Remember Love

by Jessica Nelson

  "Ready to deal with a whole bunch of grumpy men and flirty women?" Katrina slung a grin his way.

  "No problem. I deal with that in the business world all the time."

  She chuckled. "Bet the flirts don’t have gray hair and hobble around on canes."

  "You’d be surprised. Shelby Laurence thought I’d marry her if she put me in her will."

  "The toilet paper heiress?"

  "That’s the one. I’m surprised you know her name."

  "Of course. She’s like an elderly Paris Hilton."

  "True. Where do you want me to put this?"

  "The plates get stacked at that end of the table." Katrina began rolling silverware into special Thanksgiving napkins.

  "You could’ve sat with me last Sunday," she said after a moment of silence.

  Alec looked up from the napkins he was rolling. "Wanted to. Thought I’d keep the gossip down, though."

  "You already sat by me once before." She concentrated on the rolling and hoped he hadn’t heard the hurt.

  "Actually, I sat by you and Rachel. Big difference. Katrina, look at me."

  She lifted her chin, thankful that her emotions were well buried.

  "I kissed you. I asked you to marry me." He cocked his head. "You’re the one backing off, not me."

  "I guess I just don’t know what to expect." She kept her voice low, even.

  "Expect commitment. I want you in my life and I don’t know what it’ll take to convince you."

  She didn’t know herself. He tossed his rolled silverware to the side, not even glancing her way. She returned to her rolls. Trust was one thing, marriage another. She needed time before committing to the covenant of marriage. And she wanted forgiveness. Spoken.

  Understanding rushed through her and she paused with rolling the silverware. He’d said he wanted to forgive her, but he’d never actually said he did. Just like his love. She couldn’t ask for him to say these things but neither could she marry him with the weight of their absence bogging her down.

  But she didn’t want to hurt him and she didn’t want him to feel like he was on an emotional roller coaster with her. It was a fine line.

  "Don’t be too surprised if a few of our guests give you looks," she said, trying to lighten the sudden tension.

  "The Hawk serving food." To her relief, Alec smirked. "Got a camera?"

  "It is funny. Smart-mouthed, motorcycle riding rebel serving cranberry sauce." The memories warmed her. "You were the first in Manatee Bay to own a bike, weren’t you?"

  "Nope. Old Rob, down on the other side of the track was. He’d fly off on that Harley to Sturgis and I’d just ache. I wanted to go so bad. Saved my money and bought a bike for myself."

  "We all had crushes on you."

  He winked at her. "Bikes are good for more than one thing."

  "Adventure, speed, and girls." Katrina laughed and Alec’s hands stilled.

  "What?" Her nose crinkled at him while her eyes shone with mirth.

  "You laugh like Julia Roberts."

  "So I’ve been told. Get to rolling. What time is it?" She peered at his waist. He twisted the iPhone on his hip towards her, fighting the impulse to grab her and hug her forever.

  He hadn’t forgotten her laugh, but the way it made him feel had slipped away. Now it punched him in the gut. It stirred his blood and his ears rang with the beat of his pulse.

  Despite the rusty quality of it, her laugh still sang warm and clear.

  For a quiet woman, she laughed louder than anyone else he’d known.

  And he liked it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Who invited the devil? Alec scowled as he dumped a spoonful of mashed potatoes onto an elderly man’s plate. In line behind the man, Widow Carmichael studiously avoided his gaze. Apparently she didn’t feel like casting her stones in a church hall.

  He nodded a smile to the man but his hands tightened around the ladle as the widow stopped before him. He scooped up the potatoes and clacked them against her plate, teeth grinding. It wasn’t right to hate someone so much, to loathe her for her cruel gossip, for making him an outcast in a town that had mothered him better than his own mom.

  At least Ms. Lincoln hadn’t been swayed by the widow’s words.

  Widow Carmichael moved ahead in line without sparing him a glance. His jaw clenched but he served the rest of the line with a tight smile.

  After the majority of people were seated and prayers had been said, he took the tray of sweet tea and lemonade pitchers Joe gave him and made the rounds at the tables.

  Spotting one in the corner that looked low on drinks, he headed that way. A grin worked itself across his face. This reminded him of waiting tables in the early years, after he’d left Manatee Bay to go live with his uncle, and how he’d struggled to earn enough for his first big investment.

  Seventy hours a week and corns on his toes, but he’d done it, much to Uncle Jim’s pride.

  Nothing like success to put a man in a good mood. His grin widened as he approached the table. "Drinks, anyone?"

  "I’ll have more sweet tea." The old man, whose mustache twitched like a curious cat’s tail, regarded him above square-framed glasses. "Young man, I recognize you."

  Alec nodded to the gentleman, feeling a faint ping of recognition. "I grew up here."

  "High school?"

  The other attendees at the table watched them, clearly interested in how Alec would respond. "Most of high school." Manners kicked in. He set the tray on the table, careful to not let the drinks slosh over the rims of the pitchers, and held out his hand. "Alec Munroe."

  "Blake Murray."

  "Coach?"

  "That’s me. Are you that Munroe boy? I couldn’t get you to do much." He grinned. "Too busy with Miss Kitty over there." Coach’s chin pointed to where Katrina bustled across the room, arms loaded with dishes.

  She must’ve felt their gazes because she looked over and saw them staring at her. The world spun when she smiled at him. For a second he almost walked to her, wanted to put his arm around her and show the room whom she belonged to, but a gentle touch on the elbow brought him back to sanity.

  "You still love her." The words were not a question.

  Slowly, Alec nodded. Was it possible to both love and hate someone at the same time? Granted, the hurt seemed to be easing, but would it flare up later? Damage their progress?

  "Son." The coach cleared his throat. "I’ve been wanting to tell you something a long time now."

  Alec glanced around the table. Wrinkled faces turned towards him, expressions blank, though one elderly lady with springy white curls smiled at him and nodded, as though urging him to hear the coach’s words.

  "Sure." Alec gestured to the man’s glass. "Want more tea first?"

  "No, no." Coach waved at his glass and then caught Alec’s gaze. "This is important. Ever since I flunked you in gym class I’ve felt bad."

  "I’m sure I deserved it." Alec’s lips twisted wryly. He remembered sweating in gym, and it hadn’t been over a missed ball.

  "You didn’t. I was so upset over Paul—"

  "Carmichael?"

  "Well, yes. Listen, he was the best teacher there was, his aptitude tests were through the roof, and he was funny. The man made everyone laugh."

  Alec swung the tray off the table, back stiff. People in this town refused to accept Carmichael as the monster he’d been. Too fooled by the white of his teeth and the scope of his brain. "The man you’re describing was nothing but a costume."

  Prepared to leave the table before his temper got the better of him, he froze when Coach hooked his pocket with a finger.

  He glared down at the older man, not caring what the others at the table thought. "You gave me trouble because you grieved the loss of a pedophile."

  Coach released Alec’s pocket. His expression fell. "That’s what I’m trying to tell you." He scooted back and the chair’s scrape across the floor was lost beneath the swelling chatter at other tables.

  Coach stood. His head r
eached Alec’s nose. Frowning, Alec set the tray back on the table. This time liquid splattered but no one seemed to notice.

  "I’m standing here, face to face, man to man, to tell you I was wrong." The coach’s feet shuffled, his chin trembled.

  It was a humbling sight and Alec felt the muscles in his shoulders ease downwards. "What’s changed? Why now?"

  "After you left that year, rumors started. Ms. Carmichael’s family stopped going to the church. People started talking. Her daughter wouldn’t have anything to do with the widow. She’s been coming to this Thanksgiving dinner since before me. She’s alone and we all figure it’s because what you said was true, but she won’t admit it."

  The widow’s family refused to see her. Unbidden, sympathy snuck up on him. He gulped back the unwelcome feeling and kept his gaze trained on the coach’s face, refusing to look for the widow’s sour face.

  "I was a foolish man." Coach shook his head. "Please forgive me." The words didn’t look right, coming from Coach’s mouth like that, but they had, and they hung suspended between them.

  Alec hadn’t considered forgiving the people involved in shunning him. Hadn’t realized the extent of his bitterness until this very moment, until the Coach stood before him and uttered his apology.

  Throat stinging and tight, Alec gave the retired teacher a curt nod. "I forgive you."

  Coach inclined his head, then looked up at him, eyes gleaming. "Thank you."

  Alec scooped the tray off the table and shifted for Coach to sit back down. Curious eyes watched him. He looked up and met five gazes, some looking guilty, others merely perplexed.

  "I’ll have more sweet tea," Coach said.

  "Sure." Alec filled his glass. "Anyone else?" Some nods and he emptied the pitcher. "Enjoy your food."

  An inane thing to say but for the life of him he couldn’t explain the coach’s apology. It made no sense. After all these years, what had possessed the coach to lay down his guts like that in front of onlookers? Extreme guilt, maybe.

  Still, Alec couldn’t shake the sense of unreality that followed him as he brought beverages to different tables. When Ms. Meisenheimer apologized in his ear, when Mr. Furtelli called him a good boy, he accepted the comments with a dazed nod. What else could he do?

  As the evening wore on, not even Widow Carmichael’s glares could pop the strange lightness ballooning in his chest. Oddly enough, he couldn’t stop smiling.

  *****

  The event ended well. A few complaints from the habitual grumps but otherwise dinner sailed smoother than a kayak on the river in summer. Katrina caught several curious glances aimed at Alec, no doubt speculating on why he’d returned to a town that showed him its back a long time ago.

  By five o’clock the kitchen sparkled like new and all the tables and chairs sat against the wall once again.

  "It went well, huh?" Joe came over and helped Katrina hoist one last chair onto an already tipping stack.

  "Better than I thought. We couldn’t have done it without Alec." He’d been everywhere at once, charming little old ladies while they waited for their food, trading business secrets with the older men. More than one senior citizen had advised Katrina to snag him while she could.

  "About Alec." Joe cleared his throat. "I owe you an apology."

  Katrina felt her brows shoot up but she said nothing.

  "Seeing you guys now, hanging out, exploring your feelings, I really wish I hadn’t interfered."

  "You don’t owe me anything," she said, feeling awkward. She could hear Alec vacuuming the reception hall entryway and hoped he didn’t finish too soon.

  "I do. You guys had something special. Ten years later and I see it. Rachel and I, we should’ve waited to say something about Maggie until we knew for sure."

  Poor Joe. Carrying the world on his shoulders as usual. She took his hand and covered it with her other. "It doesn’t matter, Joe. You guys wanted to protect me. But I loved Alec and I should’ve known him better."

  She let go of his hand and reached for her purse. As Joe turned out the lights in the kitchen and walked into the hall, Katrina sent up a little thank you to God. Surprisingly, the prayer didn’t feel as though it bounced back against the ceiling. The longer Alec was here, the more she started to believe God hadn’t abandoned her after all.

  She swung the purse over her shoulder and followed Joe into the main hall of the church. The afternoon had gone well.

  Her gaze skipped to where Alec bent, winding the cord to the vacuum. Joe stood near the door, waiting patiently, dependable and likable. They contrasted, one light, one dark, and yet both endless wells of compassion.

  They locked up and walked to their cars. Her Mazda, Joe’s Ford pick-up, and Alec’s Mercedes.

  "Katrina," Joe called as he opened the door to his truck. "You’re welcome to come to my family’s for dinner."

  "Thanks, but I’m good."

  Joe glanced over at Alec and laughed. "She always says no. I don’t know why I ask."

  Alec nodded, the wind whipping his hair. He held out his hand. "Thanks, Joe, for the opportunity to help."

  "No problem." Joe shook his hand, nodded to Katrina, and then, jumping into his truck, drove out of the parking lot.

  Katrina didn’t move. Should she invite Alec over? Who did he have to spend this holiday with?

  "Cousins," he said, striding towards her.

  "Oh, how did you know?"

  He laughed and cupped her face, smoothing a wind-blown tendril away from her eyes. "You were doing that thing with your cheeks again." He leaned forward and brushed her mouth with his lips.

  "You’ve been eating peppermints," she murmured, enjoying the taste against her skin.

  He chuckled and pulled her close to him for a hug. Warmth and fresh mint surrounded her and for an agonizing instant, Katrina never wanted him to let go.

  And fear struck.

  Joey had been taken, her mother and her father were dead. If she allowed this to go on with Alec, would she lose him too?

  She pulled away from him. "Have a good Thanksgiving." Offering a polite smile, she turned to the car, slid in and without looking back, drove off.

  *****

  Alec watched Katrina zoom out of the parking lot before getting into his car. But he didn’t start the engine.

  Katrina didn’t know his cousins had moved away or she would’ve invited him over.

  He didn’t want to go. He needed space, time to think. Deciding to come to Manatee Bay had appeared simple in the beginning. A business deal that involved a nice chance to get back at a mean and spiteful woman, Kitty’s mom. Show her he became more than the punk she’d always called him. He could’ve backed out when he saw Kitty owned the store. Was thinking of it, until she told him about Joey.

  Just remembering that night did strange things to his gut. Oh, he’d wanted to hurt her for what she’d done. The feeling warred with his desire to recapture the closeness of their youth. But the more time he spent with her, the more he admired her.

  The timid kitten, too selfish and insecure to give of herself, had turned into a daring cat with claws of selfless kindness.

  The elderly guests of today’s meal had laughed with her, talked to her, respected her.

  And so did he.

  The lonely life was getting old, the emptiness wearing thin. Life with Katrina would be special, if he could get her to trust him. There was only one thing which might drive her away. That reminded him of Rachel. Had she dug anything up on him yet?

  He pulled out his cell phone and hit the one. Marta answered on the first ring.

  "It’s me. A redhead might come by, digging for information."

  "No redhead’s been here, Mr. Munroe."

  "If she shows up, don’t talk about Manatee Bay." Alec heard the subtle, telling intake of breath on the other end. He waited.

  "Is that order just for the redhead?"

  He heard the hope in her voice and his teeth pressed together. "No."

  "It might be too late the
n." Marta’s voice became brisk. "A half-hour ago a woman called claiming to be a reporter wanting to do a special piece on you. She asked about your business plans."

  "We never talk business to reporters."

  "Now, Mr. Munroe, sometimes we do." She coughed. "Nothing specific, of course. We moved on to personal matters." Another cough, followed by a long silence. "I may have mentioned, sir, your desire to expand your hometown’s restaurant choices, but I didn’t tell her the location."

  "Don’t talk to anyone else," he snapped. Then, as an afterthought, "Did the reporter give her name?"

  "Jane Smith."

  Well, that was obvious.

  "Thanks Marta." He flipped the phone closed and tried to relax his jaw. The muscles in the base of his neck felt tighter than a rubber band. Rachel wasn’t even trying to cover her tracks. She would call Katrina, and then Katrina would wonder why he hadn’t said anything. Any trust she might’ve been cultivating would, like a flower in a hurricane, be crushed.

  He needed her. If she refused to see him, the emptiness would be unrelenting.

  The glint of keys in the ignition caught his attention. The leather interior smelled clean and new. His rental car on a lot cost more than what some people made in a year.

  If he could buy Katrina’s love, he would. She meant more than these silly toys, these trinkets designed to fill some hole within.

  You shall have no other gods. . .

  It whispered inside, the ancient verse he’d read this very morning in his hotel room. Alec leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He’d had Katrina in high school and still felt empty. Hadn’t he left her without a glance? And been miserable, but functional.

  What was he thinking? Life without Katrina might be painful, but it wasn’t meaningless.

  Life without God, on the other hand, left a void bigger than the Grand Canyon.

  Maybe the treasure he needed wasn’t the kind that could be bought. Months ago, after deciding to follow Jesus, peace had filled him and the emptiness fled. Until he’d learned of her building’s sale. Until a plan had formed to remind her and her mother of the man they’d left standing alone.

  An image of Coach, humbling himself, bombarded Alec. Forgiveness. It wasn’t the rich things of his life that he’d made an idol of.