Remember the Time

by Annette Reynolds

  “And Michael wanted his best friend’s wife.” Julia knelt in front of Kate. “I’m amazed that the guilt didn’t eat you both alive.”

  Kate sobbed. “But I think it has. There are parts of me that can’t feel anything anymore. I let it happen with Matt because, for a few minutes, I believed he was Paul. And that’s the only way I know.” Tears ran down her cheeks and into the corners of her mouth. “Paul’s way.”

  Julia took Kate’s hands in her own. “It’s time to learn a new way.”

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY

  Matt waited until he heard the squeal of the attic ladder coming down, and then he quickly entered the kitchen. The pantry door stood open, and he replaced the key to the tower room. The duplicate he’d found at a locksmith who specialized in antique keys hung on his key ring.

  Mike’s faint footsteps two floors above, and the sound of Kate’s shower, told him it was safe to retrieve the scrapbook from his car. He wanted to exchange it for another year, and he did so easily, stashing the new one under his jacket before joining his uncle in the attic.

  Matt looked up at Mike, who stood on a ladder wiring in a new light fixture. “You need me up here? Or do you want me to start working on the windows?”

  “Hand me the pliers,” Mike said, holding splayed wires in one hand while reaching back with the other. His fingers closed around the tool Matt slapped into his open palm, and he quickly stripped the insulation, inserted the plastic nipples, and stuffed the finished product into the fixture’s base. As he began screwing the base back into the attic beam, Mike casually asked, “So, what’s going on with you and Kate?”

  Matt’s heart sped up. As coolly as he could, he said, “What do you mean?”

  “I mean … Hand me the bulb, will ya?” Mike turned the bulb in the socket. “I mean, why is she avoiding you? Hit the switch.”

  Matt did as he was told. White light flooded his uncle’s face. Mike gestured for him to cut it off and climbed down the ladder.

  “Well?” Mike said, dusting off his hands on his jeans. “What’s up?” He looked at Matt expectantly.

  Matt replied with the words he’d been reciting to himself for the past few days. “She’s pissed off ’cause she found out I play ball.” They seemed to flow from his mouth smoothly enough, and he waited to see his uncle’s reaction.

  Mike’s eyebrows went up. “When did this happen?”

  “Over the weekend.”

  “Don’t make me drag it out of you, Matt. Tell me how it happened that the subject even came up.”

  Matt stopped to gather up a handful of sawdust—a substance that now seemed to fill his mouth. “Actually, she guessed.”

  “She guessed?” Mike repeated, confounded.

  Matt shrugged, straightening. “Yeah. Don’t ask me how.”

  Mike regarded Matt for a moment, his face unreadable. “Start on the living room windows.”

  Kate sat on the edge of the tub in her bathrobe. The towel she’d been using to dry her hair dangled from her hand, forgotten, as she listened to Mike and Matt. Negligible attic insulation, and the fact that the two men were directly above her, broadcast their conversation loud and clear.

  She marveled at Matt’s fluid use of the half-truth. No one could accuse him of lying and Kate realized that was Matt’s intention. But she’d known Mike too long to miss the hint of skepticism that crept into his voice, despite his seemingly innocuous words. It filled her with a cowardly dread.

  The kitchen was unbelievably quiet considering the three people that occupied it. Matt sat at one end of the table eating a sandwich and poring over a garden catalog as if it were the latest issue of Baseball Weekly. Kate stood next to the door, looking for all the world as if she were poised for flight.

  And Mike sat at the other end of the table, his back to the pantry, drinking his second cup of coffee, watching. Tired of the remote silence, he put his mug down on his plate. The sound of porcelain striking porcelain was like a shot, and Matt’s head jerked up. Kate took a step toward the hallway.

  “Matt. Why don’t you go pick up that light for the bathroom.” Mike could feel Matt’s eyes on him, but kept his on Kate.

  “But I thought …”

  Mike quickly turned to his nephew. “Never mind what you thought. Just do it.”

  The wave of relief that came over Matt’s features was almost comical, as he speedily stood. He obviously wanted to be out of the house, and Mike was more than happy to oblige him. Matt was out of the door so quickly he practically left a vapor trail.

  Mike turned back to Kate, who he imagined would’ve joined Matt if she could have. “He’s gone. You can sit down now.”

  “I’ve been sitting all morning,” she said, a stubborn tone creeping into her voice. “I’ll stand.”

  Mike shrugged, rising from the chair and moving toward her. “Suit yourself. Now, why don’t you tell me what you wanted to talk to me about?”

  Kate resembled a very pale deer caught in the headlights of an extremely large truck, and she went on the offensive, as he knew she would.

  “I suppose the three of you thought you were very clever hiding the fact that Matt plays baseball?”

  “That’s it? That’s the urgent topic you wanted to discuss?”

  He noticed she hesitated ever so slightly. “It was a shock, that’s all.”

  “Well, now that you know, why don’t you forgive us, and we’ll go on.”

  Indignant to the end, Kate said, “I’d just like to know why you felt you had to lie to me.”

  “We weren’t lying. We just didn’t tell you. Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  “The sin of omission,” Kate said.

  “Something like that,” Mike replied, perplexed by the faraway tone of her voice. “Anything else you want to tell me?”

  “Like what?” she asked defensively.

  Mike’s smile was genuine, if puzzled. “I don’t know. You’re the only one who can tell me what to forgive you for.” It was Kate’s turn to look confused. “Why did you kiss me and then ask me to forgive you?”

  He could see he’d flustered her. And a flustered Kate—so rare—was an aphrodisiac to him. It took an enormous amount of willpower for him to step away from her. Even more courage to state, “Nothing’s changed, has it, Kate.”

  “You’re wrong.” She turned from him. “Everything’s changed.”

  “Tell me how.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “I have all day.”

  “I love you, Mike.”

  Her voice was strong. It sounded like she meant it. And those words coming from Kate’s lips should have brought him joy. Why had she pronounced them like a death sentence? Mike silently took another step back, too stunned to speak.

  The phone rang at that moment, startling them both. Kate ignored it, and it stopped after six rings.

  Mike finally said, “Explain how loving me is complicated.”

  Kate turned to face him. Her lips parted to answer just as the telephone invaded their privacy again. Mike swore, as she impatiently snatched up the receiver.

  “Yes? What is it?” Her voice shook with anger at the interruption until she realized it was her mother. “Mom. Sorry. Hang on just a second.” Holding the receiver against her chest, Kate whispered, “I really do want to talk to you. Can we go somewhere for dinner?”

  “I’ll come get you at seven,” Mike said, and walked past her on his way back to the attic.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-ONE

  Mike’s eyes scanned the wine list. “What do you think? A bottle of merlot?” He looked up and their eyes met. His heart did a slow ka-thump at the thought of sitting across a table from her for the next couple of hours. He was a teenager again, and he wished he still had that old Mustang. Parked up at Inspiration Point, steaming up the windows in the backseat would have been fun, and he smiled to himself.

  “What was that smirk for?” Kate asked.

  “If you’re a good girl I’ll
tell you later.”

  No biting rejoinder came from Kate. Not even a dirty look. Nothing but an uncomfortable silence.

  She’d fought coming to McCormick’s for dinner, but he wanted prime rib and theirs was the best in town. Kate had argued for someplace called The Wharf. And Mike had countered that anyone who ate in a place called The Wharf in a landlocked town deserved whatever he or she got. He’d finally won on a coin toss.

  “So?” he said. “Merlot? Yes or no? Or do I have to flip that quarter again?”

  “None for me. I’ll have iced tea. But you go ahead.”

  His left eyebrow went up, but he didn’t comment on her abstinence.

  The waiter glided to the table and looked at Kate. “Lovely to see you again. We have a very nice selection of desserts tonight.”

  “I think we’ll have dinner first,” Mike said.

  The young man finally noticed Mike, and turned to him, a thin smile on his lips. “Oh, yes. Of course. Have we decided?”

  Mike looked straight at the man. “I don’t know about you, but I have.” After the waiter left, Mike said, “What the hell’s happened to this place? And are you a regular here, or what?”

  “I was here with Matt while you were in Williamsburg. We had dessert. Okay?”

  “You went out with Matt?”

  Kate picked up her water glass and took a drink. “He’d been bugging me about going to a movie. They were playing Rocky Twelve, or something, and I didn’t want to see it. So we came here.”

  “Why are you getting upset?”

  “I’m not. I just think there are subjects we can talk about other than Matt.” Her eyes wandered the room.

  “Okay. Cindy wants you to call her. Something about the days you’re planning on working.”

  “She called you?”

  “Said she couldn’t reach you at home, and when are you going to get an answering machine.” Mike went silent as the waiter decanted the bottle of wine, poured a thimbleful, and waited for his approval, which Mike took his time giving. When they were alone again, he laughed and leaned forward. “I was tempted to tell him it wasn’t fit for cooking just to see his face.” The corners of Kate’s mouth lifted slightly. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to start working again?”

  “I guess I forgot.”

  Mike leaned back in his armchair, gazing at her. The fingers of her right hand restlessly traced the cutwork pattern of the tablecloth as she intently studied a painting that hung on the wall behind him. Her mouth opened and her tongue appeared, wetting her lips. Mike, recalling those lips and that tongue on his mouth, was mesmerized. Then he remembered one of the reasons they were here, but just as he was about to speak, the waiter returned with their Caesar salad.

  In the latest tiresome trend, he wheeled a cart to the table, asked if they wanted anchovies, freshly ground pepper, tossed the salad in a large wooden bowl, and then meticulously portioned it out. By the time all this was finally over, Kate had begun eating and Mike decided the time wasn’t right to tell her his latest plans.

  They talked about the groundbreaking for the museum; the newest exhibit at the Woodrow Wilson Birthplace; the latest round of the battle at VMI as to whether or not they should allow women to enroll. Their entrees arrived and Mike ate with relish, while Kate’s plate went nearly untouched. And still they talked about unimportant things.

  As he dug into his rare prime rib, he said, “I think we’ve exhausted local current events. Want to move on to statewide?”

  Kate flaked off a small morsel of salmon, which eventually found its way to her mouth. Either she didn’t hear, or she chose to ignore him. Reaching across the table, he covered her hand with his, and she jumped as if stung. “Where’d you go, Kate?”

  “Sorry. My mind hasn’t been exactly razor sharp lately.”

  Now that he was touching her, he couldn’t seem to stop himself, and he slowly ran his thumb over her smooth knuckles. “I’ve noticed.” Circling her wrist, he turned her hand over and his feathery touch continued over the delicate skin. Dark blue eyes the color of smoked sea glass looked at him helplessly, and Mike felt the skin on his arms turn to gooseflesh. Quickly releasing her, he picked up his fork again and pointed it at her plate. “Eat your fish. It’s brain food.”

  “Sometimes I don’t think I have a brain left,” she said, enviously watching him finish the wine in his glass.

  Mike saw her thirsty stare and decided it was time to find out what had scared her straight. He waggled the glass between his fingers. “Why?” he asked.

  “I wanted to see what life was like sober.”

  “And?”

  “And it doesn’t look any better.”

  Mike set the glass down. “Come on, Kate. You can’t mean that.”

  “I can’t help the way I feel.”

  “Christ, Kate. What do you feel? I can’t tell anymore.” When she didn’t answer he leaned into the table, its edge cutting into his rib cage. His voice was a hard whisper. “I thought we were getting past all the garbage.”

  “Don’t push me, Mike. Please.”

  His mouth opened to tell her his decision to leave. But he heard the words through her ears and knew she’d see it as an escape—an act of cowardice. Or a way of forcing the issue. And maybe in some small way it was all those things. But he knew what the big picture was; it was a means of learning to live without her.

  Kate watched Mike struggling with his temper and she detested herself even more. He was pouring the last of the wine into his glass, downing it in three quick gulps, and she knew she had to tell him now.

  Her voice shook as she said, “I want you to believe I’d never hurt you on purpose. I need you to remember that no matter what.”

  “Go on.”

  Kate reached across the table, begging for his hand. “I do love you, you know.”

  “But?” he asked, sliding his hand out from under hers.

  “No but. You mean the world to me. Without your friendship all these years …” He made an angry noise. “No … listen! You’re my friend, yes. You’re also the man I want to be with.” God, this isn’t working. “Mike, when you’ve been with other women, did you still want me?”

  He sat back and looked at her. When he spoke, his words took her breath away.

  “When I’m with someone else, it’s almost impossible not to say your name.”

  She shut her eyes for a moment. “And when Paul was still alive? Did you want me then?”

  “You know the answer to that.”

  Kate took a shallow breath. “I can only say this to you once, because it makes me very ashamed. But I want you to hear it, so you’ll understand that I’m telling you the truth.” Her eyes fixed on his. “I wanted you, too.”

  It was Mike’s turn to be overwhelmed. “What’s going on, Kate? Tell me now.”

  “Not here.”

  The ride home had been quick and silent. Kate had stared out the windshield, more afraid than she’d ever been.

  Now, they stood on her porch. She tried to form the right words, but none came.

  “Talk to me, Kate. Don’t shut me out.”

  “You deserve better than me, Mike.”

  He grasped her arm, forcing her to turn to him. “There isn’t anyone better for me.” His hands moved to her face and his lips met hers with fevered desperation. “You said you loved me.” Her breath was hot on his face.

  “I do,” she whispered.

  “Then show me. I’m running out of time, Kate. Invite me in.”

  His words, so raw, shook her with their implicit need.

  “There’s something you need to know.”

  “It can wait,” he said hoarsely, pushing her against the door, molding his body to hers.

  “It can’t!”

  At her words, desire turned to frustration. He slammed his fist against the wooden frame of the door. “God damn it, Kate! Why are you doing this to me?”

  “Mike! Please,” she sobbed. “Something happened …”

 
; He released her and fixed stone-colored eyes on hers. “What?” he asked harshly. “Did Paul rise from his grave?”

  Mike was already on the walkway.

  She screamed at him. “This isn’t about Paul!”

  “The fuck it isn’t!” Slamming the truck door, he pulled away from the curb and disappeared into the cold night.

  It took him some time, but he finally heard what she’d actually said.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-TWO

  Mike parked the truck and wearily stepped out. Inside his house, the dark surrounded him; the loneliness smothered him. His footsteps echoed on the polished oak floors as he made his way to the living room. He sank into the worn leather of a morris chair and closed his eyes. The house was so quiet that it unnerved him and he finally reached over and switched on the table lamp, just to hear the creak of the chair and the crackle of the bulb.

  Warm light spilled across his legs and, slowly, the room came out of the shadows. It was a perfect room. It was a perfect house. Just as Kate had said. But to Mike, it was the most desolate place in the world. His eyes moved from object to object. He had done it all for her, he realized. As much as he had loved the labor he’d put into it, and all the time he’d spent finding just the right pieces, somewhere in the back of his mind, he had been trying to please Kate.

  The whole thing worked only if Kate was willing to be the final piece that made it whole. Did she or didn’t she? Loves me, loves me not? He may as well have been plucking petals off a daisy. It made just about as much sense as anything else he’d done.

  After leaving Kate, he’d driven across town and back. The time he’d had to think left him with no choice but to find Matt.