Saving Katie Baker (12 page)

He never had a good example of what a family was supposed to look like. How was he to know how to be a good husband or father? Blake began to worry about all that a relationship with Katie would include.

He realized that he was running ahead of things, and laughed at his own panic. It was still very early. His thoughts roamed back to reality and wondered whether Katie would ever fall for him. If not, then he had nothing to worry about regarding parenthood.

He looked up at the trees. Oh, the trees. His friends. He thought about the five senses and took notice of his at the moment. So many colors were around him. He felt a chill in the air, a chill that smelled like rain and storm—lingering evidence of the day before. Blake breathed in refreshment and filled his lungs with renewal. Truly making space for all of his thoughts and feelings.

CHAPTER
11

B
lake was headed back towards the house when he heard a series of rumbles. He quickened his steps. Worried about Katie and Micah and the unknown bustling, he started to run ahead. When he arrived at the house, he could hear what sounded like large trucks moving around just beyond their property, as if attempting to make it through. After standing for a few minutes to observe the commotion, Blake noticed a man climbing through the debris wearing an orange vest and hardhat.

“Hello there,” he said to Blake as the two men spotted one another through the brush. “We’re just out helping the neighbors clear driveways, you guys interested in any assistance?”

Blake was thrilled at the idea of having another set of hands or two to help with all the mess that needed to be cleared. He walked up to the man, who was now out in plain view, and reached out to shake hands.

“We’d love that. I’m Blake Quinn.”

The man accepted Blake’s hand and gripped it firmly, “I’m Tom; it’s nice to meet you, Mr. Quinn.”

“Please, Mr. Quinn was my dad, I prefer to go by Blake.”

The man nodded in agreement then turned and noticed the place where Katie’s house had fallen. He gawked and slowly stepped over to the site, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Wow, was that your place?”

“No, mine’s the other one,” Blake said, turning around to point at the large brick cottage just across the gravel drive. Even before Katie’s home had disappeared, Blake thought his own house a bit excessive. It wasn’t a huge place, but compared to Katie’s little cottage, it had been magnificent. And now, here she was homeless while he’s left sitting comfortably in a large four-bedroom bachelor pad.

Four bedrooms. Blake thought about those rooms. Why he thought he needed that much space to begin with, he’d never know. He tried to justify each of them in his mind.
There was the room for working out; another was the office, every man needed an office for all the computer type stuff, right? Where else were you supposed to put a printer? Then there was the master and guest bedrooms
.

Katie’s cottage couldn’t have been more than a two bedroom. Blake thought about her and Micah, how cozy it must have been to be so close to one another in that little space. Perhaps there was something greater about such a minimalistic life.

Blake’s thoughts were interrupted by the other crewmembers that were also making their way onto his property. Tom, who Blake guessed to be the one in charge, asked him another question.

“Were their causalities?” He was still staring at where Katie’s house had once stood.

“No. Thank God. They were with me.”

Blake had flashbacks to the events of that first night and how he had almost given up the fight to get the girls inside his place. He had worried about being too forceful, too persistent. What if he hadn’t been?

He remembered watching them from his window; he had watched as Katie struggled to get her daughter from the car. He doubted even then that she’d be able to make it inside on her own. He’s not sure why he felt so determined that they should be with him—perhaps it was some type of animalistic intuition. He remembered running to them as everything grew dark and surrounding Katie with his own body. Blake shivered as he remembered the details again for the first time.

He would have lost them, if he hadn’t followed his instinct. That idea scared him. He couldn’t image life without them now.

“That’s going to take a lot of work to get cleaned up.” The man took off his orange hardhat and rubbed his balding head, bringing Blake back to the present.

“Yeah. I know. The woman that lived there hasn’t really had time to process everything, she’s trying to take things a day at a time.” Blake said to the man.

“Well, we’ve got loads of road work to do around town, but when we’re finished, we can check back in with you. If you guys need any help, I could maybe talk the guys into lending a hand. Is her husband planning on re-building?”

“There is no husband.”

As Blake said the words, he wondered whether or not things would have been different if there had been. Would they have hidden together inside their little cottage? Would they have made it over to his house?
No need fussing over “what if’s”
, he thought to himself.

What was Katie going to do now? Would she re-build? Would she move in with her family? Would she go live with her dad? What would happen to them once the roads were cleared? Would she leave him? Would he ever get to see her again? Blake began to panic a little bit at the thought of life going back to normal without Katie in it.

“Boy, I’d hate to be in her shoes,” the man said right as Katie walked up behind them.

Micah clung to Katie’s good shoulder while straddling her little legs on either side of her mother’s hip. Katie seemed very excited to see more people. Blake read pure joy on her face and wondered if it was the fact that she’d finally be saved from the apparent misery of spending time with him that made her so elated.

“Finally. I’m so glad to see someone make it through this mess, does this mean that our roads are going to be cleared out?”

“Yes ma’am. I just heard about your house. So sorry, miss.” He stood, looking with compassion at the woman and the little girl.

Blake looked at the pile of trash. There was no evidence left of the little cottage that once stood so beautifully, so full of love and light that Katie had so much invested into. Her little country cottage once put together and so sweet, was now lying across the lawn in pieces like garbage. Blake wanted to embrace her, to give her strength as she stood there staring.

“Yeah. It really sucks—a nightmare I can’t wake up from.”

The three of them stood frozen where they were. They all tried to avoid discussing the events that surrounded that night, and the storm. The men all gathered around and peered across what used to be Blake and Katie’s street. It was a complete disaster, with puzzle pieces of memories blanketed in between fallen trees and glass.

They all had their work cut out for them. Tom turned to his men and suggested that two of them start with the trees, he gave them orders to chop the wood that had fallen, and the other two men were to start on garbage pick up.

“I’ve got a truck we can use to load timber in.” Blake offered.

“You have a truck?” Katie asked in surprise. “I thought you just rode the motorcycle.”

Blake gave a funny, almost irritated laugh.
She doesn’t know me at all
, he thought to himself.

“Are you telling me you never saw me pull out in my truck? It’s in the garage, but I use it on a pretty regular basis.”

“Now that I think about it, I vaguely remember. You always had so many men and women coming and going, I only assumed it was some girlfriend of yours,” she said, obviously lingering and emphasizing the topic of females.

Blake winked at her, “Nope, the truck was all mine, but your hint of jealousy is quite cute.”

The look that appeared on Katie’s face wasn’t at all happy. She turned around and stormed back toward the house, leaving Blake to wonder what was going on inside that head of hers.

“Women,” he said to the worker who still stood watching as Katie walked away. Blake couldn’t help but glance at her receding figure along with him.

Katie felt frustrated that Blake had the gall to flirt with her at a time like this. Yes, if she admitted it, she did feel a bit relieved the truck belonged to Blake rather than a lover of his.
Why did it matter? Why should I care about him having girlfriends? What does it matter to me?

Katie decided to go back inside, put some coffee on, and make cookies for the men who were helping them. She had to do something to keep busy and keep her mind off of the man who caused such emotional turbulence.

She would have to check the kitchen cabinets again to see what she could possibly throw together. She remembered seeing chocolate chips in the pantry.

“Everyone likes chocolate chip cookies right?” she asked Micah.

Micah smiled big, “Coookieeees,” she said.

“Yes. Do you want to help Mommy bake some cookies for the workers?”

Katie knew that her daughter would be thrilled to be able to help her bake. The two of them often spent time together in the kitchen. It was one of her favorite parts of being a mother.

As soon as they crossed the threshold, Micah squirmed out of her mother’s arms and ran to the kitchen. She immediately pushed a chair up to the counter and stood waiting for her mother.

“Coookieeees,” she said again, pointing adamantly to the oven.

This made Katie smile.

“You sure are excited about helping Mommy, aren’t you? Okay, just let me get all the ingredients out.”

Katie reached for the bag of chocolate chips and began reading the recipe on the back, grabbing the items one by one as they were listed: baking soda, salt, butter, eggs. The list went on, and as Katie retrieved each item from the list she sighed in relief.

“We need to find a bowl to mix everything together,” she said to Micah and began searching the cabinets beneath the granite countertop.

Katie noticed that Blake wasn’t lacking in kitchenware. She finally found what she was looking for, a set of Pyrex bowls that sat together, nice and neat in one of the cabinets. She admired the bowls, a bright white with a small mushroom print twirling across the middle of each one.

She pulled two of the bowls out, one for dry ingredients and the other for the wet. She remembered cooking with her own mother as a child. Oh, how she missed her mother.

It wasn’t right that a child should grow up without a mother in her life. Katie was only four when her mother was taken from her. The memories of her, the way she looked, acted, were hard to recall. She had photographs, but they just weren’t the same as real, actual memories. Her mother was the first person that death took away from her.

It’s a shame
, Katie thought,
that Micah has to grow up with even less memories of her father than I have of my mother.
It’s not fair.
Katie had to remind herself to breathe and work to distract her thoughts before continuing.

Micah came climbing off her chair and walked up to Katie, grabbed onto her legs and yanked on her shirt, “Up,” she said. Katie obliged and sat Micah on the counter.

“Be careful not to fall.”

She thought about her little girl and hoped that she wouldn’t have to experience the loss of any more loved ones. It wasn’t fair to do that to a child. Katie measured out two and a quarter cups of flour into the bowl. Micah stuck one finger into the white powder and smiled.

“Don’t touch yet, baby. Here.” Katie opened the bag of chocolate chips and counted out five. “You can have these as a snack.”

Micah grabbed the chocolate and shoved two of them into her mouth, quickly leaking gooey chocolate out the corners of her lips. Katie continued to pour and mix everything together. She picked Micah up off the counter and put her back on the chair.

“It’s almost time to start cooking them,” she said.

Micah loved to stand in front of the oven and watch the cookies bake through the glass window. There was something fascinating about watching a blob of goo turn into a sweet, deliciously tender cookie. For Katie, the waiting was always the hardest part of baking.

Katie grabbed milk out of the fridge and poured some of the white liquid into Micah’s cup. She handed it to the little one and watched as she gulped most of it up instantly.

“Save some for the cookies,” Katie told her daughter.

“Coookieeees.” Micah said, pointing to the oven window again.

Katie loved hearing Micah talk; it made her so tickled at the childish vocabulary imperfections. Some mothers got worried about their children not speaking, or speaking correctly, but not Katie. Katie valued each moment as sacred and treasured it. She looked at her little girl, in diaper only, with chocolate evidence on her chin and nose. If only she could stay like this forever.

Katie took Micah to the room to change her diaper, realizing this was the last one in the bag. She started to panic about what she was going to do tonight and determined it was time she talked to Blake about this inconvenience.
Who knows, maybe the roads will be cleared enough to venture out.

“Wait. I don’t have a car.” Katie said this out loud, and Micah looked up with an expression of attempted understanding. Katie looked at her and smiled. “Mommy is talking to herself again, huh.”

Katie knew she really didn’t have anything to worry about, Blake probably wouldn’t mind loaning her his truck. She just had to get up the gumption to ask him—that was the hard part. Katie wasn’t good at asking for favors. She hated the idea of needing the help of others.

It didn’t take long for the first batch of cookies to finish baking. Katie removed them from the oven to cool, and placed the next batch inside to cook. The whole house began to smell of freshly baked cookies, a smell Katie loved. Candles had nothing on freshly baked goods, even the ones that claimed to be “cookie scented.” They never did the scent justice. Katie had tried them all, still with the opinion that the real thing was best.

Katie looked over at Micah who was glancing up at Katie, impatiently waiting for her own cookie to cool. Her daughter reminded her of her namesake. He always joked with her by saying the only reason she’d bake cookies was to get the house smelling good. She was guilty. Her secret was to turn on the oven instead of lighting a candle. Nothing compared to baked bread or chocolate chip cookies. She laughed. Everyone thought it was because she was so hospitable. If only they had known how much of a hospitality hater she really was on the inside.

Katie looked at the cookies. They turned out perfectly. Just the way she liked them—a little bit on the under-cooked side for some people, but to her, they were perfection. She transferred the cookies to a platter that she’d found in the same cabinet as the Pyrex bowls.

“When the other cookies cool, we’ll take them out to Mr. Blake,” Katie told her daughter, who looked up and clapped her hands together in excitement.