Dedicated to:
My mother, who taught me to read and write, taught me to trust in God, is a daily example of unconditional love, and is one heck of a gardener.
Aaron, who inspired me to chase after my dream by chasing after his own, has helped me discover my worth, and is a better Scrabble player than I’ll ever be.
Chapter 1
Kate Henry sat in the backyard, running her fingers through the grass and daydreaming like any other nine-year-old would do. The sparse backyard didn’t lend much to the imagination – oh sure, it was green and well kept, but it was boring. Vanilla. Status quo. When I grow up, I’m going to have a house with a beautiful yard where I can throw parties and play hide-and-seek and run around with all of my dogs. When I grow up, everything in my life will be beautiful.
“Listen, Olivia, I don’t want to hear it! This marriage isn’t what it used to be. I’m exhausted; can’t you see that? I’m done. Through.” Kate stiffened as she heard her father’s angry voice drifting across the yard. Her father rarely got angry. In fact, nothing made him happier than his only daughter. They loved to spend time together playing catch or taking hikes or riding their bikes to the coast and back. Kate never forgot the time that her father convinced her to make picket signs one night while her mother Olivia was cooking salmon, and they marched through the kitchen chanting “Eat a pizza, save a fish!” Yes, they had a special bond since the day she was born, and Kate worshipped her father.
“Peter, listen. Don’t do this. Don’t throw everything away. We can get through this.” Kate could hear that her mother’s voice was calm, yet frightened.
“Don’t act like you care all of a sudden! You haven’t cared for years!”
“You know that isn’t true,” Olivia said. “I care. I care more than I could ever explain to you. I meant those vows when I said them. For better or for worse. We’re just going through a rough patch, but I still love you very much and I will fight for our marriage!”
“I’m sorry. I don’t want this. Any of it. I’m done.”
“So what are you going to do, just walk out? Are you going to leave?”
“I met someone. It’s been going on for months now. I’m leaving.”
Kate stood up quickly. What? Daddy is leaving? Where is he going? Although just a child, Kate knew that things hadn’t been perfect at home recently. Her father’s round-trip daily commute of almost three hours made his hours at home few and far between. The time he spent with his family had been growing less frequent. Kate was aware that her mother was working hard to protect her from the harsh realities of a troubled relationship, but even her mother couldn’t protect her from what was about to happen.
“You…you met someone?”
“I did, Olivia. Look, we tried. We just don’t love each other anymore. There’s no point to this.”
“No point? No point!? To our marriage? What about commitment? What about our promises? What about Kate?”
“I’m sure she’ll understand. Lots of kids’ parents get divorced, and they all learn to deal with it. She’ll be fine.”
“Peter Henry, I swear I will never forgive you for doing this to our daughter. You can ruin my life, but please don’t do this to her. What are you teaching her? That it’s okay to give up when things get tough? That it’s okay to walk out on your family? That men can’t be trusted?”
Kate crept up to the window of her parents’ bedroom and carefully stood on her tiptoes to get a peek at the scene that was unfolding. Her mother was blocking the door, hands on her hips. Kate’s eyes shifted to her father. She watched in confusion as he looked at her mother with a blank expression, picked up a bag, and walked right by Olivia and out the door.
Kate sank back down onto the grass, the argument still ringing in her ears. My dad…is gone? But he’s coming back, right? He can’t just…leave, she thought. Hearing the sound of her mother’s cries, she again stood up to peer in the window. She saw her mother crumpled up in a little ball on the floor, weeping as if her life was over.
“Please, God, don’t let him do this to us,” Olivia whimpered. “Please make him come back. I’ll do anything. Just make him come back.”
Kate quietly snuck in the front door and went straight to her room. Not knowing what else to do, she got in her bed, curled up under the covers, hugged her soft stuffed panda to her chest, and began to cry softly.
~~~~~
Smack!
The alarm clock really didn’t deserve this kind of treatment. It had been faithfully waking her up every morning for years. Well, except for those glorious Saturdays when she got to sleep in. And not only was the alarm clock faithful; it was understanding. It could take the abuse, but get over its hurt feelings nine minutes later to do its job again.
Smack!
“You win,” Kate mumbled, defeated, from beneath a massive mountain of pillows.
Growing up, Kate slept in a hard twin bed. She had never known what she was missing until she bought her first pillow top queen sized mattress five years ago. Ever since, her bed was always adorned with beautiful linens and a fantastic amount of pillows. Maybe it was this glorious bed that contributed to the difficulty she was having emerging from her cocoon and getting going this morning.
After she had showered, she pulled her soft terrycloth robe around herself and opened her closet doors. The corners of her mouth turned up in a smile and a satisfied feeling came over her as she looked at her impeccably organized closet. On one side sat neat stacks of jeans and an array of hanging jackets, slacks, and dresses; on the other side were shirts. First sorted by type of shirt (long-sleeved, short-sleeved, and tank top) and then sorted by color, Kate’s closet was a rainbow of logic and order. She slipped on a pair of gray pants and pulled on a lightweight blue sweater, which she pulled from the long-sleeved section in between green and purple, of course.
Looking in the mirror at her wild and damp auburn hair, she asked, “Okay hair, what do you want to be today? Sassy or sleek?” Kate nodded in agreement and said, “Yep, you’re right. I’m feeling sassy today too,” as though her hair had somehow conjured an audible reply.
She fixed her hair, put on just enough makeup, and chose a cream colored jacket from her extensive jacket collection. (“Why on earth do you have so many jackets?” her friend Amy always said. “You clearly have an addiction.”) After slipping on a pair of heels, she headed down the hall of her small apartment where she had lived since moving to Rocky Mount. There were only ten units in the complex, all of which faced out onto a central courtyard. Even though she lived alone, smiling and waving at her neighbors always made Kate feel like part of a little community; a feeling she loved. She grabbed her keys off of the dining table with the eclectically mismatched chairs before walking out her front door to her car.
It was a short four miles from her apartment to the bookstore that she managed, but she always found time to listen to music on the way to work. “Okay iPod, pick a good one today,” she said as she waited to hear what song the shuffle setting would choose.
Sometimes she sat in her driveway and listened to an entire song before heading off to work, but because of the earlier alarm clock abuse, Kate didn’t have the time. She pressed play and started driving. “You done good,” she said to the iPod when she heard the first strains of Bon Jovi’s “Livin’ on a Prayer.”
A few minutes later, she unlocked the door of the bookstore and clicked her way across the front room. “Meredith?” she called.
“In the office, hon!” came a voice from deep inside the store. It wasn’t a huge store, but Bestselling Dwelling was a staple in the city of Rocky Mount. Occupying a converted old 20’s Craftsman two-story house, the store was full of character far beyond those between the covers of the books it housed. Complete with creaky wood floors, built-in book
cases, many separate rooms for different genres of books, and lots of corners perfect for curling up with a good book, the store was a favorite among locals. Customers loved to spend hours browsing through the store, searching for a new treasure to take home with them.
Kate made her way back to the organized chaos that was Meredith’s office and saw Meredith Hammond, who owned the bookstore and also happened to be her best friend Amy’s grandmother. She was sitting behind her desk with her morning tea and the most recent People magazine.
It was quite a picture. This beautiful, classy woman in her seventies, with her immaculate outfit and perfect white hair that matched her strand of pearls, who had traveled the world with her husband Mark and never had a shortage of stories to tell, was reading about who had the worst outfit at the Golden Globes and the most recent celebrity relationship scandal.
With a soft snort, she shook her head, took the magazine out of Meredith’s hands, and started flipping through it.
“You know, Meredith, you are just too much. Here you are, surrounded by all of this amazing literature every day, and yet you choose to read this pedestrian nonsense. I mean really – what would Mark say?”
Meredith’s late husband was an accomplished author of a series of historical fiction novels about European royalty. It was his passion for literature (not to mention the money he made from his book sales) that had built this modest bookstore over 40 years ago.
Meredith snatched the magazine back from Kate. “I’ve read literature from War and Peace to Winnie the Pooh and everything in between. Now I’m an old woman, and I’ll read what I want. Hmph!” She flipped back to the page where she left off and pretended to be indignant.
Kate smiled and headed out to the counter in the room that used to be the kitchen, although you never would have known it. When the Hammonds bought the house they completely gutted the kitchen and added a large pine desk that served as the sales counter in the place of cabinets and appliances. “You’re gorgeous. I love how you brighten this place up,” she said to the vase of lilies next to the register that she had placed there the day before. Kate brought in fresh flowers to the store at least once a week.
Glancing over at Meredith in her office, Kate smiled as she thought what a blessing she had become in Kate's life. She had grown to love and respect Meredith very much, and she was so grateful to have this job, but more so to have her in her life. She knew that Meredith prayed for her daily, and she often went to her for advice. Although older than Kate’s mother, who lived on the opposite coast, she had become somewhat of a second mother figure to her.
“Meredith, I want to be just like you when I grow up,” she shouted towards the office.
“Of course you do, dear,” she replied with a smile in her voice. “I’m incredible.”
Hearing the front door bell jingle, Kate wandered into the front room. “Good morning, Phoebe,” she said, recognizing one of many frequent customers who lived in the neighborhood.
“Hi Kate. How are you today?”
“Can’t complain. Are you looking for anything in particular?"
“You bet I am. My son is all about airplanes right now. Can’t get enough of them. He’s actually started driving me a little bonkers. I thought maybe a book about airplanes would keep him occupied for awhile.”
Kate chuckled. “No worries, I’m sure we have the perfect thing. Let’s see… your son is eight? Nine?”
“He’s nine.”
“Follow me.”
Kate and Phoebe headed up the stairs and to the room that housed all of the childrens’ and young adults’ literature. Reaching for a book on the top shelf, Kate knocked the adjacent book off balance and it tumbled to the floor. “Oh get up and get back where you belong!” Kate said to the book as she returned it to its proper place. Retrieving the book she had in mind for Phoebe’s son, she handed it to Phoebe and said, “You might want to take a look at this one. I think he’ll love it.”
“Flyboys,” Phoebe read off the cover, flipping it over in her hand.
“It goes through a chronological history of famous pilots, and has tons of neat stories both about their lives and about the planes they flew. It even gets into space travel a bit at the end. It’s a really interesting read, but not too advanced for a nine-year-old.”
“Sold!” said Phoebe, who started to head down the stairs to the counter. “How much is it?”
Kate stepped behind the register and scanned the book. “It’s $8.99.”
“Small price to pay for some peace and quiet! Thanks, Kate. You’re the best.”
“I try,” she said, handing Phoebe the bag containing her purchase. “See you at church on Sunday.” Kate felt her phone buzzing in her pocket and waved goodbye to Phoebe with one hand while she pulled out her phone with the other.
“Hello?” she said. “What? You’re what? Are you kidding me? You better believe I’m excited!”
~~~~~
Kate left The Bestselling Dwelling at the end of her shift and stopped at the grocery store to pick up a few things before heading over to Rick and Amy’s house to cook dinner and spend the evening with her dear friends and their two little boys. Although she enjoyed frequent solitary nights in her apartment with a good book (even though the time alone was probably what gave birth to Kate’s habit of talking to things such as her hair and her iPod), she also loved spending time with the Baileys.
She met Amy in her children’s literature class during their freshmen year. Amy was a confident, extroverted girl who wasn’t afraid to tell you what she thought, and she and Kate quickly became friends when they were the only two brave enough to speak up during class discussions. When Kate and Amy realized that they were both Christians, they immediately bonded on another level. While many students were out partying on a Friday night, Kate preferred to spend her time in newlyweds Rick and Amy’s tiny apartment, cooking amazing meals with whatever ingredients they could afford, playing board games, and laughing until the early morning hours. Many times it was just the three of them, but Rick and Amy never made her feel like a third wheel. She somehow just seemed to fit in the equation.
When graduation rolled around, Kate found herself with an English degree and no real direction. So when Rick and Amy told her about Meredith’s store, which was in desperate need of a manager since Mark’s passing, she had no reason to say no.
While she struggled to pull three paper bags full of groceries out of her car (she was going to make Mexican food, a favorite of hers as a native Californian), she heard the front door open and slam shut. Five seconds later, she heard two little voices.
“Kate! Kate! Can we carry a bag?”
She smiled down at six-year-old Parker and four-year-old Todd. Growing up, she had never been around children much. She was an only child and spent much of her free time in high school working at the local pizza joint instead of babysitting like many of her friends. Parker and Todd were two adorable reasons that Kate had decided she’d like to have children someday.
“Here you go, Parker, you can carry this bag,” she said, handing him the lightest bag. Todd stood there with outstretched arms and a huge heart-melting grin. Knowing that his little arms weren’t strong enough to carry a heavy bag of groceries, she still didn’t want to disappoint him by refusing his help. She grabbed the giant plastic bottle of margarita mix out of one of the bags and handed it to Todd.
“Here buddy, this is a very special bottle for you to carry. Can you take this inside to your daddy?”
“Yes! I can do it!” said Todd enthusiastically. He proudly scurried off towards the house, bottle in tow.
Kate chuckled to herself, knowing that her intentional irony of choosing the margarita mix to give to a four-year-old would not be lost on Rick, and she was right. She heard Rick’s hearty laughter and his voice through an open window in the kitchen. “Why thank you for bringing me this…this giant bottle of margarita mix, Todd. You’re so helpful.” And then a second later, “Kate! Stop corrupting my son and get your beh
ind in the house. I’m starving!”
The group of five enjoyed a dinner of tacos loaded with Kate’s famous homemade guacamole (the secret to it was lots of garlic and cilantro with just a hint of lime juice) and ice cream for dessert. Reminiscing about college, they began to recount stories from their college years.
“Do you remember tape faces, Kate?” asked Amy.
“Um, of course I do. I still can’t believe you convinced me to participate in that.”
“Tape faces?” said Rick. “What are you talking about?”
“Baby, you remember tape faces. You’ve seen the pictures, I’m sure.” Rick shrugged, apparently not recalling the alleged pictures. “We took pieces of masking tape and taped them all over our faces. I think we had our noses taped up like pigs and our eyes and lips taped in crazy ways to completely contort our faces. Then we walked through the freshmen boys’ dorm and tried to get some phone numbers for Kate.”
“Which we did not,” said Kate.
“Look, if none of those boys had the sense of humor to appreciate tape faces, then they clearly weren’t worth your time.”
“Your mommy is a little crazy,” Rick whispered to the boys, who were focused on their ice cream.
“Oh, please,” said Amy. “Like you weren’t a little crazy yourself. Remember the time you and a bunch of guys decided it would be funny to fill the little pond near the cafeteria with dish soap? There were bubbles in there for weeks!”
“You’ll never be able to prove that I was a part of that,” said Rick with an expressionless face that could fool a prosecutor. It certainly had been able to fool the dean of the college. “But, speaking of bubbles, it’s time to bathe these filthy boys. Come on, Tarker and Podd. Bath time.”
“Dad! That’s not our names!” they said through their giggles as they hurried down the hall after him.
Stuffed, Amy began to clear the dishes while Kate put on a pot of coffee.
“Thanks for dinner,” said Amy, scrubbing the cutting board covered with avocado remnants. “It was delicious, as always. You’re so sweet to come over and cook for us.”
More Page 1