Prayer (The Pagano Family Book 5)

by Susan Fanetti

  She tried again, and then noticed that none of the interior lights were on, either.

  “FUCK!! FUCK!!” She slammed her hands on the steering wheel and let herself have a good cry.

  Then she called her roadside service and asked for a jump. She was going to be late, but there was no chance in hell she was walking to work in this wind.

  ~oOo~

  She walked to work in the wind.

  The jump had gone nowhere, so instead, the wrecker towed her car to the nearest Honda dealer, about fifteen miles away. The driver offered to take her with him so she could get a loaner at the dealer, but she knew she’d get to work faster if she just sucked it up and walked.

  When she was finally in the relative snugness of the drafty staff suite, her ponytail was a shambles, her cheeks felt burned from the wind, and her fingers and toes seemed made of razor blades. She should have gone back up to change into better walking clothes, but by the time the wrecker pulled off, her mood had been one-hundred-percent ‘fuck it.’ She practically stomped the mile or so to the shop.

  It wasn’t a long trip at all. In good weather, she walked to work all the time. But on a day like today, she felt like one of the Donner party.

  Still, she’d made it. She unwrapped herself from her coat and scarf and mittens, and she fixed her ponytail and put some lotion on her cheeks, and she managed to get the front door open only thirty minutes late.

  Not the best start to her first day as sole person in charge of Cover to Cover Books, but at least she’d made it.

  When Greg came in half an hour later, Katrynn informed him of the changes in management and went back to her office to draft an ad for an assistant manager. She tried not to think too much about what all this would mean to Bev. This felt much worse than giving her a fake set of records; this was taking something she loved away.

  But Katrynn understood Nick, too. The shop was something Bev could give up. Her children, her family, were not. And Katrynn knew Bev didn’t want to. Until recently, she’d been serene and happy in motherhood. In control and Zen about it all, even problems and mistakes.

  Bev wanted her children. Katrynn was sure she wanted the one she carried, too. Something had to give, though, and the shop was it. But Katrynn wondered how Nick was going to convince his wife of that.

  ~oOo~

  Once again, the weather kept customers away; by the time Greg signed out at two, they’d had only two customers and one sale. Katrynn had put Greg on refreshing the new release and ‘Staff Picks’ stacks while she stayed in her office and fussed over the employment ad.

  John had come in much earlier than usual, finished the bathroom door, and started working in Chris’s room after a quick peek in her office to say ‘hi.’ He vented the room as he’d said he would, but still, by afternoon, the whole shop smelled of wood stain. It was a mildly pleasant smell but a wholly overwhelming olfactory assault. If they’d had any customers, Katrynn would have complained.

  Jamie came in as Greg left, and Katrynn went out front to check on her around three-thirty. Jamie was a nice young woman and good at sales, but she did not like to do any other part of her job, so on slow days, it was not unusual to find her tucked far in the back of the shop, curled in an armchair and reading.

  When Katrynn came out, the first thing she noticed was the snow. She had no window in her office, so she hadn’t realized that snow had finally come. She went to the front and watched it come down. There was already at least an inch on the sidewalk.

  Lady Catterley, who’d been curled on the seat of the armchair in the display, stood up and bumped Katrynn’s hand. Holding her hand out so Cat could pet herself in the way she liked, Katrynn watched the snow come down in big, pretty flakes, and she smiled. She loved snow so much. She wouldn’t mind walking home in this one single bit.

  Then she heard Jamie’s girlish laugh and turned in that direction. She saw her young salesclerk leaning against the door frame in the doorway to Chris’s room, her hip canted just so, twisting a lock of her hair around a finger.

  Then she heard John’s laugh, and a bolt of jealousy struck her at the base of her skull. No. No, John would not be moving on while she tried to decide if she was brave enough to date him. No, he would not be moving on with her nineteen-year-old part-time employee. No, he absolutely would not.

  “Jamie!”

  The girl turned, her glossy hair swinging. “Yeah?”

  “Have you done anything at all today besides your nails?”

  She never spoke to Greg or Jamie like that, and Jamie was obviously hurt. She dealt with it by getting whiny. “There’s nothing else to do. The place is dead, and I’m wicked bored.”

  “Then get out.”

  “Please?”

  “You heard me. Sign out and go home.”

  “But…”

  She didn’t finish her sentence, and Katrynn, knowing she was being overly harsh and inconsistent with her usual management style, held her ground and simply waited.

  “Fine,” Jamie huffed and stalked toward the back. “I guess you think you’re the big cheese now.”

  “I know I’m your boss,” she answered as Jamie passed her. “So you should be careful.”

  Jamie pulled up a bit but didn’t turn around. Then she went to the back. Katrynn stayed where she was until she heard to door to the staff lot open and slam shut.

  When she turned toward Chris’s room, John was in the doorway, wiping his hands with a blue cloth. “Everything good?”

  She was angry at John, too. It was ridiculous, but she couldn’t rein it in. “It’s fine. You know, if you can find a stopping place soon, I’m going to close up early tonight. The snow is piling up, and I have to walk home tonight.”

  When the words had come from her mouth, she’d meant them as an excuse to get away from the shop and from him. She hadn’t seen how he might hear something else in them.

  “Walk? Why?”

  “Nothing. Car trouble. It’s not a long walk. I’d just like to get to it.”

  He left the doorway and came to her. “That’s silly. I’ll take you home.”

  “No—”

  “Katrynn. The weather sucks. I’ve got about another couple of hours or so, and I’ll be done with the work. Hang out so I can finish, and then I’ll drive you home.” He gave her a wry smile. “It’s not dinner, just a ride.”

  She was being silly. And, worse, she was acting against her own interest in about ten billion ways. “Okay. Thanks.”

  “My pleasure.” With a nod, he turned and went back to Chris’s room.

  Katrynn tried not to notice his ass.

  ~oOo~

  As far as she knew, all the other Paganos drove nice cars and trucks, but John drove an ancient, faded red Chevy pickup. If she were the kind of person who judged people based on their ride, he would have lost a lot of points. But she figured there was a reason he drove what he drove. A truck that old wasn’t a beater so much as a collector’s item.

  It started right up, and the heater worked quickly; the ride to her apartment took all of five minutes, but the cab was warm when he pulled up and killed the engine.

  She glanced at his hand on his keys, surprised that he’d turned off the truck. “Thank you. Have a good night, John.”

  “What did I do, Katrynn? I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I have tried to remember, and I just don’t. I’m sorry. I hate it. But I am coming up with some worst-case scenarios that worry the fuck out of me.”

  Katrynn stared out the windshield. The glass was still warm, and the snowflakes splatted onto it, melted, and slid down. Four inches had accumulated, and the forecast predicted another eight. The wind had stopped, and the huge flakes made a lazy, gentle night. It was only six o’clock, but it felt much later.

  She could feel tears at the back of her throat at the mere thought of telling him. God, it had hurt so much to wake up alone on New Year’s Day and know what a fool she’d been. It had hurt so much to know for sure that everything he’d said and
done had had all the weight and permanence of vapor. It had hurt so much, and now she was over it, she was healed, and he wanted her to open up the wound again.

  She didn’t know what to say. She wanted to leave the truck and the conversation, but her hand was paralyzed, gripping the door handle.

  When she was quiet for too long, he said, “Katrynn. Did I…Jesus. Tell me I didn’t rape you.”

  Shocked, she let go of the door handle and turned in the seat to face him. “What? No! God, no! Not that. No.”

  “Oh, thank God.” He relaxed in a rush and even laid his forehead against the steering wheel. “Thank you, God.”

  She realized he was really praying, literally thanking God.

  It hadn’t occurred to her that he would think such a thing. She couldn’t fathom a loss of memory so complete as he seemed to have. He had been obviously drunk, but not sloppy drunk. His words hadn’t slurred so much as, occasionally, run together.

  Now she felt guilty. If that was what he’d been afraid of, then he’d been torturing himself unduly. She had to tell him, even if he thought her a fool.

  “No, it wasn’t anything like that. You…you were good to me. You said…you said a lot of things. Good things. And in bed…it was…good. It was the best night I’d ever, ever had with a man. You made me think I mattered.”

  She chanced to meet his eyes and found him staring, his brow wrinkled in dawning comprehension. When he lifted his hand and brushed his fingers over her cheek, she didn’t move away, though her pulse stuttered and her heart cramped.

  “You do matter.”

  He leaned in, and she knew he meant to kiss her. She wanted him to kiss her. But her heart hurt too much, all over again.

  She backed out of his enclosing arms. “And then I woke up alone, with you standing out on this parking lot with your shoes in your hand. And you don’t remember a single minute of that night. That’s how much I matter.” She took hold of the door handle, and this time, she opened the door. “Thank you for the ride, John.”

  He was still leaning toward the passenger side she’d just vacated. “Katrynn—”

  She cut him off by closing the door.

  When she got into her apartment, she let loose the tears that had been burning her throat. With Lennie and George yowling their greetings and weaving around her ankles, she went to the front window and looked down on the parking lot.

  His truck was still there. She could see him sitting behind the wheel. He hadn’t simply pulled away.

  And then she knew what she wanted.

  Even as tears streamed unhindered, she knew. If he followed her, she’d let him in. If he sought forgiveness, she’d give it. If he wanted her, he could have her. If he showed her that she mattered.

  Get out of the truck. Get out of the truck. Get out of the truck.

  She saw the plume of warm exhaust as he started the engine, and she watched him pull out of the parking lot and drive away.

  ~ 9 ~

  He did not understand women.

  Well, that wasn’t a new revelation, was it? It was why he was staring at his fortieth birthday and still living like some twenty-something moron. Katrynn had called him a ‘dudebro’ the other day. That shoe fucking fit.

  It wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted a family of his own. But he had never been able to get square with a woman who wanted the same thing, and with him. He was less than two months from forty—fucking middle age!—and he’d not yet managed to have a relationship that lasted much longer than two years.

  Maybe if the issues in those relationships had formed a pattern, he would have been able to see how he could adjust his course. But they’d all ended for different reasons. He’d ended some, the women had ended some, some had simply died without anyone truly ending them.

  Or maybe they’d all seemed to end for different reasons, because he couldn’t see the pattern. Because he did not understand women.

  He hadn’t hurt her.

  God, the things that had been going through his head these past couple of weeks. But he’d been good to her. All this time, he’d thought he’d turned into some kind of drunken monster, and the truth was that he’d been…himself.

  She hadn’t said what it was he’d said to her, but now he guessed that maybe he’d simply been freer with his feelings than he would have been sober. Drunk man’s words and all of that. He liked her. He’d liked her for a while. Maybe he’d said more of that than he would have otherwise.

  He hadn’t hurt her, and she’d been treating him like a pariah.

  He did not understand women.

  But she clearly didn’t want him here. So he started up his truck and pulled out of her parking lot.

  ~oOo~

  Once home, he got himself a beer, dropped onto his sofa, and turned on the TV. He scrolled aimlessly through the menu until he realized that he wasn’t even looking for something to watch. He was still thinking about Katrynn.

  He had hurt her. That much was unavoidably true. She’d been treating him like a pariah because he had hurt her.

  Because he’d been good to her.

  He’d expected her to be hurt that he’d left in such a shitty way that morning, but that wasn’t the worst of what he’d done. What he didn’t remember was the worst of what he’d done. Which was that he’d been good to her.

  Fuck! He didn’t understand.

  No, wait. She’d said it, right? He’d given her the best night she’d ever had with a man—John couldn’t help feeling some pride in that, even in the midst of his current confused frustration—and then she’d woken up alone, because he’d run out on her.

  And then he’d told her he didn’t remember the night. Which was her best night ever with a man.

  Ah.

  Okay. Fuck.

  He had hurt her.

  Understanding brought on a powerful need to apologize, and John stared at his phone, sitting on the cushion at his side. Would she even pick up?

  Probably not. Women seemed to have a lot of passive-aggressive rules regarding phone calls from men. But she might answer her door. Maybe.

  He sighed and looked out the window. Even with the lights on inside, the snow was heavy enough that he could see it falling. It was piling up quickly. The news channel he’d left the television tuned to had a weather update scrolling on the bottom of the screen—they’d adjusted their prediction for accumulation to eighteen to twenty-four inches. Winter was going to dump all of its snow on them in one storm.

  It looked like they’d all be snowed in by morning, at least until the plows could get around to the lesser streets. He didn’t really want to be stuck alone in his little house all day.

  He’d be better off going to the house on Caravel Road instead, getting snowed in with Carlo and Sabina and the boys, with Pop and Adele next door.

  Besides, he’d told Katrynn that he’d wait for her to tell him when she knew if she wanted to date him. That felt like he’d let her put him on a hook, but he certainly owed her some space.

  He finished his beer, turned off the television, and went up to the loft to throw a change of clothes and a toothbrush into his backpack. Hanging out with family was always a great way to spend a snow day.

  ~oOo~

  He’d had to pass the turn for her street on the way to Caravel Road. He hadn’t passed it. He’d turned, at the last minute, his truck fishtailing on the snowy street, and headed down Derrick Avenue. If she answered her door, he’d apologize, and then he’d leave her alone and head to the house.

  For the brief minutes until he was standing before her door, he figured out what his apology should be. A real apology, not a defense, not some lame attempt to explain. How could he explain?

  Then she answered the door.

  She’d changed and washed her face; it was clear of makeup, and she was wearing her glasses. Her eyes had the subtle puffiness that came from crying. Fuck. She stood there wearing flannel pajamas with the Peanuts characters all over them. Her hair was in pigtails, and those puffy eyes were wid
e with surprise or shock—or maybe fear. She looked innocent and young, and John felt like an absolute bastard for hurting her.

  He smiled and opened his mouth to say the apology he’d decided on, but the words weren’t there. Only two words found their way to his tongue.

  “You matter.”

  She stared, without any noticeable response at all, and then took a long, deep breath. When she opened her mouth to let it out, the breath became a sigh. He heard it shake.