“But, Katelyn—”
“No, John, stop it! I know you want to think otherwise, but I didn’t see anything. I wasn’t there.” She pressed her lips together, hoping John couldn’t see she was close to tears. Mrs. J. was probably right. Maybe she should forget finding a studio here. Maybe going home to Austin was the right thing to do. In Austin, she didn’t have to look at any skeletons in the closet or dig up memories that were better left dead and buried. Except in Austin, she was now known as a family-wrecking tramp. Right. Almost forgot that.
“Look, John. I don’t mean to be rude, but you don’t know me at all. You don’t know—” She’d been about to say he didn’t know her father, but that wasn’t right. He did know her father. He just couldn’t possibly understand her relationship with her father. She didn’t understand it herself. “Just drop it, John, please?”
She heard the quiet plea in her own voice and hated how weak it made her sound.
John stood up, coming close to her, stepping in until his body was only an inch from hers, until she could feel the heat coming off him as they stood toe-to-toe. His face was so close, his eyes looked into hers as if he saw right through her.
She was shocked to find her heart beating rapidly as her breath caught in her throat. Her eyes dropped to John’s mouth, which was most definitely not smiling now. Stunned, Katelyn pulled her eyes back up to meet John’s gaze and forced herself to breathe.
His voice was soft and low when he finally spoke. “There’s that same phrase again. You’ve been taught to say it, and you don’t even know you do it now. ‘I didn’t see anything. I wasn’t there.’ You don’t even realize you’re doing it, do you, Katelyn?”
She opened her mouth but before she could say anything, John stepped back, breaking the hold he’d had over her. They stood watching one another warily, the tension thick and heavy between them. She wanted to deny it, but he was right. She knew if she opened her mouth to deny that she’d seen her mother’s murder, the words that came out would be the same words John had just repeated back to her.
How is that possible?
Katelyn looked down at the worn wood of the porch under their feet, forced to wonder if her father had a very good reason for sending her away so many years ago. A reason that had to do with something she saw.
Before she could formulate any response, Charlie and Sam came around the building. The pair looked back and forth between Katelyn and John as though they, too, could feel the weight of the topic that swirled heavily in the air. John was faster than she was. He pasted a smile on his face, offered his hand to first Charlie and then Sam, breaking the spell that surrounded them. With one last strange look in her direction, Charlie unlocked the front door and herded the group into the empty building.
“I was surprised when John called me, Katelyn,” Charlie said. “I didn’t realize you planned to stay in town.”
Katelyn nodded as she looked around at the large interior of the building. She understood why no one expected her to stay. She simply wasn’t eager to have the conversation again.
The old house had already been opened up on the inside, and the space was one long room with a few smaller rooms toward the back. She poked her head into a bathroom, closet, and what looked like it was once an office. She couldn’t help the flutter of excitement at the idea of opening her own gallery and studio space.
“So, you’re moving back permanently then?” Charlie tried again when Katelyn had returned to the group.
“Yes. I’ve given up my studio in Austin,” Katelyn answered, not offering more and hoping he wouldn’t push for it.
“Can I see the upstairs?” She needed light for her workspace, and the top floor of the building looked like it would give her just that with all the windows she’d seen from the outside.
“Sure, sure,” Charlie said and gestured toward the staircase. “You just, uh, you just take a look and then let me know what you need done to the space. Sam’ll get it all fixed up for you.”
Katelyn glanced at Sam, but he didn’t say anything or indicate he’d heard anything Charlie had said.
She felt John follow her as she started up the stairs.
The top floor had exactly what she needed. Light and space. It would be perfect for her studio, and she wouldn’t need to have anything done to it other than a good cleaning and installing some vents. The downstairs would need some remodeling, though.
“Close to Two Sisters,” John said, nodding out the front window at the diner that sat catty-corner to the old house. “Good coffee and lots of snacks when you need a break,” he said.
Katelyn smiled and nodded, but in reality, she tended to get lost for long periods of time when she was working. She’d forget to eat for hours, if not days, and then need to crash and recuperate. They walked down the stairs quietly, Katelyn’s mind whirling with the possibilities of the space.
“How much is the rent, Charlie?”
“‘Uncle’ Charlie, Katelyn,” Charlie said with a smile and a sideways glance at Sam, who still stood mute next to him. “I’ve got it listed at eight dollars per square foot per year, but if that’s too much we can work out a family deal,” he said and winked at her.
“Oh, um, great. Thank you. Can I give you a call after I’ve had a chance to think about it?” Katelyn hadn’t been prepared to talk about her studio and what she wanted and negotiate lease terms or anything, particularly in front of a group.
Who am I kidding?
It was John who was making her nervous. She needed to go home and sketch out the space and plot display walls and shipping sections. She wanted time to picture the gallery and the workspace and feel her way around the space in her head. But, more than anything, she wanted to get away from John and have time to think. Katelyn followed the men out of the building with a last long look over her shoulder. A small seed of hope that she’d really found a place to build her future settled into her stomach as they said their goodbyes.
Everlasting: Chapter Four
At the very last minute, Katelyn chickened out. Never mind all her bluffing about John not being a member of her family. Never mind not wanting him to be part of the conversation she needed to have with her father’s doctor. When the time came, Katelyn practically dragged John into the doctor’s office alongside her, suddenly terrified at the thought of hearing the doctor’s prognosis alone, of facing overwhelming decisions that had to be made with no one by her side to talk them over with.
As the doctor discussed underlying issues that may have sped up her father’s liver deterioration and outlined options for making him more comfortable, Katelyn’s head spun.
Make him more comfortable?
“You’re not doing any treatment?” she asked, feeling like a small child again instead of a grown woman.
John squeezed her hand. “Your father’s wishes, Kate. He signed orders refusing treatment of any kind other than measures to ease his pain and suffering.” His tone was gentle and kind, but the words made Katelyn crumble.
“But he’s not in his right mind, you know that!” Katelyn looked from John to the doctor and back, willing her chin to stop trembling as the words tumbled out. “He’s suffering from dementia. How can he make a decision like that?”
John’s arms came around her as the doctor explained and Katelyn sank into him. So much for not leaning on John.
“Your father made that decision several years ago,” the doctor said, his tone patient. “His lawyer had his Living Will on file and brought it to us when he was checked in. There’s no evidence that he was suffering from dementia when he had those papers drawn up, Katelyn. I’m sorry.”
When they walked out of the doctor’s office half an hour later, Katelyn felt completely wrung out. John took her hand and led her to the hospital cafeteria without a word. And, she followed just as silently. She was numb at the news of her father’s condition. John had told her it was bad, but Katelyn felt a little like she’d been hit by a train as John led her to a table and pushed her down into a c
hair.
He knelt in front of her, those eyes of his on her again, so strong, as if he could will her to be strong with him.
“I’m going to get you something to eat. Stay right here for me, okay?” He said it as though she was a child who might get up and wander away if not supervised, but she just nodded mutely. Information about her father’s prognosis and the care he’d need to be comfortable in the coming weeks swam in her head.
“Sweetheart, can you try to eat something?” John asked, putting a bowl of soup and a corn muffin in front of Katelyn. When she just looked at him, he pulled a chair over and hugged her tight. They stayed like that for a long time, Katelyn soaking in the warmth and strength of his arms, and the feel of his steady breathing as he let her lean on him. He did feel as though he might be strong enough for both of them.
Eventually, Katelyn took a deep breath and pulled back, wiping at tears that had started to fall at some point. She wasn’t sure when.
“I don’t know whether to do hospice at home or keep him here,” she said, referring to the in-hospital hospice program the doctor had talked about. John put a cup of coffee in her hands and wrapped her fingers around the mug.
“You won’t be alone if you bring him home—we’ll all be there to help you. And we can always bring him back to the hospital if he has symptoms that need to be treated,” John said, echoing what the doctor had explained about Alan’s care.
When Katelyn didn’t answer, John sat back in his chair and changed the subject. “So, did you end up leasing the space we looked at for your studio?”
Katelyn smiled and nodded. She knew what John was trying to do, but she let him. Her heart was still heavy from the overwhelming news the doctor had given her, but it was hard not to feel a bit hopeful at the idea of having a new studio to work in.
“I did. It needs some remodeling to make it work, but I think it will be perfect when Sam finishes the build-out.”
“Your dad showed me some of your stuff. It’s amazing.”
“Thanks,” Katelyn said, suddenly feeling shy. She’d always been proud of her work, but her heart flipped a little at the idea that John might really like what she did. She was a sculptor but her work was a little abstract. Not everyone liked it. She worked mostly with metal, but she’d been mixing media lately, dabbling with adding glass and polished stone into her pieces. She’d even started painting a little and then adding texture to the paintings by mixing metals right into the surface of the paints.
“So you’ll have a studio and a shop in town?” he asked. Katelyn knew he was trying to take her mind off her father’s condition and all the decisions she had to make, but she didn’t object. She wanted to think about something other than medical terms and hospice choices, and whether she could really give her father the care he needed in what would likely be his last weeks of life.
She nodded. “I’ll have my real studio on the second floor where it’s nice and bright. There will be a small workspace downstairs where I’ll keep one work-in-progress so people can come in and watch me work or see how a piece progresses. I’ll have the gallery in the front and then have the shipping in the back.”
“Shipping?”
“Mm hmm. I’ll still be shipping things back to the gallery that represents me in Austin, and I’ve got a gallery in New York I ship pieces to and go to once or twice a year. I also have a gallery in New Orleans that wants to carry a few pieces on a trial basis.”
John took a sip of his coffee and pushed the muffin toward Katelyn, encouraging her to eat. She picked at it a bit as he talked. “You know about the painters and potter that opened shops here, I assume? They’ve brought a real crowd on the weekends during the summer. You should stop in and talk to them.”
Katelyn nodded as she swallowed a bite of muffin. “I will. I just want to get settled in a little more before I do,” she said, but the truth was, she’d been avoiding people since she came to town.
They sat together in an almost comfortable silence a bit longer. The support John showed her, the incredible help he’d been with her father, the way he’d been almost holding her hand through the whole visit with the doctor—it all served to break down the last bit of resistance to the charm John seemed to exude naturally without any effort at all. Katelyn took a deep breath and spilled the ugly truth she’d been holding onto since she got John’s call about her father.
“I’ve always resented you,” she said. “The other day, when you asked me why I don’t like you, I lied.”
John’s eyebrows shot up but he didn’t say anything.
“Well, not entirely. You are controlling and opinionated and obnoxiously pushy and bossy.” She looked up at him. “You’re very bossy.”
John began to grin and Katelyn couldn’t help but smile back. But her smile was gone in a second as she continued. “But that’s not why I’ve been, well…the way I’ve been with you.”
“You mean there’s more?” he asked, his grin taunting her now.
“I’ve always resented you for being here with my dad. He wanted you here with him. Not me,” she said with a little shake of her head as if to shake off the knowledge that she wasn’t wanted.
“Oh, Kate—” John began, his smile gone, but she cut him off.
“No, I know it’s awful and small and petty of me, and I’m sorry. I’ve been treating you like dirt, and you’ve done nothing but help me, help my dad. You really don’t deserve to bear the fallout of my twisted relationship with him,” she said, her smile wry as she tried to apologize.
John looked at her, seeming to study her for a minute, then scooped up their tray and tossed everything in the trash. He returned and took her hand, pulling her up.
“Come here, I want to show you something.” He ignored her protests and pulled her down the hall. They took the elevator up two flights to her father’s room.
“Wait here,” he said and walked in the room, leaving the door open. With the curtain pulled across the near side of her father’s bed, Katelyn could see John and hear her father, but her father couldn’t see her standing outside the door.
“John! Hey, boy, how are you? Everything quiet over in Hayes?”
Katelyn cringed. If her father was asking about Hayes, he was somewhere in the past again. Hayes was the town John had served when he was deputy. Now, as sheriff, he served Evers and ran the rest of the county and its prison system, while one of his deputies had taken over in Hayes.
John played along with Alan’s question as if he, too, were still in the past.
“Yes, sir. Everything’s all right over there. Hey, how’s Katelyn doing, Alan?”
Katelyn listened, stunned as her father’s voice came alive. She could hear his excitement, the pride evident.
“Give me my phone, there, on the table,” her father said. “She found a gallery that wants to show her work. I always knew she’d make it someday. So much talent. That little girl’s got so much talent.” John handed her father his phone and she watched as her father showed John picture after picture of what she could only assume were her sculptures. She’d gotten her first gallery showing six years earlier, so she had no idea what pictures her father still had on his phone, but he seemed so excited to be showing John something.
John nodded and caught her eye briefly as she stepped closer to the doorway. Her father missed the look and kept right on going, telling John all about her latest—well, in his mind anyway—latest works. Next he told John about the sale of her first commissioned work to the corporate headquarters of a publicly traded company in New York City. Katelyn smiled. She remembered that sale. They’d commissioned a large sculpture for the center of the building’s lobby. It had been a huge deal to her at the time. It still was, for that matter.
She listened to her father and John talk as tears ran down her face. Her father seemed to remember every detail of her career, every accomplishment she’d had, and she knew, standing there, this wasn’t the first time John had heard these stories. He would laugh and smile with her fathe
r and then he’d say something that spurred the next story from her father, as if he, too, had all of her milestones memorized.
For the first time ever, Katelyn let go of the jealousy she’d felt over her father’s relationship with John. Instead, she let herself be grateful for it. Grateful that her father had someone here with him all of these years. Grateful that she had John with her now to help her. Grateful that he’d shown her this—that he’d reminded her of the love her father had for her, despite her unusual upbringing.
* * *
A few days later, Katelyn and John left the hospital together after a morning spent visiting with her father, who had been surprisingly lucid for much of the time. It turned out that getting her feelings out there about her father’s relationship with John had been surprisingly…cathartic, actually. Katelyn was able to see John’s offers for help for what they were now. Support. Not control.
“So, I’ve been thinking. You should come out with me and my friends this weekend. We’re going to Pies and Pints tomorrow night. It’ll be fun: we’ll play pool or darts, have a few pitchers and pizza, relax. You can’t tell me you don’t need to relax,” he chided, those dimples eating away at her resistance.
Katelyn squirmed. “I don’t think so, John. What if people gawk at me?” She didn’t have to tell him why she asked that. He understood she felt self-conscious about her father sending her away. Or rather, the fact that the whole town knew her father had sent her away as a child.
“Don’t you read the paper? Watch the news? One of the people going is Laura Kensington. The Laura Kensington. As in former wife of Patrick Kensington, chased across the country by the man who killed her husband? That Laura Kensington. Well, now she’s Laura Bishop because she married Cade Bishop—you remember Cade and Shane Bishop? Cade’s the younger one.”
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