by Wade, Becky
Aloha,
Kathleen (who’s shaking her fist at the ceiling of the deli and shouting, “God! Hurry up!”)
p.s. I love you.
Phone Message from Kathleen to Her Friend Rose
Oh, Rose. Remember when I told you about meeting Garner Bradford’s nice wife at the company picnic?
Well, the woman who was raped and murdered at Blue Heron Park yesterday, the one they’ve been talking about on the news . . . It was Robin Bradford, Garner’s wife. She’s the one who was raped and murdered. I feel sick to my stomach.
Apparently, the news stations just released the victim’s identity. When I got to work, everyone here was in shock over it.
She was so friendly, Rose. I can’t get the memory of her and those two little girls, Willow and Nora, out of my mind.
I’m going to hang up and pray. I know that’s what you’d tell me to do. I’ll pray.
It’s . . . It’s awful to think about something so vicious happening to someone I’ve met, someone connected to Bradford Shipping. She was walking in the park for exercise last night when she was attacked. It wasn’t even dark out. What happened to her could have just as easily happened to you or me.
Instead it was Robin Bradford and now those girls have lost their mother. The older one’s two. The younger one is only seven months old.
Okay. Bye. I’m going to pray.
Call me.
Sheet of Paper Taped to the Door of Kathleen’s Apartment
Darling,
I saw on television this morning that the woman murdered at Blue Heron Park was Garner Bradford’s wife. I’ve left several messages for you but I haven’t heard back so I decided to drive over. I’ll wait for you at the little restaurant around the corner from your apartment that you like. Drive there, and I’ll buy you dinner and some of that strawberry pie they’re famous for.
Have you heard that they think the man who killed Robin Bradford was the Duct Tape Rapist? If so, Robin is his sixth victim and he’s still on the loose. In this very part of Washington.
Don’t go walking by yourself. Anywhere! I stopped by the store and bought Mace for you. And one of those alarms for your key ring. And a Swiss Army knife.
This world we live in is a sinful, terrible place. I’m convinced we’re living in the end times. I’ve spent most of the day reading Revelation.
Come straight to the restaurant.
Mother
Phone Conversation between Kathleen and Her Friend Rose
KATHLEEN: Did you hear that they arrested the guy who killed Robin Bradford?
ROSE: No! I hadn’t heard. I’m so glad they found him.
KATHLEEN: I know. His name’s Brian Raymond. He’s thirty years old and he’s an engineer with the Department of Transportation.
ROSE: Have they charged him with murder?
KATHLEEN: Yes. I guess evidence from the scene connected Brian to the other Duct Tape Rapist cases because they’ve charged him with those five rapes as well as Robin’s murder.
ROSE: Have you heard how Garner and the girls are doing?
KATHLEEN: The word around the office is that Garner’s devastated, but that he’s doing his best to take care of the girls. Imagine how confused they must be. They’re so young. I feel horribly for him. And them.
CHAPTER
Five
Garner’s Journal Entry
I’m living with nightmares. Nightmares meet me when I sleep and nightmares meet me when I wake up. I keep wishing I could escape them. But that’s a futile wish.
Robin is dead.
Just writing that makes my stomach tighten with denial and pain. It’s impossible to accept that this is our reality, even though it’s been ten days since she died. The funeral’s done. She’s buried in a coffin with six feet of dirt on top of her, and still, I can’t believe it.
Robin’s mouth and wrists were duct-taped. Then she was raped and strangled. This is the truth of what happened. To Robin, a woman who was full of kindness.
I gave the police all the information they asked for during those first sickening and surreal days after her murder. It wasn’t much. I’d have liked to have done more, for Robin’s sake. The detectives deserve all the credit. They’re the ones who studied the evidence, who hunted down Brian Raymond, and who put him behind bars. They did their jobs and moved on.
I can’t move on.
How much pain was Robin in? What was going through her mind during the attack? Did she try to call for me from behind the duct tape?
Bile’s rising up my throat like it does every time I ask myself these questions. I don’t let myself ask them often because when I do, I can’t function. I have to be able to function because Willow and Nora need me.
Robin is dead.
This awful thing happened to her, to us. I can’t believe it.
I have to believe it.
Garner’s Journal Entry
When Sylvie left me with Willow, I didn’t know how to take care of a baby. This time, I know how to feed them, and give them baths, and put them to bed. But I don’t know how to help them with their grief. They’re traumatized. Both of them cry for Robin.
Nora’s a baby and Robin was her anchor. She’s too young to talk, but her eyes are filled with fear and vulnerability. She’s not sleeping or eating the way that she was for Robin.
Willow wanders around the house, holding her blanket, calling, “Mommy? Mommy!” over and over in a worried voice.
It breaks my heart. Both of them are breaking my heart.
I’m spending all my time with them. I’m doing everything I can to get them through this. I’m loving them with everything I have even though I know it’s not enough. I can’t be for them what Robin was. No one—not me, not anyone—can replace her. They’ll have to grow up with this huge blank space in their lives because their mother, the woman they both depended on and loved, is gone. I’m terrified that Robin’s loss will scar the girls in a way that will never heal.
After Nora was born and Robin decided to become a stay-at-home mom, Robin suggested that we let Valentina go. I talked Robin into keeping Valentina. I told Robin that I wanted her to have help around the house and with the girls. The truth is that I kept Valentina because I owe her. I haven’t forgotten how Valentina saved Willow and me.
And now Valentina is saving us all over again. She’s been with us every day since Robin died. Shopping. Cooking. Doing laundry. Cleaning. Answering the door when people at church that I can’t stand to talk to bring over food. Staying at the house when Nora naps so I can take Willow to the park or to the mall or to the water.
Weekends and weekdays are blurring together. I only know that Valentina has been here every day. Whenever we’ve needed her, she’s been here.
Garner’s Journal Entry
My thoughts keep going back to the night Robin was killed.
When I came home from work that night, she was dressed in work-out clothes. She had dinner waiting and she gave me instructions about the girls. When to put them down. Which book Willow wanted before bed. Something about Nora’s bottle. Then she kissed me, and smiled, and left. The whole time, she was hurrying to get out the door. I was distracted because Willow was tugging on my hand to get my attention.
I’ve racked my brain but I can’t remember what Robin’s last words to me were. Or what mine were to her. I only remember that everything seemed normal.
Those moments weren’t normal at all because they were the last moments I’ll ever have with Robin. Why can’t I remember my last words to her?
I wish I’d known those moments were our last. I wish I’d done everything differently.
Robin goes went walking a lot. Several afternoons a week, almost always with her friend. I hate that I’m the one who encouraged her to make time in her schedule to go walking. I did it with good intentions. But good intentions are worthless in the face of a result this terrible.
I hate that I didn’t ask to make sure her friend was going with her that night. If I’d realize
d that her friend had other plans and that Robin would be walking alone, then I might have suggested that she walk around our neighborhood or drive to Mom and Dad’s and walk on Bradfordwood’s property.
I hate that I didn’t get home earlier that night. If I had, she could have left to go walking earlier. Maybe then, Brian Raymond would have missed her.
I hate that I didn’t pray for her safety that day, that I took her safety for granted. That’s a mistake I’ll never make again, not with anyone I love.
I wish I’d thanked her or told her what a great mom she was or said how much we cared about her.
But I didn’t.
I have a thousand regrets.
Garner’s Journal Entry
Sometimes, I’m furious with God.
Robin trusted God fully, and look where that got her. God should have honored her faith in Him by keeping her safe when she needed Him most.
So, yes. Sometimes I’m furious. The rest of the time, though, I’m aware that God was the one who was with her at the end. He was the one who made sure her soul didn’t die forever on that muddy stretch of grass.
I haven’t been the best Christian all my life. But I am certain that God swept Robin away from the pain and the terror of her final moments and brought her to a place of joy and peace.
That certainty is the only thing that allows me to sleep at night.
Garner’s Journal Entry
Guilt is like a cancer.
I’m terrified that Glenna was right, back when I told her I was going to propose to Robin and she told me she thought I should slow things down. She wanted to make sure I was fully over Sylvie before I hurried into marriage with Robin.
At the time, I was stubbornly certain that Robin was what I needed. Robin made me feel less raw inside. She calmed me. She was my shot at redemption. And in the end, yes. She was what I needed. But it’s clear to me now that marrying someone because they’re everything you need at the time isn’t love. It’s the worst kind of selfishness.
It’s been six months since Robin’s murder. For the past several days, I’ve been sitting in the courthouse at Brian Raymond’s trial, and this afternoon, the jury found him guilty.
I see his guilt. I’m relieved that the jury got it right and that he’ll face punishment for what he did.
But I see my own guilt, too.
I wasn’t over Sylvie when I married Robin. I’m still not over Sylvie.
Occasionally, I still long for Sylvie so much that it feels like a fist squeezing my heart. I’m still so angry at her that my fingers curl into fists when I think about the day she left us. I still dream about her. I still have a hard time containing my hostility whenever she calls or sends Willow a letter or a present.
Every once in a while, I’ll see a van like the one Sylvie drove off in and for a split second, I’ll think that Sylvie’s come home and joy will run through me before I catch myself. Joy? Over Sylvie?
I’m still screwed up over her. I wish to God that it weren’t true. Other than bringing Robin back to life, I want nothing more than to be done with Sylvie. I’ve been trying to get over her—to be over her—for years now. I married someone else. I had another child. And still, I’m not over Sylvie.
That fact fills me with shame. I’m brutally ashamed because Robin’s dead, and because she loved me, and because she gave me a beautiful daughter, and because she deserved my undivided love. But that’s not what I gave her.
My only consolation is that I believe Robin felt loved by me. I did everything a good husband should do and more. She often told me how wonderful I was to her and the girls.
In the courtroom, I thought about how she used to tell me that while guilt ate and ate at me.
God, let Robin never have known that she didn’t have my whole heart. And please, please forgive me.
I don’t know how to move on from Sylvie. What I do know is that my history with Sylvie and Robin makes it clear that I’m not worthy of relationships. I never want to fall in love again. And I definitely don’t want to marry again.
I’m an idiot with women.
I’m too selfish to be trusted.
Garner’s Journal Entry
Brian Raymond hung himself in prison.
He took the coward’s way out, but then, I shouldn’t be surprised about that. His actions toward women proved him to be a coward a long time ago.
I can’t work up any compassion for his family. Or any pleasure over his death. Or any forgiveness toward Brian. If Robin were here, she could probably find a way to forgive him. But he took her life and so there’s only me.
All I feel in the face of Brian’s suicide is grim acceptance.
Death is what he deserved. Death is what he got.
CHAPTER
Six
Phone Message from Margaret to Her Daughter, Kathleen
Dorothy just called and told me that she heard Dominic Bradford died of a heart attack. It’s just terrible. So sudden. He was only sixty-five.
I feel for his wife, of course. Although, at least Dominic’s wife, Elizabeth, has grandchildren to comfort her. Unlike me. So really, her life is practically wine and roses compared to mine. You don’t know how I mourn the fact that I may never have grandchildren.
Anyhow. Dorothy said that Dominic’s son, Garner, will almost certainly inherit Bradford Shipping. Little good that will do him, since the company is said to be on the verge of bankruptcy. Garner’s wife died just what? Two years ago? And now his father. Gone, too.
I expect that Garner will pay off Bradford Shipping’s creditors and close the company’s doors. In light of that, it seems to me that now’s the time for you to leave Bradford Shipping. Don’t you think so, Kathleen? You’ve proven yourself to be quite persistent, but look—the writing is on the wall.
Call me back right away, please.
Phone Conversation between Kathleen and Garner
GARNER: May I speak with Kathleen Burke, please?
KATHLEEN: Speaking.
GARNER: Ms. Burke, this is Garner Bradford.
KATHLEEN: Oh! Yes. Certainly, Mr. Bradford. It’s nice to hear from you. What can I do for you?
GARNER: I was packing up my father’s office and found eight reports in a box in his storage closet. The reports appear to be written by you. Is that correct?
KATHLEEN: Yes. Yes, that’s correct. I wanted to say, sir, that I’m very sorry for your loss.
GARNER: Thank you.
KATHLEEN: You said that you found the reports in a closet in your father’s office?
GARNER: Yes. Every one of these is an inch thick. Did my father assign you to write them as some sort of special project?
KATHLEEN: No, I took it upon myself to write them. Whenever I noticed an area of the company that offered room for, ah, improvement, I researched the subject and typed up a report.
GARNER: How many years have you been with the company?
KATHLEEN: Almost four and a half years.
GARNER: You’ve taken it upon yourself to write eight reports in four and a half years?
KATHLEEN: Right. It was always my hope that your father would find them useful.
GARNER: And did he?
KATHLEEN: I don’t think so. He never contacted me to discuss them. Actually, this is the first confirmation I’ve had that he even received them. I have no way of knowing whether he read them or not.
GARNER: Ah.
KATHLEEN: Do you happen to know if he read them?
GARNER: I’m afraid I don’t. Have we met?
KATHLEEN: No. I’ve attended a few of the company picnics that you’ve attended, but I haven’t had an opportunity to introduce myself.
GARNER: Well, your eight reports have done a pretty good job of introducing you, Ms. Burke.
KATHLEEN: It seems they have.
GARNER: Once I’ve had a chance to look over them, my secretary will call you to schedule a meeting. All right?
KATHLEEN: Yes! That . . . that sounds great.
GARNER: Good. Oh, and
Kathleen?
KATHLEEN: Yes?
GARNER: Ease back on the report writing at least until I can get through these, okay?
KATHLEEN: Aye aye.
Phone Message from Kathleen to Her Friend Rose
Oh my gosh, Rose, I know you’re at work and can’t answer. Even so, I had to tell you that Garner Bradford himself just called me. He found the reports I wrote and he said he’s going to look over them!
I was a little flustered and excited and so I ended our conversation by saying aye aye.
Aye aye? Why did I say that? It’s so weird that I said that.
I’m regretting the aye aye and I’m regretting the fact that I didn’t have the reports professionally edited. What if there are typos in them? If there are, he might think I’m sloppy at punctuation when you and I both know I’m excellent at punctuation. A real stickler.
If he loves my reports, it could mean a promotion.
But ahhhh! What if he hates my reports? That could mean a demotion.
How long do you think it will take him to get back to me? I don’t think I can bear to wait.
I might need to start drinking Alka-Seltzer.
Unsent Letter from Kathleen to Garner
Dear Garner,
Ever since our meeting earlier today, my head has been full of all the things I want to say to you but can’t. So I finally decided to write them all down. Maybe after this, I’ll be able to eat and relax and watch TV like I’d planned to do this evening. It’s eight o’clock at night! I’d like to watch TV if that’s okay with you.
I hope you’ll overlook the fact that I’m jotting all this down on a “My Deepest Condolences” greeting card. It’s all I had. Stationery isn’t my strong suit. Which you don’t need to know and won’t know, since this card is going straight into the lowest drawer of my bedside table. It can hang out with all my dad’s postcards, pictures from sorority formals during college, and the love letters my ex-boyfriend Rob sent me. He wanted to marry me, fyi, but marriage isn’t a goal of mine.
