Why couldn’t Delaney leave her alone? Wasn’t the oath sworn on their mother’s Bible enough to convince her sister she wasn’t suicidal? The gray sky was impossibly low; the clouds impossibly heavy. A storm was coming. She could smell it—sharp and slightly sweet.
“Rapunzel, Rapunzel,” Trent called up, “let down your hair before we get swept away in a gully washer.” He glanced at Delaney. “Heard that one in the barbershop. Gully washer. Isn’t it wild? I luuuv me some good Southernisms.”
Katie tugged up a few greasy strands. “I chopped off my locks after I graduated from a mental hospital. Why are you guys here?”
“For an intervention of love,” Delaney said. “Plus we both know it ends badly when you isolate, Sis. Hell is for sharing.”
“I’m not in the mood for company. Certainly not in a pair of boxer shorts and a camisole.” Katie glanced at the clouds. “And you guys are going to get soaked in about five minutes.”
“Yup. Flash flood warning until three o’clock,” Delaney said. “You’d better let us up before we drown.”
Another surge of grief sucked her down. “Please, guys, leave me alone.”
“No can do, babe.” Trent smiled like a mischievous elf in a too-small T-shirt. “You once said I could come to you anytime I need help. And I do! I think I might be, you know, gay.” He giggled. Delaney joined in; Ben didn’t.
“We’ve each pledged to tell you one thing that we love about you,” Delaney continued. “And if you let us in, we won’t have to do it out here and risk being either swept away in a raging torrent or arrested for causing a public nuisance.”
“Or both,” Trent said. “And I’m only on lunch break for another thirty minutes, which means I could get fired if you make us wait much longer.”
“See?” Delaney said. “In addition to forcing us to risk life and limb during a weather advisory, you’re wasting our precious working hours.”
“Fine, I’ll unlock the door.”
She closed the window, grabbed her thrift store cardigan—the closest thing she had to a robe—and walked to the door. What followed was a receiving line of hugs and casseroles, as if she were presiding over her own funeral. Maybe, Katie thought as Ben came in last, she was.
Outside, it began to hail.
After everyone had left, Ben hovered in the kitchen. The microwave door slammed, and the apartment filled with warm, buttery smells. Corn kernels popped as rain bombarded the window. A flash of lightning lit up the living room, and thunder cracked overhead.
Ben appeared with a large bowl of popcorn and a bag from the Apple Store.
“Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?”
“Yes. Here.” He put the bowl down on the coffee table, slid off his work shoes, and stretched out on the futon.
“Are you angry?”
“No.”
“Disappointed?”
“I’m concerned, but that’s my problem.” He opened the bag and held up a box. “Think of this as an early birthday present. I remembered you and Delaney talking about problems streaming movies on your laptop, and Delaney told me Love Actually is your favorite movie.” He put the box down next to the popcorn and pulled a DVD case from the bag.
“Ben, I can’t accept that. It’s too much.”
“It’s a portable USB SuperDrive and one movie. It didn’t exactly break the bank. If it makes you feel better, it can be a belated graduation gift for my favorite intern.”
“I don’t have the energy to fight.”
“Good. Then I’ll pretend you thanked me.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
A truck rattled up the street; a car honked. Rain splashed the ordinary world full of ordinary minds cluttered with mundane trivia such as what to cook for dinner. Minds not worrying about how to drive down the street without running people over like bowling pins.
“The OCD’s winning,” she said. “I can’t leave the apartment.”
“Did you call your new therapist?”
She shook her head.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t have one.”
“Damnit, you told me you would deal with this.” He put the DVD case down and raked his hands through his hair. “Katie, you need help.”
“How? How do I get help when I have no money and a four-thousand-dollar deductible?” She waited for Ben to object, to get up and leave. “Sorry, sorry, I don’t mean to snap, but none of the therapists in my network specialize in OCD. And besides, once I’ve met the deductible, I still have to pay fifteen percent, and sometimes insurance barely covers enough visits to make it worthwhile. Therapy takes time and work, Ben. Why start out with a new person who knows less than I do? By the time I’ve brought him or her up to speed, we’ll be out of appointments.” She looked down at her bare feet. Nail polish was the only nonessential left to cut. She glanced up. “I’ve been doing okay on my own. Keeping up with the techniques.”
“You haven’t left your apartment in days. Whatever you’re doing isn’t working.”
Crossing her arms, she hugged her shoulders. “Ben?”
“Yes?”
“I don’t want to talk.”
He tried to smile. “What do you need? Tell me, and I’ll do it.”
“A hug, but I haven’t showered in a while.”
He moved over to create a gap and opened his arms to her. “Come here, you.”
She didn’t hesitate. This was all she wanted: her favorite movie and her favorite person. What do I need? You, Ben. You. Such a simple thought, but one she couldn’t keep, because her mind would twist it into torment. Curling up tightly, she grabbed fistfuls of his T-shirt and inhaled his energy, his calm, the scent of his Moroccan oil shampoo.
“Thank you.” She rose and fell to the tempo of his breath. “Thank you for not asking anything of me.”
TWENTY-SIX
CALLUM
Right hand supporting the weight of his head, Callum sat on the polyester bedspread used by strangers doing God only knew what, and watched Jake. Before Lilah, Callum had often caught himself wishing he could be more like his friend, who lived in the moment and took what he wanted. Except at the end of the day, Jake lived alone in a rented cottage. Callum sighed. At the end of the day, he lived alone in a rented motel room.
“I can’t believe it’s been three days.”
“I can’t believe I ate all your hush puppies.” Jake belched. “I haven’t eaten that much since sixth grade.”
“How can you stay so positive?”
Jake tossed his plastic fork onto what remained of his pulled pork, mac ’n’ cheese, and fried okra, and tried to push his take-out container across the table. It caught on the peeling fake-wood laminate.
“Binge eating has nothing to do with staying positive.” Jake glanced out of the window covered in streaks and splatters left from the dinnertime monsoon. “Since the frog strangler seems to have passed, I vote for an emergency run to the nearest ABC store. Tequila should not only hit but eradicate the spot. Or I could be talked into moonshine.”
Callum shook his head. “I need to stay sober in case Lilah calls and says come over.”
“Not gonna happen, man. Too close to Maisie’s bedtime.”
“Thanks for the reminder.” Callum picked up his phone, typed a quick good-night text, and added a row of silly emojis. Maisie loved emojis.
“No answer?” Jake said after a few minutes.
“You think she’ll ever forgive me?” Callum tossed the phone aside.
“Us, and damn right she will. Our Maisie doesn’t have a mean bone in her body, but you’ve always been the rule setter with high standards. Now she gets to relearn you as flawed. Welcome to the human race, Dad.”
“If that’s supposed to make me feel better, it isn’t working.”
The air-conditioning unit rattled like a clunky old jet trying to barrel down the runway.
“Can we hold this pity party in a Marriott Courtyard?” Jake said. “That roach I saw scuttle under y
our bed was bigger than a baby possum.”
“A flea pit suits my mood.” Callum got up and walked to the window, avoiding the wet patch under that noisy air conditioner. The room was beginning to stink of damp carpet. If he could be bothered, he would complain. In the parking lot, covered in puddles and lit by harsh overhead lights, a couple hurled accusations with jabbing fingers. Maybe they had kids; maybe they, too, were trying to decide who was the worse parent. He turned back to Jake.
“Every day since Katelyn left, I’ve worried something bad could happen to Maisie.”
“I think it just did,” Jake said.
“But I never imagined I’d be the cause. I worried about classroom bullies, accidents on field trips, Katelyn grabbing her and disappearing.” Callum walked the two strides it took to get back to the bed and threw himself, facedown, on the bedspread. To hell with strangers’ stains. “Why didn’t I move across the country? Why did I stay in Raleigh with a target painted on my back?”
“That would be my fault since I encouraged you to stay close to the grandparents.”
“Christ. What am I going to tell Mom and Dad? Guess what, I failed at marriage a second time, and this one didn’t make the six-month mark?” Callum rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling tiles. One of them was cracked.
“Blame me. Your mama’s opinion of me never recovered after I taught Maisie to burp the alphabet.”
Callum turned his head and smiled. “And encouraged her to show off her newly acquired skill at my parents’ Hogmanay festivities.”
“That was classic, man.” Jake cleared up their dinner, grinning as he dealt with the aftermath of one man’s inability to cope with his own life. Again. “But you’re missing the obvious as you stare into that glass half-empty. If you guys had moved, you’d never have met Lilah Rose.”
“Who hates me.”
“Hate’s a bit strong. She’ll come around once she accepts that you were putting Maisie first. As she is now. As Katelyn would have done if roles were reversed.”
“Admit it, I’m screwed. Lilah solves problems as effectively as the Enigma machine cracked the German code.”
“You talking about that movie, The Imitation Game?”
“World War Two history, not Hollywood.” Callum sighed. Again. “Sorry, didn’t mean to be snide. My point is, when she hits a wall, Lilah won’t stop until she’s figured out how to tunnel underneath or climb over the top. She’s never going to forgive me. And Katelyn would never have done what we did. She takes in strays, remember? The more broken, the better.”
“Her boyfriend isn’t exactly broken. Although he did threaten me.”
“She has a boyfriend?”
“You skimmed right over that part about him threatening me. And he’s, like, six foot six with serious muscles. Younger too. Guess you both—”
“Enough, okay? Christ. How did things get so screwed up? How did I become such a contemptible parent?”
“Whoa, stop acting like you’re one fry short of a Happy Meal. You, Mr. A-Plus Dad, have raised an exceptional human being.”
“Who, according to all of you, is intensely anxious.”
“Not because of bad parenting.”
“I doubt bad parenting has helped.” Callum pulled off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “If you could go back, change things, would you?”
“Hell, no.” Jake picked at his teeth. “For years your friendship was all I had. I’m never gonna forget the debt I owe you, and why on God’s holy earth would I regret being part of Maisie’s life? If either of us had acted differently, I’d be the godfather who mails birthday cards with crisp twenties shoved inside, and Maisie would be asking why some guy called Jake was sending her money.”
A crack rang out in the parking lot. A car backfiring, a shot?
Callum bolted upright. Specks of light burst in front of his eyes. He started to shake, shake as if some giant had snatched him by the ankle and swung him upside down. Pumped him upside down. Up and down, up and down, up and down.
Stop, stop, stop!
He tugged his T-shirt over his head. Had to crawl inside himself. Had to hide. Couldn’t. Couldn’t ever hide. His heart boomed like fists on a drum. Forget the drumsticks, forget pace, forget melody. Fists. Nothing but fists. Pain squeezed his chest. He was dying. Dying without holding his baby, without kissing Maisie and Lilah one last time. Dying in a cheap motel room.
Mouth dry, he gasped for air and the devil laughed.
Throat clamped shut. Couldn’t get oxygen.
In the distance, Jake’s voice. “You know the drill. Breathe with me.”
He gulped. A clog of air hit his lungs. Gulped again, and again. Started breathing.
The mattress sank and an arm rested across his shoulders. Pushed down with an even weight. “That’s it. Release the T-shirt and breathe with me—in, out. That’s it. In and out. Slow everything down and listen to me. You’re having another panic attack. Feels like shit, I know, but you’re not dying and no one’s hurting you. You gonna throw up this time? Need me to fetch the garbage can?”
Callum shook his head and kept breathing, kept finding the oxygen, kept telling himself he was not dying. He blew out one long breath, and then another, and another. Gradually the world slowed down.
Jake squeezed his shoulder and then disappeared. Water ran in the bathroom, and Jake returned. “Drink this.”
Callum emptied the plastic cup and handed it back, but the world remained off-kilter, and his eyes watered. Blinking, he grappled for his glasses.
“That the first one you’ve had in a while?” Jake said.
Callum shook his head slowly. Pain had moved up from his chest to lodge in his temples.
“Didn’t think so. It doesn’t have to be this hard, man. You can get help.”
“It’s not something I can talk about, even with a shrink.”
“I know, I—damn, that’s it! I could leap around like a June bug at a porch light.” Jake grabbed the only chair in the room, flipped it round, and straddled it. “Lilah Rose thinks you mistreated your first wife. Prove her wrong by joining forces with Katelyn.”
“And Lilah will assume we want our child back so we can play happy family in the burbs. I was her teacher, for God’s sake. I understand how her brain works.”
“Legally she can’t keep you from Maisie. And if you and Katelyn are acting sane and unified, how can Lilah Rose turn you down?”
“You think Katelyn will agree to be in a room with me at this point?”
Jake yanked his phone from his back jeans pocket and held it out. “Call her. She’ll pick up ’cause she’ll think it’s me. Tell her you guys need to talk, and if it would make her feel better, she can bring the hunk.”
“You want me to do this with an audience?”
Jake gave his trademark smile. “Everything’s better with an audience. Besides, this keeps it from becoming a he said, she said situation if things turn ugly and end up in court.”
Callum stood. “I am not dragging my daughter through a legal battle.”
“Good. Keep that righteous indignation. Now act on it and broker a peace treaty.”
“And how, exactly, do I do that?”
“Tell Katelyn everything.” Jake swept his tongue over his front teeth, sucked, and swallowed. “Marginally edited version of everything.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
KATIE
Why choose Chapel Hill for a meeting? Was Cal nostalgic for their undergrad days, or avoiding chance encounters with friends and colleagues? Confrontations were out of character, but so was being late. And so was asking her to meet him at the UNC botanical gardens.
In the trees on the edge of the parking lot, fall was making an early appearance with the occasional red leaf. The voice insinuated that winter, a season she dreaded, was a breath away; handed her another blank check of fear for things yet to come. This, not happiness, was her natural state of being. Happiness had never been more than a collage of treasured moments: a husband�
��s kiss, the sweet-and-sour smell of a baby’s bedroom, the softness of a child’s cheek, the first redbud blossom in the forest behind her old house.
Under the watch of an intense September sky, a tufted titmouse hopped through a puddle. Would Cal find a parking space? The beautiful Friday weather had brought Chapel Hillians out in droves and filled the lot with every color of Prius on the market.
The heaviness crept back in. Yes, she was out of bed and functioning, but only because Ben refused to give up on her, and compliance was less exhausting than resistance. After raving about the steel-and-concrete oak leaf arch by the side of the parking lot, he had disappeared toward the arboretum in search of inspiration. Ben was now her crutch. Correction, she had let him become her crutch. Let the OCD demand his constant reassurance, which he provided since he was a decent guy. If you wanted to take OCD on a date, you should pick an asshole.
Thoughts spun in a whirligig of dysfunction. The sun, a blistering fireball, hung in the middle of the sky; the light was bright, harsh, unforgiving. Her brain filled with gray fog.
I can’t do this anymore. Why am I even here? Why do I think I can still help Maisie? I should text Ben, ask him to drive me home.
Leaning back against Ben’s truck, Katie closed her eyes and gave in to her thoughts.
A car pulled out of the space next to her; another one pulled in. The sun warmed her face as a door slammed. His shadow fell over her. She’d always felt Cal before she’d seen him.
“Hey,” he said.
For a moment she saw only his outline while memory shaded in the details. She almost smiled, remembering the Hot Dudes coloring book Delaney had given her one Christmas. Cal and Jake had always been a stunning pair, generating glances and whispers. Some women were drawn to Cal’s pale Celtic beauty; others couldn’t resist the hint of darkness that Jake carried so effortlessly.
She snuck a glance at Cal’s car. A Volvo wagon with no dents and no bumper stickers. A family car. He probably drove it through the car wash once a week.
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