Remember Love (4 page)

Alec looked up,
and the tortured twist of his lips wrung her heart. Why had she been so
selfish? She could’ve tried harder. E-mailed from a different address. Visited.
There were a million different ways to tell him, but instead she’d sat
comfortable in her little town, robbing him of one of the most precious things
a man could have. Her eyes met his and then skittered away.

"I’m so
sorry, Alec. There’s nothing that can erase what I’ve done." She gulped. "I
have movies, lots of movies, I can give to you. He wrote you letters as well. I
have them in a box."

"You told
him about me?" Shadows played across his face, dancing with the rhythm of
the tree branches overhead.

"Of course."
She bit her lip. "Not immediately, but when he started to ask questions. .
. The first few years I couldn’t reach you. Then your mother said she told you
but you wanted nothing to do with us. I believed her, for a while. I finally decided
to ignore her and pursue you but by then I learned from the business section in
the papers that you had traveled to Europe." She wrapped her arms around
herself, pressed them against the ache that hollowed out her chest. "Anyhow,
Joey constantly asked questions so I had him write you lots of letters."

"Didn’t he
want me to write him back? Was he disappointed?" Though his cheekbones
seemed chiseled from stone, she heard the pained note in his voice, the
desperation of regret ringing loudly in his words.

Katrina sighed,
crossing her legs, and the swing creaked quietly with the movement. "Maybe
a little, but he knew you were far away and that one day you’d be back. And now
here you are."

"But he’s
dead."

Katrina’s nervous
shifting stopped suddenly, as suddenly as the breath left her lungs. "Yes,
he is." She stumbled off the swing, all too aware that three years did
little to soften the loss of her child.

A familiar nausea
cramped her stomach. Guilt, pain, a myriad of emotions grabbed her, held her in
their volatile grip, and she struggled for control. She felt Alec come up
behind her.

"I'll take
you back now." His voice was ice. Burning her. His tone pulled at her
clumsy bandages and like a Band-Aid too long on a wound, ripped the puckered
and broken skin from her soul as he walked away.

CHAPTER
FOUR

Alec invaded
Katrina's dreams.

At four in the
morning she finally gave up on sleep and snatched a well-worn copy of Jane Eyre
off her nightstand. What better way to forget her troubles than to immerse
herself in Jane and Rochester's rocky romance?

She slipped back
to sleep after only a few pages and the dreams started again. Alec, so tender,
so wild. Zooming through town on his motorcycle, giving the girls a ride.
Dating Maggie. She dreamt of Alec, not the man who sat beside her last night,
but the boy she'd left standing shocked at an altar.

The wetness on
her pillow, damp against her cheek, woke her from the dream. Heart thudding in
her chest, she banished her memories to the deep corners of her subconscious
and slid out of bed.

After morning
chores were done and she'd showered for the day, she pulled out her calculator
and the financial statements for the store. She sat at the kitchen table, bills
and the ticking of mom’s antique clock her only company. Quick calculations
confirmed her worst fear: the store was sinking, and fast.

She couldn't pay
both the store loan and the medical bills from Joey and mom's surgeries. It was
a cruel irony that each month the hospital bill reminded her of their deaths.
Helping even less was the fact that she couldn't keep figures straight. As hard
as she tried, she bounced a check every few months.

Her cell rang
around noon.

"Ready for
some reconnaissance?" Rachel's chirp almost made her wish she hadn't
answered.

"For what?"
Phone between her shoulder and ear, she plucked a bill off the table and
studied it. Why couldn't those numbers disappear? Did she really need to pay
for procedures that hadn't done a thing to save her baby?

"Are you
listening to me?" Rachel's voice broke her concentration.

"What?"

"I'm coming
over after lunch. Be ready." The phone clicked, decisive and hard, like
Rachel.

Sighing, Katrina
put away the bills and the calculator. Rachel showed up exactly at one o'clock.
Sunday had arrived sunny and warm.

Once Katrina
hopped in Rachel’s SUV, her friend squealed onto the street, barely giving her
time to buckle in. Frowning, she snapped the seatbelt and settled back against
the leather seats.

While Rachel
talked to a client on the phone, Katrina took a moment to enjoy the ride. At
least she wouldn't have to sit home all day, thinking about her store and how
she might lose it, dreading the thought that she might see Alec in town. That
look on his face last night...

If only she could
stop thinking of his cologne, or the way he’d stood in her store so confident
and strong. A man now.  A father who would never know his son.

Trees whizzed
past the window, fast, as quickly as the years with Joey had sped by. Now he
was gone, and time slowed, so that every day she longed for night, only to wake
in the morning and long for night again.

"Stop
sighing." Rachel's voice popped through the car. "We're on a mission
so get the weepy look off your face."

Weepy look?
Katrina straightened and tried to look normal. "What's going on?"

"Something
bad." Rachel's lips pursed. She flipped a glance at Katrina. "Are you
okay?"

"It's that
time of the year."

"I know. You
should move on."

"Excuse me?"
Her cheeks burned.

"You know,
smile more, get involved with people again."

"I go to
church all the time."

"You didn’t
today."

"Today is
different."

"Are you
reading your Bible? ‘Cause you sure don’t talk about God anymore."

"I don’t
want to discuss this."

"Just answer
my question." Rachel shot her a look. "Where are you at with God?"

"I still
believe." Rachel rolled her eyes as Katrina chewed on her lip. Honestly?
She was afraid to search too deep, afraid her faith had withered away like her
social life.

"God loves
you. The things that that happened don't mean He doesn't care." Rachel’s
tone was unusually gentle. "Do you really want to be alone for the rest of
your life?"

Because she
couldn't answer without sobbing, she bit her lip and shook her head in a quick
no. Thankfully Rachel dropped the subject. She turned onto a pot-holed road.

Sharon's street?

Curiosity sludged
up from some deep, unused well inside. She shifted forward and peered out the
windshield. "Why are we going to Sharon's?"

"We're not."
Rachel pulled the vehicle over and parked against the curb. "We're spying."

"What?"
Despite everything, Katrina felt the first glimmer of interest. "Why?"

"Because
last night before the reunion I couldn't talk to Sharon without having to
listen to Steve cuss up a storm in the background. When things started to
crash, Sharon claimed the kids broke some dishes and hung up." Rachel
reached over and snagged a bag Katrina hadn't noticed sitting on the floor near
her feet.

"You think
Steve was doing all that?"

"What I
think is that our dear friend has been lying to us for years." Rachel
slammed her palm against the steering wheel, startling Katrina. "This is
way past verbal abuse, and it’s going to stop. Are you with me or not?"

Katrina fell back
against the seat, the air whooshing out of her in a long exhalation. It would
explain the clumsiness, the flinching. "I can’t believe Steve’s really
hurting her. Physically. Are you sure?"

"We're going
to find out."

That didn't sound
smart. "Shouldn't we call the police?"

"First we’re
going to verify this. Besides, all they'll do is bring forms for her to fill
out. A restraining order, maybe." Rachel scowled, her face flushing almost
as red as the roots of her hair. "If she's been lying to us about her
'clumsiness' for who knows how long, then why would she tell them the truth?"
Rachel shot her a look that said
you'd better come with me, or else
.

Katrina didn't
open her door. Not yet. There had to be a better way than invading their
friend's privacy. Was this something she wanted to get involved with?

Now that's
selfish
, an inner voice taunted.

She swallowed and
let her hand flutter to the door handle. "What exactly are we going to do?
We're not going to break in, are we?" One never knew with Rachel.

"No,"
Rachel scoffed. "Now quit being scared and come on."

Gulping, Katrina
opened the door and stepped onto the patchy driveway. The house loomed silent
and dark. She shut the door with a quiet click before following Rachel up the
walkway to the front door.

Suddenly Rachel
veered onto the grass and rounded the corner of the house. Katrina tiptoed
after her, heart bumping against her ribs. What was she doing? It felt
dangerous and really uncomfortable.

"Here, hold
this," Rachel whispered. She shoved the bag toward Katrina, who took it
clumsily, looking around. Surely the neighbors might think something was wrong?

A small click
grabbed her attention.

"Got it."
Rachel's smile spelled out smugness as she held out her hand for the bag, a
small camera dangling from her wrist.

Katrina gave it
back. "What did you see"

Rachel pointed to
the gritty window. "Just good old Steve, passed out on the floor. The nice
thing about this baby," she swung the camera, "is its incredible
zoom. There's nothing like a close up of a man's drool and his grazed knuckles.
Someone's been hitting things. Now we just have to make sure it wasn't his
wife."

Katrina blinked. "Do
you really think--"

"Ninety-nine
percent sure." Rachel's smile flattened.

"We have to
help her." Fingers trembling, Katrina started back toward the car. How
could she have missed this? She had to set things right. Somehow, some way.

*****

 Monday arrived
with a persistent drizzle that kept Katrina from going on her morning walk. She
readied for the day but couldn’t find enough cash for lunch. Hadn’t she slipped
a ten in her black purse before the reunion? After fumbling through her closet
and not finding the purse, she gave up and slipped some money out of her secret
stash and into her everyday wallet.

Had she left the
purse at the restaurant? She got into her car and slammed the door shut.

Great. One more
thing lost in the muddle of her life. At least she kept her license in the car
so she could legally drive to work.

When she reached
the bookstore, the lights glowed warmly.

Good for Sharon. Someone
around here was running on schedule. Katrina let herself into the shop. The
empty store greeted her, a reminder that unless people started buying books in
the double-digits, she’d have to give up her lease and somehow sell her
inventory. A narrow hallway behind the register led to the bathroom and back
office. Feet heavy, she trudged through the store. Sharon must be working in
the office and hadn’t heard the door jingle when she came in.

Katrina took a
deep breath outside the office door. The last thing she wanted was for Sharon
to see the guilt that plagued her. Telling Alec about Joey had only made things
worse. She'd found no peace in Bible reading or prayer. Had barely tried, if
she were honest.

Surely God forgave
her, but would Alec? Could she forgive herself? And why would it matter anyway?

The past couldn’t
be undone.

Squaring her
shoulders, she opened the office door and caught Sharon’s flinch.

"It’s just
me."

"Oh."
Sharon’s shoulders rounded but she didn’t turn around, and continued working at
the little desk Katrina had picked up from a yard sale years ago. The desk sat
against a wall and she’d managed to wedge two little plastic chairs in front of
it.

Katrina set her
purse on the file cabinet to the left of the door. "Everything okay?"

"We have a
new shipment coming in a few weeks." Sharon didn’t look up from the desk.
Her fingers flew across the computer keyboard, punching and clicking.

New books. Katrina
smiled, anticipating the smells, the textures that came with fresh ink and
pressed paper. This was her life. Books and sales. Comfort should be found in
the ordinariness of her life now. She had to forget Alec, how she’d wronged him,
and move on.

It sounded so
cold. Something Mom would have said. She pushed the thought to the side.

"Anything
else I should know?"

"Widow Carmichael
wants to meet you for lunch today."

Katrina groaned
and flopped into the chair next to Sharon. "I don’t have the money."

"She wants
to see if you’ll donate books to the church bookstore."

Again? Would the
woman never stop asking for freebies? She slid down the chair and propped her
knees against the desk. "Do we have any older ones that didn’t sell?"

"No." Sharon
hunched over the keyboard. Her blonde hair covered the side of her face. "You’ve
been so careful with inventory this last year that everything you’ve ordered
has sold or been returned to the publisher."

This was
ridiculous. Meeting with the widow would trap her because the woman was set in
her ways and pushy. "She’ll guilt me into giving her books. I should do
it, too. Pastor Joe needs some fiction in his church."

"It will be
revenue lost," Sharon said quietly.

"I know."
Katrina covered her face with her hands, pressing the palms against her lids as
if it would somehow block the images of destitution that accosted her. "I’ll
meet with her and see what she wants."

Sharon made a
small disapproving sound but Katrina ignored it. Maybe giving away books would
make her feel less guilty for her deception.

"It’s good
to donate to church." Katrina studied Sharon, waiting for her response.
When her co-worker said nothing, she sighed heavily. "Maybe I have
something at home that will work."

She reached
forward to snag a pen to write herself a reminder. Sharon shot backwards to
give her room and it was then Katrina saw why Sharon had been avoiding her gaze.
An avocado shaped knot swelled the skin of Sharon’s cheekbone and the eye above
her left cheek resembled a misshapen, bruised mass of flesh.

A gasp ripped
from Katrina’s mouth. "What happened?" She started to move Sharon’s
hair from her face for a better look, but Sharon jerked away.

"Kids,"
she mumbled.

"You’re
blaming this on your children?" Katrina pulled back, jaw tight.

"It was an
accident." Sharon’s shoulders dropped down and her gaze hovered somewhere
beneath Katrina’s knees.

Gritting her
teeth, she swallowed the reprimand seething inside.

The doorbell
jingled. She bit back on the anger and stood up. The muscles in her back, stiff
with tension, protested the movement. Wincing, she straightened.

"I’ll man
the register. Can you call Widow Carmichael and let her know I’ll meet her?"

Sharon nodded and
Katrina hurried out of the office. She hadn’t said so to her employee, but when
she got back from her meeting with the church’s secretary, she intended to find
out exactly what had happened to Sharon’s face.

*****

"It’s great
to see you, Grant." Alec shook his old friend’s hand then sat down at the
table Grant had been holding for him. Around them forks clinked against
porcelain and the swell of voices testified to O’Donnell’s lucrative Monday
lunch crowd.

"I’m glad
you could escape your conference call to meet for lunch." Grant’s mouth
curved in a wide arc. "So, what do you think about that property?"

"It’s prime."
Alec signaled the waiter. "Did you order?"

"Nope."

They took a few
minutes to look over the menu and place their orders. After that was done, Alec
took stock of Grant. His friend had matured over the years, lost the pretty boy
face his friends teased him over throughout high school. The police uniform he
wore added to the tough look.