Welcome Home, Katie Gallagher

by Seana Kelly

  I stepped back, not looking at Aiden. “Thank you for all the beautiful furniture, Mr. Cavanaugh. It feels like home now. I’ll just, um, go get some coffee started.” As I left the room, I heard the low rumble of concerned male voices.

  When the men walked into the kitchen a few minutes later, they were wary and observant. Aiden sat at the kitchen table and Mr. Cavanaugh came over to me. “Can I help with the coffee?” He put his arm casually around me, as though we did this all the time.

  “Nope. Almost done. You guys want some dinner? I can throw something together.” I still hadn’t turned around, hadn’t looked at Aiden. Did he always have to be around when I was falling apart?

  “Sure. I love rice. We might need to heat it up, though,” Aiden said.

  I glanced over, looking at my abandoned meal. “I forgot about that. The cable man interrupted my paint break.” I gave Mr. Cavanaugh’s hand at my shoulder a quick squeeze before I walked across the kitchen to check the refrigerator for dinner options.

  He leaned against the counter, a smile playing over his lips. “Cable, huh? Does that mean you bought a TV today, too?”

  Nodding, I started pulling items from the refrigerator. “Yep. I’m not letting a little thing like no job get me down. I’m going to do some home improvements while I look for work. I may need to go off the island to find a job, but I have a car.”

  Aiden shifted in his chair. “Wait. Paint break? What are you painting?”

  Hunting through the fridge drawers, I found a chicken breast. I could whip up a skillet fry for dinner. “I got some new bedding and a gallon of paint. I’m starting in the bedroom.” I checked Mr. Cavanaugh’s reaction to that. “You don’t think Gran would mind my changing things, do you?”

  He was staring at the floor, lost in thought. At Aiden’s quiet throat clearing, he looked up and beamed at me. “Sorry, just missing my Nellie. I think she’d be very happy that you were making her home all your own. It’s what she wanted.” His nod and smile were bittersweet as he took a seat at the table with Aiden.

  Chicken, rice, broccoli, green bell peppers, snow peas, carrots, garlic, soy sauce. I’d been shopping since Aiden had brought me some much-needed staples last week. I piled everything on the counter and then pulled down a skillet and got to work while the men discussed town news. It was all very normal, yet strangely foreign.

  “Mmm, that smells good. What are you making us, and are you sure we can’t help?” Mr. Cavanaugh’s chair scraped against the floor, easing back, ready to lend a hand.

  “I’m happy to have you both, Mr. Cavanaugh. Not that Chaucer isn’t wonderful company, but it can get a little lonely around here.” The skillet was sizzling, tangy aromas warming the kitchen. It did smell good. I could do this. I could take care of myself and maybe even a few other people.

  “Call me Connor. Please.”

  I nodded, my heart swelling.

  “You cook. We’ll clean up,” Aiden said, settling the discussion.

  “Perfect. Looks like we’re just about ready.” I put out the plates and silverware. “What would you both like to drink? I think there’s some beer and some wine in there.”

  “Now, I wouldn’t say no to a beer,” Connor said. Aiden hummed his agreement.

  Once we were all settled and eating, I took a minute to sit back and watch the men at my table. Forty odd years separated them, but they were mirror images of each other, both tall and strong, gruffness hiding a well of compassion.

  Aiden looked up. “Good dinner. So, do you want help painting?”

  I intended to thank him for his offer but beg off. I liked the idea of doing it all myself...

  Connor rubbed his hands together. “Oh, now that’s an idea. I haven’t painted in years.” He obviously saw the look in my eyes and quickly headed off any argument by reminding me, “You’re going to need our help. Little thing like you can’t reach the tops of the walls. My back’s not so good anymore, so if you paint the bottom half of the walls, we’ll take the top.” Then he looked to his grandson. “Aiden, Katie and I are going to sit right here and chat while you tape off the room.” He winked at me and said conspiratorially, “I hate taping.”

  Aiden threw down his napkin. “Now, listen, old man, you’re not sticking me—”

  “I already taped the room,” I cut in to stem the argument.

  They both looked at me and smiled. “Well, then, what are we waiting for? Let’s go paint your room,” Aiden said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Aiden

  SHE’D CHOSEN A deep purple for the wall color. It was an unusual choice and yet fitting, the little flame-haired fairy slumbering in her violet bower.

  Pops sat in a chair watching us, his hands clasped contentedly across his stomach, benevolently surveying his kingdom. He claimed we needed his expert supervision. He was actually too tired to keep painting, but Katie’s face didn’t register a second of disbelief or pity.

  She kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Connor.” She studied the half wall he’d just completed. “Yours looks wonderful. What am I doing wrong? Mine looks streaky and patchy.”

  A furrow developed between her brows. I had an urge to place my lips right there, to soothe that worry away. I turned back to painting. What was it about her? I knew I shouldn’t care, knew it was a fool’s errand, and yet I couldn’t help myself.

  “You’re being too stingy with the paint, too hesitant with your roller. There’s no place for fear in painting. It’ll be written all over your walls. You need to paint like you live your life—with verve.”

  “Verve?” The furrow was back, her head cocked. “I don’t have verve. What should the verveless do when they need to paint?”

  Damn it, I was watching her again. She seemed so forlorn about her verveless state that I had to do something. “Someone without verve could never have started rumors about Joey Markum’s penis and a vacuum hose,” I said.

  Pops goggled at her for a moment before he exploded. “Katherine Ann Gallagher! What do you know about Joey Markum’s penis?” Pops pretended to be scandalized.

  Katie’s face was blank for a second before the memory came crashing back and she doubled over laughing. Giving up the fight, she plopped down on the floor, clutching her stomach and wheezing. I laughed myself, though it had more to do with Katie losing it rather than any memory.

  Pops glanced at me. We shared a moment of perfect understanding. The memory of how bold and bodacious she’d been seemed to delight her almost as much as the rumor mongering itself.

  Watching her laugh, my chest ached. I wanted to turn back to the wall, away from Katie, but I couldn’t. The little fire fairy was melting my hard-won bitterness. I wasn’t ready.

  “I’m talking to you, young lady. What do you know about Joey Markum?” Pops was putting on his stern voice, but he couldn’t hide the laughter in his eyes.

  Katie was still on the floor gasping for breath while wiping tears from her eyes. “Oh, my God, I completely forgot about that!” She gave Pops such a brilliant smile that he found it impossible to maintain his mock condemnation.

  “Well, as I’m the only person in this room who doesn’t know the story, somebody better start talking fast.” He looked to me to do it.

  “She remembers. She can do it.” I turned back to the wall, refusing to lose myself in her as I had all those years ago.

  Pops settled in the chair. “All right, missy. Let’s hear it.”

  She scooted back to lean up against her bed. “You know, I’m not sure how it began. Daisy and I—hey, does Daisy still live here?”

  Pops shook his head. “No, Daisy moved away for college. She used to come back for holidays, but when her folks retired to—where was it, Aiden?—somewhere south, the whole family was gone for good. Her mom hated Maine winters.” He shook his head again—still upset about
their defection, or perhaps Daisy’s mom’s dislike of Maine winters.

  “Oh, too bad. It would’ve been fun to see her,” Katie said. “Anyway, Daisy and I were in the ice-cream shop, eating sundaes, when Joey Markum slouched in and took up roost on the counter stool right next to our table. He kept staring at us, making filthy comments under his breath about licking cherries, whipped cream, et cetera. Daisy laughed, and I remember I kicked her under the table. I didn’t want her encouraging him. He was skeeving me out, big-time. Then Aiden walked in, and I was so relieved.”

  I turned around at that. “Relieved? Why?”

  She looked up, a soft smile on her lips. “Because you were a hero, Aiden. When we were kids, you were a hero.” She looked at Pops. “Did he ever tell you about that woman who used to run that little market on Cottage?” Pops looked at her blankly, so she continued, “I was in there one afternoon, in the back by the refrigerated cases, choosing a soda, when a boy came in. I wasn’t paying attention at first, but then she started yelling about his stealing something. The boy looked confused. I remember he turned around, looking behind himself at one point, assuming she was yelling at someone else.

  “There was something wrong with her. I think she got off on hurting children, anyone who couldn’t defend themselves. I wanted to do something, but I was scared by the anger, the almost violence of it. Then Aiden walked in and stood between the woman and the other boy. She didn’t even notice him. Her hand was already coming down to slap the boy, but Aiden took the hit.” Katie shook her head in wonder. “He just stood there, a red handprint forming on his face, and stared her down.”

  Pops turned sharply to me. “She hit you?”

  I gave a one-shouldered shrug. “It was a long time ago.” My gaze shifted to Katie. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

  “We were what, ten, eleven at the time? And you stared down that mean old cuss. She was easily a foot taller and probably had a hundred pounds on you, but you were so self-possessed. You had her stammering apologies. The other boy took off, but you just continued to take the measure of her.

  “After that day, I watched more closely. You never hesitated to stand up to bullies, to protect those weaker than yourself.” She smiled at Pops. “Like I said, a hero.”

  Pops cleared his throat and nodded. Yes was all he said.

  “Anyway, Aiden walked into the ice-cream shop and sat down right beside Joey. As if to shield us. I felt safer immediately, able to deal with the situation. Except Joey stopped harassing us and began calling Aiden names. I couldn’t just sit there while Aiden took the hit for me, so I made some comment to Daisy referring to a rumor I’d heard about Joey becoming amorous with a vacuum hose, the power button not working and EMTs needing to be called in to extricate an engorged, purpled body part.” She smiled broadly, quite proud of herself. “Or something along those lines.”

  I took over the telling. “Joey glared at all the snickering faces in the room and stormed out. I was worried for a while that he might try to retaliate—”

  “Oh, damn,” Katie interrupted. The humor lost, her eyes wide. “Holy shit, that’s who that was.”

  “Who what was? What’s the matter, Katie Ann?” Pops asked.

  Katie was staring into space. Pops’s voice startled her into speaking. “Oh, um, that ridiculously creepy cable guy who was here earlier. He looked at me like he was planning to eviscerate me before raping my intestines... I told myself I was imagining it, but damn, no wonder.” She looked between Pops and me. “He’s not actually a serial killer, right? Just a mild-mannered cable guy with a face like death?”

  Pops sat up, his jaw clenched. “Did he do something? You were trembling like a leaf when I got here.”

  I placed the roller in the paint pan, the wall forgotten. Joey was a drunken waste of human flesh, but he hadn’t attacked a woman, not that I knew of. “Tell me what happened, Katie.”

  She stood, waving away my concern, but she couldn’t hide the anxiety in her eyes. “It was nothing. He was just giving off a deranged serial-killer vibe.” She shuddered.

  “You know, one of the first things we learn in the police academy is to trust our instincts. Time after time, when victims are interviewed, they talk about having a bad feeling, not being able to rationalize it and so putting it aside...right before they were attacked. When you feel something is wrong, you need to pay attention.”

  She let the roller hang by her side, listening. I got the impression she wasn’t used to her concerns being taken seriously.

  “Katie, I’d appreciate it if you did me a favor. If Joe Markum has to come back, make sure Pops is here with you. I know it’s hard to believe, but there are a lot of people in this town who are afraid of Pops.”

  “Damn straight,” Pops said. “And, well, they should be.” He gave me an approving nod before returning his attention to Katie. “I can be here in five minutes, sooner if need be. You just give me a call.” He winked. “It’s no hardship to spend time with a pretty girl.”

  I picked up the roller from the tray. “In fact, I think I’ll call Walt, his boss. People shouldn’t be in fear in their own homes.”

  We finished the painting about an hour later. Pops stayed for most of it. When Katie caught his eyes drooping, she suggested he lie down on the bed for a quick rest. He looked sorely tempted but claimed he should get going as there was a football game he wanted to watch at home.

  Katie glanced over at the newly installed television in the room. “You can—”

  Pops cut her off. “When an old man says he needs to go home to watch a football game, he means that he needs to lie down on the couch, turn on the game as background noise and take a nap.” He took in the room. “I like it. Nellie would have loved it. You’re doing good.” He squeezed Katie’s arm and left.

  We finished a short while later. After pulling the tape, we surveyed our work.

  “Is it too much? Did I go overboard?” She nibbled her lower lip, self-doubt clear on her face.

  I tried to pretend I wasn’t tempted to soothe that lower lip with my mouth. “Nah, it’s perfect.”

  She brightened. “You really think so?”

  “Absolutely.” I’d been watching her from the corner of my eye all day. I turned to study her directly now. Her hair was piled on top of her head, loose curls falling free. “Yes, I think it looks beautiful, and you look beautiful in it.” I enjoyed the sudden flush rising up her throat.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Kate

  WHEN I YAWNED, Aiden said it was time for him to go.

  “Thank you for helping me paint my room.” I walked him down the stairs.

  “Seemed like the least I could do after I lost you your job.”

  He looked so dejected, I patted his arm. “Not your fault. That was all me.”

  At the bottom of the stairs, he drew me into his arms. I stilled at the touch of his lips on my neck. He ran his mouth up to my ear. He nibbled the fleshy lobe before his warm tongue soothed the gentle bites, and I went limp. His mouth was against my throat, one hand dragging down my back, the other, holding my hip in place. When he bit, my knees gave out. If he weren’t holding me up, I would have fallen into a puddle on the floor.

  He dipped his head, his mouth brushing across mine, whisper soft, his kiss an entreaty. I leaned forward, mindlessly searching for more. His hand wrapped around my neck to tilt my head back. His tongue slid like velvet against my own. I gripped his biceps, pulling myself closer.

  He was just dragging his hand down my back, fingers beginning to knead my butt, when his phone chimed, echoing through the still room. He reluctantly let me go to check it. Aiden got himself back in control more quickly than I did. He ran his hand through his hair, turned from me and spoke into the phone. I was barely able to aim myself toward the couch before my legs gave up the pretense of holding me vertical.


  My whole body was still vibrating, his phantom kisses alive on my skin. Part of my brain registered Aiden’s low grumble as he spoke, but the rest was drowning in a swampy mire of lust, confusion, fear and let’s not forget the lust.

  Aiden ended his call, but stood staring at the door a moment too long.

  “Everything okay?”

  He shook his head, still not looking at me. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I swore I wouldn’t do this again. And here I am.” He reached for the doorknob. “I need to go.” His back still to me.

  “What happened?”

  “Heather—my dispatcher—her husband walked out on her.” He turned back, glaring. “Kindest woman you’ll ever meet. Blindsided. I need to go. See what I can do to help. She was crying.” He shook his head. “I know a little something about getting my ass dumped.” He reached for the door again. “I can’t do this, Katie. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  He stepped through the door, hesitating as though he wanted to come back. “Goodbye.”

  Oh, I guess not.

  * * *

  AFTER A FITFUL night’s sleep, definitely not thinking about being dumped thirty seconds after being kissed senseless, I dozed in the soft, early-morning light, the sun diffused by the new sheer drapes. Snuggled in my feather bed, I opened my eyes to violet walls. Chaucer padded over and nudged my elbow with his cold, wet nose. “Quit it. I’m sleeping over here.” It was no use, though. The damn dog could hear it when I opened my eyes. He wanted food and his morning constitutional. Faking sleep never worked. He just got more and more pushy until I got up. “Fine, fine, fine,” I said as I threw back the covers. “But I’m coming back later for a nap.”

  He gave me his best inscrutable look and waited for me to slip on my sweats and slippers. “You’re a damn annoying dog, you know that?” His response was a patient, long-suffering stare. As soon as I opened the bedroom door, he rushed out, bumping me off my stride. In his defense, he was almost twice my size, but would a little more delicacy be too much to ask?