The Book Critic's Bodyguard

by Michele Ciuzwo

  Chris looked at his phone. That’s exactly what I need right now, he thought. Something to keep me busy. Seattle, here I come. He quickly packed up his bag and headed for the door, hesitating before leaving. His eyes flicked from Kate’s bedroom to the front door, and he felt a nagging voice inside urging him not to just leave. Sighing, he scribbled a note on the kitchen counter and stuck it to the refrigerator. There. He wasn’t abandoning her, he was allowing her to heal on her own time…no matter how much it hurt him to do so.

  24

  Kate awoke with a jolt to the sound of her apartment door shutting. Stretching, she glanced at her clock and nearly fell out of the bed. “That can’t be right,” she muttered blearily. “How did I sleep so late?” Sitting up, she smiled as she watched tiny dust particles dancing in the sunbeams. It was a beautiful day, and Kate was excited to live it. Waking up without a hole in her heart felt foreign in a wonderful way, like the first time Kate had tried authentic Vietnamese food, or mastered a few French phrases. She felt awake.

  Rolling out of bed, Kate picked up the dress and put it neatly back in the garment bag. “You’re going to make some woman very happy,” she said, and patted it fondly. It’s getting donated today, no doubt about that, she thought with satisfaction. She threw on a change of clothes, having fallen asleep still wearing her outfit from the day before, and plodded down the hallway in search of Chris and coffee, in that order.

  She got to the kitchen and stopped, puzzled. Breakfast was ready, from the smell and the look of the place. Why didn’t he wake me? She wondered. A book was standing on the island between two plates, and Kate picked it up. Flowers for Algernon…because that’s where a flower would go, Kate laughed aloud, delighted by the sound of her own happiness echoing in the room.

  “Chris?” she called, checking the living room. “You didn’t have to make breakfast, but I’m not going to complain. The book was a nice touch! Very cute. Chris? Chris…?”

  Confused, Kate searched the apartment. He wasn’t there. Maybe he’s out getting juice or something? She grabbed her phone out of her coat pocket and groaned in frustration. Dead. She was always forgetting to plug it in. The charger was in the kitchen, next to the refrigerator. Once her phone was connected, she looked up and saw the note Chris had left.

  Kate- Seattle job started early. Didn’t want to wake you up. Enjoy breakfast, and next time I’m in town we will definitely get together for lunch. Take care of yourself. -Chris

  Frowning, Kate surveyed the scene in the kitchen before turning back and reading the note again. ‘Take care of yourself? She thought, bewildered. And lunch next time he’s in town? That’s quite the cool down from making date plans last night. Kate looked around again, scanning the room for clues. Maybe he had gotten more information about the job in Seattle and decided it couldn’t wait? Did he think twice about wanting to start something with her? How could a man have gotten scared off so easily between making breakfast and her waking up?

  Kate shook her head. The whole situation was so odd, it was hard for her to feel any particular way about it. I feel…numb? It occurred to Kate that this would be the first test of her commitment to her new life, of her ability to cope with a distressing situation without falling apart, and she intended to pass it. If she was going to be hurt, she was going to deal with it with a little grace. Her appetite gone, Kate silently cleaned up the kitchen, throwing away the eggs, toast, and bacon Chris had cooked so perfectly. She scrubbed the kitchen island, the stovetop, and the refrigerator. As she always did when she was upset or hurt, Kate threw herself into work.

  “Fine,” she muttered to herself, at last standing up and surveying her now sparkling kitchen. “You don’t want to be here? Fine. I didn’t ask you to be here, anyway.” Kate grabbed her keys off the counter and slipped on her shoes. She was hungry, starving even, but her stubborn streak was glad she hadn’t eaten Chris’s betrayal breakfast. Besides, she thought loftily, I’m in the mood for a doughnut, anyway.

  Kate stepped out of the building into blinding sunlight. Squinting, she shielded her eyes from the harsh glare of the sun and checked up and down the street for the cop car Officer Podeco had told her would be posted outside, but saw nothing. Well, it’s the NYPD, she thought, shrugging her shoulders. I’m sure they have more pressing matters to deal with. Rather than frighten her, the thought made her feel more secure in her safety. If the police thought there was a real threat to her life, they would surely stick around.

  Kate slipped on the sunglasses she had in her bag, and began walking confidently east. One finger was hooked through the hanger in the garment bag slung over her shoulder. She checked the address written on a small scrap of paper just once, and soon she was standing in front of the small brick building with a handwritten sign reading Something Old, Something New.

  Kate opened the door and a bell twinkled merrily. Rows of wedding dresses glittered and glowed in the soft sunlight, and several groups of women were milling around the racks, holding up gowns and chattering happily. Some of the women were wearing bandanas, and some looked gaunt, but all were smiling.

  “Can I help you?” A woman with long gray hair in a hanging braid approached Kate, her smile making her eyes crinkle at the corners.

  Kate returned the smile. “Yes, actually. I have a wedding dress I wanted to drop off.” She held out the garment bag, anticipating a pang of guilt or reluctance, but nothing came.

  The gray haired woman took the bag and motioned for Kate to follow her to the counter. Unzipping the bag, she examined the dress and let out a low whistle. “Oh, my. This is in excellent condition!” She turned it over, marveling. “And it’s designer. It’s very generous of you to donate a dress like this. What did you say your name was?”

  “I didn’t. I’m Kate Burt.”

  The woman stuck out her hand, and Kate shook it. “I’m Nadia Turke. I run this shop, and I’m just so pleased you brought this dress in when you did! I’m leaving to speak for a breast cancer symposium this weekend in Las Vegas, and I would have been disappointed not to thank you in person for such a lovely contribution. How did you hear about us, Kate?”

  Kate shrugged. “I really just Googled wedding dress donation sites.” She looked around. “I’m embarrassed to say I didn’t search out any specific mission for a donation center, but I wanted it to go towards something good.”

  Nadia smiled warmly. “Oh, don’t be embarrassed. We appreciate your donation! Something Old is a nonprofit for women battling cancer, whether the diagnosis is for them or their partners. Takes a little of the financial burden out of wedding planning, on top of kicking cancer’s ass.”

  Kate’s eyes widened. “That’s fantastic,” she replied, awed. “Do you run this place?”

  “Myself and a team. My wife and I started Something Old after her double mastectomy six years ago. I had mine in ’97. We got married ourselves in 2015, the second it was legalized. We had two years of wedded bliss before she passed.” Nadia gestured to a framed picture behind her. Nadia and another woman stood in wedding dresses, toasting with champagne flutes. The other woman was bald, with a pearl headpiece crowning her. She looked impossibly thin and impossibly happy.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Kate said softly. “She looks like she was a lovely person.”

  Nadia didn’t lose her smile. “She was,” she agreed. “And don’t be sorry. The way I see it, any moment of happiness we get in this life is one more moment than the world owes us.” Turning her eyes down to Kate’s dress, she added softly, “You know about that, I’m sure.”

  A small lump caught in Kate’s throat, and she nodded. “I do,” she agreed. The two women looked at each other, raising their eyebrows at her choice of phrase amongst a sea of wedding dresses, and they laughed.

  ***

  “So, the dress is gone now,” Kate sat cross legged by Aiden’s grave, sipping a coffee. “I hope it will make some woman very happy. Nadia thought it would, that’s for sure. You would have liked her, Aid. She had a great s
mile. Then I got a jelly donut and coffee from Little Sweetie’s, and now here I am.” She took another sip and looked around at the serene setting. “I still can’t figure out what happened with Chris, though. The only conclusion I can reach is that he was brought into my life to help me find the woman I used to be. Not the Queen of Mean, but just…Kate. Someone who knows how to joke around and enjoy life. Someone who can trust, and knows that letting love into your life is a risk well worth taking. Maybe you brought him into my life, who knows?”

  Kate put her lips to her fingers and touched Aiden’s headstone. “If you did, thank you. Even if he was a lesson and not a soul mate.” She stood and brushed the grass off her pants. “See you later, Aid.”

  She strolled home, carrying the brown Little Sweetie’s bag. When she came across a garbage can she tossed her empty coffee cup in, and reached into the bag for her donut. “Ugh!” she exclaimed, her fingers coming out sticky with red jelly. Must have smashed it at some point, she thought. A smear of filling stained the bag, and Kate grimaced in disgust. Looks like- Her eyes widened and she gasped. It looked like blood. Almost indistinguishable from blood, actually, especially if the bag itself were on fire and it was one a.m.

  Kate dropped the bag in the nearest trash can and walked briskly from it, wiping her hands on her skirt. Her mind reeled. If it was a Little Sweetie’s bag with a jelly donut in it…what does that mean? That Wash has been following me closely enough to know that it’s my favorite bakery? That he wanted to send a message but not a super serious one? What on earth does violently toasting a donut say?

  She hurried home, feeling confused and a little relieved. Wash wasn’t the psycho she assumed he was if he hadn’t actually set fire to a dead animal on her doorstep. Of course, it didn’t mean that he was a particularly stable individual for setting a fire at all, but it was undeniably better than being a pyromaniac and a sadist.

  Approaching her door, Kate realized that in the mayhem of everything happening yesterday, someone had broken the front door of the building. There was no need to be buzzed in any longer; the door didn’t latch and instead just popped open. That’s…not ideal, Kate thought. She hesitated before taking a look at the brightly sunlit street buzzing with activity. Come on. Now we know Wash isn’t completely unhinged, he hasn’t made any appearances or further threats so far, and the chances are good he actually just went home. You can’t live your life afraid, Kate. She nodded, reassured.

  Once inside her apartment, Kate plopped down on the couch with a book. It felt like it had been a long day already, and it was just barely past noon. Opening the cover, she felt herself relaxing, with the immersion into a different world comparable to lowering herself into a warm bath. By the end of the first chapter, Kate was so deeply engrossed in the story that she didn’t hear the knock at her door the first time. After the second round of soft thuds coming from her door, she stood, eyes still glued to the page.

  Acting without thinking, she walked absently over to the door and opened it without checking the peephole, only lowering the book once her guest was standing in front of her. When she saw him, she gasped.

  A man she had only seen in photographs stood in her doorway, holding a brown paper bag. Rodney Wash was younger than he looked in the grainy pictures she had seen, no older than thirty. He had the dark, brooding face of an artist. Unlike when Chris had grabbed her from behind, Kate found no fight response. No flight, either. She seemed frozen in place, unable to move. The situation was unfolding in what seemed simultaneous agonizingly slow motion, and a hyper real speediness.

  “Katherine Burt?” Rodney asked, unsmiling. He stepped forward, and Kate instinctively stepped backwards, afraid. “I have something for you.” He reached into the nondescript package he carried with him, and Kate finally found her voice. She screamed.

  25

  Kate grabbed the small lamp on the end table near the door, brandishing it like a weapon. “Stay back!” she yelled, anger overcoming her initial dumbfounded response to seeing her stalker in person. “I’m not afraid to use this thing! I broke a man’s nose yesterday, and I liked him!”

  Rodney blinked, alarmed by Katherine Burt’s reaction. “I’m so sorry to bother you at home, Ms. Burt. I shouldn’t have come here, that was unconscionable,” he apologized, backing away and raising his hands in surrender. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” He kept his arms raised, a manuscript clutched in one hand. “I know it’s presumptuous to even ask, but can I just leave this” he nodded his head at the papers “here for you, if you wanted to read it?”

  Kate was flummoxed by the lack of aggression from a man who had supposedly set a fire on her doorstep and sent her death threats. This wasn’t at all how she had expected Rodney Wash to behave if they ever had a face-to-face meeting, and his apologetic tone and polite demeanor were throwing her off. Her heart rate slowed a bit, but she kept the lamp raised. “What is it?” she demanded.

  Rodney eyed her as cautiously as she eyed him. “It’s a copy of Days by the Pond,” he explained hesitantly. “I was hoping for some specific feedback of where I went wrong. I read, uh,” he cleared his throat. “I read your review, but it was so generalized, I’m not sure exactly where I lost you.”

  Kate narrowed her eyes. “Seriously? There was no plot, no theme, and no narrative. There was literally no point to that piece of filth except to shock and disgust, and it got so monotonous in its attempts to do that, it even failed in that aspect.” She shuddered, thinking about it.

  Rodney shrugged. “That’s what I just don’t understand. The point wasn’t to ‘shock and disgust’ at all.” He sighed. “I don’t know how I got so far off the mark. I really didn’t intend to write anything disturbing.”

  Kate’s heart softened at the crestfallen expression on Rodney’s face. “Slide it over,” she allowed, knowing she was being stupid, but unable to help herself. Wash did so, and Kate bent to pick it up with one hand, the other still holding the lamp, never taking her eyes off him. She opened at random, close to the beginning. “Okay, so here…” she trailed off, brow furrowing in confusion. She glanced up at Rodney, and back down at the words. “What is this?”

  Rodney returned her puzzled look. “It’s my book. It’s Days by the Pond.”

  “No…” Kate flipped through the pages, shaking her head. “This isn’t what I read. This is…” she paused to take in a few excerpts, paragraphs, and then a full page. She let out a low laugh. “This is good.”

  Rodney stared at her. “But your review said it was ‘unreadable garbage,’” he pointed out.

  Kate looked up at him. “This is an entirely different manuscript than the one I received. How is that possible?” Her eyes widened, and she clapped a hand to her forehead. “Penton House!” she groaned. “Oh my God.”

  Rodney still looked confused. “My publisher?” he asked. “What does this have to do with them?”

  “Maybe everything,” Kate sighed. “Why don’t you come in for some coffee and we can discuss this, Mr. Wash?” She yanked the lamp’s cord out of the outlet and wrapped it around the base, allowing for more freedom of movement. “But I’m holding onto this, so don’t get any ideas.”

  “Um,” Rodney glanced around the empty hallway. “No offense, Ms. Burt, but I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. You’re making me a little nervous, to be perfectly honest with you.”

  Kate nearly dropped the lamp. “I’m making you nervous? You’re the one who sent me death threats, and a flaming jelly donut! And maybe even started a fire in the building yesterday!” She scowled, hand tightening on the lamp. Rodney gaped at her incredulously.

  “I don’t know how to respond to that,” he said, backing away and sending darting glances over his shoulder to the stairs, afraid to take his eyes off the fuming woman in front of him. “I didn’t send any death threats, Ms. Burt. And I don’t know what a jelly donut has to do with anything, quite frankly, and you sound crazy.”

  “Wait.” Kate dropped her arms to her sides and took a deep
breath. “You didn’t send me a death threat? You weren’t stalking me?”

  “No!” Rodney looked shocked. “Well…I mean, I did call your office to try to get ahold of you, and some woman just gave me your home address. I didn’t ask for it, though!”

  Someone just gave you my address? Who the hell would do that?” It hit Kate. “Cynthia. God, I definitely made the right choice firing her.”

  Rodney continued inching towards the stairs. “I’ll just go,” he offered. “I’m sorry again, Ms. Burt. I only came here so you could help me fix my book, and maybe give it another review.”

  “Mr. Wash, I think there’s been a big misunderstanding here,” Kate set the lamp back on the table and sighed. “Please, come in. I’d love to talk to you about your novel, and about your possible recourse with your publisher. Please,” she added when Wash still hesitated.

  “Okay,” he said finally, lowering his hands. “Thank you.” Kate ushered him inside and began preparing a pot of tea while Wash sat at the kitchen island. She began with the history of Penton House, and how Edgar Penton had gradually turned a respected publisher into a poorly run den of ineptitude. As they talked, Kate was struck by how thoughtful Rodney had turned out to be. He was a quiet man, who weighed his words before he spoke, listened carefully, and replied earnestly.

  While she began perusing the actual copy of Days by the Pond, she was delighted to find true talent in its words. Still, a small voice in the back of her head nagged her: Who sent those threats, if not Rodney?

  26

  Chris shifted again in his seat in the airport terminal, waiting for his gate to be called. His flight to Seattle had already been delayed, and he was getting restless. Standing, he stretched his arms and heard his back pop in tremendously satisfying way.