All I Ever Wanted (Of Love and Madness Book 3)

by Karen Cimms

  “I’m sorry,” he said after he pulled himself together.

  “Don’t be. Tommy, I haven’t been much help to you these past few months, but please don’t ever feel bad being yourself or showing your feelings around me. Please. Comforting you is the very least I can do.”

  He gave her a quick peck on the top of her head, and wiped his eyes. “C’mon.” He pulled her to her feet. “There’s a lot more house to see.”

  He wasn’t kidding.

  The upstairs had been all blond hardwoods, but the downstairs was carpeted in oatmeal Berber. There was a home office, a large family room with another fireplace, comfortable leather sofas, and an enormous television. The back of the house featured another wall of windows looking out onto the pool and patio. Off the family room was another guest room, a small kitchen, another bathroom, and a large, empty storage area.

  “What’s this for?”

  Tom pressed his hand to the back of his neck. “It could be a gym.”

  Yes, she could see that, although there had been an elliptical exerciser in the dressing room upstairs.

  He stepped inside the room. “This was left empty for a reason. The walls aren’t finished, but they’ve been soundproofed.”

  A giggle slipped out. “Tommy! Really? What were you guys planning to do down here?”

  A flush of pink crept up his cheeks. “Nothing like that. Remember, this house wasn’t about me and Joey. It was bought and remodeled for you.”

  “What in the world would I need a soundproof room for?” No sooner had she asked the question, she had her answer: Billy

  “Joey thought he could create a studio—practice, record, whatever. He left it for Billy to finish himself.”

  The whole idea unnerved her. This room brought Billy into this new space where she’d gone to hide. She backed away abruptly.

  “Could you lock that up? Throw away the key, for all I care.”

  She stalked down the hall and across the family room, opened the patio doors, and stepped outside. Shivering, she stood at the foot of the dormant garden, her eyes focused on a halo of light in the distance. No matter how far she ran, would Billy always hold her heart in his hands, even if he no longer wanted it?

  Tom came up behind her. He stood in silence. Could he feel her grieving?

  “The narrow band of light beyond that island on the horizon is the city of Portland,” he said finally. “You can’t really see much more than the glow of lights at night, and only if it’s clear, but there it is.”

  “It’s like another world, isn’t it? I feel like I’ve traveled a million miles since yesterday.”

  “It’s like stepping into another lifetime.”

  She nodded. “I have one foot in my past and another in my future. I just have to come to terms with all that stuff in the middle.”

  “That’s one way to look at it, but I don’t recommend doing that on an empty stomach. And I don’t care what you say, I hear yours rumbling.”

  The thought of going to a restaurant was uncomfortable. He must have sensed her hesitation, because he put his arm around her shoulder and led her back toward the house.

  “Go get changed. I’m going to take you to my favorite place. It’s quiet and peaceful—you might even say romantic. No one will bother us. I promise you’ll like it.”

  “Tommy, I can’t—”

  “Sure you can. Besides, I drove.” He winked. “You can pay.”

  Chapter Two

  The first few days were damp and dreary. Not cold enough for snow, but cold enough for a chill to settle deep in her very core. Kate woke early the morning after Tom left. Gray light filtered through the barren branches outside her window. Pale strands of pink stained the horizon.

  She dressed quickly. Together, she and Charlie descended the steep hill down to the water. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her lined jacket and stood at the edge of the steps that led to the dock. Her breath floated in tiny clouds about her face, mimicking the mist atop the water. A cormorant skittered across the glassy surface, then lifted out of the water with a great disturbance of air and headed toward the open sea. The expanse of ocean that lay before her was deserted. Empty docks lined the cove. The boats harbored there had long been removed for the winter.

  A forest of dense pine ringed the inlet. At high tide, the water seemed more like a lake than a finger of the Atlantic. The rising sun illuminated a thin band of white clouds hovering above the tree line, still black against the fading darkness. Shades of orange, from palest apricot to deepest tangerine, streaked the horizon until Kate was finally forced to shield her eyes as the sun burst above the trees in a neon ball of butterscotch, blinding in its brilliance.

  The imprint of the fireball was seared upon her closed lids, and despite the cold, she felt the memory of its warmth upon her face. Her senses awakened. Her lungs held the tang of the salty ocean and marshy shoreline. She heard the haunting cry of sea birds springing to life as darkness surrendered to day.

  It took her by surprise, but there it was—a fleeting hint of promise. No more than a flutter, really. Her heart was heavy, and it was nearly impossible to see beyond the sadness, but somewhere deep inside, an errant ray of light squeezed its way through a tiny crack and called her name. It was gone in a blink, but she recognized it all the same: hope.

  It was time to move forward. She pulled her old cell phone from her pocket and turned it on. Forty missed calls and messages—almost all of them from Billy. She hadn’t listened to or read any of them. The pain was still too raw. She shouldn’t look at the pictures, either, but she couldn’t stop herself.

  Determined to ignore pictures of Billy, she doted over pictures of her children and her grandchildren, but she couldn’t stay away from his face. The last image was from May. She was smiling at the camera, and Billy was smiling at her. She’d meant to have it printed for her desk at work, but life had fallen apart not long after it was taken, and she had forgotten about it.

  She ran her finger over his face and felt her heart break a little more. She shoved the phone back into her pocket. Careful of her footing on the slick, frost-covered boards, she picked her way to the end of the dock, sending gentle ripples into the cove.

  When she reached the end, she pulled out her phone. She closed her eyes and gripped it tightly in her hands and said a silent goodbye to the memories it held. Then she opened her eyes, pulled back, and hurled the phone as hard as she could. It traveled less than twenty feet before dropping into the frigid water with a soft plop. A lifeline to her past, it bobbed to the surface, spun once, and then disappeared into the murky stillness.

  Chapter Three

  Kate avoided going anywhere for nearly two weeks. The psychiatrist had a sudden emergency and canceled their appointment, and Tom had left the pantry and refrigerator so well-stocked she hadn’t needed to venture out once.

  But the cupboard was looking pretty bare, and the economy-sized bag of dog food was almost empty.

  The thought of just one trip was scary, so she might as well do everything at once. She hadn’t been prepared for a Maine winter on the coast. Walks with Charlie had become downright painful as she struggled to withstand the wind whipping off the cove. She needed mittens, a scarf, and a hat. A heavy-duty parka and warmer boots and socks wouldn’t hurt, either. She could have shopped online using the debit card Tom had secured for her, but she’d lost so much weight she had no idea what size she was anymore. She wasn’t up for the hassle of returning things if they didn’t fit. It would be easier to combine a trip to L.L. Bean in Freeport with a visit to the grocery store in Yarmouth. And to reward Charlie for being the perfect companion and protector, if Bean’s had any dog sweaters, she’d buy him one while she was at it.

  As if he knew she was thinking about him, Charlie thumped his tail against her leg as he lay curled at her feet. He’d not only been her sole companion, he was the only living creature she conversed with beyond her daily calls from Tom. She didn’t even have a plant to talk to. She adde
d “plant” to the two-page list she’d been working on for the better part of the afternoon.

  It was Saturday. She waited until almost eight, then loaded Charlie into the back of the Saab. He panted in her ear as she backed out of the garage. After she scolded him for trying to lick the side of her face, he settled himself onto the narrow back seat for the remainder of the short ride.

  The streets of Freeport were lined with shoppers, and painful reminders of the season were everywhere. Christmas had been her favorite holiday, and she had successfully put it out of her mind. But the giant tree in the square outside Bean’s and the decorations all through town were another kick in the stomach.

  The store was more crowded than she’d expected at that hour. She tugged off her scarf and jammed it into her pocket. It was too hot and there were too many people. Instead of trying on things like she’d planned, she raced through the store grabbing sweaters and flannel pajamas a size smaller than she normally wore, then suffered through a long line in order to pay for her purchases. If she had to wait one more second before stepping out into the frosty night air, she would have passed out.

  If she wasn’t so low on supplies, she would have driven straight home.

  At the grocery store, she loaded her cart with several days’ worth of fruit and enough fresh vegetables to make several batches of soups and stews to freeze. She picked up bags of flour and sugar and a supply of canned goods and loaded up on paper products, cleaning supplies, and dog food. She tossed in a couple of rawhide bones, although Charlie deserved a T-bone steak at this point.

  It was almost eleven when she pushed her cart to the front of Hannaford’s. One cashier was checking customers while the other closed out her register. There were two people ahead of her, both with full baskets. She reached up on her toes, trying to see into the parking lot. Charlie had been alone in the car for over a half hour. It wasn’t bitterly cold, but he wasn’t used to being outside this long.

  The line moved forward, and her eye fell on a lone copy of The Boston Globe on a rack near the register. In all caps, the bold two-deck head proclaimed the unthinkable. Beneath it, a picture of a woman shepherding at least a dozen children stretched across six columns.

  Kate’s hands shook as she reached for the newspaper to read the caption.

  “Police told children to close their eyes so they would not see blood and broken glass as they were led from the Sandy Hook Elementary School after a gunman opened fire Friday.”

  The sudden weight on her chest expanded, cutting off most of her airway. She was thrown back to a voice she had tried not to think of for the last several months: Mrs. Donaldson. I’m going to ask you to close your eyes and just trust me.

  Had these children done as they were told? She hadn’t. The horrific images burned into her brain snapped to life.

  “Awful, isn’t it?”

  She startled. A tall man with a long gray ponytail and a beard stood behind her. The floor beneath her feet turned rubbery, and she grabbed the handle of the cart to steady herself. The paper fell to the floor.

  The man moved toward her. She stepped back.

  He bent to pick up the newspaper, which had opened as it fell, the pages scattered across the floor. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  She grabbed her purse from the cart and started to back away as the line moved forward.

  “Ma’am?” the cashier called.

  There was no air anywhere. She had to find the exit.

  “Ma’am!”

  The first door she came to wouldn’t open. She pounded her fists against it, but it did no good. She backed up, and this time, it swung open automatically. She ran until she was safely inside her car.

  At home, with the door locked and bolted and her legs no longer able to hold her, she collapsed onto the floor and cried for a world she wanted no part of.

  Chapter Four

  Kate didn’t leave the house for three days, not even to take Charlie out. Instead, she let him loose in the fenced-in pool area and watched as he trotted to the end of the stone pavers and into the overgrown garden to do his business.

  On the fourth and fifth days, it snowed.

  She disconnected the lines for the television and computer. The world was dangerous and frightening. The less she knew, the better. Completely cutting herself off from the world, however, wasn’t an option. She needed food and other supplies, especially for Charlie. But still, she couldn’t bring herself to go out.

  From her dining room window, Kate watched a young man visit the home across from her. He came several times a week. He would stop at the bottom of the driveway and collect the mail, then carry several bags and boxes into the house. He would stay for about a half hour, then leave. Once she watched him guide an older woman into his car, and the two of them drove away. A few hours later they returned, and just as carefully, he led her back inside.

  On the sixth day, she sat near the window, thumbing absentmindedly through the pages of an old Danielle Steele novel, when she saw him pull up. Spurred by a gnawing hunger in her belly and fear that she would soon have nothing to feed Charlie, she grabbed her coat from a peg in the mudroom and pulled on her boots, then returned to her seat by the window. After about twenty minutes, she tugged a knit cap firmly over her shorn head and hooked the leash onto Charlie’s collar.

  She stepped outside and shivered. It was cold, but far more unsettling was the feeling of being exposed after locking herself away for days. But she had no choice. It was either this, or go to the store herself, and one stranger seemed a far lesser evil than a store full of them.

  The thick snow cover amplified the sound of voices coming from her neighbor’s home. Kate waited at the edge of her driveway, and as the young man backed onto the street, she flagged him down.

  Surprise marked his face as he rolled down his window. “Where’d you come from?”

  “Over there.” She pointed. Her smile felt stiff and unnatural. “I moved in a couple of weeks ago. I have a favor to ask. I need someone to do some errands for me. I can’t do them myself. I see you come here several times a week, and I was hoping maybe you—or if you know someone trustworthy—might be able to help me.”

  He was young, maybe Devin’s age. He wore his long, dark hair in dreads. A bullnose ring protruded from his nostrils. A tattoo of a shooting star was barely visible above his scarf, inked below his pierced ear.

  “I don’t know.” He eyed her curiously. “I just pick up some groceries for my grandmother.” He motioned toward the large contemporary house at the top of the driveway. “She had a stroke last summer, so I do some of her shopping and check in on her a couple of times a week. I don’t have a lot of extra time . . .”

  “I’ll pay you. And it won’t even be that often. I have a list.” She pulled out the crumpled paper, still in her pocket from the previous week. “It’s a lot of stuff, I understand, but I won’t need anything else for a couple of weeks, maybe longer. I just can’t do it myself.” Desperation choked her last few words.

  He narrowed his eyes. “You look like you can do your own grocery shopping.”

  “I can’t though. Not right now. I’m . . . I’m not well.” She had to convince him. “I’ll give you a hundred dollars to shop for me. Plus a tank of gas.” She pulled several hundred-dollar bills, wadded up in a ball, from her pocket. “I have money. See?”

  He looked at her as if she were crazy, which was the way most people had come to look at her, and reached for the money. Was he agreeing or just trying to keep it from falling onto the driveway? Since he’d touched it, she wanted to shout, “No backsies,” which would only confirm that she had a loose grip on her sanity.

  “I guess I could use the money. Grandma just gives me five bucks.” He snorted. “Okay. When do you need this stuff?”

  “I’m out of dog food and toilet paper. I don’t care about me so much, but the dog—”

  His eyes crinkled when he laughed. “Yeah, and toilet paper. I hear you. Look, I have a class in about an hour. I
can go after that. I’ll be back around six. How’s that?”

  She was so relieved she almost wept. “That would be perfect. Thank you.”

  He scanned the list. “A plant? What kind?”

  “Huh?” The plant, remember? To talk to.

  “Never mind. I was just—it’s not important.”

  Right at six, Kate opened the door to find the young man standing on her porch with a Christmas cactus in full bloom. She brought it into the kitchen while he returned to his car and began carrying her groceries inside.

  When he finished, he handed her a receipt and her change.

  “I’m Shane, by the way.” He smiled and stuck out his hand.

  “Kate,” she answered, recalling too late that she hadn’t wanted to use her real name. He was wearing fingerless gray knit gloves, and when she accepted his hand, the contrast between the warmth of the wool and his icy fingers was startling. It was a sharp reminder that she hadn’t touched another person in almost three weeks.

  “Nice to meet you, Kate.”

  She pulled one of the hundred-dollar bills from the handful of money he had handed back to her and held it out to him. “Thank you.”

  “I feel guilty taking this. Not that I can’t use it, but a hundred dollars is a lot of money just to go grocery shopping. It didn’t even take me two hours, and fifty dollars an hour is highway robbery.”

  That was true, but it was worth it. She would have given him two hundred dollars if he wanted. She pushed the bill into his hand. “Please. I insist.”

  He shrugged and stuffed the money into his coat pocket. “Do you want me to help you put all of this away?”

  “No, that’s fine, but thank you.”

  “I don’t mind, really. I mean, if you’re sick or something, it’s no big deal. If you want to sit, you can just tell me where things go.”