. I feared I’d given him a heart attack. “Can I get you a drink of water, call someone? Anything?”

  He reached out and touched the side of my face. “Remarkable...you look like my Nellie...except the hair. She had curly hair, same color, though. Same green eyes.” He shook his head and dropped his hand. “I’m sorry, Katie. Of course, I know who you are. For a minute there, I thought that Nellie had come back for me. Thought maybe I’d died chopping wood and Nellie had come to take me with her.”

  “Sir, why don’t we go sit on the porch for a few minutes? I can grab you a glass of water, and we can get reacquainted.” I helped him to his feet and took his arm, surreptitiously lending support. My throat tightened when I felt his trembling hand.

  After helping him up the stairs and into one of the chairs that overlooked the flower garden, I excused myself. The front door was locked. I searched my pockets. The lawyer had given me the key. I’d been holding it like a talisman for days.

  Once open, I ran through the door, registering dust and leaves. Something took flight, flapping loudly, but I was moving too fast to see what it was. Please, don’t be a bat. Please, don’t be a bat. The kitchen counters and floor were grimy, but the dishes inside the cabinets appeared clean and untouched. I pulled a cup down, filled it quickly, but then my eyes fell on the phone at the end of the counter. I picked it up, got a staticy dial tone and speed-dialed the police station.

  “Bar Harbor Police, can I help you?”

  “Yes, please. Is Aiden Cavanaugh in? I need to speak with him right away.” My heart raced. Please, don’t let his grandfather die on my side porch.

  I heard a click. “This is Chief Cavanaugh.”

  “Aiden, it’s Kate. Your grandfather is here. I think I scared him pretty badly. He’s pale and shaky. I’m worried it might be serious. Does he have a weak heart?” Shit, I was rambling. Did I mention the heart thing?

  “Kate? Are you at your grandmother’s house?”

  “Yeah, I just got here.”

  “I’m on my way.” He hung up.

  I placed the receiver in its cradle and tried to pull myself together. I picked up the glass, walked back through the house, detouring through the dining room. I yanked repeatedly at the French doors leading to the side porch before they screeched in protest, giving way. Mr. Cavanaugh was right where I’d left him. I handed him the water, and he appeared surprised all over again at my appearance.

  “Sorry. You look so much like Nellie, it’s a bit of a shock. Everything, except the hair. I thought you had curly hair, too. I must be misremembering.” He studied me, unsmiling. “I’m seventy-four now. Sometimes my memory fails me.”

  “No, it’s not your memory. You’re right. My hair was curly. I straighten it now.” What was it with Cavanaugh men and my hair?

  He grimaced and looked away. “Denying the gifts you were given. Make a habit of that, don’t you?”

  Right. I had abandoned Gran. “My husband hated it.”

  “What kind of an idiot did you go and marry?” He watched me, waiting.

  “The controlling kind.”

  He shook his head, as though it was no more than he expected. “Did you leave him, too?”

  My stomach dropped, thinking of Justin’s betrayal, the women he’d leer at and how he’d wonder aloud why I couldn’t look more like that one, behave more like this one.

  I nodded. Yes, I’d left him. Years too late, I’d realized.

  He grunted a response.

  His color was back, and the tremors seemed to have subsided, thank God.

  “Visiting one week a year.” He shook his head, disgusted. “Phone calls and emails aren’t the same thing. You didn’t even come to her funeral. You think I don’t know why she was so sad when she talked about you? She kept asking for you at the end, and you couldn’t be bothered to fly back and let her see you. Hold your hand.”

  “You’re right. I let Gran down. She was nothing but loving and supportive to me, and I...” I held my tears in check. Barely. “Doesn’t matter now.”

  “It matters to me.” Anger threaded through his voice, but his eyes held nothing but pain.

  I pulled at the wrist of my sweater. “It was hard.” I didn’t want her to see who I’d become. “My husband needed me.” To cook and clean and throw dinner parties while he cheated on me.

  “But you left him?” He shook his head and took a sip of water.

  I let out a gust of breath, an almost laugh. “Don’t worry. He has lots of women to console him.”

  He pinned me with his gaze. “She didn’t think he was the right man for you, but she never blamed you for choosing to marry him.” He took another sip of water, watching me over the glass. “Your mother wasn’t the attentive, responsible type. Nellie knew that. After your father died, well, it worried her the way your mother neglected you.”

  “No, not neglect. I was provided for. Dad’s loss hit her hard. She couldn’t deal with people and emotions after that. Impersonal academics, she could handle.” I caught his eye, not wanting him to think poorly of her. “She’s a brilliant professor. In her personal life...” I shrugged. “She was emotionally absent, I suppose.” Truth was she didn’t know what to do with me. She became flighty and forgetful, so I started doing the shopping and cooking, the bill paying and the cleaning.

  He looked away again. “Call it what you want.”

  “About the other thing...I didn’t know Gran had passed until after the funeral.”

  A car raced up the drive. Oh, right. “Sorry, Mr. Cavanaugh. I was worried about you and called your grandson.” I stood to meet Aiden.

  “You gave me a start is all, Katie. I’m fine,” he grumbled as I made my way down the porch.

  Heavy footfalls sounded on the front stairs. “We’re over here,” I called. “He’s all right now.”

  Aiden came around the corner, concern etched on his face. “Where?”

  I stepped out of the way so he could see his grandfather.

  “Pops, are you okay?” He strode forward and sat in the seat I’d vacated. “Katie said you were having some trouble.” He leaned forward, studying his grandfather.

  “I’m fine. She startled me, looking every inch like her grandmother.” He gave me a disgusted look. “Except for the hair. I thought I was dead. Took me a minute to settle. I’m fine.”

  Aiden stood. “How about I take you home now?”

  “I don’t need any help getting home.” He spoke grudgingly to me. “I live right through those woods there, over the ridge. I come by most days to tend Nellie’s garden. I don’t go inside, but I take care of her garden. She thought you might be coming soon and wanted it to look nice. That was important to her.” To Aiden he added, “I’ve still got wood to split in the back.”

  “Katie can cut her own wood.” At his gran
dfather’s glare, he added, “Fine. I’ll come back and split the wood myself if you let me take you home now.” Aiden stood in front of his grandfather, blocking my view.

  Something must have been communicated silently between the two men, because a moment later Mr. Cavanaugh relented. “All right, I’ll let you see me home.” He stared at me, as though weighing his words. “Nellie would be glad to have you back.” He nodded, apparently feeling as though he’d said what he needed to. “I’m glad you have that dog with you. He doesn’t seem like much of a guard dog, but his size should scare off most thieves.”

  Mr. Cavanaugh stood, and Aiden stepped over to take an arm. “What are you doing, boy? I can walk fine on my own.” He stopped, looking at me closely while speaking over his shoulder. “Aiden, what do you think of Katie’s hair?”

  If Aiden was surprised by the question, he didn’t show it. I felt his gaze move over me. “It’s beautiful, although I liked it better curly.”

  Mr. Cavanaugh nodded. “Just so.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Aiden

  GETTING POPS IN the car proved more difficult than I’d expected. And not because he was ill. He kept trying to get me to go back, finish splitting the wood. Instead, I drove us down the narrow, graveled road. “Leave it. I’m taking you home.”

  There was a disgruntled tsk, and then Pops smacked his fist against his thigh. “I’m done pussyfooting around this. Every time I try to bring it up, you change the subject or leave the room. No more, Aiden.” He paused to gather his thoughts, and I wished I hadn’t offered to drive him home. “You’ve changed. You’re harder, meaner. You told a tiny woman, Nellie’s granddaughter, to chop her own wood. It’s not you, and I don’t like it. Son, I know Alice’s leaving was difficult, but isn’t it better that she did it before you were married?”

  “Yeah, Pops. She was nothing if not kind and considerate. I’ll be paying off that not-a-wedding for many years to come. I’m reminded every month as I transfer funds for the altered designer dress, the out-of-season flowers that needed to be flown in, the gourmet food, the banquet room at the Bar Harbor Inn... At least I got to keep the cases of wine. Too bad I don’t particularly like wine. I think she vetoed beer at the reception, so I wouldn’t be left with anything I actually liked.”