by Edie Ramer
Don’t come for me.
Love,
Katie
Twenty minutes later she managed to navigate her way out of Chicago without getting lost once. Proof that she was doing the right thing.
But if that were so, why did her eyes burn with unshed tears? And why did she feel a little dead inside?
Her heart had ached coming to Chicago. It ached even more leaving it.
Chapter Forty-six
Gabe drove through Chicago with an overdose of sadness. Today’s shoot had been rotten lousy sad. The six-year-old girl he’d filmed should grow up to be vibrant and passionate like her mother and tall like her father. Should have friends, lovers, and adventures. Maybe a husband and children.
None of that was going to happen.
On the video she said she was happy that her story would help other children.
It hadn’t been easy smiling at her and nodding while he wanted to yell at the sky and demand to know why things like this were happening.
He was glad to be home. There was even a parking spot right in front of the building. A sign that his day was going to get better.
Once inside the apartment building, he felt a tension. A worry he couldn’t shake off. He wanted to run up the three flights, but the equipment hanging from his shoulders didn’t take well to running. The elevator seemed to take longer than usual, the slowest elevator in the world. When it reached the third floor, he burst out, surprising another neighbor, a fiftyish woman who squeaked. He normally would apologize, but the feeling that something was wrong wouldn’t allow it.
He reached the apartment and, clumsy with worry, it took him three tries to get the key in right.
“Katie!” he called, rushing inside. “Katie!”
No one answered. No one came. He stopped in the living room. Breathed in, and in that one inhale, he knew Katie wasn’t there. He didn’t smell her, he didn’t feel her. The apartment felt empty, like a body without a heartbeat.
Throwing his equipment on a chair, he called out her name again anyway. Without waiting for a reply, he headed to the bedroom. The door was open, the bed made. No Katie.
From there he strode to the office, passing the bathroom with the door open. No Katie either place. Maybe she’d gone for a walk. Maybe she was going to make another pie to see if yesterday’s was a fluke.
Only the kitchen was left and he hurried toward it. But something niggled in the back of his mind, and when he entered the kitchen, he knew what it was.
There had been no suitcases in the bedroom.
A note lay on the table, the paper lines and torn out of the notebook on his desk.
Dread settled over him like a gray cloud. He tottered toward the notebook, his legs and feet reluctant. He knew even before he looked at it what it was going to say.
Goodbye. Sayonora. Nice knowing you.
It’s just not working for me. I can’t do this.
He picked it up. Her words were phrased more politely, including the information about her friend. But if she’d left because of her friend, she would have come back as soon as she was well again. Her pie magic was the real reason she wasn’t coming back.
He’d left her for his videos. Now she was leaving him for her pies.
Karma was kicking his ass.
I need you, Katie, he thought. I need you now. And you aren’t here for me.
He crumpled the note in his fist, laid his head on the table and remained like that for long moments.
His heart hurt. His soul was dark. A light inside him turned off.
Finally he stood, opened the liquor cabinet, looked at the bottles for a long time then closed it. In the note, Katie said not to come after her, but he wasn’t letting her go. There had to be some way they could fix this. A way they could be together and be happy.
His steps purposeful, he headed to the bedroom to pack. He had a six hour drive ahead of him.
Chapter Forty-seven
It was dark when Katie made it to the hospital, and memories swirled back to her of visiting Gabe in the first hospital she’d been to all those years ago, her little heart pounding in her chest. Only her surety that Gabe was an angel and would not die gave her the courage her go inside and talk to him.
She felt the same reluctance now. What she didn’t have was the same certainty. Instead she just had a pounding in her gut that something was wrong. That Trish needed her.
The nurse on the maternity ward told her she should go to the waiting room, nodding at the way she’d come as she picked up a phone then turned partially away. Katie hurried back, telling herself the nurse’s dismissal was a good sign. Surely the lack of empathy meant nothing was horribly wrong.
When she entered the room, on one end she saw a group of people she didn’t know. On the other end she spotted Sam with Reverend Elsa, a slender blond woman in her fifties who’d come to Miracle three years ago and founded the Church of Radiance. A feel good church, Sam called it with an indulgent smile. He had nothing against anyone feeling good and Katie suspected neither did God.
Sam and Elsa sat on a small sofa, leaning toward one another, as if they didn’t want anyone else to hear what they were saying. Katie hurried toward them, and Sam glanced up and stood.
Katie ran to him, her arms out, just the way she’d done many times as an anxious child. He caught her now as he did then, hugging her.
“Daddy,” she pushed away, still feeling the comfort of his arms and solid chest, “is Trish—?”
“She’ll be okay,” he said. “The doctors did a cesarean four hours ago. I was just about to leave. I offered Trish and Gunner my house until they can build theirs, but Elsa already offered.” He gave the blond woman an admiring look, and she smiled back at him, straight into his eyes, in a way that made Katie suspect the admiration was mutual. Sam was probably about ten years older than Elsa, but with his long face and still firm jaw he’d aged well.
Katie had seen a lot of women look at Sam that way when she was growing up. If she was right about the vibration she was picking up, she felt sorry for Elsa. Her father was an easygoing guy, but he had strong feelings. The strongest were for an old love who was married to another guy. Not Katie’s mother, but someone whose name Katie never knew. Though she’d only talked to Elsa a handful of times, Katie liked her enough to hope she didn’t get too involved with her dad.
His heart was taken. His body...well, that was a matter Katie preferred to ignore.
“How are the babies?” Katie asked. Despite the nurse’s lack of emotion, the feeling that something was wrong still had a stranglehold on her heart.
Elsa and Sam shared an oh shit look, and Katie’s gut twisted harder. She clenched her jaw, ready for the worst.
When Sam turned to her, his expression was serious. “Three babies are in incubators. They’re around three pounds, but the doctor thinks they’ll be okay.”
“Thinks?” Katie didn’t like that word. She liked is sure better.
“You know how doctors talk. They don’t like to say yes or no. They aren’t God.”
“If three are in incubators,” Katie said, turning to Elsa for answers, “and one is in the regular nursery, why is my dad frowning?”
Elsa clasped Katie’s upper arm as if she needed to support Katie. Which was ridiculous, as Katie was about five inches taller than Elsa and certainly outweighed her. “I’m sorry,” Elsa said. “A little girl didn’t make it.”
Katie rocked back on her heels, holding back a cry. She felt a burn of sorrow for Trish, Gunner and the little one that didn’t make it.
“At least Trish was nearly seven months along,” Elsa continued. “That makes a difference in the babies’ development.”
“You’re sure Trish is okay?” Katie asked. “The nurse said she couldn’t see me now.”
“She’s sleeping,” Elsa said. “She’s worn out. Gunner went home to be with the two boys.”
“Everyone else left,” Sam said. “We knew you were coming and waited for you.”
Katie wondered what he meant by we. It almost sounds as if... She shut down these thoughts, too wiped out emotionally to speculate. She used to dread her father hooking up with a woman. Now she wished he would.
It was time for him to get over that long ago lover. She trusted that he would choose someone who was...well, good.
Like Rosa, maybe. He was a little old for her, though he seemed younger. But right now that wasn’t Katie’s concern. Her concern was... A wave of tiredness stopped her thoughts and she swayed slightly. Her mind was hopping all over the place, trying not to think of the dead baby.
Trying not to think of Gabe.
Sam put his hand on her back. “You need to go home and sleep. Don’t worry about Trish and the babies.” He glanced at Elsa. His mouth didn’t smile but his eyes did. “Elsa put a glow of health and well-being around them.”
Elsa patted Katie’s back. “I give great glow.”
Just from her touch, Katie felt a little glow and a little comfort. Maybe one of these Sundays she would attend a service at Elsa’s church.
“Come on, Katie, let’s go home.” Sam nodded at Elsa. “Thanks for staying while I waited for my girl.”
Elsa smiled and nodded, but her eyes held sorrow.
Inside Katie, something stirred, an urge she’d thought was dead.
“What’s wrong?” Sam asked.
Katie shook her head because nothing was wrong. Something was right. Looking at Elsa, she felt an urge to bake her a Sad Pie.
Her nerve ends shimmered, and she stopped herself from leaping forward and kissing Elsa, then laughing out loud.
Her pie magic was back.
“You sure nothing’s wrong?” he asked.
“I’m just tired.”
“You look beat,” Sam said. “I’ll drive you home.”
“I can drive myself. I’d have to leave your car here and—”
“I’ll drive you back tomorrow.” Sam’s voice left no room for denial. “I’ve got some of Rosa’s lasagna in my freezer. I’ll warm a plate up for you.”
“Dad, you’re the best.” She hugged him, then let go and smiled up at him, feeling teary again. Gazing at him, a thought came into her head: Gabe would be a father like that.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing.” Except for the dazed feeling, as if she’d walked into a thick glass door. “If I can’t see Trish, I’d like to see the babies at least.”
Elsa led them to the nursery. Two nurses greeted her on the way, and it was apparent she’d been there before. Katie didn’t know how often, but she suspected Elsa would be hard to forget.
She stopped in front of a set of clear windows where they could see five babies in incubators. So tiny and skinny with breathing tubes wrapped around their heads. They were too far away to see their features clearly. Katie felt for the babies, and she ached to pick them up. She could imagine how Trish and Gunner must hurt.
They left a moment later, Elsa and Sam chatting about Becky, the former minister’s wife who was pregnant. According to Linda Wegner, Becky and the baby’s father wanted to get married now.
Sorrow swept over Katie with all the baby news. There would never be a baby of hers and Gabe’s. She had her home and her pies, but she didn’t have Gabe.
Chapter Forty-eight
Gabe’s car idled on the road in front of Katie’s cottage as he stared at the dark shape of her house. There were no streetlights at this end of the road. There was only her house and Sam’s, which was dark, too. There was no moon, either, and he thought it possible she didn’t lock her back door. That he could go to her house and walk in.
If she was sleeping, she might not even hear him. He could take off his clothes. Lie in bed with her. Close his eyes and know he could go to sleep breathing the same air as her.
He could see it in his mind...
Or he could see another scenario...
Katie waking up, hearing an intruder in her house and grabbing a baseball bat.
Or a shotgun. He didn’t know if she had one, but this was not the best way to find out.
Even if he did it and she didn’t scream—if she in fact slept until morning and they had breakfast together—what would he say to her? His situation hadn’t changed. He couldn’t do what he loved while he lived in Miracle. It was just too...small.
He sat for a moment longer, a fifty-pound weight in the pit of his stomach. Finally he steered the SUV in a U-turn and headed to Tomahawk where he would find something to eat and a room for the night.
A half hour later he sat in a Chinese restaurant with decent food. He even drank a Tsingtao beer, which wasn’t bad. At a motel room he set up his latest video to see what he could edit. But it hurt to look at the small girl’s pale face and courageous smile, knowing she was likely going to be dead soon.
Too young. Too damn young.
When he finally went to bed alone, he couldn’t sleep for a long time, thinking of Katie. Aching for her.
He felt defeated. Hopeless.
There had to be something he could do. Some way to fix this. But his mind was blank and his heart already mourning. As if it knew there was going to be no happy ending.
Chapter Forty-nine
The next day the sun shone dimly through thick, gray clouds, and the radio DJ predicted rain. A portent, though Gabe believed less in portents than angels. But when he reached Katie’s house, she either wasn’t home or wasn’t answering the door.
He drove back to Tomahawk. He hadn’t called last night or this morning. As if expecting her to be there for him all the time. He could call her now but decided against it. She would probably go to the hospital when visiting hours opened at 11 AM. He’d see her then.
He found a diner he remembered being not too bad. As he ate his eggs and toast, something niggled in his brain. It felt important, but the more he tried to catch it and examine it, the more it slipped out of his reach.
The waitress refilled his coffee, and he thanked her, not even glancing at her. Still busy trying to catch that—
“Gabe? Mind if I sit down?”
He glanced up into the attractive face of an older blond woman who looked vaguely familiar. “Sure, have a seat. Glad to have company.”
Her left eyebrow rose, sending her doubts to him. “I doubt that, but I’ll sit anyway. I didn’t realize it would be this crowded.”
Peering behind her, he saw that the diner was full. “Neither did I.” He wasn’t noticing a lot of things these days. Like how unhappy Katie had been in Chicago.
“We were never introduced. I’m Elsa Hahn.” She held out her hand.
Taking it, he felt a current of energy and was glad when the handshake was over. “Nice to see you again, Reverend Elsa.”
“Ah, you did remember.”
“I think someone said you’re the minister that doesn’t believe in Jesus.”
“I do believe there was a Jesus. A nice Jewish boy who was smart and charismatic with a wonderful heart.” She tilted her head and studied him, her eyebrows drawn together. “You look...sad. I sometimes connect to people. I can’t read your mind, but I’m good at reading emotions.”
He shrugged. “Body language.”
“As good an explanation as any. In your case, I can see that you’re carrying a lot of weight on your shoulders.”
He shook his head. “Not really. I’m doing something that fulfills me.”
“Perhaps, but that doesn’t mean it’s a light load.” Her eyes looked far away for a moment, giving him a freakish feeling that he could reach out to where she sat and touch air. “I think what you’re doing is important. It doesn’t just fulfill you, it fulfills many people.”
He felt stunned, his breath stuck in his throat. Her words too much right now. He felt like bolting.
She blinked, as if she’d traveled back to the diner from whatever dimension her mind had gone. “I scared you. I didn’t mean to.”
“Not at all,” he said, an automatic denial, though she scared the hell out of him. “I
t’s more grandiose and bigger than I’ve been thinking, but I wouldn’t mind if you’re right.”
“I usually am.” She smiled sadly and leaned forward as if to share a secret. “But I can’t tell you how socially awkward it is.”
He laughed as the waitress brought her tea. “How’s Trish doing?” he asked. “And the babies?”
“Trish is recovering. One of the babies didn’t make it.”
He winced, and she reached across and squeezed his hand. “You were a big help. What you and the villagers did was something special. And everyone who shared money or good wishes. To have that many people help them was empowering. The work on their new house is already started. We want to get it done before it snows.”
He winced again, and she made a face. “It’s that time of year, though with global warming...” She raised her eyebrows, her expression resigned yet smiling. “I’ve been following your videos of the children with cancer. They’re heartbreaking and brilliant. And often inspirational. I believe anyone who watches them will want to be a better person. I know I do.”
“I’m glad you got that. I always wanted to tell stories that would rivet people, shock or awe them. Be so powerful it would change lives.” He stopped and scratched his neck behind his ear. “That kind of sounds like I want to be God.”
She reached out and touched his hand for a second, and he breathed easier, as if her touch infused comfort into him. “We’re all pieces of the higher power,” she said. “The universe. God. Yahweh. Whatever you want to call it.”
“So we’re all one big Yahweh puzzle?”
Her eyes glowed with gentle humor. “That’s humanity for you. We keep finding the pieces that fit.”
“I’m not having too much luck with that lately. I wish your higher power would show me where some of the pieces are hiding.”
“Or give you a kick in the ass.”
He half smiled. “If that’s what it takes. Right now I feel like I belong to two puzzles instead of one. And if I go with one, I’ll miss the other.”
