by Cheri Allan
“Then again, if you got married that could—”
“Married? To whom?” She gestured toward herself. “What man in their right mind would want this?!”
He shrugged and cocked one eyebrow.
“This isn’t a joke.”
“Maybe I’m not joking,” he said, his face taking on an odd expression. “Okay, yes, I’m not thrilled you weren’t straight with me from the beginning, but I understand. I get it now. But that doesn’t negate the fact that you’re an amazing, desirable woman any guy would be lucky to have.”
“Amazing and desirable but not someone you fall in love with.”
“Hey,” he touched her chin and his lips tilted softly. “I’ve fallen in serious like if that makes you feel any better. And even you have to admit we’re very—how should I put it?— compatible.”
“Nana said marriage is more than good sex.”
“No offense to your Nana, but it’s a good start.” He let his hand drop. “Besides, there are plenty of practical reasons to consider it. What about health insurance? Adding you to my policy may cost less than insuring ourselves individually. It at least bears looking into…”
“Do you even hear yourself? I’ll figure this out on my own. This is crazy...”
“It’s not as crazy as believing a solution is going to fall from the sky out of wishful thinking! How’s that worked for you? Huh?” He stopped and shook his head. “I’m sorry.” He rested his hands on her shoulders. “Look. You said you loved me. I at least care about what happens to you. It’s a more solid foundation than the starry-eyed romantic notions most couples start with. We’ve both tried that route and failed. Who’s to say this wouldn’t work? Let’s at least discuss it. I hate to see you struggle when—”
She threw her hands up. “No! I’m not going to discuss marriage just because you have some overblown sense of responsibility. This is my life! You can’t take over like some macho superhero!”
“I’m not trying to be anyone’s hero, Kate. I’m suggesting a solu—”
“But I deserve more than that!” She said, the blasted tears welling up and overflowing again. “I may not have a solid plan of what I’m doing or where I’m headed or how in hell I’m going to make it all work, but I at least know that!”
“Kate, I didn’t mean…”
“Don’t,” she said. “Please, don’t.” Her hand was shaking as she brought it up to dash away her tears, and she felt brittle and hopeless and cheated all at the same time. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t let him sacrifice his future for her mistakes. And she couldn’t give up on that tiny ember of hope of finding someone who could love her, utterly and completely. “I need what you can’t give me. And I won’t settle for less... ever again.”
He blew out a defeated breath. “I do care about you.”
“I know.” Her chest felt tight, her lungs aching, like she was trapped in a box and running out of oxygen. But the knowledge that he cared wasn’t enough, not nearly enough to live on for the rest of her life.
“Friends?” he asked.
He reached forward then, wrapping her in an all-too-brief hug, and in that moment, she knew. With sickening clarity she knew this would be the moment she’d remember. The pitying regret in his eyes as he pulled away again. The pulsing frustration deep in her gut. The scents of Jim and resignation and summer melding improbably, heart-wrenchingly together.
She shook her head.
“No, not friends,” she said, her voice breaking. “Never just friends.”
August 15
I know the sound of a heart breaking. Silence.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
____________________
KATE BRUSHED LIAM’S HAIR from his forehead and pulled up the thin sheet. The room was warm despite the open windows, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn on the air conditioning. Somehow, artificial air felt wrong. Out of place.
Just like her.
Kate swallowed the lump in her throat, straightened and headed back to the dimly lit living room. Maybe she’d made a mistake running back to Connecticut. Once she’d gotten on the road, she’d made half the drive on adrenaline alone, the remainder had been spent, tears streaming down her face, wondering if she should turn around.
But she hadn’t, because despite the almost overwhelming urge to rush back to Jim and take whatever he could offer, the salient fact remained: She loved him. He was a good man. He deserved to start fresh—not be handed some screw-up’s leftover wife and children. Taking him up on his offer—however well-meaning it was—would be a mistake for both of them.
She nearly jumped out of her skin when the doorbell rang. Peeking around the sidelight, she threw the door wide. “Ma?”
“I wish you wouldn’t call me that. It makes you sound like Laura Ingalls. Here, open the door a little more. I can’t fit the carrier through.”
“What the—?”
“I need you to take Sandy.” Her mother thrust the dog carrier forward and shut the door with her foot. “I’m at my wit’s end. I’m having anxiety attacks from worrying about her. Feel.” She grabbed Kate’s hand and held it to her chest. “Do you feel that? Feel how irregular that is? I’m a wreck! I’ve tried everything, but it’s no use!”
Kate peered in the carrier. Sandy whimpered pityingly.
“We’ve balanced her chakras, switched to two different special diets, I’ve had her tested, massaged and aroma-therapied. But she just lolls around. Listless. Lifeless. It’s breaking my heart! Do you have any decaf tea?”
“In the cupboard.”
“Good. Maybe that will help calm my nerves.” Her mother bustled into the kitchen and started the water boiling. “Your father is no help. He won’t listen anymore. Just hobbles around and complains about his gout and stomach cramps.”
“Stomach cramps? What’s wrong with his stomach?”
“He’s stubborn, that’s what. Refused to take my advice. That colchi-whatever gout medicine is doing a number on him. Serves him right for pooh-poohing me. He’s getting a cleansing, all right, but not the pleasant kind.”
Kate reached up for cups. “So why is Sandy here?”
“I need you to take her. A few days at most. Tell me if a different environment is healing to her. I’m still not convinced it’s not that new carpet, but your father refuses to listen when I suggest replacing it.”
Kate looked around at the half-filled boxes and stacks of belongings around the room. “I’m packing. Moving. I can’t possibly take—”
Her mother clutched a hand to her heart. “Not even for your own sister?”
Kate fought not to roll her eyes. “She’s not my sister, Ma. She’s a dog.”
“I can’t believe you’d say that. I love her like my own baby. If you won’t do it for her, then at least would you do it for the sake of my heart?”
Kate pulled a box of tea out of the cupboard.
“One day. That’s all. Please? It’ll give me time to have the carpets properly cleaned. It’s all organic cleansers, but I still don’t want her in the house breathing in any vapors. She’s fragile enough as it is.”
“I don’t have any food for her.”
“I brought a bag in my trunk. You can keep it for when you watch her next week. And her ceramic dish. You know plastic isn’t good. Allergies. And phthalates. Very bad for them. You shouldn’t use plastic either.”
Kate sighed. “Fine. One night.” She approached the carrier and crouched down. Frowned. “This is Sandy?”
“Oh, yes. I know. She looks a little rough around the edges nowadays, but I stopped having her trimmed months ago. It’s more work for Rosaria to keep her groomed, but Ahmed has said all along shaving her was denying her the right to be what nature intended. I tell you, that man is so intuitive.
“Anyway,” she continued, giving Kate a brief hug and walking toward the door, “I need to get going. It’s late, and I’m sure you’ll want some girl time before bed. Far be it for me to interfere with that!”
�
�Wh—? Don’t you even want your tea?”
“I don’t think so. I only drink organic these days. My heart, you know. But thanks just the same. See you tomorrow?”
“Sure.”
After her mother left, Kate poured herself some non-organic decaf tea then went and crouched down in front of the carrier. Sandy peered through the crate’s bars—and the shag of fur that now covered her eyes. “So. What’s wrong with you?” Kate asked, opening the door. Sandy lumbered up onto her legs and padded out. Looked around. Or at least appeared to. “I don’t suppose you can tell me the last time you went out?”
After spending an inordinate amount of time sniffing around the back yard, Sandy did her business and slowly made her way up the steps and into the house again. Kate sighed and patted the couch next to her. Poor thing. They both needed help.
Before she knew it, they were asleep.
“MOM! MOM!”
Kate awoke to the sounds of heavy breathing and excited giggles. The former coming from Sandy and the latter from Liam as the dog practically wet herself in excitement at being near a three year-old.
Kate rolled over on a groan. No doubt the dog’s sudden active nature could only mean one thing. “Oh, crud! How late is it? We need to get Sandy outside. Where’s her leash?” Kate patted around the end of the couch, blinking rapidly to lubricate her cursed contacts. Why didn’t she just get Lasik surgery already? Oh, right, that cost money.
“Aha! Got it!” Kate turned in triumph, the leash in hand, and nearly choked in disbelief at what she saw.
“Ohmigod! Liam! What have you done?”
Sandy scampered happily around the boy, her shaggy doggy bangs replaced by short, uneven clumps of fur.
“I give her a haircut!” Liam said proudly, the little blue safety scissors in his hand still sporting a tuft of fur.
“You gave her— but honey! You can’t do that! Look at her!”
“She can see now!”
“But...” But, nothing. He was right. The dog that had slowly stumbled around her living room the night before was now trotting about joyfully, licking Liam like the savior he obviously was.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Kate said, a giggle bubbling up inside of her at the absurdity of it all. “Wait until I tell Ma.”
Kate tilted her head. Sandy tilted hers back.
Kate reached for the safety scissors. She’d tell Ma the good news of Sandy’s miraculous recovery... just as soon as they evened things up a bit.
CHAPTER FORTY
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IN THE DAYS THAT FOLLOWED, Kate threw herself into packing. She felt unmoored. For the first time in years, she faced a future without a steady job, a husband, or a home... She pushed aside a box and sank onto the couch. No, unmoored wasn’t the right word. She felt... unfettered. It was as if life could go in a million directions. She only had to make the right choice.
She closed her eyes, fatigue washing over her.
Choices had never been her strong suit. Hadn’t she chosen Randy? Hadn’t she chosen to spend ten long years as nothing more than a glorified secretary?
What was her passion?
An image of kind, hazel eyes flashed in her mind’s eye.
No. There was a difference between sexual passion and being passionate about life. She knew that now. Okay, a simpler question. What made her feel good?
Brilliant purple pansies bobbing their heads in neatly ordered flower beds came to mind. Then other memories flooded her: Carter’s shocked expression the first afternoon she’d worked on his office. Grace’s gratitude for reorganizing her closets. Mrs. Pearson’s joy once the ice chest and dessert plates were cleaned and put into place. The sense of pride when they’d tallied the proceeds of the swap and shop event.
Maybe that was enough. Maybe a passion didn’t have to feel overwhelming. Maybe, sometimes, it could just feel good—like putting things to right.
Kate ran a hand over her face and fought the tears she’d thought she’d already spent. That was all well and good, but discovering what she was good at, even enjoyed, didn’t fill the void in her heart.
Kate tossed a glance at her laptop case. She hadn’t logged on for days. But she’d made a commitment to Mrs. Pearson. The entries had steadily trickled in, surprising Kate with the number of bachelors Sugar Falls could boast. And even though most were considerably younger—which she defined as anyone younger than twenty-five—it had proved a not unpleasant diversion from REAL LIFE.
I could use some diversion, she decided, pulling the laptop from its case.
Forty minutes later, a chat window popped open on her screen. Kate’s stomach did a flip-flop.
Jim: Hi. Long time no chat.
Liz: Out of town.
Jim: And they don’t have computers in...?
Kate couldn’t help but smile, even though the ache in her chest throbbed anew. If only she could start over. Do it right this time.
Liz: Nice try. I’ve been busy. How are you?
There was a pause and then a reply appeared.
Jim: Okay. Tough week. Missed chatting with you.
Her heart lurched in her chest until she realized it was only a light-hearted comment on his part. He didn’t know who she was.
Liz: Sure you did.
Jim: No, really. I did.
Liz: Why?
Jim: Maybe I like your sense of humor. I’ve been a little shy of that lately.
She hadn’t given him much to laugh about had she? Kate bit her lip. Typed.
Liz: That’s all?
Jim: I don’t know. I might like your sense of style, too, but that’s yet to be determined.
Liz: You’d hate it. Way out there. I’m SO not your type.
Jim: Is that so?
Liz: For starters, I’ve got wild hair...
Jim: Maybe I like wild.
Liz: ...streaked with pink?
Jim: Pink can be very feminine.
Liz: ...and multiple body piercings. Did I mention that? Even a belly button ring...
Jim: I’m intrigued.
Liz: ...and PURPLE toenails!
Kate stared at the screen. Purple toenails? Sh—! Where was the delete key?! Where was the blasted delete key?!
Jim: Kate?
Kate’s pulse thudded behind her ears, her heart taking a hard skittering thump in her chest as she stared at her name on the screen. Her name on the screen. The jig was up.
Liz: Yes?
It was probably only a few moments, but it seemed like hours before a reply flashed onto her screen.
Jim: I know it’s you.
Liz: I was going to tell you.
Jim: Of course you were, but let me guess... it was complicated.
Liz: I guess I deserve that.
She stared at the screen, waiting for... what? It was over. They both knew it. This only made it official. The last nail in the coffin. She’d lied to this man from the moment they’d met. How could you form any lasting relationship on lies?
Liz: I’m sorry.
Jim: Doesn’t change the fact that running away with Liz just got a whole lot more impractical.
Kate felt a half-smile form despite the urge to cry. Lord, he was still Jim. And she loved him despite all the... complications.
Liz: I’m sorry.
Jim: Quit saying that.
Liz: I don’t know what else to say. I know you’re angry with me. I don’t blame you.
Jim: No, Kate. Not angry. Disappointed. I thought we had something together.
Liz: Who? You and me or you and ‘Liz?’
Jim: There never was a Liz. We both know that.
Hot tears slid noiselessly down her face as she typed her reply.
Liz: Well, you deserve better than an imaginary woman. Or me.
Jim: Does it matter? I can’t have either.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
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JIM LOGGED OFF THE INTERNET. Five o’clock. Too early to think about bed, too late to do anything else. It was almost a
relief when the call came over the scanner... multiple vehicle accident... intersection Miller Brook and Route 6...
Jim grabbed his keys and headed for the door, the dispassionate familiarity of the routine calming. This, at least, he knew how to do. They’d call out an engine in case of a fuel spill, direct traffic, wait for the wreckers. Not too exciting, but better than sitting at home.
He sped the mile down Route 6 toward town and, hearing that Engine 2 was already on its way, headed directly to the scene.
He pulled to the side of the road just short of the intersection, behind the traffic already backing up. Engine 2 was just arriving, sirens blaring. Jim leapt from the cab of his truck.
Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw next.
“Jesus.” They’d need more than a wrecker for this one.
He quickly assessed the scene with a practiced eye: SUV, driver’s side mangled around a telephone pole, a pickup’s front end crushed, obviously having impacted the passenger side of the SUV.
T-boned. Christ. It had fatality written all over it. He pulled a pair of plastic gloves from his glove box.
The smell of gasoline stung his eyes. A handful of people milled around already, stunned, murmuring in hushed tones. He and three other responders hurried forward. They knew what to do. Check for injuries. Assist the paramedics. Contain the fuel spill. Direct traffic. Clear the scene.
Ted Seamans stood at the pickup, assessing the driver’s condition. Jim watched his eyes go flat. He knew then and there the news wasn’t good.
One fatality.
Jim turned and stepped off the curb toward the SUV and stumbled. On the back window there was a maroon and white Sugar Falls Wildcats sticker. A US Marine Corps emblem just below that. The vanity plate read Futball.
Shit. Tommy. Tommy Daniels.
He moved quickly around the SUV and through the tinted glass saw the faint outline of a booster seat in the back—a small limp body still in it. His chest constricted as he helped wrench open the front passenger door.
The smells of blood and death hit him in a wave. Tommy’s airbag had deployed, the fine white powder still floating in the air around him. Jim averted his eyes, not so much in deference, but because there was nothing to be done there. Meg, his wife, sat in the passenger seat, her neck angled oddly to the side, honey-colored hair matted with blood. Jim felt for her pulse. Weak, but there. He swung around and barked out a call for paramedics.