by Karen Cimms
Texting as her mother, Rhiannon had answered in the simplest terms, keeping her distance but assuring him she loved him as well and that she just needed some space. Thank God he’d bought it. It bordered on creepy. These were her parents, for crying out loud! The things she had to do. Someday they’d thank her, and it better be with something big.
Despite having several days to cool off, her mother wouldn’t budge. Rhiannon had driven to the hospital one afternoon, not only hoping her mother would see her, but that she’d also be able to get her to call her father. No dice. So she’d just left her mother’s phone there. She was tired of being in the middle.
Other than that, Rhiannon called the hospital every day—well, almost every day. She’d been told her mother had agreed to stay a full week, so she drove to St. Stephen’s on Saturday afternoon, thinking if she just showed up instead of calling, her mother might feel guilty enough to see her. But when she arrived, she learned her mother had signed herself out two days earlier. Which was surprising, since the house was dark when she and Doug pulled up Saturday evening. When her mother was home, the place was usually lit up like an overnight highway construction site. The only light now came from the candles in each window, the kind that turned on automatically at dusk.
It was quiet, too, as they approached the back door. Too dark. Too quiet. Charlie would have announced their arrival by now, unless he was still at the kennel. Also very odd.
Icy fingers skittered up her spine. What if it was like last time? Or worse?
Doug took the keys from her shaking hands and unlocked the door. The house was not only dark, it was cold. Really cold.
“Mom?” she called, her voice barely loud enough to carry into the next room.
“Kate?” Doug’s voice boomed.
The echo of their voices was hollow.
“Are you sure she was released?”
She gave him a sour look. “I’m not an idiot, Doug. Of course I’m sure.”
They ascended the steps into the kitchen. Rhiannon called again, louder.
“Wait here.” Doug turned the lights on as he moved through the kitchen and dining room. Taking the steps two at a time, he disappeared upstairs.
Between fear and the chilly room, Rhiannon shivered. She tossed her purse on the counter and flicked on the light over the island, then wrapped her arms around herself to stay warm.
Leaning against the large glass canister where her mother kept the flour was a note addressed to her and Devin. She ran her fingers over the wide, loopy script.
“She’s not upstairs.” Doug barreled down the narrow stairs and headed for the living room. She called to him, but her voice was little more than a squeak. He didn’t hear her.
Her hand shaking, she slid her finger along the edge of the envelope. Slipping out the single page, she unfolded it and began to read.
Dear Rhiannon and Devin,
I’m not really sure what I should say, so forgive me if this doesn’t make much sense. I think it’s safe to say I’ve not been myself lately.
I’ve decided the best thing for all of us—and me especially—is to go away, so that’s what I’ve done. I need to be alone. I need time to heal, if that’s even possible, and to figure out what comes next.
Please don’t try to find me. Tommy can reach me in an emergency, but please also understand that I won’t come home. You’re all adults. You don’t need me.
I know you’re angry. I don’t blame you. I have to wonder what kind of a mother goes off and leaves her family. Certainly not the mother I wanted to be, but there you go.
I want you all to be happy and go about your lives. It should be easier without having to worry about me. Always remember how much I love you, and try not to be too angry and disappointed. I’m already so disappointed in myself.
I hope you still say your prayers each night like I taught you. If so, please pray for me. Ask God to forgive me and guide me. I will pray for you all as always.
Love,
Mom
P.S. I tried to write to your father, but I just couldn’t find the words. Tell him he’s free to move on. He’ll know what that means.
She handed the letter to Doug. He read it silently, then folded it and put it back in the envelope.
“I told you to tell your father, didn’t I?”
Not this again. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. “What good would that have done?”
He dragged his hand across the back of his neck before looking down at her. The disappointment on his face crushed her. “I don’t know, but if he were here, he would have stopped her.”
His open palm slammed against the countertop, and she jumped.
“Jesus Christ, Rhiannon, as far as she knows, he didn’t even try to contact her while she was in the hospital. She probably thinks he doesn’t care.”
“Don’t make this my fault.” She yanked a paper towel from the spool sitting near the sink and dabbed at her eyes. “I did what I thought was best. She hates me for putting her in the hospital, and she probably thinks I hate her and that’s why I did it. Obviously she’s not thinking clearly. I can’t believe she talked Tom into this. He must be as crazy as she is.”
She paced back and forth before collapsing onto a kitchen stool.
“What the hell are we gonna do? What am I gonna tell my dad?” She wanted to vomit. “How am I gonna tell him? He has two more weeks yet. If I tell him now, he’ll come home, and then what?”
Doug closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Tom’s number, only to be told by his wife that he was out of town on business and wasn’t expected back until Tuesday or Wednesday. He tried Tom’s cell, but it went straight to voicemail.
“Tom. It’s Doug Bradford. You need to call me. Now.” He sounded threatening, or maybe desperate.
He tucked his phone back into his pocket and gave Rhiannon a long, hard look.
“You already know what I think. Other than that, I don’t know what to tell you. You need to decide what you’re going to do. I’ll be in the car.”
The door clicked quietly closed behind him.
Rhiannon stared at her phone. Her boys—Dalton, Dayton, and Doug—smiled back at her. The clock in the dining room ticked loudly. It was almost seven thirty. Her father was still out west somewhere. He was probably already at the venue. He might not even have his phone with him.
She’d give just about anything to put this off a little longer.
Doug was right. She’d fucked up. Big time. Chewing on her lip, she scrolled until she came to her father’s number. He answered on the second ring.
“Hi, Daddy. It’s me.”
Chapter Sixty-Five
Billy stood in the doorway to Tom’s law library. The bastard had his back to him as he scanned a row of books. Part of him didn’t even want to give the sonofabitch the chance to answer. But if he acted on his first impulse, Tom would be unable to speak when he was finished with him.
“Where is she?”
Tom startled, nearly dropping the book he had just plucked from a shelf. “How did you get back here?”
“You don’t ask the questions.” Billy filled the doorway, his hands jammed in the pockets of his jeans. “I’m gonna ask you once more. Where’s my wife?”
“Kate’s fine.” Tom’s voice squeaked like a cartoon mouse. He cleared his throat and pushed his glasses up his nose.
Billy stepped into the room, closed the door, and locked it behind him. “Don’t make me ask you again.”
Tom licked his lips and pressed the tome close to his chest. Billy could see he was shaking. He gestured toward the row of chairs on Billy’s side of the table.
“Sit down, please.”
“I’m not here to socialize, but I’ll give you a word of advice. I suggest you answer my question while you still can.” Billy moved closer. His hands were out of his pockets now, and he pumped his fists open and closed. He’d wanted to tear into this fucker for months now and little was going to hold
him back.
“Don’t threaten me,” Tom said, foolishly trying to stand up to him. “Just sit down, and I’ll tell you what I can, but I won’t tell you where she is. I gave her my word.”
“You sonofabitch.”
It took seconds for him to scale the table and wrap his hands around the collar of Tom’s suit jacket. He lifted him up and slammed him into the tall bookshelf. Tom let out a sharp whoosh of air and the shelf wobbled dangerously.
“Where the fuck is my wife?”
Tom looked as if he were going to either faint or vomit. Or worse. Maybe even piss his pants.
A key turned in the lock. Billy let go and stepped back just as the door swung open.
“Do you want me to call the police, Mr. Reilly?” the ancient receptionist asked.
Billy shot Tom a warning look, then turned and smiled at the woman.
Tom straightened his collar and smoothed his jacket into place. He glanced at Billy, maybe hoping for some sign that his homicidal urge had passed.
Nice try, fucker.
Tom cleared his throat. “No, Maisie. I think we’re okay. Just a minor misunderstanding.”
Billy grinned. He clapped his hand on Tom’s shoulder, burying his thumb in his clavicle. “Absolutely. Just a misunderstanding.” He flashed Maisie the same grin.
Unlike most women he came across, she didn’t seem to be buying it. Tom nodded when she turned to him for confirmation. With a warning look at Billy, she stepped back and left.
When the door had closed all the way, Billy dug his fingers in deeper. He gave Tom a shake, then let go.
Tom reached for the chair nearest him and sat. When he motioned for Billy to do the same, Billy kicked one of the chairs out from under the table and lowered himself into it.
Tom cleared his throat again. That was one fucking annoying habit.
“I can’t tell you much for two reasons. First, Kate is my friend, and I’m abiding by her wishes. And second, she’s my client, which prohibits me from sharing confidential information.”
“And you don’t think the fact that I’m her husband counts for anything? Or that she’s sick?”
“I know this is difficult—” He leaned back in his chair, arms open, chest exposed. He was either very brave or very stupid.
Billy leaned forward, his voice rising. “You don’t know shit!”
Tom closed up like a starfish.
“You have no fucking idea what I’m going through. Your wife didn’t run off with someone you thought you could trust.”
“Wait, what?”
“You heard me. You must think I’m pretty fucking stupid. I know something’s been going on between you and Katie for a while now.”
“You think Kate—and me?” he sputtered. “Me?”
Maybe he wouldn’t wait for Tom to reveal Kate’s whereabouts. Maybe he would just snap his neck and get it over with. He stood and leaned forward menacingly. “Yeah, you. And after Joey died, I tried to be there for her. I wanted to comfort her, console her. Instead, she turned to you. She’s my wife, for fuck’s sake.”
Tom gaped up at him, not moving. When he opened his mouth to speak, Billy cut him off.
“I heard all the whispered phone calls between you two. And then I find out, after she throws me out, you’re over at my house having dinner, doing God knows what.”
For a split second, he thought Tom was going to laugh. Good thing he didn’t, because Billy was prepared to beat him to a bloody pulp.
Tom shook his head, slowly at first and then faster and faster. “You have it all wrong. You don’t know how wrong. There’s nothing going on between me and Kate. Yeah, I love her—of course I do, but as a friend. A wonderful, caring friend.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “You know how much you love her? That’s how much I loved—still love—somebody else.”
This clown must think he was a fool. “I’ve heard you and your wife don’t get along that well, so don’t even—”
“I’m not talking about my wife.” Tom stared up at the ceiling for a moment, then down at Billy. “Joey.”
He said it so low Billy wasn’t sure he’d heard him correctly.
“Joey,” Tom repeated.
Billy dropped back into his seat. “What?”
“I said Joey. I’ve been in love with Joey. For years. It was a secret. Even Kate didn’t know until the night he died.”
It was Billy’s turn to look incredulous. “You and Joey?”
He nodded.
“I can’t—” He ran his hands through his hair. “Joey Buccacino?”
Tom had been close to tears, but now he chuckled. “Yeah. Joey Buccacino.”
“How long?”
“Not long enough.”
Fat snowflakes fell outside the tall windows of Tom’s library, clinging to the wreaths decorating the windows. Billy turned away. He couldn’t even think about Christmas.
He watched Tom trace his finger slowly over the titanium band on his right hand.
“It started in high school, really, but I was always too afraid. No one knows I’m gay. No one except Kate, and now you. Even Stephanie doesn’t know, although I think she suspects. We have a marriage of convenience, and now, because of our daughter, I can’t leave. She’s already threatened to keep Lian from me if I do anything to embarrass her.”
Billy felt deflated. “I’m sorry, man. About Joey and—and everything.” His anger was quickly deflating as well. “I won’t say anything. You have my word.” He cracked the smallest of smiles. “I’m glad you’re not fooling around with my wife, and I’m also glad Joey had somebody.”
Tom nodded. “It wasn’t the perfect situation, but when we were together, we were happy.”
Billy gave a brusque swipe to his eyes, then rapped his knuckles on the table. “You still owe me some answers.”
“I can’t, Billy. All I can tell you is she’s fine. Well, maybe not fine. She’s dealing with a lot of heartache and pain, but she’s safe. She needed to get away from here. Do you know how close you came to losing her?”
Billy slumped lower into his chair, no longer feeling so tough. “I didn’t until Saturday night. Let’s just say my daughter is lucky she doesn’t live at home anymore.”
Tom scrubbed a hand across his face. “Rhiannon probably thought she was doing what was best. Kate was safe in the hospital, but she was angry—and honestly, she wouldn’t have seen you. I think she understands committing her was the right thing to do at the time. For now, she’s on medication, and she’ll begin seeing a qualified psychiatrist this week. She has a lot of work to do, Billy. If she’s going to pull through, she can’t do it here. There are too many things to set her off. She’s in a safe place, and I will speak with her every day. And I truly believe she wants to get better. If I didn’t, I would’ve never gone along with this. If at any time I think she’s getting worse, I’ll step in before anything can happen. Trust me.”
Billy rubbed his hand over the stubble on his face and stared out the tall casement window. Hurt filled his chest, the wound so deep he was surprised he could breathe.
“What about me?” he asked. “I won’t survive without her. I can’t.”
“You have to. You have a lot of work to do yourself. You want Kate back? You need to fix Billy. She’ll come through this, and when she does, she’s going to be stronger. To be honest, if you haven’t moved forward as well and can fight all those demons on your own, then it might be over for real. In her state of mind, she thinks the best thing she could’ve done is go away and let you all go on with your lives. She values herself so little, she thinks you’re better off without her.”
Tom shifted in his chair. “She’s also convinced you’re seeing someone else.”
“God damn it!” Billy slammed his hand against the table. “I made one stupid mistake twenty years ago. I was fucked up and—” He stood so quickly the chair slammed into the bookshelves. He stalked to the window and stared out at the street. Normal people moved about, living their lives, going about their
business. And he was living in a nightmare of his own making. He faced Tom again. “There’s no excuse that will ever make it okay, but I’ve spent the last twenty years feeling guilty. I can’t change the past, but I have no intention of repeating it.”
“Then isn’t this the perfect excuse to get sober?” Tom asked. “You’re looking at jail time. I’m sure Doug’s already suggested that you go into rehab voluntarily, which is exactly what I would’ve told you if I were still your attorney.”
Billy nodded.
“Then do it. You want Kate back? Do what you need to do so you’re ready to fight for her when the time comes.”
There was a sharp rap on the door and Maisie walked in, followed by Digger.
“Chief Johnson is here to see you, Mr. Reilly.” She cast an evil eye in Billy’s direction.
Nasty old bat.
“Thank you, Maisie. Digger, good to see you.”
The officer stood in the doorway, looking confused. “Everything okay here?”
“Yes,” Tom said. “I think we’re done, aren’t we?”
Billy moved slowly. It felt as if an extra hundred pounds had been piled on him since he’d walked through the door earlier.
“You need a ride?” Digger offered.
Billy ran his hands through his hair, then crammed them into his pockets. He’d never felt so alone and defeated. “Yeah, thanks. I’d appreciate that.”
Maisie continued to glare as he moved toward the door. He turned back to Tom.
“Will you . . . will you tell her I love her and that I’ll be waiting?”
Tom nodded. “I will. If she’ll let me.”
Chapter Sixty-Six
Billy stood in the kitchen. The light over the stove cast dim shadows over his guitar cases and his duffle bag, right where he’d dumped them before he’d gone to find Tom. Kate was safe, and she was getting help. It was what Billy had wanted all along, but he also wanted her here. Home. With him.