Remember the Time (30 page)

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Authors: Annette Reynolds

BOOK: Remember the Time
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As he walks to the bed, she can feel herself giving in to his appeal. And as he sits down in front of her, she reaches for his bow tie, saying, “You never could tie this thing straight.”

She had forgiven him that night, but she would never lose the small corner in her heart reserved for the significant pain he’d brought into her life.

Kate knew exactly how Mike felt. The only difference—and it was a major difference—was that she truly regretted what had happened. Paul never had.

C
HAPTER
THIRTY
-
FIVE

A
fter Mike had made it clear he wanted nothing more to do with his nephew, Matt stayed away from home the rest of the afternoon. When he finally pulled into the driveway, and his mother greeted him as she had any other day, he knew his uncle hadn’t said anything to her, and for that he was grateful. Matt was eating his dinner when he remembered the envelope he’d taken from the tower room. It lay on the passenger seat of his car, and as soon as he’d finished his second helping of meat loaf, he excused himself from the table and retrieved it.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Matt studied the nondescript envelope. It was addressed to Paul Armstrong care of the San Francisco Giants. The address was printed in black felt pen. There was no return address. The postmark—faded and partially gone where the stamps had given up their hold—gave no clue from where it had come.

He folded up the metal tabs that held it closed and one of them broke off in his fingers. Matt shook the contents out onto his bed. Five photographs of various sizes fluttered to the blanket.

Matt flipped the top photo over. He didn’t know what to expect, but this wasn’t it, and he quickly turned over
the rest and spread them out. Completely baffled—totally engrossed—he was startled by the knock on his door.

“Matt?”

Swiftly collecting the pictures, he shoved them back into the envelope, saying, “Yeah?”

“Mike’s on the phone for you.”

“Oh, man!” he whispered to himself. Standing, he ran a hand through his hair, wishing he could somehow disappear.

“Matt? Come on, he’s waiting.”

“Yeah—okay. I’m coming.” He took a deep breath and slowly expelled it. There was no denying it. He was scared shitless.

Matt followed his mother downstairs and cautiously brought the receiver to his ear.

Without preliminaries, Mike said, “Meet me at Gypsy Hill Park right now. I don’t want to have to wait for you.”

His uncle hung up, but Matt kept talking, pretending Mike was still on the line. When he hung up, he turned away from his mother’s gaze and, with a mouth gone dry with fear, said, “He needs some help. I won’t be long.”

Mike’s truck was easy to spot. It was the only vehicle in the park on this frigid December evening. Matt pulled in next to it, but didn’t see his uncle. He climbed out of the MG on shaky legs. The muscles in his arms contracted in adrenaline shock when he heard Mike’s voice.

“Over here.”

Mike stood in the shelter of the bandstand, nearly invisible. Walking as confidently as he could, Matt trod along the path that circled the duck pond and then crossed the tiny stream that meandered through the park. The grass, brittle from the cold, crunched under his shoes.

When he was a few feet from Mike, he said, “It’s cold. Why did you want to meet here?”

In a voice as chilled as the air, Mike answered, “Because I didn’t want you in my home.”

Matt didn’t know how to respond to the frosty words. Mike pulled himself out of the shadows, and Matt got a good look at his grim face.

“Once I was out of the way it didn’t take you long, did it?” Mike said.

“It wasn’t like that.”

“You little shit,” Mike growled.

Matt looked away, then at the ground. “I didn’t know how you felt about her. I’m sorry, Uncle Mike.”

“Don’t call me that. If you’re old enough to fuck the woman I love, you’re old enough to call me Mike.”

“That’s not what happened! I swear!”

“So she said. How come I don’t believe it?”

“She’s telling you the
truth
!” Matt was shivering and he stuck his hands in his coat pockets. “Y’know … what happened … it wasn’t her fault.”

“Excuse me, but it takes two.”

“Look—she was really drunk …”


I don’t care
. You both knew what you were doing.”

Matt faced Mike. “I’m trying to tell you! She didn’t know.”

“Bullshit!” The words exploded around Matt’s ears. “You got into her pants and into her precious room. Was she worth it?”

Matt rocked back at the force of Mike’s wrath.

“Tell me, Matt! I’ve been waiting a very long time to find out.” Mike grabbed a handful of Matt’s jacket and brought him close. Matt could smell the leather of Mike’s jacket and the scotch on his breath. “How did she sound? What did she feel like under you?”

“She thought I was Paul,” Matt said in a strangled voice.

But Mike was beyond reason. “Where did it happen, you shit? Did she take you into her bed? Did she scream out your name when she came?”

“She thought I was Paul!” Matt repeated, shouting this time. “Listen to me, Mike, please! She didn’t know who I was, okay?”

Mike suddenly let him go, and Matt staggered backward.

“Get out of my sight,” Mike said.

Pleading with him, Matt said, “You’ve got to forgive me, Mike. If I’d known—if you’d said something about the way you felt about Kate—I would’ve stayed away. I didn’t know!”

“Get out of here!” Mike said with more force. “I mean it, Matt!”

From the sound of his voice, Matt may as well have been on his knees when he said, “Please don’t say anything to Mom …”

“You selfish little prick.”

“It’s not for me. I don’t care about me!” He held out his hands in supplication. “I just don’t want Kate to be hurt anymore. I didn’t realize how things were with her.”

“How noble of you.” Mike sneered. “The next Prince Charming of baseball.”

“It was a mistake! Haven’t you ever made a mistake, Mike?”

“The biggest mistake I ever made was trusting the two of you.” He swept past Matt and headed for his truck.

Matt’s voice battled with the wind that had kicked up, scattering desiccated leaves along the ground. “You’ve loved her for all these years, Mike! Don’t cut her loose now.”

Mike sat in the bay window of his dark bedroom, staring out across the street at Kate’s house. It was long past midnight. The wind that gusted around the house made it come alive with low moaning sounds. The maple tree’s
bare branches whipped back and forth, casting moon shadows on his tired face.

No one … no one to talk to
.

The upper hallway light came on in her house, and then, a few seconds later the window of the tower room lit up. He could just make out her figure moving through the room, and his face became grim as he remembered Matt standing there.

She thought I was Paul …

Mike closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them she was standing at the window, looking out at his house. He knew she couldn’t see him, but he sat perfectly still, holding his breath. She finally turned away, and he slowly exhaled, trying to force the longing out of his body. She could hurt him like no one else, and that was his fault. He’d let himself in for it.

It was a mistake …

Three days now since he’d talked to her. Three long days had gone by, and he’d gone over their last words a hundred times. He had come to the inevitable conclusion that he couldn’t live without her, but didn’t know if he could live with what she’d done. Out of nowhere, his mind would show him clips of Matt and Kate that made him cry out in anger and frustration, and he’d think,
I can’t forgive this
. And then he’d remember the Kate he’d grown up with, and he’d want her all the more.

God, he needed to talk with someone. He perversely wanted to know every detail of what had happened that night. But he didn’t trust himself to be able to rationally listen to the two people who could tell him. That night in the park, Mike had barely been able to control himself. He’d wanted to beat Matt senseless. That kind of anger had scared him with its force. He’d never felt anything like it, and it took every ounce of restraint to rein himself in. If
he
could contain himself, why the hell couldn’t Kate?

The light went out in the tower room, followed by the
hall light, and her house sank into the night. Too weary to move to his bed, Mike let sleep overtake him on the padded bench of the window seat.

The slamming of a car door woke him. Blinking against the light of day, he watched as Matt strode up Kate’s walkway and onto her front porch. The door opened and, after a few seconds, he slipped inside the house.

A rage so strong—so uncontrollable—welled up inside Mike, that he brought his fist up against a windowpane. It shattered under the force. A thin trickle of blood ran into the crevices of his hand as he opened his fingers to stare at what he’d done.

He had to get out of town.

C
HAPTER
THIRTY
-
SIX

B
ad enough that the doorbell was ringing at—Kate looked at the clock—eight-fifteen. She’d had only four hours of sleep. Actually, she hadn’t really slept in days. But a deep, depressive sleep had finally caught up with her early this morning, and she would’ve ignored the person at her door, except she hoped it was Mike.

Kate struggled to get off the couch and didn’t give a second thought to her appearance. She still had on the leggings and oversized sweatshirt she had worn the day before. Her thick socks made a whispering sound against the hardwood floor as she shuffled to the front door.
Please let it be Mike
. She wanted to talk to him. Tell him, again, how sorry she was. Tell him—show him—that she wanted him. Only him.

She wasn’t prepared for Matt, though. Disappointment, and then anger, flooded through her.

“What do you want?”

Matt flushed at her harsh greeting. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.” It wasn’t what he wanted at all, but it was obvious now was not the time to talk to Kate about anything.

“Have you lost your mind, coming over here?” She
pushed open the screen door. “Get inside. God! What if Mike sees you? What’s he going to think?”

Matt stepped past her and waited uneasily. He had no idea what to say to her now.

Slamming the door, Kate turned and said, “Get this straight, you little shit. I don’t want to see you right now. We have nothing to say to each other.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t do me any good.”

“Look, I know how pissed off Mike is … was … but I’m sure—”

The color in Kate’s cheeks deepened. “Pissed off? Are you kidding? Our little interlude may have cost me the only chance I had at happiness. Worse than that, I gave Mike a reason never to trust me again.”

Matt edged toward the door. “I guess I’d better go.”

Kate’s hand shot out and gripped his forearm. “Not until I tell you something. That was a really lousy thing you did to me. You took advantage of me when I was at my weakest and that really stinks.” She let go of his arm and opened the door. “When and if Mike forgives me,
then
I’ll forgive
you
. In the meantime, stay away from me.”

Matt could feel the envelope in his back pocket, reminding him why he’d come. He couldn’t make her any madder, and decided to give it a shot. “But I really need to ask you something. It’s important.”

Kate looked at him in disbelief. “Have you suddenly gone simple? Get out!”

“Look, Kate, you’re the only person—”

She was enraged. “What part of ‘get out’ don’t you understand?” She was pushing him out the door.

“But it’s about Paul.”

Kate’s mouth opened, then closed. She was stupefied at his gall. Her finger stabbed him in the chest, as she said, “Look, you imbecile. I don’t give a shit what this is about. This obsession you have with Paul has got to stop!
Not only is it a colossal pain in the ass, it’s not important. Right now, what’s important is Mike.” She gave him another push. “Now, get the hell out of my house.”

Kate’s hands shook as she spooned coffee into the filter. The phone was tucked in the crook of her shoulder. She had called Julia the moment Matt left. Three days of being alone were enough, and she needed to talk to someone.

Kate had drifted through the past few days, unable to do much of anything. When sleep came, it was fickle. She would wake at odd hours, craving the alcohol she’d gone without since that night with Matt. Sometimes she would actually pour the brandy and sit staring at the glass, thinking the act would somehow calm her. But there was nothing like the real thing. Then she’d pick up the glass and see reflected in it Mike’s look of pain at what she’d done, and the golden liquid would go down the drain. She didn’t know how much longer this could go on. The small amount of strength she’d gained was deserting her, and there had been Matt at the door, reminding her of all her weaknesses.

Kate swiped at the spilled grounds, but only managed to make a bigger mess. “I’ve never been so angry at anyone, Julia.”

“Let me get this straight. He came over to see how you were?”

“That’s what he said.” Kate sat at the table. She couldn’t remember anything but her rage at Matt. “Why?”

“Because most eighteen-year-olds don’t know how to
spell
‘empathy,’ let alone practice it.”

“Forget Matt! I miss Mike, Julia. I miss him so much.” There were those damned tears again. “And I’m so sick of crying.”

“Then talk to him.”

“He won’t listen to me. I’ve called and left messages, but he doesn’t call me back.”

“Then go over there. He can’t ignore your beautiful face.”

Kate grabbed a tissue. “God, Julia. It doesn’t get any worse than this.”

“Sugar, you’re inviting trouble when you say things like that.”

Kate tried Mike’s number once more, but his machine answered. She slammed down the receiver. Pulling on a coat, shoving her feet into a pair of old moccasins, she ran across the street and pounded on his door in a fruitless attempt to bring him out. When she turned away in frustration, Kate saw his truck was gone, and fresh tears ran down her cheeks.

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