by Hinze, Vicki
For the next three days, he was there when they visited. So was a sullen Sam, and a much more relaxed Blair. Katie had told C.D. about the agreement she’d struck with Blair and that Blair’s selflessness awed her. While C.D. admired Blair and agreed she’d handled this like a class act, he wasn’t so altruistic as to think she hadn’t been acting in a manner consistent with achieving her goals. And she had.
Fortunately, Katie understood that, too.
It was on day three that the kids finally relaxed. And it brought C.D. an enormous amount of satisfaction to know that he was the catalyst.
C.D. had asked Jake if he enjoyed watching the surfers at the beach. To his surprise, Jake and Molly had reacted with unabashed enthusiasm. Katie talked about her love for the sport, and the rest was history. The kids were enchanted.
"I can't believe you like to surf." Jake laughed aloud.
"Your mother is an excellent surfer. She rides a mean boogie board, too." Sam smiled. "Remember our trip to Hawaii?"
"I remember." Katie laughed and looked at Jake. "Your father got sunburned on the first day, and had to watch me have fun from the balcony in our room for the rest of the week."
Even Blair smiled. "I hate break this up, but Molly has piano lessons in thirty minutes."
"You guys go ahead," Sam said. "C.D., will you give us a few minutes?"
"Sure." C.D. gave Katie a reassuring smile, wishing he felt a little more comfortable about leaving her alone with His Majesty. There was something in the man’s tone that warned C.D. this wouldn't be an easy conversation for Katie.
Katie felt C.D.’s concern, and shared it, though a secret part of her hoped that this was no more than Sam remembering that today was a special day—at least to her. Her birthday—the first since coming home. But that, he’d have mentioned in front of the kids and C.D., so the hope that he’d remembered quickly fell and apprehension filled hope’s space.
She watched Blair and the kids leave her hospital room, and then looked at Sam. Deeper disappointment settled in. It was clear from his expression, he was about to level her with legalese.
His hands in his pockets, Sam walked closer to her chair. The skin between his brows knitted, and tension lined his face. "Katie, I wish this could wait until you're released from the hospital. I know that this is a difficult time for you. But Dr. Muldoon feels it's best for me to address these things now, while you’re here and he can help you through them in every way possible."
"If you're going to tell me that you've decided to stay married to Blair, I already know it."
Surprise floated across his face. "Have you and Blair discussed this?"
Katie groaned. "Give me some credit, Sam. You show up once in the first three days I'm here, and then never by yourself. It doesn't take a genius to figure it out."
He didn't acknowledge or confirm her suspicions. He did sigh. "The truth is, as fabulous as your return is, it’s put the family in a precarious financial position." He sat down on the edge of the bed, the only other available seat in the room. "When Blair and I got married, I used your life insurance benefits to supplement and bought the new house." He lifted a hand. "Now, I’m going to have to sell it to pay back the insurance company and give you your half of our joint assets."
She couldn’t believe it. Just couldn’t believe it. How could this really be happening? She’s married to this man for thirteen years—thirteen years—and the best she deserves from him is a backdoor notice that he's going to divorce her and for him to talk about how her not being dead has put him in a financial bind? All he can talk to her about are material things? Money?
Irritated and annoyed, hurt and disillusioned, Katie confronted him. "What exactly did the lawyer tell you, Sam? Or do I need to hire one of my own to make sure I hear the truth?"
"I have to repay the insurance company, give you your half of our joint assets and reasonable visitation rights. As soon as our divorce is final, I'm going to remarry Blair. For the children's sake, I would like for you to be there, so that they know you approve and I'm not abandoning you."
Katie stared at him a long moment. "Isn't that exactly what you're doing?" Shaking inside, she stood up and moved to the window to look outside, her heart so heavy she could barely breathe. "I don't blame you. Blair is a wonderful woman. She’s been a good mother to the children, and I'm sure she’s a good wife to you. But truth is truth, and you are walking out on me, Sam. I don't want to make things difficult for the children, but I won't lie to them to make things easier for you, either. They deserve more from their parents than that, and they’ll be getting more from me.”
Discarded. Thrown away. Unworthy.
Katie felt it all, and her heart rebelled. What had she done to deserve this?
Nothing. Sam was being Sam. Rebuilding his life, rearranging their situation into one that was acceptable to him. Making all right in his world. It wasn’t selfishness—it genuinely and truly wasn’t, and no one understood that better than Katie except maybe Blair. It was his nature. His insatiable need for order.
That which is endured is conquered.
It was raining outside. Huge drops pelted against the glass in front of Katie and splattered. "I know you don't mean to come across like an unfeeling jerk. It’s just that you have your priorities, and I'm not one of them." She turned from the window to face him. "But you have to understand, Sam. While you were busy building a new life, I clung tenaciously to the old one to survive. So this is hard for me." Grief had her throat thick.
"I know it is.” He closed his eyes for a brief second and then went on. “It's hard for me, too. I love you. I love the children. I love Blair. I don’t want to hurt anyone, and I don’t want to be hurt. But no matter what I do, people are hurt, Katie.” He slid a hand into his pocket, chose his words carefully. “This is going to sound hard, and I don’t mean for it to, but it is the truth and it must be said.”
“Just do it.” She folded her arms over her chest and braced for the assault and the pain in it sure to come.
“We’re different now, and the life we had no longer exists. I know you think I’m only worried about myself, but that isn’t true. I swear, I'm thinking about the children, and Blair and you, too."
His mind was made up. And even if it wasn’t, hers was. Her womanly pride was wounded by his preference for Blair, but not to the extent of “divorce.” Yet that was the path ahead of her; no way around it. And that too must be accepted. "What about my back pay?" she asked. "Do I have to split that with you as joint assets, too?"
Sam frowned. "Technically, yes. But I can't do that to you, Katie. You have to build a new life. You need a home. You need a new career. I just can't do that, and Blair agrees it wouldn’t be right."
Maybe he wasn't being such a total jerk, after all.
They talked specific figures, and Katie did the math in her head. Half of their joint assets and half of six years’ pay equated to a whole lot more than the insurance repayment. He had to sell the house to buy her out. The kids would have to move, and then that too would be her fault. Leaving friends, changing schools, different neighborhoods—more major upset. No way. Not on her behalf. "Don't sell the house, Sam.”
“There’s no way I can afford to keep it and do all this.”
“Yes, there is,” she contradicted him. "You can pay me back over the next twenty years. Or we can consider the insurance payment child support and my contribution to the children's college funds."
"You would do that?" Jaw open, he looked at her, clearly shocked.
"A move now, when so much else is changing, would be really difficult for the children. I think they’re facing enough challenges without adding that one. They need stability to feel safe and secure, and home is where they’ll most feel it.”
“You’re sure?” Sam's eyes shone overly bright.
“Positive.” She lifted her chin. “It’s best for the children.”
Tears ran down his face, and the emotion that she had not seen in him since returning became app
arent now. "I’m sorry for the way things have worked out. I know you have to be disappointed.”
Disappointed? Try devastated. Try desolate and lost and empty and abandoned and alone. Come on, Sam. Get real. Disappointed is not being able to get a flight reservation when you want one or an appointment with your hairdresser or to fly the type of plane you want to fly. This is far too big for just disappointed.
“I loved you, Katie.” He paused, cleared his throat. “After you died, I just drifted trying to get from one day to the next. The kids needed someone, I needed someone, and then Blair came into our world and brought us all back to life.” He paused. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but the truth is she’s a remarkable woman and I owe her so much. I love her, Katie. I—I can’t give her up.”
But you can give me up.
Inside, Katie wept. This other woman, this good woman who loves and is loved by her husband and children, had been living Katie's life and she would continue to be loved and live it. And there was nothing Katie could do but accept that, too.
Resentment burned in her stomach. What did she lack? Was it the idea of what had happened to her while she had been held prisoner? Did Sam consider her damaged goods? Did the site of her repulse him? She wanted to know, ached to know and maybe even needed to know, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask him. She didn’t have that much courage.
The expression on Sam's face turned tense, wary and weary. "I know you think I'm disgusting, because of what I'm doing. But I hope that in time you'll come to agree that it's the right thing for us all."
“I hope you’re right.” It would take time to decipher how she really felt about that comment. Time and perspective.
Katie sat back down in her chair, folded her hands in her lap and looked up at Sam. Her heart felt hollow, as if all the love that had at once been at home there had been carved out. All that was left was huge gaping hole.
That was ridiculous, of course. She still loved her children, and Sam and C.D., but for so long loving had brought her nothing but pain. Painful memories. Painful abstinence. And now painful loss.
She looked Sam right in the eye. "I loved you, too. But that was in another place and time." Stretching, she managed a weak grin. "Actually, in another lifetime."
Sam looked away. "Truthfully, I'm going to have to learn how to not love you, Katie." He shrugged. "Blair says that's impossible and even if it weren’t, it’d be a disgrace for a man not to love the mother of his children. I think I agree with that, but I also know I can't love two women." He let out a laugh that held no humor, and self-depreciating wasn't his style, which proved exactly how upset he was about all of this.
"Oh, I don't know about that. One thing I learned in the prison camp was to accept the inevitable. The heart is resilient, and it makes up its own mind. It has abilities to forgive, heal and recover—amazing abilities that exceed anything you could possibly imagine without being under extreme duress.”
She paused, gauging his reaction. "I’d say that a man can love many women at one time, but no sane man would welcome being in love with two women at once. The women wouldn’t much like it, either.”
“I’m sure they wouldn’t.”
She tilted her head. “Yet we both know that isn't the case here, so let's don't insult each other by pretending that it is." In a petty moment, she bet herself he never forgot Blair’s birthday.
Sam nodded. "I don't have the wisdom that comes with your experience. I suspect you paid a steep price for it.”
“Indeed, I did.” She agreed. Everything. She’d paid everything.
“I'm adjusting, Katie. There is no perfect solution, but I’m doing the best I can, and I'm trying to do right by you. I can't say that I know for fact what right is, but I am trying."
“I know you are.” She said and believed it. Standing up, she faced him. "This will all be easier for everyone, if you remember two things. Are you willing to hear them?”
He hesitated only a slight second. “Yes.”
Satisfied, she went on. “One, be honest with me at all times, even if you think telling me the truth is brutal. And two, accept that while we aren’t the people we were back then, we are the people we’ve become, and those people are and always will be the parents of two very beautiful children. First and foremost, we are parents and we do what is best for them.”
Sam stood silently. For a long moment, they just stared into each other’s eyes. In his, Katie saw her past and her present—her life as it had been. She loved Sam. She wasn’t in love with Sam. Had she been? Ever? Or had she been a young woman structuring her vision of her perfect life from a list she’d created as a child?
She’d been proud of Sam, respected him for being a doctor dedicated to healing. She’d loved the looks of him, the smiles and feel of him. But the woman she was now recognized what the young woman she had been hadn’t seen or grasped. Weighing all she had felt and all she felt now—none of it rose to the level of being in love with him.
The shock of it thundered through her body, crashed through the chambers of her heart, sizzled along her skin and stung her fingers and toes. She wanted to deny it, tried to deny it, but it was true. A look from Sam didn’t make her heart race, or her mouth dry. The sight of him didn’t ignite a fire in her blood or passion in her soul. The thought of him didn’t make her eager just for the sight of him.
Oh, yes. The people they had become were different: with different lives now, and definitely with different, separate futures. Neither of them had asked for any of this, and if this hadn’t happened, then they likely would have stayed married forever. But this had happened, and here they were.
Like her, Sam was a casualty of war.
So was their marriage. And what they made of their lives now was up to each of them. Now, each of them had to look ahead and move forward. Not from where they had been, but from where they each stood now. “This is for the best, Sam.”
“Yes.” A tear rolled down his cheek and he reached for her hand. "You're a remarkable woman, too, Katie. Never doubt that.” Lifted to his lips, he kissed her knuckles. "Thank you for everything."
Pretending not to see his tears, she nodded. There was nothing more to say.
Sam turned and left her room.
When the door closed behind him, Katie grieved. She mourned what had ended, and what had never been.
She mourned that she had lived so much of her life unaware of all that had been missing.
* * *
Katie faced the window and watched it rain.
The door behind her opened, and Ashley came in, tucking an envelope into her jacket pocket and carrying a fast food sack. Smiling, she walked over. “I wanted to slip in before C.D. returned to bring you some fuel.” She passed the bag.
“Thanks.” Katie smiled. “You’re something else.”
“Yeah.” Ashley grinned. “With women, it’s best to check. Do you love or hate birthdays?”
Katie stilled. She used to love them, then she was ambivalent about them—Sam never was good with dates—and today she was too upset to really give a flying fig. “Gee, I don’t know. I’m going to have to think about it.”
“Well, don’t strain yourself,” Ashley said wryly. “So long as you don’t hate them, happy birthday, Katie.” She smiled and passed the card.
Her gaze locked with Ashley’s. Katie’s throat thickened. A lavender envelope. Her first card in six years. “Thank you, Ashley.” A woman she’d known a little over a week had treated her with more compassion and kindness and thoughtfulness than the man she’d been married to for thirteen years.
Tears blurred her vision and Katie blinked hard, tucked the card into her nightstand, wanting to savor it when alone.
Ashley’s beeper went off, and with an eye roll, she said, “I’ve got a schedule break,” she said. “I’ll see you in three days, but if you need me, you’ve got my cell number. Just call,” and then she rushed out.
Katie crossed her arms and held them tightly against her chest a
nd leaned her forehead against the spotted glass. The window was cold against her forehead, and she silently wondered if she could freeze her thoughts to get a minute or two of reprieve from her life. So many thoughts crowded her mind. She just needed…
Someone tapped on the door.
“Yes?” Katie responded, lost in the gloominess of the slate sky and heavy weeping clouds. Feeling battered and weary, she turned to see who had come into the room. "C.D." Eagerly, she rushed to him, locked him in a hug, and held on tight.
He closed his arms around her, pulled her to him. "Hey, there. You’re shaking, Angel. What did His Majesty do now?”
She thought she had cried herself out, but apparently she hadn't. Hot tears choked her, flowed down her face. "Sam's divorcing me. He—he’s staying with Blair." She let out a broken sob. “If you say the best woman won, I’m going to slug you, C.D.”
“She did—in getting rid of him.” C.D. stroked her hair. “Sorry, I’m ticked off at the man right now.”
“Be ticked off later. It’s my turn, and I need sympathy.”
“Okay. Okay.” He smiled against her hair. "I'm sorry, honey.”
"You’re not, you liar, but I adore you for saying you are, anyway.” She sniffled against his shirt. He smelled so good. Warm and damp from being outside and some faint, subtle cologne she didn’t recognize. “I expected it, but still…”
"I know." C.D. sighed. "It's a pretty lousy homecoming gift. If I could change it, I would." He passed her his handkerchief.
She swiped at her eyes, and sniffed. Bereft and abandoned, hollow and on her own, she ached from the heart out, and she dared to whisper her deepest fear. "Sam and the kids… I—I think they would have been better off if I had stayed dead.” A deep sob tore loose and ripped at her throat.
“No. No, Katie, that’s not true.” C.D. pulled her closer, rubbed soothing circles on her back. "That could never be true." He shook against her. "You’ve had way too much thrown at you too fast. I could stomp the sand out of Sam for that. But done is done, and it can’t be changed now.” C.D. tugged her closer still. “I know this with him is hard. It’s all hard, honey. But you said it yourself last night. You’re different now.” C.D. took the handkerchief from her and gently dabbed at her eyes. “The thing is, you and Sam have always been different. You just didn’t see it then.”