Both girls smiled. One was shorter and round, presumably taking after her mom, and the other had Ren’s lanky build. “Nice to meet you,” they said in unison.
Katrine smiled back, trying not to focus on Ren. He had so much presence that it confused her. “Pleased to meet you both, too.”
Heather cleared her throat. “Ren, you know that Katrine is the best reporter the paper’s ever had. I was thinking she should write up a story on your store.” She winked at Katrine with all the subtlety of a hand grenade.
Katrine’s mouth swung open. She realized Heather was nudging her toward Ren. Had they broken up?
“That would be wonderful,” Ren said. His deep voice traveled straight into Katrine’s heart. “If that’s okay with you.”
“Sure,” Katrine said, pulling her attention back to the present moment. “Should be fun. When works best for you?”
“We’ll be in the store all day tomorrow,” Joanie said shyly.
Diane appeared with two large carry-out bags. “Your food, Mr. Ren.”
“Thank you. I…” He turned toward Katrine. Whatever he was going to say seemed to desert him. “It was nice to see you.”
Their eyes met, and it was all laid out for her to see: his magnificent heart, his passion, his talent, his intelligence, his stability, his honesty. It was too much. She was sure it wasn’t for her. She looked away, catching a parting glance of him with his arms around each of his daughters, laughing at something one of them had just said.
Heather leaned over the table and smacked her. “I pass you the ball, and you take a crap on it? What was that all about? He likes you!”
“But you’re dating him!” Katrine said. “I saw you. At Immanuel. The day we found Tara.”
An array of conflicting thoughts scurried across Heather’s face—confusion, disbelief, humor—until one landed with a thud: resigned anger. “Let me guess. Meredith told you to go to the church that day?”
Katrine nodded.
“Ren and I aren’t dating. Never have, as much as I wouldn’t mind waking up next to him. Meredith set that up to make you think we were together. That’s how she works. Don’t you see how Ren looks at you? He’s got it bad.”
Katrine felt one emotion: joy.
And because she felt it so strongly, everyone in the restaurant felt it, such was her gift. It lifted them higher, encouraged them to call long lost loves, or reach across the table and hug the person they were with, to put down the fried meat and reach for steamed vegetables.
The rush of happiness was so powerful that it inspired Diane to stride to her car, retrieve her karaoke machine, and slam it dead center on the one free table in the entire restaurant, a double top. Customers looked up, startled by the sound. The cord just reached the outlet.
“I sing!” she declared. She didn’t need to search for the song. She’d chosen it years ago. She selected the ninth track on the disk, tapping her feet to the infectious beat. Everyone in the restaurant stared at her, and she stared right back, even though her heart was beating so loud she could no longer hear.
When it was time to spout the lyrics, she nailed it.
“At first, I was afraid, I was petrified…”
Chapter 51
Katrine
Heather smiled at Katrine across the desk as she delivered her latest assignment. “It isn’t New York Times-worthy, but it’s a big deal in Faith Falls,” she said, a chuckle in her voice.
Katrine and Heather had continued to grow close since Katrine had found out that Ren and her editor were not dating. That didn’t mean Katrine was dating him either—she’d been focused on healing family wounds and growing a happiness that could never be stolen from her—but it did mean it was a possibility. Her interview with him had gone well, and she’d taken his girls and Tara to Fargo shopping on two different occasions.
She’d also contacted worried friends back in London, started taking walks at night with her mom, and gone to Jasmine’s house for meals where she found, to her boundless joy, that Jasmine was cooking real food again. To Jasmine’s surprise, Dean even preferred it to the canned stuff. Katrine’d also brought Tara along on some of her interviews. The girl had a real knack for journalism, and her enthusiasm was reminding Katrine what had drawn her to writing in the first place: stories and connections.
“Let me guess—Bradley Willmar has secured funding to outfit all the otter statues with bronze skirts?”
Heather’s eyes twinkled.
“What is it?” Katrine asked, sitting up straighter.
Heather sat back, feigning concern. “I don’t know. It might be too big for you. I don’t want to blow your mind.”
“Stop teasing!”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Heather said, pretending to stare at her fingernails before leaning forward in excitement. “Aw shoot, here it is, and tell me if it sounds stupid. What do you think about writing a history of Faith Falls? The good, the bad, and the ugly. We’ll serialize it in the paper, running a chapter each week. When you’re done, you’ll have enough to take to a publisher, if you want.”
“The history of Faith Falls?” Katrine turned the idea over in her mind.
“It’s dumb, right? It’d be the history of our families, ultimately. A portrait of small town America. Well, our version of it, anyhow. I’d particularly like to find out what happened to your great-great-grandparents, Eva and Ennis. My mom still talks about them, you know? But no one knows their story, where they came from, where they went, why. You could be the one to research it and tell it.”
The more Katrine handled the idea, the more she liked it. No, the more she loved it. Thoughts floated around her like dandelion fluff as she considered all the directions she could take this, all the stories she could tell. “It’s fantastic, Heather. Really. Thank you.”
“Thank me when you’re done. I think this is going to be more work than either of us imagines. As far as I can tell, Eva and Ennis left town without a trace.”
They beamed at each other across the desk for a full minute, two ex-beauty queens tumbled around by life, the pressure leaving them both stronger and more beautiful than they’d been in their youth.
“You know what?” Katrine asked.
“What?”
“I’m glad we’re friends.”
Heather winked. “I bet you are. I’m pretty cool, you know.”
Katrine left, chuckling. She was already outlining the first installment on the history of Faith Falls. She would research James A. Faith. She was on her way to Seven Daughters to share the exciting news with her aunts when a hot gust of wind sprayed her face with grit. She covered her eyes, trying to wipe away the stinging dirt, and felt along the storefronts with her free hand until she came to a doorknob. She pulled it open.
Her ears were filled with the muffled clicking of time.
“Katrine?”
She recognized the deep voice, even though she could not yet see. “Ren?” She panicked for a moment, blind and alone with him, and she reached out mentally from habit. He was there, concerned, steadfast. She stopped rubbing at her face and stood straight, hands at her sides, eyes closed. She trusted the moment, and him. The grit began to melt away, and she saw him inside her head. He hadn’t changed. He was beautiful.
“Some dirt blew in my eyes,” she said. “I didn’t know where I was going.”
“Wait a minute,” he said.
She heard receding footsteps, a drawer sliding open, water running. In a moment, he was next to her.
“I have a warm washrag,” he said, placing it in her hand.
She patted at her face with the rag, blinking a few times before opening her eyes. She’d been in his store once before, for the interview. It was one large room, timepieces in every size and shape arrayed on the floor and the walls: grandfather clocks, wall clocks, a Betty Boop lamp clock, watches, all of them clicking in perfect harmony. The overall impression was of security and order.
“Thanks,” she said, handing him back the washra
g. “I can see again.”
“I’d like to take you out on a date sometime.”
Her breath stopped for a moment. She looked at him standing close, his blue eyes wide, his expression hopeful. His words curved in the air like a heart. She traced her fingers through them. They felt like warm honey. “Why today?” she asked.
“What?”
“Why are you asking me out today?”
He shrugged. “It’s the first time you’ve come to me on your own.”
She smiled a secret smile. Faith Falls had nudged her into the watch store. She examined the situation and realized this was where she wanted to be. The wind-blown grit had done her a favor, and it occurred to her that writing the town’s history was going to be even more interesting than she could have imagined. She nodded at Ren.
“That’s a yes?”
“Yes,” she said.
Later that night, she drove home with a silly smile on her face. She’d catch the expression, scold herself, grimace, but the smile would pop up again. She couldn’t help it. Hope hadn’t deserted her.
Her bliss was such that she never checked her phone, even though it glowed in her purse as she pulled into the driveway of the Queen Anne.
I’m flying to Minnesota, the message said. I need to see you. Love, A.
Chapter 52
Ursula
The person stood outside the door for so long that Ursula almost—almost—yanked it open. The warm, dry weather had gotten under her skin, coating her lips with a thin sheen of dust and forcing her to water the earth every day to keep her plants green.
Finally, the knock landed. Ursula refused to answer.
The caller didn’t wait, instead turning the knob. Ursula’s chest tightened when she saw it was her oldest daughter. How had she not recognized Jasmine’s energy?
“Hi,” Jasmine said.
The dry air heightened Ursula’s sense of smell, and she noticed the absence of the sick-sweet odor of pharmaceuticals. In fact, Jasmine smelled like fresh basil.
“Hello,” Ursula said. She braced herself. A barrier between her and Jasmine had been broken when they’d worked together to protect Tara, but there was still years of habit to fight against. Jasmine and her family were spending more time at the Queen Anne, but Jasmine still held Ursula at a distance. She suspected Jasmine was here to release more of her anger. She settled in to absorb it and so was caught off guard by the question.
“Who’s my father?”
Ursula unclenched in surprise. “Your father?”
“Yes. Do Katrine and I have the same father?”
“I don’t know. Probably not.” Ursula recognized the distaste on her daughter’s face. She’d seen it before. She’d also witnessed the resignation.
“How many men have you slept with?”
Ursula held out her hands, palms up. It didn’t matter how many men. She’d always kept her lovers separate from her daughters’ lives, and that’s all that she owed them. Knowing whose sperm had come into play would change nothing, for better or ill.
“Was my husband one of them?”
“Never.”
Jasmine nodded, running her hands through her hair. “I forgive you.”
“For what?” The words sounded defensive. Ursula hadn’t intended that.
“For everything.” With her fingers, Jasmine made the sign of a scissors cutting in front of her heart. “I release the bad. And I’m sorry for any pain I’ve caused you. We’re starting fresh.”
Cords stood out in Ursula’s neck. She hadn’t realized how heavy that load had been. She felt untethered without it, watching it float to the ceiling and then escaping through the cracks in a sinuous white puff.
“I need a spell,” Jasmine continued, her expression defiant. The wind picked up and propelled needles of grit at the workshop’s siding with such force that they fell to the earth as microscopic diamonds glittering in the white heat of the sun. “For me. I want to mute my power. I’m not ready for all of it back, and I might never be. It makes me think of…that day.”
Ursula sighed and pushed her glasses up her nose. She wanted to reach out and stroke her brave daughter’s cheek. She wanted to pull her into an embrace woven with lavender and almond oil and tangerine blossoms. She wanted to take away every hurt that had ever been done and repaint her daughter’s flesh with the sweet peach of innocence.
“All right,” she said. She turned and began to brew the potion.
“And mom—”
Ursula’s breath hitched at the word. Her eyes grew hot.
“I’m thinking of growing vegetables again, but my yard is too small. Can I use a patch of yours? Katrine probably wants one, too.”
Chapter 53
Katrine
Adam’s text angered her when she discovered it, but elation quickly replaced the first emotion, then came confusion followed by more anger. Their divorce was not yet finalized because of a paperwork mix-up. She’d been waiting to scratch final signatures on it and send it to her attorney in London but had gotten too busy. At least that’s what she’d told herself.
A follow-up text from Adam confirmed that he would be arriving in Minneapolis later that day and hopping a local flight to Alexandria Municipal Airport, 40 miles from Faith Falls. Katrine didn’t know how to respond, so she didn’t. She hadn’t even been certain that she’d meet him when his plane was due in Alexandria, not until she found herself behind the wheel, navigating the back dirt roads with corners so sharp a lesser person would have signaled. Katrine had learned to drive on these roads.
The spring air was so hot that she was more liquid than solid. Gravel dust clung to the road like the molt of a snake. She passed fields full of bright green, irrigated corn and abandoned farmhouses left to the moth and rust.
Adam is coming for me.
The thought was tinged with pride and pain so sharp that it pierced her right behind her eyes. Had Adam broken up with Lucy? He must have. He must have realized that he’d made a mistake, and now he was coming for Katrine to rebuild their marriage. She hadn’t told anyone where she was going or who she was meeting. Would she be bringing Adam back to Faith Falls to meet her family?
She recalled Ren dancing with her at the Sadie Hawkins event, of how relaxed and natural she felt with him, how he treated her with tenderness and respect, of the warm green light that always seemed to surround him. Tonight was supposed to be their first date. It was funny like poison ivy that Adam had reached out to her now, when she had found a good man. Adam was a known, though, familiar to her.
The car left the gravel roads and lit onto the tar, which shimmered like a mirage in the heat. The windows were rolled down, and the wind blew Katrine’s loose chestnut hair around her shoulders. She was wearing a simple cotton sundress and cowboy boots, no make-up. She didn’t know why she hadn’t applied the usual mascara and lipstick. Maybe she didn’t want to seem desperate. But she was, wasn’t she? Her husband had cheated on her, and now he was coming back for her.
She pounded the steering wheel. Why was she going to meet him? Because she had to, that’s why. She wanted to see his face, to hear that his infidelity hadn’t been her fault. There were so many good times, and that counted for something. It had to.
In the distance, a small plane began to descend toward the local airport. Katrine didn’t know if Adam was on it. She drove the last few miles and pulled into the parking lot. The airport was modest, designed for hobby pilots, with two runways and a main office, no security. She stayed in her car until the plane landed and began coasting down the runway toward the office and parking lot. The shimmer of the sun’s blaze looked like it was cooking the tiny aircraft. The plane came to a stop 500 yards from the parking lot.
Its propellers slowed.
Its door opened.
A man stepped out.
It wasn’t Adam. She checked herself for disappointment and found none. She was too busy holding her breath. The first passenger turned, talking to someone in the cabin, and then a second person
stepped out.
This time, it was Adam.
He was here, in Minnesota. Standing across the tarmac, suitcase in hand. His shoulders were strong, his smile tentative, she could see that even from a distance. Her heart tensed. She stepped out of the car. She walked toward him. He strode toward her. She had dreamed of this moment a thousand times since returning to Faith Falls last August.
His steps were easy, confident. The closer he walked, the more she could see of him. He was wearing the soft blue button-down shirt she’d bought him for his last birthday and the sun glinted off a watch, maybe the silver Tag Heuer she’d given him on their third anniversary. The hands that held the suitcase were the same ones that had held her while he listened to her secrets and made love to her. He was smiling, his light brown, wide-set eyes fixed on her.
“Katrine.”
She stopped and put out her hands, palms facing him. Two yards of space lay between them. He started to step closer, but it was as if an invisible wall had appeared in front of him. His brow furrowed. He looked confused.
“I missed you, baby,” he said in his charming accent. “It’s over with me and Lucy. I realized you are the woman for me, and so I ended it with her. I never should have let it happen in the first place. I was an idiot. An absolute idiot. Please forgive me. I love you.”
He was sincere. She smiled. The smile turned into laughter because she knew he was sincere. He wanted her back in his life. She’d given him security, love, respect, admiration, money. She’d handed over everything she had, and then she scrabbled for more to give to him, and when he had it all in a pile, he’d spit on it.
She couldn’t control her bubbling laughter, and it rose into the air and took flight on happy wings. She finally saw Adam exactly as he was: intelligent, selfish, handsome, unfaithful, funny, immature, and cruel. It was all there. What’s better, she recognized who she was.
She turned and never looked back.
The Catalain Book of Secrets Page 23