by Ev Bishop
“So you are seeing her.”
Brian shook his head. As ever, his mother seemed incapable of getting the point, incapable of getting him.
Caren rose to her feet slowly and, for the first time in Brian’s whole life, she seemed every one of her years. “Maybe it’s someone like me, your mother, the woman who loves you more than any other person in the world does, the person who, yes, has made mistakes and, yes, lives with regrets, who is exactly the person to give you relationship advice.”
“But—” Brian started.
Caren made a slicing motion with her hand, silencing him. “I don’t want to fight with you. I’m just, whether you believe it or not, concerned about you.”
She took a deep breath, like she was going to say something more, but didn’t. She squeezed lemon into each of their mugs, freshened their tea, and sank back into her chair.
A deep, familiar sadness—almost rage—coiled and uncoiled in Brian’s guts. You are not your parents, he said sternly in his head. A person can break free of patterns. Look at Katelyn.
“Mom,” he said softly. “Katelyn is a good person, a strong person. You’ll like her.”
“You mean you think she’s better than me, stronger, less complacent.”
“Aw, come on. It’s not a question of anyone being better or stronger—” He broke off suddenly, recalling a conversation he’d had with Katelyn.
“What do you get out of your relationship with Dad anyway?”
“What do you mean?”
“What’s the payoff? You’re not weak. You’re not . . . complacent, as you said. You’re passionate, disciplined, artistic—and you’d be able to support yourself quite nicely, or very nicely, depending on your settlement.”
“I still don’t—”
“It’s not complicated. Everyone stays in a relationship for a reason. The reason may not make sense to anyone else, or it may be built on flawed logic, but it exists. Some women stay with abusers because they’re afraid of the consequences of leaving. Some have financial realities to think of. They can’t afford to break free, or, at least, they can’t afford to raise their children without their husband’s help. Some people get an ego rush from feeling superior to their abuser, others have religious convictions, or—”
Caren held up her hand again. “Okay, okay, I get it.”
Brian bit his tongue as long as he could, then blurted, “So, why?”
“Your dad isn’t the complete villain you all seem to think he is,” Caren said slowly. “And I’m not the easiest person to be married to either. I love you boys, I really do—but I’ve always thought I’d have made a good single person, like you.”
Anger and age old frustration thumped at Brian’s temples. “I know you mean well,” he said, “but you have to stop comparing me to you. I’m not you. I’m me. My whole life everyone has acted like I’d never be able to sustain a relationship, like I’m too shallow, too self-absorbed, too . . . I don’t know. It never occurs to any of you that I might want a real relationship, a home, a family.”
Caren’s eyes widened. “That’s what you think of me? And that’s what you think people are saying, what I’m saying, when you’re compared to me?”
Brian shrugged.
“Oh . . . ” Caren’s voice trailed off and her eyes fluttered shut. When she opened them, she had found her composure again. “So then you understand, at least partly, how your father has always felt—like he came second in my life, or, once you boys came along, further down the line than that even. And then, of course, he acted in ways that only created what he feared all along—that I would cease to love him or that I had never loved him.”
Caren had always overshared with Brian. He still resented it like crazy, but now, as an adult, he at least understood it—the loneliness she must feel, the isolation, that would make her turn to her child and talk to him like a peer.
“So what? You’re staying with him now, after making it public that you don’t care for him, to what? Punish him?”
Caren laughed lightly, sorrowfully. “Relationships are complicated. No one understands what makes someone else’s marriage work—not even the people who are married.”
Brian shook his head. “I reject that.” The vehemence and volume of his words shocked them both. Caren actually jumped a little. “Kindness, appreciation, respect . . . laughing together . . . those things go a long way in any relationship.”
“Wow, you really do like this woman.”
“I do, not that it matters. She, like you, thinks it’s not worth pursuing, that she’s too much trouble.”
Caren sipped her tea and looked distant again. “That was the most surprising facet of all this to me. When I broke free of your Dad, when he moved out, I realized that all these years I’d been using my distance and preoccupation with my work as a tether, a way of controlling him. Once I decided to leave him, all I could see were the things I’d miss about him.”
“Like what?”
“He’s brilliantly smart, your dad. And a hard worker.”
“And a womanizer, a bully, and a braggart.”
“If you’d known your grandfather, your dad’s dad, you’d be more understanding.”
Brian scrubbed his face with his hands. “This whole conversation is madness, Mom. Do what you want, but please stop involving me in it. I just . . . I can’t. I love you. I love Dad too, actually—but you guys spent a lifetime being unhappy with each other, and I’m not going to pretend I’m jumping with joy that you’re back together again.”
“You know what you should do?”
Brian set his mug down too heavily. It sloshed and almost spilled. She really was going to ignore everything he’d said, like he hadn’t spoken at all.
“Stop thinking about us, me, your dad, your brothers. Stop thinking about all the court cases you’ve seen and clients you’ve worked with.”
“I’m sorry. I’m not following—”
“I’m not, we’re not, the reason you’ve never pursued a serious relationship. It was fear—justifiable, smart, completely reasonable fear. You’re analytical, you study things, you arrive at conclusions.”
“Um . . . ”
“So use that knowledge and your years of observations to do what your brothers have done: build the marriage you want, centered around love.”
“Wait a minute. First you’re all up in arms because I might be seeing Katelyn. Now you’re practically commanding me to marry her?”
“Not at all.” Caren stood up once more, showing that the conversation and their visit was almost done. “I’m saying you’re a grown man, with a good career and a solid head on your shoulders. It’s time for you to forgive me and your dad for any ways we’ve failed you, any bad examples we’ve set. And it’s past time to stop using us as your excuse for not trying, for not taking risks, for not seeking the relationship you obviously crave. We’re just people trying to live the best we can, and sometimes, yes, I’m sorry, we fail.”
Brian had followed Caren’s lead, standing when she did, but now he plunked back into the chair and fiddled with a teaspoon. Was that what he’d been doing all these years? Not wisely steering clear of long-term relationships because monogamy and “true love” really were bunk, but because he immaturely thought so, based solely on his childhood home life?
How many times had he told young offenders he represented, when faced with their common as potatoes denials of responsibility for their actions, saying it was because of this or that in their past, that it didn’t fly with him? That if you didn’t recognize something had affected you, yes, you were off the hook, but the moment that you did realize you might do X because you’d experienced Y or lived through Z—then you were responsible for acting on that new information and choosing the better path, the higher road.
He sighed, set his teaspoon down, and looked up. Caren had already disappeared into her studio.
On his trek through the quiet memory laden house toward the door, a trio of odd thoughts occurred to Brian. Maybe
curing his disillusionment and self-imposed bachelorhood really was up to him, like his mom pointed out. Maybe happiness was just a matter of choosing to live and love differently than his parents. And maybe he’d already started to.
On the heels of everything with Steve, it suddenly seemed urgent that he and Katelyn not waste another day letting that bastard hold them back or keep them from each other. But was that selfish of him?
Chapter 31
Staring at her phone, which she’d just thrown across the kitchen like it was a snake that had bit her, Katelyn pressed her clenched fists against her mouth and tried not to howl at the unfairness. She was vaguely aware of Lacey watching her with big worried eyes and of Sawyer, curled up on the couch, thumb in his mouth—but for once, she couldn’t get her act together, couldn’t calm down and pretend everything was okay, couldn’t comfort and reassure them immediately.
She and the kids had been holed up at River’s Sigh for three days, and there was no sign of their enforced captivity ending soon. There was still no word about Steve. A young constable checked in with her twice a day, saying he was pretty sure Steve wouldn’t be a problem, that he’d probably left the province. Katelyn was equally sure that wasn’t the case—but Steve wasn’t even her primary worry at the moment.
This latest call threatened to be the last straw, the incident that made Katelyn throw in the towel and give up.
How could Jayda? How could she? Why, why, why? And how dare she act like Katelyn should have been mollified by her stupid, lame offer to continue to “pass her name on,” like it was some huge kindness?
Of course, that was only Katelyn’s emotional response. The rational side of her thought it made perfect sense. Why on earth would Jayda keep on any employee that might lure a loose cannon like Steve back again?
You could fight it, a voice in her head muttered. There has to be a law against letting someone go just because their ex is a monster. But even as the thought formed and scuttled to the edges of her brain, she knew she wouldn’t. Working in a place where your boss had been forced to keep you on or risk facing a wrongful dismissal suit would be hell. And Katelyn, not that it ever helped her, had her pride.
“Mommy? Are you okay?” Lacey’s voice was small and uncertain, quite unlike her usual boisterous, slightly bossy tone.
Katelyn became aware of the ocean coursing down her cheeks. She sniffed loudly and choked a little on the mucus trying to drown her. Another wave of sorrow and desperation slapped her hard, and the undertow threatened to pull her into despair again. No, no, no. She fought hard to tread water, to get her head above the surface again. She forced a tremulous smile—which must have looked terrifyingly fake because Lacey took a step back.
You’re all right, she tried to assure herself. The voice in her head reminded her of how she spoke to her kids when they’d been awoken by nightmares—how fitting. She was in a nightmare. And she wanted to wake up. She wanted to wake up right now! Take a deep breath, she soothed. You’re safe. You’re safe.
But not for long. The keening gale force of despair inside her head threatened to dunk her again, but she focused on Lacey’s worried face and reached for her hand. This time when she spoke, she was much more in control.
“I’m really sad,” she admitted to Lacey. “I lost my job and I’m concerned about that, but things will work out. You let me worry about it, okay? You and Sawyer try not to.”
At the sound of his name, Sawyer made eye contact and bobbed his head as if to say, yes, he’d try.
“Is it because of Daddy?” Lacey asked.
What do you say to that kind of question? Katelyn didn’t want to lie. She also didn’t want to embroil the kids in her adult problems any more than they already, so frustratingly and heartbreakingly, were.
She hated how quickly Lacey seemed to understand the dilemma, how she patted her mother’s hand reassuringly. “Things aren’t as bad as they seem,” Lacey said, borrowing one of Katelyn’s phrases again, making her cringe. “And one day, very soon, I’m going to be old enough to choose to never have to see Daddy again and then we can go far, far away.”
Hearing the hope in Lacey’s firm voice did something to Katelyn’s insides and brought home a deep truth. It wasn’t fair. She and the kids hadn’t done anything wrong. They shouldn’t have to live in fear, walking on eggshells because they didn’t know what was going to happen next with Steve. They shouldn’t be forced to leave the town where they’d built a life and had friends, or made to go to a strange place where they knew nobody just because Steve had some mental illness, at best, or was a psychopath, at worst.
With that, she rallied the dregs of her courage and hugged Lacey close, breathing in the sweet scent of the tearless shampoo she always used on the kids. “You are amazing, my girl. And you’re right. Things aren’t as bad as they seem.”
And they weren’t. A big shiny silver lining had just revealed itself to Katelyn’s cloudy mind. Steve wanted to keep escalating and escalating and escalating? That was fine—awesome, in fact. In the past, the whole problem had been that it was so often his word against hers. He could talk such a good game, present so well and seem so healthy when he wanted to, making others, including the judge, think she was some unhinged hysterical woman blowing things out of proportion because she had a vendetta against him.
Now she had other witnesses—good ones, reliable ones: police officers and another victim, Jayda. She just had to survive until the police found Steve and arrested him. After that, freedom might well be within her grasp.
A knock sounded on the cabin door and Katelyn’s heart raced with a confusing mixture of apprehension and hope. What if Steve had somehow made it onto the premises without anyone noticing? Or what if it was Brian? She was desperate to talk to Brian—to really talk.
It was neither. Instead, Aisha and Jo greeted her, smiling warmly and doing a pretty decent job of hiding most of their concern.
“Jo’s hanging out with me and the kids today. She’s taking us trout fishing, if that’s okay with you?”
“Yes!” Lacey whisper-cheered behind her. “Let’s get dressed, Sawyer.” There was a flurry of quiet excitement as Lacey and Sawyer zipped from the room. Fresh sadness and guilt lodged itself in Katelyn’s throat. Without her job at Got the Notion, Aisha’s new job would cease to be, too.
“Um, about that,” Katelyn started.
Aisha’s eyes widened and her hand flew to her mouth before Katelyn managed to explain anything. “You need more days off, of course. When you said you were ready to start back today, I wondered—”
“I don’t think that’s it,” Jo said quietly. “What’s up, Katelyn? Has there been something more with Steve?”
Katelyn shook her head miserably. “I don’t need you today, Aisha. And I’m sorry, but I probably won’t be able to afford to have you babysit anymore in the future either. I got laid off because of—you know,” she waved her hands around in the air, “everything.”
“What?” Aisha exploded. “She can’t do that!”
There was a barrage of outraged comments from both Aisha and Jo, with Jo insisting Katelyn should get Brian to deal with it. Finally, though, they got to a place where they seemed to understand where Katelyn was coming from, how she didn’t want to work at a place that only kept her on because they were forced to.
“Maybe it’s not the worst thing,” Aisha said after a beat or two of silence.
“Compared to what? Being murdered?”
Aisha, who could usually be counted on to find humor in any situation, no matter how dark, scowled. “Not funny.”
Jo just looked anxious to the point of tears. “He won’t. He can’t . . . ” Her voice cracked and died away. Katelyn completely got their inability to speak about it. There was nothing they could do, short of notifying the authorities if Steve called or showed up. It was a waiting game. A hideous waiting game. But would she have to live the rest of her life like this, always waiting for the axe to drop?
Aisha spoke again. “I jus
t meant that maybe this will be the push you need, your chance to find a way to sew for a living or something.”
Katelyn failed to keep her bitterness down. “Yeah, right.”
Aisha gave a sad nod. “I’m sorry. It’s probably too soon for lame everything’s going to be okay pep talks.”
Katelyn shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I just . . . ” She couldn’t go on.
Aisha patted her arm awkwardly, but managed to convey a whole lot of understanding. Jo, too, seemed at a rare loss for encouraging words.
“So, anyway, yeah . . . I can’t pay you for today, but if you guys are willing to still take the kids fishing—and let me tag along—they would, I would, love it.”
Aisha gave a small laugh that sounded heavy with relief.
“Absolutely,” Jo said, like it eased a huge burden for her as well. “Brian took the day off too, and I already asked if he wanted to tag along. Is that all right?”
“Of course,” Katelyn said. “It’s great.”
And it was. Or she hoped it would be. Brian had been wonderful in the aftermath of Steve’s attack and escape. He’d brought her groceries and stayed late each night, playing with and distracting the kids, making sure Katelyn wasn’t scared to stay alone, and outlining the safeguards Callum had put in place to keep Steve from getting onto the property unseen. But at the same time, they hadn’t had much alone time. Katelyn couldn’t decide if that was because Brian was still trying to respect her stupid boundaries (that he didn’t know were smashed all to bits now), or if—and this was a possibility that made her heart ache—it was because recent events had shown Brian all too clearly, in a way he hadn’t previously understood, what a nightmare being seriously involved with her would be.
She desperately wanted to believe that she hadn’t lost her chance with Brian out of fear and her failure to be brave soon enough—but she wouldn’t blame him if she had.
Chapter 32
Brian jogged over to Spring cabin empty handed, taking Jo at her word that she’d have whatever fishing doodads he needed. He spotted Katelyn before she noticed him and stood for a moment, watching her. Wearing faded jeans and an orange and blue flannel shirt knotted at her hip, she stood barefoot on the freshly clipped lawn, hanging crisp white sheets on a clothesline. With a huge tub of bright red geraniums nearby, she—and the whole picture—was so pretty, it made him pull in a breath. And was the smell of clean laundry being a turn on actually a thing?