Remember the Time (38 page)

Matt turned to the window. A dim, warm light emanated from his uncle’s bedroom window across the street. He had to wait only a few minutes and then he saw a figure move across the room. Kate. She disappeared from view, leaving only the flickering light to play on Mike’s bed.

Matt tried to imagine the fire, cozy and comforting, but he just felt cold. Lonely and cold. The tear fell. It would be daylight soon and he had to get out, that much he knew. What he didn’t know was where he would go.

Matt picked up the flashlight and stepped toward the door. His foot came down on something hard and round. He flicked the light on and the beam picked out a small white plastic bag, slightly torn where he’d stepped on it. There was no doubt that it had come from the box he’d
thrown. What puzzled him was that he’d never seen it before. He played the beam over the floor until it came to the carved box, upended and shattered. There had been another compartment hidden in the bottom, and the blow the box received had revealed the secret.

Matt pocketed the bag without hesitation. Not looking back and not bothering to clean up the rest of the box’s contents, he called Homer and together they left the tower room.

K
ate lay on her side looking at Mike’s utterly peaceful face as he slept beside her. A lock of hair had strayed across his forehead and she reached out to smooth it back. His eyelids fluttered open, he saw her, sleepily smiled, then fell back asleep, his thick dark eyelashes a shadowy smudge in the dim room. She couldn’t take her eyes from his face. It was a beautiful face, with its fine web of smile lines around his eyes and shapely mouth. The well-defined jawline, the slightly off-center dimple in his chin, the straight nose. With age, his features had all come together to make him extremely sexy—extremely sweet.

Paul hadn’t deserved a friend like Mike. He’d taunted him, used him, walked all over him. She gazed at Mike and whispered, “Why did you let him do it?” Then she amended her question. “Why did
we
let him do it?”

Mike’s eyes opened and his drowsy smile warmed her. “Can’t sleep?” She nodded. “It’s too early to get up, Katie.”

“Could you hold me? Until I fall asleep?”

“Nothing I’d like better.” She turned and he pulled her against him. “Actually, that’s probably a lie, but this’ll do.”

Nestling in deeper, she tucked his arm under her own.
Their breathing became a syncopated rhythm of his one long breath to her two shallower ones.

His voice, although sleepy, was deep and reassuring. “We let him do it because he was Paul and we loved him, and we knew he’d never change.”

Somehow, she wasn’t surprised he’d heard her earlier musings.

“We weren’t being fooled,” he continued. “Not really. He never pretended to be anything he wasn’t.”

Kate was silent for a moment. “He pretended he loved me.”

Mike’s arms tightened around her. “I think you know better, but I can’t convince you of that. Right now, I don’t want to. I only want to convince you that I love you.”

She brought his hand to her lips. “Thank you,” she said softly. “You’re doing a good job.”

The room grew quiet and he thought she’d fallen asleep. He was well on his way himself, when she said, “Mike?”

“Hmm?”

“I was right …”

“ ’Bout what?”

“You really do have a very nice ass.”

He grinned, nuzzled her hair until he found her ear, then whispered, “I’ll take that as the opinion of an expert.”

He had been awake for about twenty minutes. He’d forgotten to pull the shades and a blinding winter sun spilled into the room through the windows, but Kate slept on in his arms. A car door slammed and moments later the doorbell rang. He contemplated ignoring it, but then it rang again and an impatient knocking echoed through the house.

As carefully as a new father places his baby in a crib,
Mike eased his arm out from under Kate’s head and let the pillow take her weight. He kissed her shoulder as he pulled the covers aside and rose from the bed. Slipping into his jeans, he closed the door behind him.

The knocking, which had stopped, began again at the back door. He was pretty sure it was Sheryl, and he ran down the stairs, wanting the noise to stop.

As he passed the oven clock, he mumbled, “Christ, Sheryl. Seven-thirty?”, and he flung open the door. A blast of frigid air hit him just before the sound of his sister’s voice.

“You
are
home!” She had started back around the side of the house, and now stood at the corner looking at him.

“Do you know what time it is?” But his question didn’t invite an answer, and he went on. “God, it’s about twelve degrees out here! What are you standing there for?”

Glaring at him as she strode into the kitchen, she sarcastically said, “
So
sorry.”

Pushing the door closed, it all came back to him. Matt. Paul. Sheryl. He wasn’t ready for this. Not now. Not with Kate sleeping upstairs. But he couldn’t think of any way to sidestep it.

Sheryl, her eyes narrowed, her voice shrill, said, “You couldn’t call to let me know you were back? And where the hell were you?”

Mike sighed deeply and walked toward the counter. “Want some coffee?”

Sheryl was pulling off gloves, her muffler, her coat, with vicious tugging motions. She didn’t hear his question. “Matt didn’t come home last night.”

Scooping coffee into the filter, Mike said, “He’s a big boy, Sheryl. I’m sure he’ll find his way home.” The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Turning to apologize, he watched his sister dissolve into tears.

“You don’t understand, Mike. There’s something I have to tell you.”

His voice softened just a little. “I already know.”

It took her a moment to realize what he’d said. She’d been using a paper napkin to wipe her eyes and now she stared at him. “You can’t know. How could you? Nobody knows except Dan.” She took a step forward. “Is Matt here? Have you seen him?”

Shaking his head, he answered. “I haven’t seen him, Sherry. Honest.” He didn’t want to have to explain how he knew, but Mike could see an explanation wouldn’t be necessary. Looking over Sheryl’s head, he saw Kate coming down the hallway, wearing his shirt and nothing else, and he winced. There was no way to warn her to go back upstairs.

Sheryl had seen the pained expression on his face and, in an accusatory tone, asked, “Are you lying to me?”

Kate heard Sheryl’s voice at the same moment Sheryl heard the floorboards creak behind her. She whirled around, expecting her son, and was startled into silence. Her face, pinched white with worry, suddenly flushed pink. A quiet descended over the room as both women recalled words spoken and deeds done.

Kate could feel herself becoming hot with anger as she stared at Sheryl’s surprised face. Quickly, before any ugly words could escape her lips, she moved her eyes to Mike’s for an instant. Her guileless face told him what was happening to her, and he helplessly watched as she turned away from them both and rigidly walked back down the hallway.

When the sound of the bedroom door closing reached them, Sheryl turned to Mike. “You should’ve told me she was here.”

“What difference does it make, Sheryl?” he said, his voice hard again.

“She’s the one who told you, then.”

“Yeah. Imagine my delight,” he said sarcastically. “What, exactly, were you thinking all those years ago? I don’t get it, Sheryl.”

Defensive, embarrassed, she stated, “It wasn’t just me. Paul was there, too. Nobody was married yet.”

“Christ! Listen to yourself! What about Dan! Didn’t he matter?”

“It just happened. Choices were made, okay? Maybe they were wrong—”

“Maybe?”

“All right! They
were
wrong.” Sheryl’s hand came up in a sweeping gesture. “But she made a choice, too. She chose not to sleep with him until after they were married. And everyone knew it.”

“So, that makes it okay?” He was enraged and he could feel himself slipping out of control.

Sheryl took a step back. “No! I’m just telling you there were—reasons—it happened. Too much booze. Too much grass. They’d had another argument.
You
were the one who took her home that night.”

“So what? Now it’s
my
fault?” He snorted, shaking his head.

“No! You’re turning this all around.”

They stood in the middle of the kitchen. Two equally stubborn prizefighters who knew their blows were ineffective, but were trained to keep going until only one was left standing.

“No, I think you are. What you did was wrong. From the minute you said yes to Paul, you were wrong!” Mike shouted.

“We didn’t think we were hurting anyone. I didn’t expect to get pregnant. I didn’t know she wouldn’t be able to have kids.”

Mike’s voice lowered with suppressed fury. “Say her name, God damn it!”

Sheryl looked away.

“Say it! Say ‘I didn’t think
Kate
wouldn’t be able to have kids.’ She’s not some abstract object that happened to be in the way. She was—is—your friend! Kate was the girl Paul loved. Kate is the woman I love.”

“Stop it!”
Kate’s shout, unexpected, brought Sheryl and Mike up short. “Stop it, both of you!
Enough!
” She stood in the doorway, wearing her own clothes, her face white with anger. “Aren’t you both forgetting someone else in all this?”

K
ate swept past Sheryl and Mike, leaving a wake of hurt and anger that was palpable. She grabbed her coat on the way out the back door. It slammed behind her with resounding finality. She took deep breaths as she strode across the street. The icy air burned her nostrils and stung her eyes. She could hear Mike shouting for her, but she didn’t look back.

The house felt cold when she entered. Chilly and silent. So different from Mike’s warm bedroom. She had hated to leave its sanctuary, but after the scene with Sheryl she had to get out.

Kate dropped her coat on a kitchen chair and opened the back door to let Homer out. It was then she saw the footsteps in the snow. They led across the backyard to the gate, and Kate knew Matt had been in the house. She turned to the telephone and had actually dialed Mike’s first three numbers when she slowly replaced the receiver. Matt didn’t want to be found yet. That was obvious. And she understood completely how he felt.

The mess in the tower room was further evidence of Matt’s pain. It hit her hard, seeing Paul’s things strewn across the room. Kate knelt to pick up the pieces of the carved box when her eyes caught the glint of a gold chain that had slithered into a crack in the floorboards. She
picked it out with a paper clip and held it a moment, hesitated, then slipped it over her head. The box was a lost cause. She tried to fit it back together. Impossible. It would never be the same.

Their rehearsal dinner has ended an hour earlier. Paul and Kate sit across the table from one another holding hands, sipping wine. The restaurant is empty. Occasionally the maitre’d or a waiter passes through the small room, but they leave the couple alone
.

“I’ve got to leave soon,” Kate says. “It’s almost midnight.”

“Gonna turn into a pumpkin?” Paul grins
.

“The groom isn’t supposed to see the bride on their wedding day. Not until she walks down the aisle.”

“Why?”

Kate shrugs. “Bad luck, I guess.”

Paul moves his chair closer and leans into her. “Fifteen more hours, Katie,” he whispers
.

In a perplexed voice, she says, “What do you mean? The wedding’s at eleven.”

He grins slowly—seductively. “And four hours after that you’ll be naked and in my arms.”

A wave of heat passes through her body. He brings her hand to his lips, then traces a slow circle around her palm with his tongue. Kate’s eyes flutter closed at his touch and it takes all her willpower to open them again. “I—I have to go, Paul.” She hastily stands and her foot kicks a box under the table. She’s forgotten it and bends to retrieve it. She holds it out to Paul
.

“What’s this?” he asks
.

“Your wedding present from me.” He takes it from her. He seems embarrassed. “Go ahead. Open it.”

“Katie, I don’t have anything for you. I didn’t know …”

“It’s okay,” she says, smiling. The truth is, it isn’t okay. She is the tiniest bit disappointed that he hasn’t thought to give her something. It didn’t have to be something big. Just a little
remembrance. But she repeats, “It’s all right, Paul. Come on. Open it.”

He lifts the intricately carved walnut box out of its wrapping. “It’s beautiful, Kate.” He stands and takes her in his arms, kissing her deeply
.

She forgets her disappointment and they walk out of the restaurant together. Paul waits for her to get settled in her car before going to his own. When the dashboard lights come on Kate’s mind registers the time automatically. It is twelve-thirty
.

Had there been a wedding? She can’t even remember. The morning had gone by in an instant. The feel of her father’s sturdy arm and the look on Paul’s face as she walked down the aisle are the only recollections she has. The photographs have been taken, the reception is behind them, and now Paul waits in her parents’ living room while she changes out of her wedding dress
.

Kate’s mother stands behind her, undoing the first of forty buttons on the dress. As Kate steps out of the yardage and turns to pick up the skirt on her bed, her mother comments, “That may have been a present from Paul, but I think a little selfishness was involved.”

Kate blushes. Not because of the white lace merry widow she wears, but because of the lie she has told her mother—that Paul had given it to her as a wedding gift. Now she answers, “Well, he does get to unwrap it, doesn’t he?”

Her mother chuckles and leaves the room to answer the phone
.

Kate is about to step into the skirt when she discovers a run in one of her stockings. She has just snapped the garter into place when a voice outside her bedroom door asks, “Are you decent?”