“Okay, weirdo.” Kate shook her head and hid a smile at his nervousness. “But you should probably go dump those martinis first, for real.”
Chris gasped. “Yes! Oh, man. There is so much alcohol in this place and so many kids. Do you not childproof before they come over?” He hurried into the kitchen.
Kate took a seat among the girls. “Hey, guys. I have a friend who’s going to join us tonight, if that’s okay with you.”
“Is he your boyfriend?” Abbi asked her. The rest of the girls giggled.
“No,” Kate smiled. “He’s…” Yikes, how am I going to explain this? “He’s just a friend,” she finished. “But be nice to him, okay? He’s a little nervous about being around so many brilliant, well-read girls.”
The group laughed, and most puffed up with pride. When Chris joined them, there were some giggles, but they quieted down quickly in an effort to appear mature in front of a new club inductee. The group went over the book as far as they had read, and discussed the various themes and parallels. As the evening wore on, Chris became more and more involved in the discussions.
“So, I have a question about Aunt Lydia,” Abbi spoke up. “I mean, like…how can she just be so cool with what’s happening in Gilead? She’s a woman, too.”
“I think that’s kinda what happens when you believe in something like religion,” ventured Sarah. “Because it’s supposed to be bigger than any one person, so like…remember when we talked about how everyone is the protagonist of their own story? It’s like they aren’t, God is. So in her mind, everything she’s doing is for that higher purpose.”
“That’s the danger of complacency, as well,” Chris interjected. “The patriarchy was always in place to some extent, even before Gilead was Gilead. That kind of dynamic can become so deeply ingrained in people’s minds that they don’t even consider questioning the status quo. In a million little ways, Aunt Lydia was taught that women are meant to serve a specific purpose and be subservient to men, and this is just a different way of living that reality.”
“I think in Aunt Lydia’s mind, she was a feminist,” Kate countered. “She truly believed that bearing a child is the greatest purpose on earth, and only a woman can take on that role in the new society. She thought training handmaids was a privilege of the highest order, and that the girls were just misguided when they didn’t see the virtue in their new function.”
“What?” Chris was indignant. “How can you call Lydia a feminist? That’s insane. You’re insane. Did you read the book?” Turning to Abbi, he demanded, “Do you think she read the book? Kate’s phoning it in, guys. She probably just watched the show.” The girls giggled at Chris’s theatrics, and Kate rolled her eyes good-naturedly, secretly delighted that the group was enjoying Chris’s company so much.
When the carpool mom for the night arrived (Abbi’s mom, who looked Chris up and down like he was a snack cake and lingered for a little too long in the entryway), the girls were all absolutely smitten with him.
“Promise you’ll come back next week!” Julie Cott demanded of him. “Promise!”
“I promise,” Chris held up two fingers in a Scout salute. “I’ll bring the pretzels.”
“You were great with them,” Kate told him as she closed the door behind the last girl.
“You were great with them,” Chris corrected her. “They really love you. I can’t believe I didn’t know your book club was all kids.”
“Yeah, it’s just a little thing I started a few years ago,” Kate shrugged. “Giving back to the community, we do some volunteer work every so often, promote literacy. You know.”
Chris smiled. “I had a teacher kinda like you once,” he said thoughtfully, then shook his head. “Well, I mean, you’re a lot prettier than Mrs. Allen, but she was big on reading, too.”
Kate blushed. “Oh? I’m prettier than Mrs. Allen, huh?”
Chris averted his gaze for a moment when he realized what he said, then he looked back at Kate with his signature intensity, staring at her like he was seeing her for the first time. “Yeah. You are,” he said, his smile returning. “A whole lot.”
The two stared at each other for a moment, both processing what Chris had just said and wracking their brains trying to figure out what he meant by that. Kate broke the silence first.
“Well…thank you. I’m going to head to bed and read for a bit now, so…good night.”
“’Night,” Chris replied.
As Kate crawled into her bed and Chris collapsed on the couch, both smacked their foreheads with the heel of their hand and shared a thought: Idiot!
10
Rodney stared up at the stained popcorn ceiling of the tiny motel room. He couldn’t afford anything in the city, even a dirty little claptrap room like this, so he settled for New Jersey. He thought again of the review, something his mind couldn’t stop turning over and worrying at like a chew toy. Rodney couldn’t believe Katherine Burt had decimated his manuscript like that. He had published work before, of course he wasn’t so naïve as to think that his very first foray into novel writing would make him a literary star. All his other works had received quiet acclaim, nothing remarkably profitable or noteworthy, but positive reactions from the few who read them. Days by the Pond had been Rodney baring his truest self to the world, and Katherine Burt, the revered, the feared, Katherine Burt had ripped him to shreds.
Rodney remembered a time when Katherine’s column hadn’t been as needlessly cruel, as terribly vicious, as it was now. Katherine had always been known as a tough but fair critic, enacting her role as a top authority on popular literature with dignity and integrity. He’d seen the swing of the column to a snarkier, harder-to-please place, but never had he seen a column in which she so mercilessly buried a story. And it was Rodney’s work she buried.
Had Katherine ever lost something dear to her? He doubted it. Women like Katherine Burt—people like Katherine Burt—were winners, not losers. Well, she would lose something soon enough. Rodney was going to make sure of that. Katherine Burt, Queen of that Mean Scene, was damn sure going to lose something because of all this.
Rodney just had to find her, first.
11
The next morning, Kate woke and ambled her way to the kitchen, bleary-eyed. She was not surprised to see Chris already sitting at the kitchen island, knowing that part of Chris taking his job seriously was waking up before Kate, although she herself was an early riser.
“’Morning,” Kate yawned, pouring herself a cup of coffee and rubbing her eyes. She’d been up late the night before, tossing and turning. Life had become so strangely disorganized lately that Kate hadn’t realized the Fourth of July was coming up fast—in fact, it was the next day. She had been so close to forgetting the day as a whole that she had almost made it right to the fifth without feeling the pain of grief over another holiday without Aiden. And then, just when she had been ready to put down her phone and head to bed, the date had caught her eye.
“Kate, I’ve got some bad news,” Chris said seriously.
Kate glanced at him, and realized he had been sitting there waiting for her. There was no orange juice or grapefruit in front of him for breakfast, no newspaper spread out before him, not even any candy scattered on the counter. He had been sitting there, waiting for her to come out so he could talk to her.
Her heartbeat sped up, and she felt clammy. Oh God, was there another flaming bag outside? She wondered in panic. “What, Chris? You’re making me nervous.”
Chris didn’t tell her not to be nervous. “My buddy from Arkansas called me back. Rodney Wash hasn’t been home all week. His mother said he’s come to New York to-” Chris sighed. “To talk to someone about a book review.”
Kate’s jaw dropped, and she scoffed in disbelief. “What?” Considering this information, Kate supposed it was strange that she was surprised. After all, she had been operating under the assumption that someone was out to get her. The rat bag hadn’t lit itself on fire and crawled to her doorstep, and the death threat ha
dn’t written itself. Someone was behind these things. And yet, the knowledge of that someone being Rodney Wash, a man who had written the most disturbingly vivid, nightmarish stories of random violence and torture, was so much worse than a hypothetical someone.
Chris stood and approached her. “Kate, the important thing to remember is that we can’t be sure that Wash is behind these things,” he said, as if he could read her mind. Planting himself in front of her and forcing her to meet his eyes, he spoke clearly. “Do you understand that?”
Kate laughed humorlessly. “Uh, okay, Chris. So I have two people after me?”
Chris didn’t smile. “Yeah. Let’s hope, after reading Wash’s stuff.” He shuddered. “I should be charging O’Bannon hazard pay, because he’s probably going to make me watch while he eats you.”
Shocked, Kate stared for a moment before bursting into helpless laughter. Chris maintaining his sense of humor during what was otherwise not-great news would be infuriating if she wasn’t so confident in his abilities. He’s a great bodyguard, Kate decided. He’s just cocky enough that you know he’s good at his job. He makes me feel…well, safe.
“Don’t worry, boss lady. If he gets close enough, I’ll sort this out with him myself before we slap him with a stalking charge. Really, if he does approach you, I’ll shut him down before you even see him, and then I’ll be out of your hair for good.”
Still chuckling, Kate began toasting a bagel. “I can’t believe you made me laugh after that, when I woke up in an already crappy mood.”
“Why crappy?” Chris asked, plucking an orange from the fruit bowl on the counter. “Didn’t sleep so good?”
Kate shook her head. “No, it’s just…I thought I was going to get past the Fourth of July without thinking of Aiden, and…” she shrugged. “I didn’t. That would have been my sign that I’m going in the right direction, and really moving on, you know? I guess I’m not doing as well as I thought.”
Chris raised an eyebrow. “Fourth of July isn’t exactly known for being such a romantic holiday,” he noted.
“It was for us. Fourth of July in New York, there isn’t really a lot to do here, is there? It’s not like when I was a kid and my family would go to the cottage on the lake, and light off fireworks and have a barbecue. I really enjoyed those days. When Aiden and I moved to the city, we made plans to go meet my parents out at the cottage for the Fourth, but we ran out of money on that big city living and had to stay here. I was a little sad about it, and Aiden wanted to cheer me up.” She smiled at the memory. “So he went out and picked me a huge bouquet of wildflowers. He said he did, anyway, but I know he just begged some street vendors for their loose castoffs. Either way, it was beautiful. Better than any fireworks. So every year, he would get me my big, colorful bouquet. And then, two years ago, on July fourth, he proposed to me.”
Chris’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry, Kate.”
“Thanks. It’s okay, though. One day it won’t bother me anymore, and I just won’t acknowledge the day.”
Chris shook his head vehemently. “That’s not the way to do it. You don’t start a new life hiding from the hurt of the old one. You have to face it to move on, Kate. And then, when you’re ready to start living again, you’ve gotta actually live. Just because the Fourth of July was a big day in your old life doesn’t mean you can’t take it with you and make it a part of your new one, too. You wanna start fresh, you have to start fresh. Not with holes all over where things used to be.” He paused, thinking. “Am I making sense?”
Kate shrugged. “Hell if I know. I haven’t had my coffee yet.”
But she found herself thinking throughout the day of what Chris had said, or had been trying to say. It made sense, didn’t it? Moving on didn’t need to mean leaving Aiden behind; it just meant that his memory would have to fit into her life instead of the other way around.
“I want to go somewhere,” Kate told Chris after he had returned from a routine building check.
“Okay,” he said, agreeably. “Where?”
***
“So, here I am,” Kate finished relating the tale of the morning in the warm, quiet stillness of the cemetery. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”
She stared at the small polished stone bearing Aiden’s name. For over a year she had been struck paralyzed by fear thinking of that very moment, standing where Aiden was buried. And now that she was actually there, she was surprised to find it wasn’t so bad. It was peaceful, in fact. Holly had been right when she assured Kate that Aiden’s final resting place was a lovely spot, when not overrun with mourners and a fresh wound in the earth waiting to swallow the casket.
Kate looked around, taking in the expansive view of lush green grass dotted by memorial markers, and exhaled deeply. Chris waited for her a respectful distance away, keeping watch. It wasn’t necessary; the military end of the cemetery was the busy side this weekend, and that was on the far north side. Aiden was buried on the south.
When he had died, several active duty members, friends of Aiden’s who had worked with him over the years for his documentation of the war overseas, had lobbied for Aiden to be buried on the north side, but Kate had declined. Aiden never failed to make it clear to everyone that he was a civilian, and his business in the war zones was strictly to bring the grim reality of combat home, where it couldn’t be forgotten.
“I wish you had never taken that assignment,” Kate said softly. “And you were still here with me.” She blinked against the sudden sting of tears, but they began to fall anyway. “I wish I had made you stay.”
She had wanted to, in fact. Before Aiden had gone on what would be his final assignment, Kate had considered asking him not to go. She had wanted him to register for their wedding shower with her, but felt guilty about wanting her brave fiancé to put off his important work to engage in such a trivial activity. And so she had said nothing, kissed him good-bye, and let him fly off to get killed by a mortar attack in some country she’d never seen. The guilt of having said nothing was a large part of the pain Kate still felt.
“I think I’ve been a worse person since you’ve been gone,” Kate paused. “I know I have, actually. I don’t know how to be me without you, Aid. I don’t know what kind of person I am, and I’m scared it’s not a good one. But…but I’m going to try to be better. I’m going to try to be a whole person, and not just a half that’s missing the best part. I’m going to get comfortable with you being gone.
“I’ll always love you,” she added. “And I’m never going to forget you, never. I know I’ll always feel you in everything I do, I just…need to start doing something.”
Bending down, she pressed her fingers to her lips, and touched the headstone. She could almost see Aiden’s smile. Kate felt as though a small weight, maybe a barbell of guilt, had lifted off her soul.
Coming to the cemetery had always felt to Kate like an impossible hurdle, and now it was a peaceful reality, and she had no doubt that was an important part of the healing process. Even so, she knew she had unfinished business with her tragic past, and wasn’t completely ready to let go of all of her life with Aiden, despite what she had said. What Kate wanted, more than anything, was some sort of sign from Aiden that it was okay for her to move on. She needed to know that it was all right, and she hadn’t felt anything like that while standing at his grave. Still, Kate thought. At least now I know I can come visit him and it’s not the end of the world.
“How did it go?” Chris asked, pulling the Tootsie pop from his mouth as she joined him near the entrance. “How do you feel?”
“Good.” Kate smiled. “Better, anyway. Happy I finally made it here.” She took a deep breath, enjoying the smell of the sun-dappled day. “It feels so good to be out of the apartment. Can we stay out for a bit?”
Chris considered Kate’s request. He knew, technically, being outside of the apartment for too long wasn’t the wisest choice, given what they knew about Wash allegedly coming to New York. He had given Kate that information because he
didn’t think it fair to withhold relevant information from his clients, and also because he wanted Kate to take the matter seriously and not let her guard down. Truthfully, though, Chris didn’t believe Kate was in any real danger.
When he had first read Days by the Pond, Chris was concerned that the clearly disturbed mind behind the words would escalate the situation to a dangerous level. The more he thought about it, though, the less likely it seemed. His private belief was that Wash, a man with no criminal history, had been so embarrassed by Kate’s review that he told his mother he was coming to New York to set the record straight, all bluster and bravado, but Wash was really hiding out somewhere close to home, licking his wounds in private. The death threat was probably just a heat of the moment, ill thought out temper tantrum from some local writer. And the flaming bag? Well, that could have been anyone. Wash certainly hadn’t appeared to take credit for it, and for all they knew it could have been meant for one of Kate’s neighbors and ended up outside her door by mistake. It was a possibility, however slim.
Chris didn’t want to minimize the potential risks involved with Kate’s particular situation, but he also trusted his gut, and his gut said that Kate was safe. He wasn’t going to tell her that and potentially cause her to behave carelessly, but he also wasn’t going to keep her a prisoner in her apartment.
“Where do you want to go?” he asked. “Yoga?”
Kate threw her head back and laughed. Chris watched her, smiling. She was a beautiful woman, but when she laughed, she became gorgeous. Every so often in Chris’s life, he had come across a person who possessed a laugh that was better than any joke, a laugh so musical and genuine that it made him want to make them laugh all the more. Kate had a laugh like that, and it made Chris want to plunge his hands into her hair, to feel her body vibrate with the joy she unleashed in her laugh. “Yeah, maybe. You want to go to yoga with me?”
The Book Critic's Bodyguard Page 7