"Like the people in the grill?"
He nodded and grinned. "But they're basically good people. For the most part, they're hardworking, honest, and as kind as the day is long. Any one of them would have been glad to watch the store for me if I'd asked, and they'd account for every penny. It's like that down here. Because deep down, everyone here knows that in a small town like this, we all need one another. It's great, even if it did take some time for me to get used to it."
"You're not from here?"
"No. My wife was. I'm from Spokane. When I first moved here, I remember thinking that there wasn't a chance I'd ever stay in a place like this. I mean, it's a small Southern town that doesn't care what the rest of the world thinks. It takes a little getting used to, at first. But then... it grows on you. It keeps me focused on what's important."
Katie's voice was soft. "What's important?"
He shrugged. "Depends on the person, doesn't it? But right now, for me, it's about my kids. This is home for them, and after what they've been through, they need predictability. Kristen needs a place to color and dress her dolls and Josh needs a place to fish, and they both need to know that I'm around whenever they need me. This place, and the store, gives them that, and right now, that's what I want. It's what I need."
He paused, feeling self-conscious about talking so much. "By the way, where am I going, exactly?"
"Keep going straight. There's a gravel road that you'll have to turn on. It's a little bit past the curve."
"You mean the gravel road by the plantation?"
Katie nodded. "That's the one."
"I didn't even know that road went anywhere." He wrinkled his forehead. "That's quite a walk," he said. "What is it? A couple of miles?"
"It's not too bad," she demurred.
"Maybe in nice weather. But today, you'd have to swim home. There's no way you could have walked this far. And Kristen's picture would have been ruined."
He noted the flicker of a smile at Kristen's name but she said nothing.
"Someone said you work at Ivan's?" he prompted.
She nodded. "I started in March."
"How do you like it?"
"It's okay. It's just a job, but the owner has been good to me."
"Ivan?"
"You know him?"
"Everyone knows Ivan. Did you know he dresses up like a Confederate general every fall to reenact the famed Battle of Southport? When Sherman burned the town? Which is fine, of course... except that there was never a Battle of Southport in the Civil War. Southport wasn't even called Southport back then, it was called Smithville. And Sherman was never within a hundred miles of here."
"Seriously?" Katie asked.
"Don't get me wrong. I like Ivan--he's a good man, and the restaurant is a fixture in this town. Kristen and Josh love the hush puppies there, and Ivan's always welcoming whenever we show up. But sometimes, I've wondered what drives him. His family arrived from Russia in the fifties. First generation, in other words. No one in his extended family has probably even heard of the Civil War. But Ivan will spend an entire weekend pointing his sword and shouting orders right in the middle of the road in front of the courthouse."
"Why have I never heard about this?"
"Because it's not something the locals like to talk about. It's kind of... eccentric, you know? Even locals, people who really like him, try to ignore him. They'll see Ivan in the middle of downtown and they'll turn away and start saying things like, Can you believe how beautiful those chrysanthemums are by the courthouse?"
For the first time since she'd been in the car, Katie laughed. "I'm not sure I believe you."
"It doesn't matter. If you're here in October, you'll see for yourself. But again, don't get me wrong. He's a nice guy and the restaurant is great. After a day at the beach, we almost always stop in there. Next time we come in, we'll ask for you."
She hesitated. "Okay."
"She likes you," Alex said. "Kristen, I mean."
"I like her. She's a bright spirit--a real personality."
"I'll tell her you said that. And thanks."
"How old is she?"
"She's five. When she starts school in the fall, I don't know what I'm going to do. It'll be so quiet around the store."
"You'll miss her," Katie observed.
He nodded. "A lot. I know she'll enjoy school, but I kind of like having her around."
As he spoke, rain continued to sheet against the windows. The sky flashed on and off like a strobe, accompanied by an almost continuous rumble.
Katie peered out the passenger-side window, lost in her thoughts. He waited, somehow knowing she would break the silence.
"How long were you and your wife married?" Katie finally asked.
"Five years. We dated for a year before that. I met her when I was stationed at Fort Bragg."
"You were in the army?"
"Ten years. It was a good experience and I'm glad I did it. At the same time, I'm glad I'm done."
Katie pointed through the windshield. "There's the turn up ahead," she said.
Alex turned onto Katie's road and slowed down. The rough gravel surface had flooded during the downpour, and water splashed up to the windows and over the windshield. As he focused on steering the car through the deep puddles, Alex was suddenly struck by the thought that this was the first time he'd been alone in a car with a woman since his wife had died.
"Which one is it?" he asked, squinting at the outline of two small cottages.
"The one on the right," she said.
He turned into the makeshift drive and pulled as close to the house as he could. "I'll bring the groceries to the door for you."
"You don't have to do that."
"You don't know the way I was raised," he said, jumping out before she could object. He grabbed the bags and ran them to her porch. By the time he set them down and began to shake off, Katie was hurrying toward him, the umbrella Alex had lent her clutched in her hands.
"Thanks," she called out over the noise of the downpour.
When she offered him the umbrella, he shook his head. "Keep it for a while. Or forever. It doesn't matter. If you walk a lot around here, you're going to need it."
"I can pay you--" she began.
"Don't worry about it."
"But this is from the store."
"It's okay," he said. "Really. But if you don't think you should, then just settle up the next time you're in the store, okay?"
"Alex, really--"
He didn't let her finish. "You're a good customer, and I like to help my customers."
It took a moment for her to answer. "Thank you," she finally said, her eyes, now dark green, fixed on his. "And thanks for driving me home."
He tipped his head. "Anytime."
What to do with the kids: it was the endless, sometimes unanswerable question he faced on weekends, and as usual, he had absolutely no idea.
With the storm in full fury and showing no signs of letting up, doing anything outside was out of the question. He could take them to a movie, but there was nothing playing that they'd both be interested in. He could simply let them entertain themselves for a while. He knew lots of parents operated that way. On the other hand, his kids were still young, too young to be left completely to their own devices. More important, they were already on their own a lot, improvising ways to keep themselves entertained, simply because of his long hours at the store. He pondered the options as he made grilled cheese sandwiches, but he soon found his thoughts drifting to Katie. While she was obviously doing her best to maintain a low profile, he knew it was almost impossible in a town like this. She was too attractive to blend in, and when people caught on to the fact that she walked everywhere, it was inevitable that talk would start and questions would be asked about her past.
He didn't want that to happen. Not for selfish reasons, but because she was entitled to the kind of life she'd come here to find. A normal life. A life of simple pleasures, the kind that most people took for granted: the ability
to go where she wanted when she wanted and live in a home where she felt safe and secure. She also needed a way to get around.
"Hey, kids," he said, putting their sandwiches on plates. "I have an idea. Let's do something for Miss Katie."
"Okay!" Kristen agreed.
Josh, always easygoing, simply nodded.
7
Wind-driven rain blew hard across dark North Carolina skies, sweeping rivers against the kitchen windows. Earlier that afternoon, while Katie did her laundry in the sink and after she had taped Kristen's picture to the refrigerator, the ceiling in the living room had begun to leak. She'd placed a pot beneath the drip and had already emptied it twice. In the morning, she planned to call Benson, but she doubted whether he'd get around to repairing the leak right away. If, of course, he ever got around to fixing it at all.
In the kitchen, she sliced small cubes from a block of cheddar cheese, nibbling as she moved about. On a yellow plastic plate were crackers and slices of tomatoes and cucumbers, although she couldn't arrange them to look the way she wanted. Nothing looked quite the way she wanted. In her previous home, she'd had a pretty wooden serving board and a silver cheese knife with an engraving of a cardinal, and a full set of wineglasses. She'd had a dining room table made of cherry, and sheer curtains in the windows, but here the table wobbled and the chairs didn't match, the windows were bare, and she and Jo would have to drink wine from coffee mugs. As horrible as her life had been, she'd loved assembling the pieces of her household, but as with everything she'd left behind, she now viewed them as enemies that had gone over to the other side.
Through the window, she saw one of Jo's lights blink out. Katie made her way to the front door. Opening it, she watched as Jo splashed through puddles on the way to her house, umbrella in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. Another couple of stomps and she was on the porch, her yellow slicker dripping wet.
"Now I understand how Noah must have felt. Can you believe this storm? I've got puddles all over my kitchen."
Katie motioned over her shoulder. "My leak is in the living room."
"Home sweet home, right? Here," she said, handing over the wine. "Just like I promised. And believe me, I'm going to need it."
"Rough day?"
"Like you couldn't imagine."
"Come on in."
"Let me leave my coat out here or you're going to have two puddles in your living room," she said, shimmying out of her slicker. "I got soaked in the few seconds I was out there."
Jo tossed her coat on the rocker along with the umbrella and followed Katie inside as she led the way to the kitchen.
Katie immediately set the wine on the counter. As Jo wandered to the table, Katie pulled open the drawer by the refrigerator. From the back of the drawer, she pulled out a rusted Swiss Army knife and readied the opener.
"This is great. I'm starved. I haven't eaten all day."
"Help yourself. How did it go with the painting?"
"Well, I got the living room done. But after that, it wasn't such a good day."
"What happened?"
"I'll tell you about it later. I need wine first. How about you? What did you do?"
"Nothing much. Ran to the store, cleaned up, did my laundry."
Jo took a seat at the table and reached for a cracker. "In other words, memoir material."
Katie laughed as she began to twist the corkscrew. "Oh, yeah. Real exciting."
"Do you want me to get that?" Jo asked.
"I think I've got it."
"Good." Jo smirked. "Because I'm the guest, and I expect to be pampered."
Katie propped the bottle between her legs and the cork came out with a pop.
"Seriously, though, thanks for having me over." Jo sighed. "You have no idea how much I've been looking forward to this."
"Really?"
"Don't do that."
"Don't do what?" Katie asked.
"Act surprised that I wanted to come over. That I wanted to bond over a bottle of wine. That's what friends do." She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, and by the way, before you start wondering whether or not we're actually friends and how well we know each other, trust me when I say that yes, absolutely. I consider you a friend." She let that sink in before going on. "Now how about some wine?"
The storm finally broke in the early evening, and Katie opened the kitchen window. The temperature had dropped and the air felt cool and clean. While pockets of mist rose from the ground, rolling clouds drifted past the moon, bringing light and shadow in equal measures. Leaves turned from silver to black and silver again as they shimmered in the evening breeze.
Katie drifted dreamily on the wine, the evening breeze, and Jo's easy laughter. Katie found herself savoring every bite of the buttery crackers and sharp, rich cheese, remembering how hungry she once had been. There was a time when she'd been as thin as a heated strand of blown glass.
Her thoughts were wandering. She remembered her parents, not the hard times but the good ones, when the demons were sleeping: when her mom made eggs and bacon, the aroma filling the house, and she'd seen her father glide into the kitchen, toward her mother. He would pull aside her hair and kiss the side of her neck, making her giggle. Once, she remembered, her dad had brought them to Gettysburg. He'd taken her hand as they walked around, and she could still recall the rare sensation of strength and gentleness in his grasp. He was tall and broad-shouldered with dark brown hair and there was a navy tattoo on his upper arm. He'd served on a destroyer for four years and had been to Japan, Korea, and Singapore, though he said little else about his experience.
Her mom was petite with blond hair and had once competed in a beauty pageant, finishing as the second runner-up. She loved flowers, and in the spring she would plant bulbs in ceramic flowerpots she placed in the yard. Tulips and daffodils, peonies and violets, would explode in colors so bright they almost made Katie's eyes ache. When they moved, the flowerpots would be placed on the backseat and fastened with seat belts. Often, when she cleaned, her mother would sing to herself, melodies from childhood, some of them in Polish, and Katie would listen secretly from another room, trying to make sense of the words.
The wine Jo and Katie were drinking had hints of oak and apricots, and it tasted wonderful. Katie finished her cup and Jo poured her another. When a moth began to dance around the light above the sink, fluttering with purpose and confusion, both of them began to giggle. Katie cut more cheese and added more crackers to the plate. They talked about movies and books, and Jo shrieked with pleasure when Katie said her favorite movie was It's a Wonderful Life, claiming that it was her favorite movie, too. When she was younger, Katie remembered asking her mom for a bell, so she could help angels get their wings. Katie finished her second glass of wine, feeling as light as a feather on a summer breeze.
Jo asked few questions. Instead, they stuck to superficial topics, and Katie thought again that she was happy for Jo's company. When silver highlighted the world beyond the window, Katie and Jo stepped out onto the front porch. Katie could feel herself swaying slightly and she took hold of the railing. They sipped their wine as the clouds continued to break, and all at once, the sky was filled with stars. Katie pointed out the Big Dipper and Polaris, the only stars she could name, but Jo began naming dozens of others. Katie stared at the sky in wonder, amazed at how much Jo knew about the constellations, until she noticed the names Jo was reciting. "That one's called Elmer Fudd, and over there, right above that pine tree, you can make out Daffy Duck." When Katie finally realized that Jo knew as little about the stars as she did, Jo started to giggle like a mischievous kid.
Back in the kitchen, Katie poured the last of the wine and took a sip. It was warm in Katie's throat and made her feel dizzy. The moth continued to dance around the light, though if she tried to focus on it, there seemed to be two of them. She felt happy and safe and thought again how enjoyable the evening had been.
She had a friend, a real friend, someone who laughed and made jokes about the stars, and she wasn't sure if she w
anted to laugh or cry because it had been so long since she'd experienced something so easy and natural.
"Are you okay?" Jo asked.
"I'm fine," Katie answered. "I was just thinking that I'm glad you came over."
Jo peered at her. "I think you might be tipsy."
"I think you might be right," Katie agreed.
"Well, okay then. What do you want to do? Since you're obviously tipsy and ready for fun."
"I don't know what you mean."
"Do you want to do something special? Head into town, find someplace exciting?"
Katie shook her head. "No."
"You don't want to meet people?"
"I'm better off alone."
Jo ran her finger around the rim of the mug before saying anything. "Trust me on this: no one is better off alone."
"I am."
Jo thought about Katie's answer before leaning closer. "So you're telling me that--assuming you had food, shelter, and clothing and anything else you needed to simply survive--you'd rather be stranded on a desert island in the middle of nowhere, all alone, forever, for the rest of your life? Be honest."
Katie blinked, trying to keep Jo in focus. "Why would you think I wouldn't be honest?"
"Because everybody lies. It's part of living in society. Don't get me wrong--I think it's necessary. The last thing anyone wants is to live in a society where total honesty prevails. Can you imagine the conversations? You're short and fat, one person might say, and the other might answer, I know. But you smell bad. It just wouldn't work. So people lie by omission all the time. People will tell you most of the story... and I've learned that the part they neglect to tell you is often the most important part. People hide the truth because they're afraid."
With Jo's words, Katie felt a finger touch her heart. All at once, it seemed hard to breathe.
"Are you talking about me?" she finally croaked out.
"I don't know. Am I?"
Katie felt herself pale slightly, but before she could respond, Jo smiled.
"Actually, I was thinking about my day today. I told you it was hard, right? Well, what I just told you is part of the problem. It gets frustrating when people won't tell the truth. I mean, how am I supposed to help people if they hold things back? If I don't really know what's going on?"
Katie could feel something twisting and tightening in her chest. "Maybe they want to talk about it but they know there's nothing you can do to help," she whispered.
Safe Haven Page 6