Lifelines: Kate's Story (41 page)

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Authors: Vanessa Grant

Tags: #murder, #counselling, #love affair, #Dog, #grief, #borderline personality disorder, #construction, #pacific northwest

BOOK: Lifelines: Kate's Story
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He
left his shoes on the front porch with Socrates, and walked through the house.
Freshly cured epoxy shone warmly on the hardwood floors. In the kitchen, he
picked up two small wood shavings that must have escaped the commercial vacuum.
The varnished pine cupboards caught the overhead light as Mac opened each
cupboard, checking hinges and insides. Next he checked the drawers.

From
outside, he heard Socrates whimper.

“Three
minutes, buddy.”

He’d
brought the dog inside with him the last time he walked through, but this would
be his final inspection before the owners arrived next Tuesday. No dog tracks
allowed.

What
the hell would he do with himself now? He had Easter Sunday and Monday to kill
before he started the new project Tuesday. He would have gone out to the new
site early, but the owner’s family had camped on their lot over the long
weekend. They wanted to visualize what their new house would be like when the
family moved in.

Family.

Forget
it, McGregor.

He
shut off the lights in kitchen and dining room, checked living room, bath, and
library, then moved upstairs to carpeted territory. By the time he finished,
his pocket bulged with carpet staples, a dozen scraps of carpet wool, one
finishing nail, and three yellow electrical connectors. In the upstairs
bathroom, he picked up two empty foam coffee cups, then turned off the lights
and headed downstairs.

He
locked the back door, shut off the last two lights downstairs, and locked the
front door as he left the house. Socrates grunted and struggled to his feet as
Mac dropped the house keys in his shirt pocket. He’d drop by Tuesday evening
and return them to the owners.

Socrates
followed him to the veranda stairs, but stopped at the top.

“Stairs
are hard for an old man like you, aren’t they, buddy.” He lifted the dog and
carried him to the truck, where Socrates settled in the passenger seat. He
wondered whether Kate might feel differently about her decision to stop their
relationship when she got back from Canada. She’d enjoyed Saturdays with a
hammer in her hand, not to mention fireplace picnics, sailing, and making love.

Forget
that, too.

“Better
start with the hammer and nails,” he muttered as he shifted gears.

Socrates
made a huffing sound.

“Trouble
is, the job starts with digging out a foundation. Heavy work.”

Socrates
turned his back and lifted his nose towards the open window.

“I
suppose you’re right. She could help lay in the re-bar. Filthy stuff, she’d get
her hands all rusty, but she’s never minded a bit of dirt before.”

Socrates
gave up on the window and made a half-turn on the seat.

Mac
muttered, “If you don’t talk to me, who the hell will?”

He
knew he could go to Denny’s, probably score an invitation for a late beer. But
Denny would be settled in with his wife and kid, and Mac wasn’t part of the
family. Was that why he’d felt so at home with Kate? Two lonely souls. If so,
there had to be other lonely women.

Damn
it, he wanted Kate in his life, even if she was still grieving her husband. A
man she’d loved, cherished, lost. What right did Mac have to feel deprived when
he had her dog, and no matter what she said, he would see her occasionally.
Living in a small town like Madrona Bay, he’d be bound to run across her. She
was alive. He was alive.

If
it didn’t work, he could always head back to Peru.

Socrates
snorted again.

“All
right, so I’m pissed. She could have explained, couldn’t she?”

The
whole damned thing looked a lot like his mother walking away and getting in the
taxi. Except his mother didn’t have a dog. Jesus, he was losing it.

Socrates
whined and twisted his head to look back towards Kate’s house as they drove by.

Let’s
go to the construction yard,” said Mac. “We’ll share a steak and see what’s on
television.”

N
oel stopped
the motor home beside the road. “This looks like a nice place. What do you
think, Eve?”

Evelyn
stared at the Vacancy sign across the road. Beyond the sign, three motor homes
occupied spaces near the beach, with a carefully planted tree centered in each
camping space.

“It’s
lovely,” she said brightly. “You’re so good at finding the perfect place for
us.” She smiled cheerfully at him and he looked pleased with himself. Every
time she praised Noel, he got that look on his face. As if she were precious,
as if he felt lucky.

But
she missed being in her own house.

“I’ll
just go check us in,” he said, “then we’ll find a spot.”

She
whimpered as she saw him cross the road. What would happen to her house? She
remembered the time Kate and David went away for a whole summer. Kate’s
neighbor went in every day, to water plants and just to check things. But
nobody would check Evelyn’s house. Not even Kate, because Evelyn hadn’t given
her a copy of the new key.

Would
she ever get back to her house? If only Kate had never had that accident, had
never started working for Han. But she’d been so happy, building like her
father did.

Evelyn
hugged herself tighter when she saw Noel coming back. What was she going to do?
Yesterday she’d gone to the Manor on the handicapped bus for her weekly visit.
They’d bathed her and groomed her toenails—which she couldn’t seem to reach
these days—and her fingernails. They’d even washed and curled her hair.
Sometimes, when she didn’t want to go to the Manor, her homemaker helped her
bathe. Who would help her now? Noel admired her, but he wouldn’t feel that way
if he needed to help her bathe herself, if he had to clip her toenails.

Noel
returned and drove on to a campsite at the top of a hill. Evelyn felt like
screaming as he fiddled with the motor home, endlessly driving back and forth
to get it exactly level. Finally, he seemed satisfied, and the motor home came
to rest. “We’re going to have a great supper,” he announced as he lit the tiny
oven and put in the frozen pizza he’d bought an hour ago in a little country
store.

She
didn’t like pizza. She wanted potatoes, mashed potatoes, and fish. That would
be a perfect meal. To be polite, she ate half a piece of pizza and drank a
glass of milk. Then he brought out a chocolate cake, a surprise, and she lost
the urge to cry. After she’d eaten a piece, she let him talk her into a second
piece. At home she wouldn’t eat chocolate because she didn’t want to get fat,
but she’d had only soup for lunch and hardly any of the pizza.

After
dinner, he helped her down the stairs and they walked a few steps on the beach.
For a few moments, she felt free of worry, walking under the stars with the
ocean stretching out black and mysterious.

“I’m
tired,” she said when he helped her back into the camper. She felt embarrassed
then, because tired meant bed and they hadn’t talked about where they would
sleep.

“I’ll
sleep on the sofa,” he said.

She
knew he was too tall for the sofa, but she didn’t want to sleep out there. Her
legs would bother her and she’d get no sleep at all. So he got a sleeping bag
out of the closet in the single bedroom and she closed the door behind him.
Then she changed into the prettiest of her caftans and lay on the bed with the
spread pulled over her.

A
few minutes later, she stood up and pulled the curtain open. Then she lay back
down in the dark, and watched the stars though the window. She couldn’t sleep.
She had nothing to read. She couldn’t get up and fix herself a snack or a cup
of coffee, because Noel was out there. Why was she camped under the stars a
hundred miles from her own home?

Because
if she went home, Kate would come when she got back from Canada, and Evelyn
refused to be there because Kate had no right to ... no right at all ...

She
lay on the bed, closed her eyes, and tried to sleep.

Much
later, she heard a door open and felt the motor home shift as Noel stepped
outside. He couldn’t sleep either. Of course he couldn’t sleep on that sofa. It
wasn’t even nice to sit on. She stood and felt her way to the light switch in
the dark, but when she found it, she left it off and felt on the floor for her
slippers.

At
the door to her bedroom, she realized her hair must be a mess. She turned back
and tried to find her purse, but she couldn’t in the dark, and she didn’t want
to turn on the light because he might come in and ask if she was all right.

She
patted her hair. It seemed tidy.

She
put one hand on the wall for balance as she walked forward in the motor home.
One good thing about this motor home, the walls were always close, no big open
spaces to navigate. She opened the door and stepped carefully outside. Noel
stood a few feet away. She could smell his pipe tobacco.

“Did
you come out to have a smoke?”

The
stars gave enough light that she could see his smile. He hurried over and gave
her a hand to help her down the two steps. “Can’t you sleep?”

“No.”

“It’s
a strange bed.”

“The
sofa must be uncomfortable,” she said awkwardly.

“It’s
all right. It makes down into sort of a bed.”

“It’s
nice outside. The stars are pretty.”

He
guided her to the edge of the clearing and she looked down at the water. She
thought of Han’s old van, so many years ago. They’d driven to California for a
job, and they stopped on a beach in California. Not a campground, just a long
white empty beach. They ate cheese sandwiches with no butter, chased down with
warm beer. Afterwards, they made love on the double mattress in the back of the
van. She remembered the feel of Han’s arm resting on her hip. So many years
ago.

“Would
you like to sleep in the bedroom?”

Noel
cupped her elbow with his hand. “I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable on the
sofa, Eve. We’d better go in soon. The owner of the campground said there would
be strong winds tonight.”

She
shivered as he opened the door for her. He supported her arm as she lifted her
leg up for the first step, then the second. When she stepped inside, he
followed and closed the door.

She
said, “You can sleep with me if you want.”

“Are
you sure, Eve?”

She
giggled, then felt stupid for making such a girlish sound. “The campground
owners probably think we sleep together. I—I didn’t mean—You could sleep in the
bed. Sleep, I mean. I don’t know...”

“I
haven’t shared a bed in a long time.”

“My
legs bother me at night. I move around a lot.”

He
moved his hand and linked it with hers.

In
the bedroom, they didn’t turn on the light. She felt her way to the bed and
turned back the covers. She heard him take off his dressing gown and she
couldn’t see very well, but thought he wore pajamas under. Han never wore
pajamas. He slept in jockey shorts and nothing else, and back then she’d slept
naked.

In
bed, he reached over and took her hand. She knew he liked her money, but she
hoped he liked her a bit, too. She wondered if he would ever ask to make love
to her, and whether he could make love at his age. Uncertain whether the idea
of being naked with Noel made her frightened or eager, she fell asleep holding
his hand.

Chapter Thirty

R
achel had
everything ready by Saturday night.

Thursday
she spent the afternoon in the university library. Classes had ended for the
semester, but the library remained open. She didn’t take any books out; she
didn’t want to leave any record. Then Thursday night, she opened Richard’s
locked box and dug out the insurance policy. She read it very carefully this
time, then she went into the drawer where he kept receipts. The policy had come
up for renewal in December, at which time they’d been married two years.
Richard, of course, paid it on time. He was so depressingly reliable, she
hadn’t needed to check.

Richard’s
new lawyer had called her Wednesday, and again on Thursday. She hadn’t returned
the calls, and Thursday evening she erased the messages. He wouldn’t call again
because Friday was a holiday—Easter Friday. She supposed he planned to call her
next week, to check if she got the priority envelope he’d sent. She’d found it
waiting for her when she got home from the University Thursday night. A fresh
copy of that damned separation agreement.

She
didn’t give a shit if Richard promised to look after her university fees. She
was entitled to a lot more than he’d offered, the bastard. He’d promised he
would look after her, but now he’d screwed some bitch, and he’d turned on his
own wife. Unfortunately, after twenty-eight months of marriage, no Washington
court was likely to offer more than Richard had already offered. She’d worked
in a law office, and she knew he’d offered more than the stingy law demanded.
So screw the law. After twenty-eight months of that cheating bastard, she was
entitled.

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