by Karen Cimms
He couldn’t even finish the sentence.
Eileen’s mouth nearly unhinged. For a second, he thought she was about to launch herself across the table at him.
“How badly did you hurt her?”
He shrugged and shook his head. “Bad enough, I guess.”
She twisted the dishrag into a thin rope. “Where is she now?”
“Still in New York. She left a message with Rhiannon to be gone before she comes home.”
“Did you put her in the hospital?”
“My God, no. If I’d done that—I couldn’t. I can’t even imagine.” He pressed his fingertips into his eyes, wishing he could erase the image of Kate the morning after. “I would have filled my veins so full of poison there would’ve been no bringing me back.”
Eileen loosened her grip on the dishrag. She set it down on the table, laid it flat, and smoothed her hands over it.
“Why are you telling me all this?”
“I don’t know. Because you care about her? Maybe because I want you to know how much I love her and how sorry I am.” He shrugged. “Maybe I hope you’ll tell her that. I’m not really sure.”
She leaned forward until their eyes met. “I’m going to ask you again, Billy: What are you going to do about it?”
His head suddenly seemed too heavy to hold up on his own, so he dropped it into his hands. Tears streamed down his cheeks.
“I dunno.”
She reached across the table and wrapped her fingers around his hand. “You know you need help, right?”
He nodded.
“It’s hard. You know that too, right?”
Hell, yeah, he did.
“The way I see it, you have two choices. You can get help and get sober—quit drinking, the drugs, everything. Or you can keep doing what you’re doing and destroy everything you’ve worked for—your career, your family—and in the process, kill yourself and very likely Kate as well. Losing you will kill her.”
He shook his head. “Doubtful. She’s already finished with me. I told you, she’s found someone else.”
“And I said you’re an ass.”
He snorted, and despite everything, he couldn’t help but smile.
“Listen.” Eileen scooted her chair closer, then took both his hands in hers. “You work on getting your act together. Go to AA. Go to rehab. Do whatever it is you need to get better, and then worry about fixing things with Kate. Show her you’re trying. Promise me you’ll do that, and I promise to speak with her on your behalf. But I have to see you’re trying.”
A distant hope bloomed deep within him. “You think she’ll listen?”
“I don’t know. Since you don’t even know what you did, I can’t answer that. But I know she loves you. You don’t stop loving someone overnight, no matter how stupid they are or how badly they behave.”
The sound of gravel crunching floated in through the open screen door.
He stood slowly. “That’s probably Rhiannon. I have to finish packing.”
Eileen stood as well, even more slowly. He was about to head toward the door but stopped. He bent down and hugged her. “Thank you. I know you love my Katie. Maybe that’s why I came to you.”
She gave him a quick pat. “I do. Now you go take care of yourself, and I’ll see what I can do.”
Billy walked up the driveway, his hands jammed in his pockets. He was a pathetic excuse of a husband, and God knows he didn’t deserve a second chance. But for the first time in days, he felt a tiny glimmer of hope.
Chapter Thirty-One
The drive from the train station in Dover was quiet at first. Kate thanked Eileen for picking her up, and they exchanged a few pleasantries. But while she didn’t want to appear rude, she was too exhausted, physically and mentally, for conversation. She was content to stare out the window.
But Eileen seemed unusually chatty.
“You know what they say. God only gives us what we can handle.”
Kate snorted. “You really believe that?”
“No, but I thought you’d appreciate it.” She stole a quick glance at Kate and gave her a wry smile.
“I think I’ve reached my limit for this lifetime.”
“I felt that way when Michael died.”
Kate had only been a teenager then, but she knew Eileen’s son had died from a drug overdose. “But you survived. I guess I will, too.” She let out a long sigh, not sure she actually believed that at the moment.
“You will. I have faith in you. You have strength and grace. You’ll come through this—all of it.”
Eileen turned onto Kate’s long, narrow driveway and pulled up close to the back door.
Now that she was home, the thought of facing an empty house made Kate’s stomach turn. When she didn’t open the door to get out, Eileen cut the engine.
“You want me to come in with you?”
Kate shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m not sure if I want to go in.”
“Baby steps,” Eileen said, opening her door and climbing out. “Let’s go.”
The grass had grown several inches while she was gone, and tomatoes had gone bad on the vine. On the plus side, a riot of colorful zinnias greeted her in the flower bed along the driveway and the side of the garage.
Kate loaded her arms with the suitcases and clothing bags from the back seat, then forced herself to enter the home she’d lived in most of her life—the home she would now live in alone. Maybe she should have stayed in New York after all.
The house was quiet and stuffy. Charlie was still at the kennel, and no matter how tired she was, she would need to go get him.
The clock was blinking over the stove. And while there was always the possibility that he hadn’t left, had waited to see her, thinking he could somehow change her mind, the blinking clock assured her that Billy was gone.
“He really left?” Kate asked.
“Yesterday afternoon.”
She drew in a ragged breath and tamped down her emotions. “Good.”
Eileen frowned. “Is that really what you want?”
Kate dropped her purse on the island. “What I want doesn’t really matter.” She pulled open the refrigerator and was surprised to see it had been freshly stocked. How could that be?
“Maybe you should give him a chance. Listen to what he has to say?”
Kate turned slowly. “You spoke to him?”
Eileen’s shoulders lifted into a guilty shrug.
“When?”
“He came to see me yesterday.”
Kate snorted. “Only took him twenty years.”
“Be that as it may, he still came to see me.”
“Why?”
“He’s hurting.”
“It’s his own fault if he’s hurting. He did this to himself.”
“He knows that.”
Kate’s mouth dropped open. “Are you defending him?”
“I’m just telling you what I observed. He’s hurting and he’s sorry. Look, sweetie, I didn’t mean to bring this up now.”
“But you did mean to bring it up some time?”
Eileen shrugged and nodded.
Unbelievable. “Did he tell you what he did?”
“Not really. It seems he doesn’t know the extent of it himself.”
“No!” Kate said, her voice rising. “No, he doesn’t, because he was so drugged out on something he turned into an animal!”
“Are you okay?”
From the look Eileen gave her, Kate might as well have just told her Billy had accidentally knocked her over in the schoolyard. Memories from that night closed in on her. Fear, anger, feeling helpless and betrayed. Eileen didn’t have a clue.
“No, I’m not okay!” she snapped. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay.”
“Of course you will. You’re angry and hurt.”
“I’m a lot more than angry and hurt.”
The past two weeks had left her feeling like she’d been run over by a freight train, and she was trying hard not to give in to it again. Sh
e reached into the cabinet and pulled down a wine glass. Eileen didn’t drink. And even if she did, Kate wasn’t in the mood to invite her to stay.
“Did he tell you everything?”
“I told you he doesn’t remember much.”
“How convenient for him.” She yanked open the refrigerator again. Of course there were no open bottles of wine. Billy would have polished those off his first night home. The champagne she’d bought to open the night of her birthday was still buried in the vegetable bin, where it could stay. Nothing to celebrate here.
She slammed the door so hard two magnets fell to the floor. “But what about the rest of it?”
Eileen shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Kate checked the wine rack in the dining room. Empty. What the hell? Had he thrown a party?
“I figured as much.” She folded her arms across her chest and steadied herself. “Did he tell you he cheated?” Saying it out loud was like getting punched in the stomach all over again.
“Er, no. He didn’t mention that.”
Kate squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her fingertips to her temples. “I can’t do this now.” She took a breath deep enough to dislodge the weight that had settled on her chest. “I love you, and I thank you for picking me up, but I can’t do this right now. I can’t think about him. I have to unpack and go get Charlie.”
And if I’d like a glass of wine to help me sleep, I’ll have to stop at the goddamn liquor store as well.
Eileen pulled her in for a hug. “I didn’t mean to upset you. You know I’m here for you, right?”
“I know.” She already felt guilty for her little tirade. “I didn’t mean to get short with you.”
“Not at all. Do you want to come for dinner tonight?”
“Thanks, but no. I’m just going to get Charlie and go to bed early. I want to sleep in my own bed. I have a lot to catch up on tomorrow, and then I have to get ready to go back to work on Monday.”
“Already?”
“Afraid so. I got two weeks off because of getting my name in the paper when Billy was arrested. And then I took a week’s vacation after”—she swallowed—“you know. I have to go back to work, or I don’t get paid. I’m really not in a position to lose my job.” This time her voice did break. “I’ve already lost everything else.”
Eileen squeezed her arm. “This too shall pass. You’ll see.”
Kate’s eyes burned, but she refused to give in. She’d cried enough for two lifetimes.
“Yeah. We’ll see.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Tom held a bottle of shiraz in one hand and chardonnay in the other. He gave her a pathetic little smile.
“I didn’t know what you were making, so I brought red and white.”
Kate led the way into the kitchen, then put the white wine in the refrigerator. “I say we have the chardonnay with the salad and the shiraz with the steak.”
While she searched for a corkscrew, Tom set his briefcase on the dining room table.
She eyed the expensive leather satchel. “If you were planning on a working dinner, Billy’s not here. And I don’t want to talk about him anyway.”
Tom ran his hand over the back of his neck. “This has nothing to do with Billy. Besides, he fired me.”
“What?” Her mouth dropped. “Why?”
“I didn’t talk to him. Doug called me yesterday. He apologized but said Billy was terminating my services and that his firm would be taking over his defense. Personally, I think that’s the right move, but I still don’t like getting fired.”
“I’m sorry. I had no idea. We . . . we haven’t spoken.” She lifted her white canvas apron off a hook, slipped the strap over her head, and fastened it around her waist. “Actually, since you no longer represent Billy, maybe you can represent me.”
He chuckled softly. “Why? Were you arrested, too?”
Chin up, just say it. “No. You can handle my divorce.”
He dropped onto a stool next to the island. “You can’t possibly be serious.”
She reached into the basket on the counter and plucked out two ripe tomatoes.
“I am,” she said, picking up the knife that had almost landed her in jail for domestic assault and running it through one of the tomatoes “I want a divorce.”
Saying it out loud was a lot harder than she’d expected. It felt as if an elephant had backed into her and sat on her chest.
“It’s kind of sudden, don’t you think?”
Her mouth twisted into a strained smile. “I don’t think Joey would’ve said that.”
“I think he would.”
“Hardly. He’d be popping the champagne by now.”
“I don’t know, Kate.” He plucked a green olive from a tray on the counter and popped it into his mouth. “Joey may not have been Billy’s biggest fan, but he understood how much you two loved each other. The sacrifices you made to stay together.”
“If he were here now, he’d change his mind. Besides, I’m the only one who was making sacrifices, it seems.”
“Maybe not.”
“Trust me. The only sacrifices Billy ever made were the ones that benefited him.”
Tom opened his mouth to speak, but she waved the knife, cutting him off before he had the chance to disagree.
“Let’s not talk about it, okay?” She wiped her hands on a dish towel and forced a smile. “I want to talk about you and Joey. I know it’s hard, but I want to know what he never told me.” She struggled to keep her voice steady. “I need to know he was loved.”
Tom’s face softened. “He was. Very much. And you’re right, I do need to talk about him. It’s killing me, having to act like I only lost a casual acquaintance and a client, nothing more.”
Some of the leftover pieces of her heart splintered. She set down the clove of garlic she’d been about to smash with the flat of her knife. She wanted to hear stories about Joey and Tom; needed to become familiar with another part of Joey that she could keep tucked inside her, next to their shared memories. But to do so, she was going to need a little help.
“How about something stronger while the wine chills?”
Tom nodded enthusiastically. “Martini?”
“All that was left in the liquor cabinet when I got back were some liqueurs and a bottle of vermouth, so while I was out today, I picked up a bottle of Ketel One.” She pulled it from the freezer, as well as a large jar of olives from the refrigerator.
Tom mixed up a pitcher of dirty martinis and carried it out to the patio. Kate followed behind with the steaks and a platter of grilled shrimp with a sweet and spicy remoulade. Some people ate when they were stressed; Kate cooked. And with everything going on in her life, she wouldn’t have been surprised to find out she was on the fast track for her own cooking show on Food Network.
While the steaks sizzled on the grill, Tom told her he and Joey had been together for years. The revelation hurt, more than just a little.
She speared two olives and slid them into her mouth.
“It was my fault he never told you,” Tom said apologetically. “He begged me to let him. All the time.”
“I never knew he could actually keep a secret.” She remembered how close he’d come to telling her this very thing the day before the shooting.
Tom twisted the stem of his glass as he spoke. “I met Stephanie at Notre Dame. We dated for a while. Of course nothing came of it. Then after graduation, we drifted apart. I went to law school, and she went home to Chicago.”
“But later when my parents learned my college girlfriend was single and living nearby, they pushed me to resume the relationship. I couldn’t tell them I was gay, so I went along with it, again thinking nothing would come of it. Then her parents started pushing too, and it just got easier to do what they all wanted and get everybody off my back.”
He drained what was left in his glass and poured himself another.
“Sounds like an episode of Downton Abbey.”
“Indeed it does, Lady G
rantham,” Tom replied in his best aristocratic English. “I tried to make it work, but I just couldn’t be close to her that way. I think she was actually relieved. We agreed to be discreet with our relationships outside the marriage. In fact, she took it so well I suspected there was someone else—or many someone elses. But to be honest, I didn’t care. The only thing she was upset about was not being able to have a child. So we decided to adopt.”
He skewered another shrimp, dipped it in the remoulade, and took a bite. “As for me and Joey, we reconnected about six years ago.”
She nearly dropped her glass. “Reconnected? What do you mean, re-connected?”
Even in the waning light, the flush creeping up Tom’s neck was visible.
“We had a little thing in high school.”
“Shut up!” Kate’s mouth dropped. “High school? How did I not know any of this?” Had there been any hints she’d missed somehow? High school? That was a million years ago. She wasn’t sure if she was more shocked or hurt at being kept in the dark about something that had been so important to Joey.
“Did anyone know?”
“Not on purpose, but Joey’s father caught us.” Tom’s complexion continued to deepen. “Together. That’s why he threw him out. I took a summer job in South Bend right after that, mostly because I was afraid of running into his father or his brothers. I was also terrified the old bastard would go to my parents.”
Joey had shown up under her window around midnight the night he’d graduated. She snuck him upstairs, where he told her he’d had a fight with his father and was leaving for New York in the morning. He vowed he would never set foot in Belleville again. He had come back, for her at least—and maybe Tom, who knows?—but he’d never gone to see his family again. At least not that she knew of.
Of course, it was painfully clear now that in some aspects of Joey’s life, she knew very little.
“He told me he’d confessed to his father that he was gay and his father had thrown him out,” she said. “He never said anything about being discovered.”
Tom twirled his glass so hard several drops landed on his hand. He didn’t seem to notice, staring across the yard as if watching the scenes from that night play over again. “He’d planned to tell him and expected the same reaction. After that, and his father chasing me out of the house, I never had the guts to tell my parents. It’s not that I think my father would come after me with a baseball bat, but I’m fairly certain if he didn’t drop dead initially, he’d disown me.”