What's Done in Darkness (5 page)

I'd been to see Lucy, and she was supportive of this trip. She reminded that I could call at any time if I needed her and that she could also refer me to someone in Florida if required. I was grateful for her. And for my sister. It had hit me in the last couple of days that Marie was the only real family I had left. The extended family who hadn't been around after our mother died weren't around now. So while I knew that Marie, perhaps along with Lucy, had cooked up this plan to “save” me, I couldn't be mad at her. In fact, it finally dawned on me that she was looking out for me because she loved me.

So here I was, about to venture off to a place that offered endless sunshine, and I knew that the hope on Marie's and Lucy's parts was that I would have time and space to forget about Wesley and reclaim my life.

When Marie released me, she said, “I wish I could take the drive with you, but I can't miss any more work.”

“I'll drive carefully,” I assured her. Normally, I might give her a smart-ass remark. Because on so many levels I'd always shunned her filling the motherly role. But my sister had put up with my mood swings over the past two weeks in an effort to get along better with me, and I appreciated her for it.

She pulled me into her arms one last time. “I love you. Never forget that.”

“I know. I love you, too.”

*   *   *

A few days later, I was finally in South Florida, my end goal in sight. Only three more hours and I would be in Key West. I had done the drive over three days, taking my time because there was no need to rush. And I found that the long drive listening to music and audiobooks had done a lot for my mental well-being.

I was okay with the time and space Wesley had suggested, and looking back on my behavior, I knew I was lucky he even said he still loved me at all. I was still afraid that in a year's time he would have moved on or that we wouldn't really be able to pick up where we left things off. But as Marie had said, people broke up all the time and life went on.

The clarity I'd achieved after three days of driving almost made the hours I'd spent in therapy after my stepfather's death seem like money wasted. Perhaps all I'd needed to do was drive across the country for a number of days to get in touch with my thoughts and my pain. There's something about being in a car by yourself that allows you to think on a deeper level. And in the three days I'd been driving and thinking, I'd had a profound understanding regarding my relationship with Wesley and why I'd reacted so badly to his rejection. I'd figured out why it had hurt me so much and why I'd been so desperate to cling to him. Because his rejection made me think of my biological father's rejection.

When I was just five years old, my father left us. And it wasn't like he left but still remained in my life and Marie's. He was simply gone, as if he'd never existed.

As long as I lived, I would remember the day he'd sat us all down, explained that he couldn't “do this” anymore, that he needed a break. I remember crying, begging, pleading. But his decision had been made, and no amount of tears from his daughters had made any difference.

I'd been devastated. I had loved my daddy so much. Marie had been angry. Eleven at the time, she'd known that what my father was about to do was unforgivable. Me—I'd simply wanted him back.

Before he moved out, Marie had tried to comfort me by saying that since our parents fought too much, maybe it was best that Daddy leave. But when the day came and he hugged us good-bye, all I could see was that I was being rejected by the man who was supposed to love me the most.

Wesley walking away from me felt like the same kind of inexplicable abandonment. Where a man would tell you,
Hey, I love you. It's just that we can't be together.
It didn't make sense to me when my father had said it, and it didn't make sense when Wesley had said it.

When I finally connected the dots, I'd felt a sense of relief. And with it came the attitude of what would be would be. My mother had moved on, found my stepdad, and he'd been a great father. I didn't have to be devastated forever if things with Wesley didn't work out.

In fact, the love my mom had found with my stepdad had been the real deal, the kind of love that made her laugh and smile all the time. She'd truly been happy with him. The tragedy was that she hadn't been able to enjoy that happiness for more than a couple of years before cancer claimed her.

“No sad thoughts,” I told myself, and looked out at the stunning stretch of the Atlantic. In the distance I saw pelicans flying low above the water, and a smile touched my lips. My mother had loved birds of all kinds, and whenever I saw a flock of birds while having a bad thought I figured it was my mother sending me a positive sign. True or silly, I didn't know, but it did help me to feel better.

I didn't want to be sad. The road stretched before me—a road of possibilities. Who knew what adventure awaited me? Perhaps it was time I be like my friends and find another man to hook up with when I got to Key West. That's what they did to get over a breakup. Found another guy.

Maybe I'd been far too young to be involved in a relationship so serious anyway.

And wasn't Florida filled with attractive men who liked to walk around without their shirts on? Surely I could find someone to pass the time with, to help me forget about Wesley.

As I saw the mile marker indicating that Key West was only thirty miles away, I felt a sense of excitement.

Whatever awaited me, I was ready.

 

CHAPTER FIVE

An hour later, I was pulling up in front of A Book and a Cup, the coffee shop where I was to meet Katrina Hughes. People populated the large patio, and a woman wearing a black shirt, black skirt, and white apron was wiping down a table as two women stood waiting behind her. I'd seen Katrina's photo on Facebook, so I knew that this tall, athletic redhead was not her. I was looking for an African-American female who was about five foot nine, light skinned, and on the thin side.

I exited my car and damn near yelped as a tsunami of heat enveloped me. Wow. It was seriously hot here.

I pulled at my shorts, which were clinging to my legs after sitting in the car for so long. Then I made my way through the wrought-iron fence that bordered the patio. I approached the waitress as she turned around, and she actually jerked backward. Finding a person standing in her path had clearly startled her.

“Sorry,” I said.

“You want a table outside, it's gonna be a little while.”

“Actually, I'm wondering where I can find Katrina?”

“She's inside.”

The redhead opened the door and held it for me, and I entered the café, noting that by contrast it wasn't busy at all. Only a few tables were occupied, and all of them by people with laptops. Clearly, people were opting to sit outside in the beautiful sunshine.

I saw a man behind the counter, but no females. Then, a moment later, a door in the back swung open and out walked a woman who had to be Katrina. When she saw me, a smile popped out on her face. She walked toward me, slinging the dish towel she was holding over her shoulder. “Jade?”

“And you must be Katrina.”

She extended her hand, and I took it. She shook my hand lightly, not much of a shake at all.

“So nice to finally meet you,” Katrina said, a hint of a southern drawl to her voice.

I nodded. “Likewise.”

“How was the drive down?”

“Uneventful. Easy. Peaceful.”

“Good. Excellent.” She went over to a man behind the counter, a five-foot-nothing Hispanic male. “Tony, hold down the fort for me, will you?”

“Sure thing,” he told her.

Turning back to me, Katrina said, “Follow me.”

Katrina seemed to glide, her body elegantly poised as she moved. Perhaps she had spent years as a child walking with a pile of books on her head to ensure a perfect posture. She had an air of sophistication about her, and I could imagine her being a southern belle. Her hair was flat-ironed straight and had a middle part and hung past her shoulders. Her complexion was smooth, her application of makeup so flawless that it looked like she was wearing no makeup at all. And either she had those eyelash extensions or she was naturally blessed in that department.

She was stunning.

I followed her through a door at the back of the store. From there, a staircase led up to a second level. Once we reached the top, Katrina used a key to unlock the door there and stepped inside.

I went in behind her, my eyes scanning the large apartment. It had a brick wall interior that had been painted white and dark hardwood floors. The place was open concept, with a kitchen near the door and the large living-room space near the window. A small breakfast bar with two bar stools was the only thing separating the kitchen and living room. It provided additional counter space for the small kitchen, while also giving people a place to dine.

“It's two bedrooms,” Katrina explained, starting to walk to the right. She showed me an average-sized room with a queen bed that was unmade. I assumed that room was hers.

“This is my room,” she said, confirming my thought. “Your room will be over there.” Katrina gestured to the door across the expanse of living room, then walked over there. She pushed the door open wide.

I looked inside. The room wasn't very large, but neither was it too small. It had a twin bed, a small desk, a chest of drawers, and a ceiling fan. It would do. I didn't plan on spending much time inside anyway. Not when the beach and palm trees beckoned in this hot weather. “There is a second bathroom,” Katrina said. “Thank God. It barely holds a sink, toilet, and shower, but it's super convenient.” She showed it to me, and I was amazed that a bathroom so small had been constructed. “I figure it was a closet that was converted into a second bathroom.” Katrina shrugged. “Now, so you know, a friend of mine is staying here. Actually, my boyfriend. He's from England, and we've been dating for a while. He's out right now, but in case you came in while I wasn't here, I didn't want you to freak out.”

Katrina's smile was genuine, warm. It made me feel a lot better about sharing space with a stranger. I was struck with the sense that I'd made the right decision by coming here, and I was hopeful that this stay would be a wonderful one.

“Now, what do you want me to do in the shop?” I asked.

“Have you been a coffee barista before?”

I shook my head. “No. Never.”

“Don't worry; we'll find something for you to do. Most likely, if you're comfortable serving customers, you can do that. It'll be great also because you get to earn tips, better tips than the girls get at the front counter.”

“Ahh, yes, that would be nice.” I hadn't considered the aspect of making tips. I could use all the money I could earn to help with my final semester of school. And, possibly, for a trip or two to Seattle. Wesley had been right to scoff at the idea of twice-monthly trips. What had I been thinking when I'd suggested that? We couldn't afford to do that.

“This is a nice place,” I said. “You own it all by yourself?”

“I suppose you're wondering how I can afford to run this place,” Katrina said, summing up exactly what I had been wondering. “Prime real estate in a great location? My parents died a year and a half ago.”

“Oh, I'm so sorry.”

Katrina waved a dismissive hand. “It was a tragic carbon-monoxide accident in their home. I wanted to do something meaningful with the money I got from the life insurance policy. My parents had always dreamed of retiring in Florida, but they just never got the chance. I came down here to scatter their ashes in the ocean, fell in love with the place, and here I am. A year and a half later, with a business I know they would be proud of.”

“Wow. That's amazing.” Katrina had lost both parents in one tragic accident, yet she seemed so positive. Upbeat. Stronger than I was. “I know what it's like to lose your parents. Mine were years apart. Losing them both at the same time … that's got to be tough.”

“It was. But I take comfort in knowing they went together. I don't think either of them would have wanted to live without the other one.”

Maybe she was right about that. My stepfather had never remarried after my mother had died, and it had been easy for even a child to see that he'd desperately missed her. On his deathbed, he'd tried to comfort me, telling me that he was finally going to be with my mother again.

I whimpered slightly as the memory hit me.

“I heard about your father dying,” Katrina said. “I'm sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks,” I said, putting on a brave face. Maybe I needed to start thinking about my father and mother being together in the afterlife. Maybe that would help me get a sense of real closure. “I love what you said about opening this coffee shop to do something meaningful with the money from the life insurance.”

“I'm not making a fortune or anything,” Katrina said, “but I'm doing okay. Making enough to get by, and for living in paradise—who can complain? I was so glad to get out of Atlanta—which is a lot hotter in the summer than Key West, if you can imagine. Here we have the ocean breeze. It makes a huge difference.”

“My sister says you went to the University at Buffalo,” I said. “What did you originally plan to do? Sorry, I'm not trying to say that running a coffee shop isn't what you planned for.”

“Don't apologize. Actually, I always figured I'd go to medical school. But four years of pre-med stressed me out, and I knew I could never be a doctor. Besides, that was always my father's dream for me. I'm twenty-eight now, but I'm one of those people who really didn't know what they wanted to be when they grew up. I loved college life, being a sorority president … but beyond that? I guess I thought that the college years would go on forever,” she finished with a chuckle.

“I hear that. One minute, I was a freshman. The next thing, everyone I started school with was graduating.” Realizing what I'd said, I quickly explained, “I missed a semester after my dad died. I just … needed time.”