All I Ever Wanted: Of Love and Madness, Book Three

by Cimms, Karen

  “You’ll figure it out. I think you’ve exorcised most of your demons, don’t you?”

  “You may be right.”

  “How about we try to exorcise one more?” Without waiting for an answer, Liz moved another chair directly across from Kate and gave her an encouraging smile that didn’t stop the prickly nerves creeping up Kate’s spine.

  Liz settled back into her own seat and pointed to the empty chair. “If your mother were sitting there right now, what would you say to her? Tell me what you see and what would you say.”

  Her mother had been gone for almost fifteen years now, and even theoretically, she wasn’t sure she wanted to bring her back. But if it brought some closure and helped bring her closer to becoming whole, maybe it was worth a shot. Despite an uncomfortable tightness in her chest, she closed her eyes and tried to focus.

  Her mother eventually swam into her consciousness, frowning and looking as if Kate had interrupted something important. And as ridiculous as it was, she immediately felt defensive. She inhaled deeply and tried to unclench her entire body.

  “She’s sitting with her legs crossed, and her hands are folded just so.” Kate demonstrated, resting her right hand lightly on the left. “She’s wearing a suit with my grandmother’s brooch on the lapel. Her hair—” Her voice wavered. “It’s still beautiful and thick, cut just below her jawline. It’s a medium brown with highlights around her face. Never a gray hair.” Kate caught herself smiling, and just as quickly, it faded. “She’s watching me, smug-like. I can almost hear her. ‘Go ahead, Kate, say what you want. No one will believe you anyway.’”

  The disapproval felt so real she struggled to continue. It was as if she’d truly conjured her mother’s presence. Part of her wanted to curl into a ball. But she didn’t. She just squeezed the fabric of her sundress in her clenched fists.

  “Is there anything you want to tell her?” Liz asked gently.

  Eyes still closed, Kate nodded. She took in as much air as her lungs would hold and then exhaled slowly. She forced her hands open, smoothed them over her thighs, and ran them back and forth until she felt calmer.

  When the words finally came, they fell from her lips, fast and furious. “I’m sorry your life didn’t turn out the way you wanted, but it wasn’t my fault. If it was anyone’s fault, it was your own. I didn’t ask to be born, but I’m glad I was, because even though my life didn’t turn out the way I expected, I’m glad I’m here.

  “You could’ve written your books if you’d wanted. There’s always a way. You used me as an excuse because you were afraid to fail. Evelyn Daniels could not be a failure. It was much easier to blame me and Dad, wasn’t it?

  “I’m sorry you never wanted to be a mother—never really were a mother, either, other than the biology of it. Becoming a mother was the best thing I’ve ever done.”

  Her voice cracked, but she couldn’t stop. “You missed out on so much. You chose to be unhappy. God gave you a beautiful life—a husband who adored you no matter how you treated him and an obedient, loving daughter who looked up to you. I tried so hard to be good, to be everything you expected, but I failed.” She swallowed a sob. “Scratch that. I wasn’t a failure. Only in your eyes. God only knows how, but I grew up to love and care about others. I’ve tried to be kind, to help people when I could and sometimes even when I couldn’t. I was a good mother. Or at least I tried to be. I love my children, and I loved my husband.”

  She licked her lips, and it was only when she tasted the salt of her tears did she realize she’d been crying. “I feel sorry for you, Mom, but you lived your life the way you chose. It wasn’t my fault. I never deserved the way you treated me. Never.”

  She dropped her face into her hands and sobbed. Liz let her be. When she was all cried out, and trusted herself to look up, the chair was empty.

  “She’s gone,” she croaked out.

  “How do you feel?”

  Kate snatched a tissue from the ever-present box, and wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “Okay. Lighter.” She pressed her hand against her chest. “Here. I feel lighter.”

  “Are you ready to see your son?”

  “I am—or I will be by the time he gets here.” She dabbed at her eyes and laughed. “I’ve got a lot of cooking to do. He’s a big boy. I can’t imagine he’s gotten any smaller in the past year.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  It was going to be a beautiful day. The cloudless sky was a brilliant shade of azure and the ocean reflected a deeper, darker blue. It was warm but not humid. The pool hedge was in full bloom, and the heady scent of beach roses reached all the way to the front door. Birds were singing, and the chipmunks and squirrels on the deck and around the pool skittered about as if they too were preparing for a special visitor. Even the resident eagle made an appearance at low tide, balancing on a large boulder, a general making a final inspection of the troops.

  Kate had spent most of the past few days in the kitchen. She’d baked Devin’s favorite chocolate chip cookies and made blueberry and peach pies. She’d made vegetable beef soup and chicken parmigiana and spent hours making cavatelli from scratch, hand-mixing the pasta and rolling the dough into tubes, cutting it into pieces, and fashioning each one into a shell with her thumb. And of course, there would be homemade marinara to serve over it.

  Harold promised fresh lobster and clams whenever Devin wanted and anything else Kate needed. He seemed almost as excited as she was and had already cut her grass twice. She caught him sweeping her dock and using his Weedwacker around the boat house just to “neaten it up a bit.”

  When she wasn’t cooking, she was cleaning. The guest room downstairs, which offered a view of the ocean, was ready. There were fresh sheets on the bed and a handmade quilt. She cut a bouquet of coneflowers, cosmos, and black-eyed Susans from the garden and set them in a vase on the chest in front of the window.

  At a few minutes before three, she settled on the front steps and waited. Then she paced. When she caught a glimpse of Billy’s black truck, she panicked. She wanted to run, but her feet seemed fixed to the brick walkway.

  The truck neared, and she could see there was just one person in the cab. And instead of a blond ponytail, his hair was short and dark, just like hers.

  * * *

  Devin was almost to the end of the dead-end street before he realized he’d been practically holding his breath for the last mile. He let it out with a whoosh when he saw his mother standing in the yard, holding Charlie on his leash. From what he could see, she looked good. Tom had said she was getting better, but it wasn’t the same as seeing for himself.

  He parked the truck beside the garage and climbed out, stretching his cramped legs. Before he could take two steps, Charlie practically tackled him. He leaned over to hug him and the dog responded by licking his face.

  “Oh, yuck!” his mother scolded. “Let me get my kisses in first.”

  She stood before him, a shy smile on her face. “I think you’ve grown. I didn’t think that was possible.”

  “I’m taller than Dad now. Six foot five.”

  “You’re a whole foot taller than me,” she said, laughing. He’d missed that sound.

  “You look good, Mom. You’ve gained weight.”

  She jammed a finger into his ribs. “Devin Donaldson! You don’t ever tell a woman she gained weight!”

  “Sorry, but it looks good on you.”

  “Still.” In truth, she looked pleased, but her expression faded as she lightly touched the side of the truck.

  “Your father lent you his truck and you didn’t have to tell him where you were going?”

  He tugged his suitcase from the back seat. “It’s mine. He gave it to me for graduation. He gave me other stuff too, but since he got a new pickup, he gave me this one.”

  Her head dropped, and in that moment it seemed she’d drawn into herself so tightly that she actually became smaller. “I’m sorry I missed it.” She looked as if she were about to cry.

  He was at a loss. Because she h
adn’t been there to watch him get his diploma, he had refused to participate in the ceremony. The only walk he’d done was down their long driveway to the mailbox. Although his father had tried to change his mind, Devin believed he’d secretly been relieved not to have to sit through the commencement exercises alone.

  It would probably make her feel worse to know that he had missed his own graduation, so he made a split-second decision not to tell her. “It was no big deal, Mom. Just promise you’ll come to the next one. I start my master’s program at Rutgers next week.”

  She nodded and smiled. “Family tradition, huh?”

  “That and it’s a good program for school psychology.”

  “I’m proud of you, Devin, and I promise, nothing will keep me from the next one.” She opened her arms. “Can I hug you?”

  He wasn’t a little kid anymore, but he felt like one. He was trying his damnedest not to cry, but when she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed, he couldn’t hold back. Neither could she. They stayed that way for a good long while, her tears dampening his faded Shinedown T-shirt.

  He pulled away first and scanned the yard, taking in the sloping lawn and the small grove of tall pine trees, the outbuildings, and the ocean view.

  “This is where you live?”

  She nodded, dabbing her index fingers under her eyes. “Yep. This is home—for now.”

  “Is it Mr. Reilly’s house?”

  “Something like that.”

  * * *

  “This place rocks,” Devin called over his shoulder from the upstairs deck. Kate had given him a quick tour and they’d walked down to the dock before she’d set about making his favorite dinner. “No wonder you don’t want to come home.”

  She cringed. The remark stung, but she understood.

  “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” he said contritely, stepping inside. “Where do you want me to sit?”

  She pointed to the head of the table. “You can sit there.”

  Devin hesitated before pulling out the chair. The head of the table had always been Billy’s place, even when he wasn’t home. She didn’t want to think about it or know what her son might be thinking. She poured herself a glass of wine.

  “Wine, beer, or iced tea?”

  “Beer’s fine.”

  She pulled out a bottle of Shipyard. “Glass or bottle?”

  “Bottle.” He helped himself to the salad. “I can’t believe you made cavatelli. I haven’t had this since—” Brushing off his embarrassment, he dove into his salad. “Man, this is good.”

  “It’s salad, Devin,” she said as she piled the dressed greens onto her own plate. “Not that difficult.”

  “I know, but no one does the oil and vinegar like you. I mean, Dad’s getting better, but he can’t cook like you.”

  She rose so quickly, afraid he might continue talking about his father, that she almost knocked over her wine glass. “More bread?”

  He shook his head, mouth full, and held up the nearly full basket.

  “More butter, then.” She darted into the kitchen and returned with a second full stick of butter. “How was Colorado?”

  “I didn’t go this year. Didn’t Tom tell you? I thought it best I stay home with . . . you know.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.” There was so much to apologize for that she might be saying those two words every day for the rest of her life.

  “It’s okay. I got a job as assistant manager at the town pool. I set up programs for the kids, swimming lessons, stuff like that. It was good. I like working with kids, and to be honest, there was a lot less stress this year than dealing with kids with behavior problems or addictions.”

  “I can imagine,” she said softly.

  “Danielle stayed local this summer too, so that was good.”

  “You’re still together? That’s wonderful. She seemed very nice.”

  He nodded. “I’m pretty sure she’s the one.”

  All kinds of thoughts and emotions rushed over her, and she pressed her napkin to her mouth. Of course he was too young, but that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst of it was that he had met and fallen in love with a girl, and she had missed almost all of it. She had no right to lecture him or warn him that he was too young, that he needed to do more before he settled down. She’d given up that right when she walked away from him and Rhiannon and their father. It wouldn’t be fair to try and snatch it back.

  “What have you been doing?” he asked after dinner as he helped clear the table.

  “Hmm. I do some volunteer work, which I enjoy, and I see a psychiatrist of course. She’s great. I didn’t realize how many things I needed to confront—not just what happened to Uncle Joey and Eileen, and you know, abandoning my family.” She covered the rest of the pasta with plastic wrap and set it in the refrigerator. “My problems go back to when I was a little girl.”

  “Yeah, I know. Dad said your mother was a witch.”

  The remark was unexpected, and her face must have said so.

  “Sorry.” He looked embarrassed.

  “No. She was a witch, among other things. Your dad had it a lot worse, though.”

  “Honestly, I don’t ever remember Dad saying anything about his parents, just his grandparents now and then. I mean, really, he’s my father, but I don’t know him very well. I mean, I know him.” He raised the beer bottle to his lips. “But still.”

  Kate motioned him out to the deck and handed him a can of bug spray.

  “Use it, or you’ll be sorry.”

  “Mosquitoes?”

  “Who knows? They call them no-see-ums up here, and that’s the truth. You don’t see them, but by tomorrow afternoon, you’ll know they were here.” As proof, she displayed one of her ankles. No raw spots or scabs were visible, but lots of dark pink spots remained from earlier attacks.

  Outside on the deck, they rocked in silence. She knew the question was coming, but despite almost three glasses of wine, she still wasn’t prepared when he brought it up.

  “So speaking of Dad . . .”

  “Were we?” she said with a sigh.

  “What about you and Dad?”

  “Right for the heart, huh?”

  “I’m not a little kid, Mom. It’s a fair question.”

  “It might be a fair question, but I don’t think I can give you an answer. At least not the one you’re looking for.”

  He set the beer bottle down so heavily it rattled the slate-topped table. “So you just stopped loving him?”

  “My god, Devin!” She stopped rocking. “Of course not. I’ve loved him almost from the moment we met. We just aren’t good for each other.”

  “He still loves you.”

  She laughed softly. “How would you know that? Did he say that?”

  “All the time.”

  Her insides twisted into a tight coil. “And what would you expect him to say? That he doesn’t love me anymore and that he’s found someone else? He’s not going to tell his children that, sweetheart.”

  “I don’t think he would lie.”

  The moon cast a path along the water. Kate followed the flight of a bat as it swooped across the moonbeams and down to the dock, seeking its fill of the nighttime smorgasbord.

  How could she talk with Devin about his father? But he was right; he did deserve some answers.

  “I honestly don’t know how your father feels about me. Does he still love me? I don’t think so. Maybe not for a long time. I think what he felt may have been pity. Or guilt. I really don’t know.”

  “I know. I know he loves you.”

  She nodded. “I know you want to believe that. And I know he did. Once. He loved me as much as it was possible for him to love anyone. I just think he loved himself more.”

  They sat quietly, each lost in their own thoughts, until Devin interrupted the silence.

  “Is there someone else?”

  She laughed softly. “Me? No. Once was enough. Falling in love with your father was the best thing that ever happened to me, other tha
n you and your sister.” She squeezed his arm. “I knew from the beginning he was it for me. I think I can be content again, tolerate my life, maybe even find some joy. But fall in love again? No, that I can’t do. I gave my heart away twenty-five years ago. He never gave it back.”

  “Do you want it back?”

  She drew her knees up under her chin and stared out over the cove. “No. It’s his. I could never love that way again. It’s too powerful. I think we’re built for one great love in our lives. Your father was mine.”

  Even in the dark, she saw the sadness in his eyes. She ran her thumb over his cheek. He looked so much like Billy it nearly broke her heart.

  “But I’m okay with that,” she said, unsure who she was trying to convince, herself or Devin. “How many people go through life and never have anything close to what we had? My life didn’t turn out like I expected, and there are things I would change, obviously. But falling in love with Billy McDonald? I wouldn’t change that for anything.”

  * * *

  The rest of Devin’s visit went quickly. By the time Friday morning rolled around, she was sad to see him leave. They had crammed a month’s worth of sightseeing into five days. They’d visited six lighthouses, gone shopping in the Old Port, picnicked at Popham Beach, and hunted for sea glass at Spring Point. She’d kept him so busy, she hoped he didn’t mind that she had no cable or internet for watching the Phillies or checking email.

  He was loading a cooler packed with lobsters from Harold and ready for the seven-hour ride when she told him he couldn’t bring them home.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, sighing. “I’m going straight to Danielle’s place in the Poconos. We’ll eat them tonight. No one will be the wiser.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I get it. But you know, you’ll have to deal with Dad and Rhiannon sooner or later—and it’s already later.”

  “I will, I promise. Just seeing you was a big step for me.”

  “I think it went well.” He flashed her a sly smile.

  “It did, and I promise, I’ll keep working on it.”