“It wasn’t like that. They’re trying hard to find out the truth.” Finn glanced around the room, avoiding Bob’s stare.
“I have more of the soda pop you like so much,” Karen said. “Come with me.”
She and Finn went to the kitchen.
I did not want to be left with these two men. The awkward silence now filling the space made me want to run out to my van and not come back until they’d settled their long-running differences. Wait. What made me think they could actually settle anything? A command from Karen to do so? Men resolved things so differently than women, after all.
“Well,” I said, clasping my hands and smiling. “Here we are.”
“Right where we don’t want to be,” Tom said.
His voice held a hint of futility and frustration. How could I help Tom? Especially now, with the events of the last few days weighing so heavily on him? I didn’t know what to do, so I said, “I’m hungry. Anyone else?”
A meal can unify people for a short time. I guess that’s part of why we celebrate Thanksgiving. But as we ate tuna salad sandwiches and homemade vegetable soup, I didn’t see much unification happening.
We sat without anyone saying a word and I was beginning to wonder if Karen regretted inviting Bob into her home.
When I could no longer stand the quiet, I said, “Is Ed at work?”
“Yes,” Karen said.
“Does he still collect stuff?” Finn asked.
“Too much stuff,” Karen said with a smile. At least one person in the room remained in Karen’s good graces.
“Why are you here, Bob?” Tom said, staring down at his soup.
At last the elephant of a question was finally addressed.
“Can’t a man visit his family?” Bob said.
“Oh sure. After five years you come to town and break into my house while I’m not there. Nice way to visit.” Tom still hadn’t looked at Bob.
“You broke into his house, Robert?” Karen said.
“I waited outside, but when he didn’t show for hours and hours, I needed the restroom—and something to eat,” Bob said. “Mom, this soup is awesome, by the way. Just like I remember.”
Tom set his spoon down and glared at Bob. “You could have gone into town, to a restaurant and—”
“I’m having a little cash flow problem,” Bob said.
Finn watched this exchange like he was at a tennis match, eyes wide with interest.
“You’ve had money problems your whole life. Why are you here now?” Tom said. “What’s the plan, Bob? Because you always have one.”
“I was expecting an apology,” Karen said.
“I’m sure you were. Answer me this, Mom,” Bob said, every drop of charisma evaporated. “If I were being intimidated by the cops, would you have left in a frantic rush to save me?”
Finn said, “I—I wasn’t really being intimidated.”
But Karen and Bob didn’t seem to hear him. Color blossomed on Karen’s cheeks. “You’re a grown man and yet you’re still stuck in the past, believing I favor—”
“You do favor. You favor Tom and you favor Finn. Me and Charlie? We’re just dirt on your shoe.” Bob looked at me. “I have a twin brother. Did anyone tell you about him?”
I didn’t get a chance to reply because Bob stood and threw his napkin on the table. “I only took what was rightfully mine.” He pointed at his mother. “I will again, too.”
“Rightfully yours?” Karen said, her anger building. “How can you say—”
Someone knocked.
Karen rose, but Bob made it to the door in a flash. My guess, he was relieved by the distraction. I feared Rory Gannon was about to make another appearance, but the voice I heard say, “Why, hello there,” was female.
Hilary Roth had arrived.
Karen hurried through the dining room and out to the small foyer to greet the new arrival.
Tom leaned back in his chair, his face to the ceiling. “More trouble,” he said. “Just what we need.”
“It’s my mother, isn’t it?” Finn said as the murmur of greetings spilled into the room. He stood. “I don’t want to talk to her.”
“I don’t either. That’s why you and I are heading out the back door and going to my house.” Tom looked at me. “Would you mind running interference?”
“Sure. Go on,” I said.
They disappeared through the kitchen and I went to the living room.
Bob was smiling broadly at Hilary, all the resentment from a few minutes ago gone.
“Finnian,” Karen called. “Your mother would like to talk to you.”
I motioned Karen aside as Bob and Hilary chatted. I whispered, “Finn isn’t quite ready to talk to his mother. He and Tom left.”
“Oh. I see.” She patted my arm. “It’s not your fault, so don’t look so guilty. Hilary is not the monster those two make her out to be. Please give her a chance by staying for a while and getting to know her. Maybe Finn and Tom will listen to you once you understand her better.”
“Sure. I can stay,” I said, forcing a smile. But I wanted to be home with my fur friends, not here playing a game of “Get to Know the Ex-wife.” I’d give Karen fifteen minutes and then I was out of here.
Karen said, “Can I fix you lunch, Hilary?”
Hilary wore a ruby-red sweater and black slacks, the colors complementing her dark beauty. “No thanks. I ate while I was trying to reach my attorney. Unfortunately, he cannot help Finn here in South Carolina.”
“Finn’s not in jail,” Bob said. “The way he talked, sounds like he might not need a lawyer after all.”
Hilary said, “The deputies told me he was gone when I went to the police station. That doesn’t mean he won’t need a lawyer in the future, though.”
“He’s not guilty of anything,” Karen said. “Not one thing.”
Hilary said, “Your belief in Finn warms my heart.” She turned to me. “They told me he left with Tom and with you, Jillian.”
“Yes, we did leave together,” I said.
When I didn’t add any more information about Tom or Finn, Hilary addressed Karen. “No one was home at Tom’s house, so I figured he brought Finn here. Can I see him now?” Hilary walked toward the dining room. “We need to talk. I need to tell him how sorry I am for—”
“He’s not here,” Karen said. “At least not right now.”
Hilary halted. “Oh.” She looked crestfallen.
Bob said, “You know how stubborn Tom can be. You staying in town?”
Guess he’d gotten over his hurt feelings where his family was concerned. Especially since someone as lovely as Hilary was around to divert his attention.
She said, “I found this wonderful little B&B. Reasonably priced with fantastic food.” She pulled a tissue from her pocket and dabbed under her nose. “It’s been nice to have such a comfortable place to stay under such stressful circumstances.”
“Yes, well, Nolan was a troubled man,” Karen said, “though as you told me not long ago, you had no idea how troubled until he was released from prison.” Karen looked at me. “Mr. Roth used to be a police officer and Tom’s partner. Poor Tom was forced to turn him in to the authorities.”
“Forced?” Bob said. “Tom ruined Finn’s family because he was jealous.”
I wanted to sock Bob Cochran in the mouth about then. I’d had about all I could stand of this self-serving man-child. Instead, I said, “I’m not sure you completely understand, Bob.”
“Really? And you do after knowing my brother for how long? A year, tops?” Bob said.
Hilary rested a hand on Bob’s arm. “Please. Don’t blame Tom, and be kind to Jillian. She has been so kind to my son. Nolan fooled me. He fooled a lot of people. Now that they’ve cleared Finn, I believe they should start looking at who Nolan was doing business with.”
“Drugs again?” Karen said.
Hilary nodded solemnly. “I tried to tell the police chief as much. But they seemed fixated on Finn and even Tom. He does seem to have been in
a fight. Do you know how he got so banged up?”
“He won’t tell me,” Karen said. “But I’m sure it has nothing to do with Mr. Roth’s demise.”
“Oh, of course not. Because Tom can do no wrong,” Bob said.
Karen leveled one of her famous steely stares at Bob. “It could have been that terrible man who came here last night.” Karen turned to Hilary. “Knowing you, it’s impossible to picture you with Mr. Gannon. He’s a frightful person.”
Hilary paled. “Rory? Here? Oh my goodness. Nolan must have called him before— Oh, this is not good. Did Finn talk to him?”
She sounded frightened—and who could blame her? But I didn’t want to listen to a rehash of Rory Gannon’s visit, so I decided it was time to leave. I said, “I have quilts to finish for Christmas orders. I did enjoy lunch, Karen. Thanks for having me.” I sidled past Hilary and Bob, muttering my good-byes to them.
Once I reached my van and started the ignition, I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Why do Southern-raised women like me have to be so darn polite? And why did I want to slug all three of those people?
Nineteen
On my way home to get a much-needed dose of kitty and puppy love, I called Tom’s landline. When he answered, sounding gruff and as agitated as I felt, I said, “I’m headed home. You can drop Finn off anytime.”
Tom said, “Sorry if I sounded rude, but I didn’t even look at the caller ID. I thought my mother or Bob was calling, hoping to get me back over to Mom’s house for the reunion. Someone needs to tell my mother there’s no such thing as time machines.”
“What are you talking about?” I said.
“She wants things to be like they were before Hilary decided to sleep with my partner,” he said. “Everything went downhill after Hilary hooked up with Nolan.”
“Five years ago? What did your marriage problems have to do with Karen and Bob’s issues?” I pulled into my driveway, relieved not to see a beat-up blue sedan hanging around the neighborhood.
“Long story,” Tom said.
“I wish you’d trust me enough to tell me. What’s this something Bob believes rightfully belongs to him?”
Tom lowered his voice. “Finn’s in the kitchen, about ten feet away. He doesn’t need to hear this. Can we talk later?”
“Promise?” I said, wondering if later would ever happen.
“I swear,” he said.
“Good. Now, I know a dog who needs a visit to the nearest tree. When you drop Finn off, maybe we can have some alone time.”
We said good-bye and soon Yoshi was racing for his favorite white oak, dried leaves scattering in his wake. When he came running back up the lawn, he checked out the van, sniffing the air for any hint of Finn. We went inside the house and I squatted to pet him. He was such a darling dog, but even though he enjoyed my company, he obviously missed Finn.
Merlot appeared, and he and Yoshi went nose to nose since they’re almost the same size. Yoshi dropped his front legs to the play position, but Merlot appraised him as if to say, “I’m not playing chase right now, dog.” Seemed like these two were at least getting along, in pleasant contrast to everyone at lunch at Karen’s house.
I switched my attention to Merlot, scratching him behind his ears.
Soon Syrah joined us and I saw the cat dishes were empty. With the dog around, I wondered exactly who had licked those bowls so clean. Syrah did figure eights between my legs as I hunted for just the right flavor of cat food. I swore they knew what was available and if I chose the wrong flavor, they’d turn and walk away after the first whiff.
Yoshi still had kibble in his bowl and when Merlot and Syrah started eating—I’d chosen Savory Salmon—he decided to finish his food. Chablis didn’t show up, even though with her ability to hear a quilting pin drop, I was sure she’d heard the pop when I opened the cat food. I took a small bowl of tuna cat food—her favorite—and went to my bedroom.
At least she wasn’t hiding under the bed, but rather crouched in the center of the mattress. When I set the dish on the floor, she sniffed the air and finally stood, stretched and decided she liked her meals delivered.
I sat next to her and stroked her while she ate, wishing she’d stay out of hiding. Every cat is different, however. Chablis was not dog friendly, that’s for sure. The memory of cats is about two hundred times greater than dogs, and like people, they have both long-term and short-term memory. I believed Chablis had a memory about a dog—and not a pleasant one. Poor Dashiell did, too. If Finn ended up living with Tom, the adjustment period could be long and difficult.
Yoshi came bounding into the bedroom a moment later and Chablis scurried under the bed. The adjustment period here wasn’t going so well, either.
I spent the rest of the afternoon in my sewing room finishing up my Christmas orders—an appliqué on one quilt for a cat in New York named Ralph and some hand quilting on two others. Yoshi, Merlot and Syrah joined me. Late afternoon was nap time for them.
In the last few months, I’d discovered I needed reading glasses for handwork as well as a good, strong light. My eyes were telling me I was no longer young, and though I didn’t appreciate the message my body was sending, I accepted it. Anything to keep quilting for as long as my eyes and hands allowed. There is something akin to meditation about the rocking movement of the needle, the in and out, the back and forth. It took me to such a peaceful place. Worries faded while I quilted.
When someone knocked on the back door, Yoshi jumped to attention and barked. I set my work aside—my last order—and realized it was already dark. As I went through the house flipping on lights, I saw the DVR display read seven p.m.
I let Tom and Finn in, and Yoshi went wild with joy. He jumped into Finn’s arms and licked his face.
Tom glanced at the reading glasses dangling from a chain around my neck. “You, too, huh?”
I held them up. “You mean these?”
He smiled and for the first time in days, he seemed stress free. This was the Tom I knew and had come to care about so much. He said, “I’ve got a drugstore pair for reading at night. I keep telling myself it’s those new fluorescent bulbs and not my vision.”
“Right. And my quilt stitches are just getting smaller every day.”
Tom laughed.
Finn said, “I’m taking Yoshi out back to run, okay?”
“Sure,” I said. “The outside lights are to your right before you go out the door.”
As soon as Finn and Yoshi were gone, Tom took me in his arms and kissed me. Then, with me wrapped in his arms, he swayed us and said, “Thank you for everything. Thank you for just being who you are—the most normal, caring person I’ve ever met.”
I pulled back so I could look at him. “Why didn’t you tell me about Finn before? About your marriage, your brothers, all of it?”
“Because I failed,” he said quietly. “I failed Finn, I failed at being married and I couldn’t solve my mother’s alcoholism or my brother’s problems. Another man rescued my mother from her addiction, a man who loved her for who she was. As for Bob? He’s a thief. I was a cop. Those two don’t mix well.”
“I can see how you might feel like calling yourself a failure, but I’m not so sure it’s justified,” I said. “How does it feel getting all of the old business off your chest?”
“I’m not sure,” he said. “It’s kind of like hunting through an attic you haven’t visited in years. There’s dust and cobwebs and surprises—and I’m not talking about birthday surprises, either.”
“I want to hear more. How about something to drink?”
“Finn tells me you stocked up on Dr Pepper.” He grinned and opened the fridge. Indeed, the door held can after can of Dr Pepper.
I stuck to sweet tea, but Tom popped the top on the soft drink and made a face after he took a swig. “Never did like this stuff. But if the kid likes it, I can pretend.”
We sat next to each other on the couch and immediately Chablis was in my lap. Did she have doggie radar or something? How did s
he know Yoshi was outside?
“You think Finn should be outside while his father could still be roaming around Mercy?” I said.
“I’ll give him a few more minutes,” Tom said. “He has the energy of an eighteen-year-old and can’t stay cooped up all the time. Besides, Yoshi will let us all know if there’s a problem.”
“He certainly will,” I said. “While we have a little privacy, why don’t you talk? Clean your attic.”
“My family is complicated,” he said.
“Millions of people know the feeling,” I answered.
He seemed to be staring into the past. “Where do I start?”
“How about chronologically? You’re older than Bob, right?”
He nodded. “My mother married my father in South Carolina back in the ’sixties. He died when I was four. She remarried right away—and Bob and Charlie came along a year later.”
“How soon did she remarry?” I asked.
“Within months,” he said. “Looking back, it was probably too soon. From how she talks about my father, she loved him, but jumped into another relationship right off the bat. Trying to escape the grief, maybe? She’s about as good at sharing her feelings as I am, so I can’t be sure.”
I thought about the grief I felt after losing John. It had paralyzed me, but it sounded as if Karen had taken the opposite approach. “How long did her second marriage last?”
“Couple years. Long enough for her to start drinking. See, my stepfather, Bob and Charlie’s father, Henry Cochran, was a successful businessman. He also drank like a sailor. So my mother joined him for all those cocktails at five. She, unfortunately, couldn’t hold her liquor. Her liquor held her.”
“Things got bad?” I said.
“Brandy in her morning coffee? I’ll say. She’s not a happy drunk, and she and Henry began to argue. Finally she left him when I was in the first grade. People think kids that young don’t understand, but I knew she had big problems.” His jaw muscles clenched, but he went on. “I remember her giving us this speech about new beginnings, but she had three boys to raise. The only thing she knew how to do was party, drink and marry men she didn’t love. I don’t even remember the next two guys we lived with. They paid the bills, though. I graduated high school in, like, the seventh school district I’d been in. Hard to make friends when you’re on the move all the time.”
The Cat, the Wife and the Weapon citm-4 Page 15
