by Karen Cimms
“I didn’t come here to upset you.”
“Exactly why are you here?” Billy asked, his Midwestern twang more distinct.
As her father struggled for the right words, his eyes fell on the large, framed portrait leaning against the wall.
“You’re married?”
Kate nodded. Billy slipped his arm around her shoulders.
“When?” He stood and went to take a better look.
“May 20.”
He picked up the photograph and held it in his outstretched arms. Did he feel bad that he’d missed her wedding?
“You look lovely, Kate,” he said, resting the frame against the wall. “I wish I could have seen you myself.”
She tried to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat.
“I’m glad you did the honorable thing,” he said to Billy as he returned to his perch on the edge of the sofa.
The twitch in Billy’s jaw flickered angrily.
“I wouldn’t call it that, Arthur.” Kate cringed at the way Billy articulated the name. “I didn’t ask Katie to marry me out of any sense of obligation, and although I can’t speak for her, I don’t think she accepted for that reason. I love this woman. I plan to spend the rest of my life with her.”
“Woman?” Her father almost laughed. “She’s a teenager. She should be in college, making new friends, trying to figure out what she wants to do with her life.”
Billy stood, and Kate watched her father grow tense.
“Billy, please,” she begged. He acted as if she weren’t in the room.
“Trying to figure out what she wants to do or what you want her to do?”
“At least we had her best interests at heart.”
Billy turned to her. “Are you gonna listen to this bullshit?”
She wanted to lie down. When she didn’t answer, he turned back to her father.
“So, Arthur, you never did say why you were here. Katie’s been gone over nine months. Why now?”
“It’s not that I haven’t looked for you.” He answered as if Kate had asked the question. “You told us his name was Donaldson. I didn’t realize he went by an alias.”
Billy snorted. “It’s not an alias, for fuck’s sake. It’s a stage name.”
Her father ignored him. “I couldn’t find any listings for a William Donaldson, so I assumed he had an unlisted number. I couldn’t find Joey either—not that he would’ve told me anything. I called the number you had given us for your roommate’s mother, but she said she didn’t even know you.”
She bunched up a handful of her dress, and wondered if she was in trouble for lying.
“A few weeks ago, I was talking with an old classmate who’s on the alumni committee at Rutgers. He’s involved with planning homecoming festivities, and he had a list of prospective bands. I thought I recognized the name of your band, so I called the booking agent. Her secretary was very helpful and with just a few phone calls, I was able to track you down.”
“We just moved,” she said.
“I thought I’d hit a dead end, but the woman who answered the door said you had just moved up three floors, so here I am.”
“That still doesn’t explain why,” Billy said.
“Because I don’t like the way things were left. That’s the easy answer. I also wanted to make sure my daughter was all right and see if she needs anything.”
“She doesn’t. What’s the hard answer?”
Her father looked directly at her. “We need to talk.”
There was nothing he could say that would fix any of it. But she owed it to herself to listen. She drew her fingers along the inside of Billy’s arm. “Babe,” she said, her voice thin as paper. “Could you leave us alone for a minute? I’m fine. I promise.”
Billy nodded reluctantly. He warned Arthur that their dinner was ready and reminded him Kate needed to eat. When the banging of pots and slamming of cabinet doors indicated he was finishing their dinner, she turned to her father.
“Go ahead,” she said evenly, her voice belying the sick feeling that had hold of her stomach.
He cleared his throat. “Your mother tells me you took one of her journals.” When she didn’t respond, he continued. “We were concerned that you might get the wrong impression.”
She rolled her eyes. That kind of response usually elicited a reprimand, and she was hard-wired to issue an apology, but not this time. There were no words that could justify or explain what she’d read. But that didn’t stop him from struggling to find them.
“Kate. Sweetheart.” He picked at an invisible piece of lint on his slacks.
He could call her whatever he wanted. It wouldn’t change anything, at least as far as her mother was concerned. The only reason her father was still sitting in her living room was that he had refused to allow her mother to have an abortion. For that, she must owe him something.
“Why didn’t she come with you? If you were so certain I had the wrong impression.”
“She didn’t think you’d want to see her.”
“She was right.”
“I understand that, but it was a long time ago. You were a surprise for both of us. We believed we couldn’t have children, so we never expected it. For you to come along, especially so late in life, was a mixed blessing.” He quickly added, “But still a blessing.”
“C’mon, Dad. You and I both know she never considered me a blessing. As for you? I honestly don’t know. Maybe you did after a while. Maybe not. But after reading her journal, my life and how unwanted I was finally made sense.”
He seemed to be struggling for a way to defend her mother. She almost felt sorry for him.
A pot clattered to the kitchen floor.
“Never mind. You don’t need to make excuses. I’m happy. Really happy, for the first time ever. If that’s what you wanted to see, then you’ve seen it.”
She struggled to hoist herself out of the chair.
As if on cue, Billy returned. Had he been listening, and if so, what had he heard?
“Thank you for coming,” she said politely.
Billy’s hand rested on her hip, grounding her. It was exactly what she needed.
Her father stood. “I hope we can put this behind us.”
Nodding, she fought back tears.
As he made his way across the room, he pulled out his wallet.
“Do you need anything? Can I give you some money? You can buy something for the baby.”
Billy began to speak, but stopped when Kate touched his forearm. “Thank you, no. We don’t need a thing.”
“All right,” he said, although he didn’t seem quite convinced. When he reached the door, he turned to Billy.
“Will you call us when the baby comes?”
“Yes,” she answered. “He’ll call.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
They ate in silence. Playing with her food, Kate dragged a slice of tomato around her plate like a kid pulling a wagon.
“You okay?” Billy asked. Her change in mood since her father’s visit was weighing him down.
She speared a piece of steak, then dipped it in a puddle of béarnaise sauce and popped it into her mouth.
“This is so good.”
“I have watermelon for dessert.”
She set down her fork and smiled up at him. “Thank you for being so good to me.”
“I love you. You’re having our baby. Why wouldn’t I be good to you?”
“I haven’t been the easiest person to live with lately.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, and I’m a day at the beach.”
“Oh hell no, but at least I’ll eventually have this baby and get back to normal.” She gave him a stern look. “On second thought, I haven’t given you enough trouble.”
He threw a string bean at her.
“So, you ready to tell me what that was all about?” He rose to get the watermelon and looked back at her over the door of the refrigerator. She shrugged, focused on the remnants of the dinner he had hoped she’d enjoy.
>
“How much did you hear?”
“I don’t think it matters what I heard or didn’t hear. What I care about is you. I can’t make you tell me anything, but I know you’re hurting, and that makes me want to hurt someone. So I can get in the car and drive to Belleville and demand some answers, or I can stay here and hold your hand while you tell me the truth.”
She cocked her head. “If we’re telling the truth, it sounds like you’ve been there more recently than I have.”
He jutted out his chin. “I have.”
“Well?”
“Well,” he began, “that one time I was acting like a giant ass?”
“Which one time would that be?” The sparkle had returned to her eyes.
“Funny.” He tried to frown but couldn’t. “When you told me you were pregnant? And I had that bout of temporary insanity?”
Kate’s eyebrows rocketed up. “Is that what we’re calling that?”
“Yes,” he continued with little more than a sidelong glance. “I came back, you know.”
“Yes, I know. We got married, remember?”
“I mean that night. I came back to the hotel, but you were gone. I was stupid, ugly drunk, but I came back because I wanted to—because I love you, and I was afraid if I didn’t . . .”
He hadn’t meant to go that far. This was dangerous territory. He stared at the leftover steak bleeding onto her plate.
“I came back because I knew I couldn’t live without you.” He raised her fingers to his lips and kissed them. He explained how he’d discovered she had called her parents and assumed that they had come for her.
“You drove all the way to Belleville to bring me back?”
He looked into her eyes. “Yeah. I did.”
When the tea kettle whistled, he made her a cup of herbal tea and opened a beer for himself, then he pulled out the chair beside her and sat. He couldn’t bear seeing her looking so sad and distracted. If he could take away whatever it was she was feeling right now, he’d do it in a heartbeat.
“On the outside, my childhood probably looked pretty good,” she began after a few minutes. “I grew up in a nice house. I had almost everything I needed and plenty that I didn’t. On the inside? It was empty. I just never really understood it until recently.”
While she spoke, he pressed his leg against hers and drew circles on her hand with his thumb. If her childhood was anything like his, she needed to feel safe, grounded in the present.
“For as long as I can remember, I’ve had nightmares. When I was little, I used to hear noises up on the third floor, right over my bedroom. Thumps and scraping sounds, like something was being dragged across the floor. Once, when I was playing hide-and-go-seek, I saw a bat hanging on one of the light fixtures in the hallway between the nursery and the servants’ quarters.”
He nearly choked on his beer. “Your house has servants’ quarters?”
Kate nodded. “We didn’t have servants, of course, but my great-grandfather did, and my father said his parents had a live-in maid when he was growing up.”
“Jeez. So a bat, huh?”
“Yeah.” She shuddered.
“Sure it wasn’t your mother?”
“Doubtful. Hanging upside down would mess up her hair.”
At least she was smiling—but it didn’t last long. He nudged her with his knee to go on.
“This is kinda embarrassing, but I’m afraid of the dark.”
“I know.”
She looked up, surprised. “You know?”
He nodded. “When we were in that motel in New Brunswick, I had almost fallen asleep when I heard you get up. I saw you turn the light on. You did it again when we were in New York.”
“But you always leave the bathroom light on.”
“Yeah. For you.”
Her mouth formed a little O, and it looked for a moment as if she were about to cry. She pinched the bridge of her nose and then continued.
“Like I said, I’d hear noises upstairs. The old nursery was over my bedroom.” She twisted her napkin into a rope around her finger. “One night, it was really bad. The wind was howling, which made it worse, and it probably was mostly my imagination, but I was frightened. I was only around six or seven, and I tried to get in bed with my dad. My mother was furious that I’d woken her.”
As she spoke, she started to rock. Her voice was so low he could hardly hear her.
“She dragged me upstairs and locked me in the attic. She wanted to teach me a lesson, to prove that I was wrong, that there was nothing there. My dad argued with her, but he didn’t stop her. He left me there, too. It was cold, and I was so scared I wet myself. She didn’t come back for me until morning.”
If Evelyn Daniels had been anywhere nearby, he didn’t think he would’ve been able to control himself.
“You’re hurting me.”
“What?”
“My hand. You’re hurting my hand.”
He had been grasping her hand so tightly, her fingers were turning red.
“Sorry.” He loosened his grip but didn’t let go.
“I was still afraid of the dark and the noises after that, and even though the nightmares got worse, I didn’t dare set foot in their room, no matter what.”
A startling image of Kate flashed through his mind. “Is that why I found you curled up on the bathroom floor with a towel in your mouth that time you were sick? To keep from waking me?”
“I guess.” She looked uncertain.
He gripped her gently by the shoulders. “Don’t ever do that again. Don’t you ever worry about needing me.” He pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “How do you manage when I’m away? When you’re alone?”
“I miss you of course, but I’m not as frightened. A little bit, but it’s not so bad. Maybe because there are so many people around me. The neighbors and all. If I really needed someone, there are people here I could call.”
He’d hated her involvement with the neighbors, the steady stream of people in and out of his apartment. Now, he wanted to go door to door and thank them.
“Come with me.” She led him into the living room and asked him to wait on the couch. She disappeared into the bedroom, returning a few minutes later with a small notebook. Holding it close, she settled down beside him.
“Growing up, I always felt like I was a huge disappointment. No matter how hard I tried to be good and do what they wanted, I couldn’t make my parents happy. Mostly my mother. My father just seemed indifferent. I became more insecure. I was afraid to try new things, believing I’d just do it wrong and disappoint them. As I got older, my friends all but disappeared, except Joey.”
She seemed to drift off for a moment. “I think he was a buffer. With him around, they didn’t have to deal with me. After his mother died, he was always at my house. He went on vacations with us, and sometimes he’d even spend holidays with us. When he was around, my life seemed normal—at least to me, not having anything to compare it to. I don’t know how I would’ve survived without him.”
The pain in her eyes was like a knife in his belly.
“When I left home, it wasn’t only because my parents said I couldn’t see you. Remember my mother had taken Joey’s pictures and hid them?”
He nodded.
“When I was looking for them, I found a box of journals in her closet. She must’ve been writing them for years. I was curious, so I leafed through a few.”
He glanced at the notebook on her lap.
“You took one of your mother’s journals?”
Running her hand over the faux leather finish, she nodded. “I did, but I’m sure this one was meant for me.”
He studied her face. “Did she write something in there for you?”
“Sort of.”
When she tried to hand it to him, he pulled away.
“I’m not comfortable reading your mother’s personal thoughts, Katie.”
“I understand, but I want you to read the last part. It’s easier for me if you read it, rather t
han for me to say it.”
“I don’t know.”
“Please.” Her lip quivered.
He took the journal. As he read, his stomach turned. He read it again, then snapped the book shut.
“What the fuck is this?” he said finally, holding up the journal. “Your mother wrote this?”
When she nodded, he grit his teeth so hard his jaw hurt. White-hot anger clouded his brain. Evelyn Daniels was more than just a bitch. She may have been an amateur compared to his parents, but the pain she inflicted was no less real.
“Why didn’t you tell me you found this?”
She stared at her hands, tightly clenched in her lap. “I didn’t want you to know I was unwanted and unloved.” The tears she’d been holding back spilled down her cheeks.
“Oh, baby! You are not unwanted or unloved.” He tossed the book aside and held her tight against him. “No fucking way. I want you every second of every day, and it’s not just about sex. I want to share everything with you. I love you more than I even thought it was possible to love someone. Remember telling me you wanted to be adored? Well, I adore you. I freakin’ worship you.”
He held her for a while, until it all clicked into place. He snatched the book off the table. “Why do you still have this?”
She shrugged.
“How often have you read it?”
“I don’t know. A few times. It’s who I am.”
“Bullshit.” He stood and headed for the door.
“What’re you doing?” She struggled to get off the couch.
“What you should’ve done when you found this.” He pulled open the door and stormed into the corridor. When he reached the trash chute, he opened it and dropped the book into the incinerator. Kate stood in the doorway, her mouth hanging open.
“That’s where it belongs. It’s garbage—and as far as I’m concerned, so are your fucking parents.” He pulled her back inside their apartment.
“Katie, look . . .”
She tilted her face up toward his. Open. Vulnerable. Trusting. He wanted to tell her she wasn’t alone; that she wasn’t the only child to grow up with horrible parents, but he couldn’t. What was the point? It wouldn’t make things better for either of them. They were their own family now. Wasn’t that all that mattered?
