The morning dawned bright and clear. A perfect day for a long bike ride, Katherine thought with an overwhelming bitterness. She wasn’t certain she would ever get on a bicycle again. At the same time a strong urge overtook her, something foreign to her nature but absolutely right under the circumstances.
Walking into the kitchen, she inhaled the pleasant breakfast bouquet in the air. How does toast smell so good in the morning? As she devoured a piece of buttered toast and a bowl of warm oatmeal served by her mother, the cinnamon scent revived more childhood memories. Note to self, she thought, I must get back to oatmeal instead of yogurt and berries every day.
“Anyu, I’m so sorry I had to unload all this on you. I know you and Papa didn’t feel James was the right man for me. I guess I should have listened to you in the beginning.”
Her mom wiped her hands on her apron and shook her head. Her voice filled with sympathy.
“My angyalom, we never know what life will throw at us. I’m so sorry for you to have your heart broken, but I know we will all survive it. You especially. One day at a time.”
“I know you’re right. Thank you for being you.” Putting every ounce of strength and resolve into her voice, Kat wanted to give her mom reason to believe she was dealing with the situation.
As she drove home, the open windows created a breezy cross draft—anything to help her feel less numb. After making such an effort to reassure her mother, she felt empty, drained of energy and emotion.
Normally she loved to cycle on mornings like this, when the overnight rain had cleansed the air and soaked the earth so deeply that you could almost feel the energy coming from everything green. The sky was impossibly blue, inviting her to be outdoors. Today that invitation lay unopened in Katherine’s mind.
How is it, when my heart is so broken, the world can still be such a beautiful place? It isn’t right. It isn’t appropriate or fair. Everyone and everything should be suffering like I am.
Resentment set in. Trying not to think of James—particularly his fathering a child—was an impossible task. Feeling an ache deep inside her, she lightly rubbed her hand across her abdomen.
A surprisingly nasty seed had begun germinating in her mind shortly after she had awakened. As she drew closer to home, the plan became clearer and stronger. By the time she pulled into her driveway, the intensity of it was almost overpowering.
Activating the garage door opener, she parked her car in the driveway and walked into the almost empty space. Along the back wall was a painstakingly organized worktable with all the tools James used to tune their bikes.
With determined movements Katherine lifted James’s most valued possession down off its rack. She marveled for a moment at the lightness and beauty of the elite bike he had treasured with good reason.
Pulling on her leather-palmed gardening gloves, she picked up a Phillips screwdriver and began her task. First she dismantled the electronic components. Wielding a hammer, she smashed some parts on the worktable to ensure the system would be of no use to anyone ever again. She wanted every blow to injure him as he had her. Next the wire cutters were put to work as she cut all the spokes and cables and slashed the tires. With each clip of the cutters, she felt a sharp pain in her heart, but did not stop. A hacksaw would complete her task, cutting through the tire rims and carbon fiber frame again and again. There was no pleasure in this for her, but there was a clear sense of purpose. She had to hurt him back, and with each push and pull of the saw, she hoped she was doing just that.
Stuffing the pieces into a large plastic garbage container, she set the sorry mess in the driveway just outside the garage door.
Going into the house to get a black Sharpie, she printed “RE” in front of the “VENGE” and carefully laid that section of the frame on top of the pile.
Next on her agenda were the two phone calls she absolutely had to return. Molly would be busy giving piano lessons at this time on a Saturday afternoon, so she could delay that call. But Andrea must be told. She was expecting Katherine and James to be at her place in St. Jacobs tomorrow. The conversation was brief.
“No, no, no! Kat, this is horrible. I can’t believe it.”
“Believe it,” Katherine replied, surprised at her composure. “It’s a fact.”
“I’m coming over. I’ll be there within two hours after I get things organized here, and that’s all there is to it.”
“Really, Andrea, I’m okay. I’m fine. I’m dealing with it.”
“No way,” Andrea insisted. “And I’m not fine. I’m not dealing with it. I’ve got to see you. I’ll stay overnight and help in whatever way I can . . . or you can help me . . . good Lord, this is a nightmare!”
Knowing there was nothing she would like better than having Andrea with her, Katherine gave in.
She had never been one for getting involved with girlfriends. Molly and she had known each other since public school, living on the same street and somehow just always being around each other. Katherine always felt she was Molly’s rock, there to talk during the many ups and downs of Molly’s disorganized and unhappy life. Molly had lived on the wild side during high school, while Katherine had immersed herself in her studies.
Andrea was actually more like the sister she never had. They had grown up together. Their fathers had been brothers, and Uncle Andrew had immigrated with Jozsef and Elisabeth. He married a Canadian girl, and the cousins had been born within weeks of each other. Uncle Andrew had moved to Kitchener with his family when Andrea was in first grade, but the two families had maintained the tradition of spending every second Sunday together, alternating homes, which were a quick hour’s drive apart.
Andrea, her husband, and their three children had lived on a small farm in the Mennonite area outside St. Jacobs, just north of Kitchener, for twenty-five years. Katherine and James visited often, and Katherine in particular had a close relationship with the three grown children. James had never shown a strong affection for any children, although he liked them well enough.
Katherine felt a hint of relief now. Andrea better than anyone would have a shot at helping her begin to sort through the tangle of emotions.
“I made some beef-and-veggie potpies this morning and tried a new bread recipe, so I’ll bring dinner. I’ll just go and find Terrence out in the garden and be on my way,” Andrea offered, still sounding grim. “Kat, I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry. I’m just stunned . . .”
“Me too, Andie. ‘Stunned’ is the word. I keep bouncing between disbelief, sadness, and rage. I’m glad you’re coming down.”
“Make sure there’s white wine in that fridge. Lots of it!” Andrea instructed.
Katherine pulled open a cupboard so the trash container slid out, and she dumped the entire magnificent bouquet of roses into the bag in one swoop—vase, water, and all. As she tied the bag, a cloud of fragrant perfume wafted up, causing her to pause briefly, shocked at her callous behavior. What a shame, she thought. Then she took the bag to the large garbage bin in the garage.
The phone was ringing as she came back into the kitchen; the display indicated it was Molly. Better get it over with, she told herself.
“Kat! I’m so glad I caught you!” Molly cut in, halfway through Katherine’s hello. She had a loud, raspy voice that took on the softest tone, almost a whisper, when she taught piano to children, and transformed into a soulful, smoky singing voice when she worked her weekend gigs at the Blue Note.
“Where the hell have you been, lady? You didn’t answer my call from two days ago! You won’t believe the day I’ve had . . . Oh, crap, sorry I was a tad tardy with the anniversary wishes, but ya know me! Better late than never! Anyhoo, did you have a nice time celebrating your twenty-two years? At the Old Mill, as always! Same as ever?”
Katherine swallowed hard.
“Katski, are you there?”
A sound not unlike a squeak escaped Katherine’s lips as she desperately tried to form a word and not a sob.
“Ka-ther-ine! What the fuck’s
happening? Oh my God, something’s wrong. You’re crying. Tell me you’re okay . . .”
Sniffing loudly, Katherine gulped and cleared her throat as she began. “Don’t interrupt . . . please. Just let me get through this, okay?”
Molly had to work at it but managed to remain quiet until Katherine indicated she was through with the details.
At that point, Molly was uncharacteristically at a loss for words as she blew out a loud burst of air. When she did find her voice, a string of curses exploded. “Un-fucking-believable . . . Oh, Kat, I’m so, so sorry. I’m just leaving for the Note, but I can come over right after the last show. Shit! I wish I could come right now. I just frickin’ can’t believe this!”
“It’s okay,” Katherine said softly through more tears. “Andrea is on her way and going to stay overnight.”
“That’s good,” Molly said with a sigh of relief. “Nobody better. She’s the Goddess of Serendipity, and I mean that sincerely.”
Katherine nodded into the phone. “Why don’t you come for breakfast with us tomorrow? I’ll be in better shape by then . . . maybe. It’s hard to think straight, but crazy as it sounds, I’m actually having some lucid moments. It’s just totally bizarre.”
“Fuckin’ right it’s bizarre, and a whole lot worse!” Molly added, issuing some highly unpleasant suggestions about James’s health and safety before they said good-bye.
That was done. Her mom, Andrea, and Molly knew. Somehow it made the whole mess seem more real.
No one else really mattered. The neighbors on both sides of the townhouse were young married couples who seemed busy with their lives. They occasionally enjoyed a drink on one patio or another from time to time, and she figured they would eventually realize what had happened. There were people at the cycling club she knew well who would be placed in the most horrid position with this affair. She would prefer not to have to talk to anyone there for quite a while and hoped no one would call too soon.
Of course she would have to say something at work, even though no one there had ever met James. Dr. Henderson treated his staff extremely well, but didn’t believe in socializing with them, so there were no personal connections there. He had once explained how years earlier, before her time, he had found it simply too upsetting to get to know spouses who were later replaced by others. At the time she had agreed wholeheartedly, even though her experience in that regard had been limited to a few of James’s colleagues. It was awkward and weird.
Now it was happening to her, she considered with a sorrow that felt like grief as she flopped onto the couch. She was being replaced. Slumped in the cushions for quite a while, that single thought rolled around in her head.
Slowly she began to do something her mother had taught her long ago. As a youngster, if she was unhappy or crabby, Elisabeth would hand her a pencil and a piece of paper with a line drawn vertically down the middle. Katherine would make a list on the left side of all the things that were bugging her and on the other, all the good things in her life.
The good list was always much longer.
Tearing off a sheet from the grocery list pad, she wrote:
Fifty-four not young Healthy
About to be divorced Capable
Alone Have a wonderful mother
James has left for a younger woman and is having a child Financially fine, no debt
Wounded Menopause over, no hot flashes
Angry Andrea and Molly
Deceived
Confused
Frightened
Heartbroken
The good side isn’t outweighing the bad at the moment, she berated herself. I’m obviously having a bit of trouble seeing the positives. Will I ever? Are there any?
Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to will herself not to cry but knew it wasn’t going to work. Maybe it’s best anyway to get rid of these tears before Andrea gets here. She lay on the couch as the wetness slowly washed over her face, streaming down her neck and onto the cushion behind her. There was almost a sense of calm that came with them this time. A letting go of something, although she wasn’t sure what.
Her mother’s words came filtering through the debris floating around in her head. Every day is a gift.
The past few days didn’t feel as if they had been gifts or anything close to that, she thought.
I’ve got a lot of work to do.
After a while, she went upstairs to the office and sat at her computer. She hadn’t checked e-mails for the three days since her world had fallen apart. Normally she only looked at them in the evening anyway, as she didn’t have much of a contact list. In fact, James, Molly, Andrea, the Toronto West Cycling Club, a couple of charities for which she volunteered, her yoga studio, and her colleagues at work were the only people who had her address.
A message from James was waiting. She chose not to open it. Later. Instead she read the messages from her colleagues at the office asking how she was feeling and sending a few files for her to take a look at when she felt up to it. They hoped she would be back with them on Monday.
I will, she told herself. Life goes on.
Opening iTunes, Katherine considered listening to some music, but every selection brought too many memories. Too soon for that, she muttered as she closed it.
Next she clicked on the local newspaper websites, attempting to focus on something beyond her own life. Katherine was an admitted news junkie. She began and ended every day with the local online newspapers, as well as the CBC, BBC, and Al Jazeera. It would not be difficult to put in time until Andrea’s arrival. How much of what she was reading today would sink in was entirely another story.
Random thoughts mixed with doubt, uncertainty, fear, and shock, pushing everything else aside. Concentration wasn’t happening.
Life can change in an instant, she knew—accidents, test results from your doctor, heart attack, murder, your spouse announcing your marriage is over—but when it actually happened, acceptance was a process more anguishing than she could have imagined.
3
The doorbell rang and Andrea walked in the front door. Standing in the hall, her eyes met Katherine’s for a split second before they wrapped their arms around each other.
Andrea burst into tears.
Katherine did not, astonished at her erratic emotions.
The first bottle of wine emptied in no time. Andrea pulled herself together and listened in amazement as Katherine related every detail of Wednesday’s events, leaving nothing out. Suddenly, Katherine’s resolve broke and she sobbed, through a flood of tears, the question she simply could not reveal to her mother.
“What’s wrong with me, Andie? This all somehow has to be my fault. What did I do wrong?”
Andrea grasped her by the shoulders and gave her a gentle shake.
“This absolutely is not your fault, so don’t start beating yourself up. That’s a natural reaction, but let’s just take a look at the facts. You’ll see you are not to blame for anything.”
The raw shock Kat had suppressed at her mother’s was finally exposed. Like an open wound that had been festering for days, she needed to find a balm for it. Something that might stop the toxins from taking over.
Andrea listened quietly, sharing that pain as Katherine poured her heart out. How she felt deceived and betrayed. How she railed against the unfairness of her infertility and how her body had failed her. Pounding her fists on the table at times and at others burying her face in her hands, she wondered how she would ever climb out from under the devastation.
Much later in the evening, Andrea insisted they eat, although neither was really in the mood. Andrea’s potpie with its light, flaky crust accompanied by her sweet and savory flaxseed bread, were nothing less than delicious. “Schmeckt gut!” Katherine murmured with an appreciative look.
Andrea smiled back upon hearing those familiar words of Elisabeth’s, glad to see that Katherine’s mood had altered somewhat.
“You and Mom both know how to prepare food that gets right to your soul,” Kat
said.
The wine was making her mellow but not maudlin.
Slurring ever so slightly, she predicted, “I’m not going to let this beat me down. I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus, but I know I’m strong enough to get through this.”
Andrea calmly agreed. “I know that too, and even though it won’t be easy at first, you will come through this just fine. I guess it doesn’t really help at this point, but two women in my bridge group have had their marriages end in the past couple of years, and they’re both doing well. Great, in fact.”
“It’s such a bloody shock, that’s the kicker. I mean, James never stopped acting like things were fine. He’s obviously been deceiving me for a very long time. It makes me feel like our whole marriage was a sham.”
She sat, quiet and still, as tears streamed down her cheeks again.
Andrea reached to take her hand, squeezing it gently.
“Kat, that’s a normal reaction. You had some very good years, and I bet this hasn’t gone on for long.” That was a dumb thing to say. What do I know? Comfort isn’t always easy to dispense, Andrea thought.
They sat like that for several minutes. Andrea felt awkward about giving Katherine another hug, as Kat’s body language seemed to say she didn’t want one at that point. Kat wiped her tears with the back of her hand and sniffed loudly, taking the tissue box Andrea handed to her and blowing her nose. She hadn’t really been crying, she realized. The tears just forced their way out, and she didn’t feel like trying to stop them.
“Let’s try to get some sleep. I actually am feeling quite exhausted now. I’m glad I stayed at Mom’s last night, but I feel like I didn’t sleep much.”
The Promise of Provence (Love in Provence Book 1) Page 3