The Battered Heiress Blues (30 page)

Their graves seemed bare without the summer flowers. No one had bothered to rake the fallen leaves that covered the ground. The beautiful grass that we laid in June had become brown and dormant. The fountain was drained and the birds were gone. Dog didn’t seem to mind her stark surroundings. She dove in and out of the leaves and walked along the ledge of the fountain while I sat and thought of my boy. Seeing his name chiseled into the headstone made it seem so final, but I could remember his every feature. I could recall his thick dark hair and sweet cheeks; even the memory of his weight in my arms as I rocked him. Even still, the tears were just hiding under the surface to answer the broken heart that still didn’t beat quite as loudly as it should.

“I’ve been missing you so much, Connor…wishing you were here. Tommy says that you don’t feel the constant ache that plagues me; that you’re happy where you are. I wish I knew that to be true.”

Dog dropped a stick at my feet and sat wagging his tail, until I complied with the request. Tossing the small tree branch, I moved closer to Connor’s grave. Crying was therapeutic.

“Let me pull it together. I didn’t come out here to be a downer. I’ll tell you about Christmas. My friend, Mattie, got a new puppy that you would have loved. He licks everything his tongue can find. We also had visitors. Uncle Tommy and Grandpa John came down to check on me. Your sister should be along in a few weeks, but you must already know that. We’ve named her Emma Grace. She’s a fighter-reminds me of Sissy. I’m sure she’s hunted you down by now and is smothering you like a mother,” I said, laughing in remembrance of my former shadow. “Your little sister kicks me all the time, day and night. You were so calm compared to her.”

My hands found my belly as I thought of him, once growing where Emma Grace now thrived.

“I need a favor from you- from Mom. Watch over Grandpa John during this surgery. He needs protection and strength for what he’s facing. I’m not ready to lose him. Saying good bye to you used up every ounce of grief within me. Tell your boss upstairs not to overestimate your mother’s spiritual capabilities. I’m weak and broken. Tell God that.”

Rising to return home, before my absence was discovered, I drew closer and traced his name etched in the stone. Goodbyes were never easy.

“Know that I love you more than I can put into words. There are no words for this type of longing. You’ll always be my first child- my precious boy. God brought you so far just to take you away. I’m trying to understand this cruelty. I tell myself not to be angry. Oh, what I wouldn’t give for just one minute with you, alive in my arms- one recognition in your eyes that I was your mother.”

The tears wet my face and clouded my vision, but Emma’s kick brought me back to the present, reminding me that the future was right around the corner. Knowing that Gabe would return at lunch to check on me, I decided to make my way back to jail.

When he arrived, he brought a cheeseburger and fries and was now my new best friend. The only thing missing was a tall chocolate milkshake, but beggars can’t be choosers. He made it abundantly clear that if I told anyone, he’d never sneak food to me again. God bless greasy fast food joints. After Gabe’s lunch delivery, Tommy called to say that they’d made it all right and that John was getting acclimated to his new hospital room- poor nurses. His call was followed by Henry who asked me a host of questions regarding my state of health and Emma’s activities for the day. By the time Mattie and Ms. Martin had made it home, I was ready for peace and quiet. I was all talked out. Sensing my exhaustion, she presented me dinner in bed and took Mattie to the cottage to wait on Gabe’s return from work. The phone rang as I was preparing to bed down for the night.

“Hello.”

“Cheers,” said my too distant friend in New York.

“When are you coming home?” I asked with a big yawn.

“I didn’t think I was welcome. We didn’t exactly part on good terms, jerk.”

“No, we didn’t, crazy, but my house is your house. We’re best friends. We are going to disagree. You can’t be running away at every bump in the road, Kate. I’m sorry for calling you a mean bitch. That was rude. You aren’t a bitch.”

“And I’m sorry for calling you a redneck hick with no taste,” she replied.

“You didn’t call me that,” I said, defending her apology.

“Yeah, I kind of did…to Henry. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I accept your apology. Go ahead and ask.”

“Ask what?” she replied.

“About Gabe. Go ahead.”

“How’s Gabe?” she said, playing along.

“He’s great. Gabe’s tearing down the old cottage in the spring to start building a forever house for him and Mattie. Ms. Martin is moving too. He’s building her a guest house.”

“Henry mentioned that you gave him the land and money for construction. And Mattie…how is he?”

“He’s talking now. He’s putting together words and is responding more to us. Ms. Martin is looking into special diets and other lifestyle changes to coincide with the mainstream therapy he’s getting now. We’re hopeful. Oh, and he got a puppy for Christmas.”

“A black lab? Henry told me.”

“What hasn’t he told you? What do you really want to know, Kate?”

There was a long pause. I was sure that she was trying to gain the necessary courage to ask the question that lay deep in her heart.

“Does he ever ask about me? Has he moved on?”

“You mean with another woman?” I inquired, trying to discern her motives.

“Yes. Is he seeing anybody? I mean, it’s okay if he is. I would just like to know.”

“The truth?” I asked.

“Nothing but…” she replied anxiously.

“He seems sweet on my obstetrician’s nurse, but I don’t think he’s acted on it yet. At least, he hasn’t mentioned anything about it to me. We’ve become pretty close. He would have said something. I doubt he’s gotten up the nerve.”

The line went silent and I felt bad for her. Gabe had made it pretty clear that she had lost her chance with him, but I didn’t have the heart to tell Kate. Besides, who can ever tell what a man is truly feeling when their pride is at stake. For all I knew, he was still interested. He seemed awfully nervous about her showing up at Christmas. If he wasn’t still madly in love with her, why would he care? The two of them would have to get in a room together and sort it out. I planned to steer clear of it.

“Come home Kate. You can’t hide forever. Eventually, you’ll want to come and visit your new niece. Why wait? I need a birth partner. Can you imagine the boys in a delivery room?”

“Okay, okay. Twist my arm. I’ll come back for her big entrance, but I don’t do blood. You should warn Gabe that I’m coming.”

“I will. I love you. I’m glad you called.”

“God bless America, redneck,” she replied.

“God save the Queen, jerk.”

21

T
he weeks passed with only bits and pieces of information from Tommy, regarding John’s condition. No doubt, this was purposeful due to my challenged pregnancy, but filtered information was better than no information. The surgery was a success and the PET scan was clean. The cancer had not metastasized to any of his major organs. He would be home tomorrow and I would be able to assess the situation myself.

Henry slipped in during the night without me noticing. Occupying the same recliner in the corner, he didn’t even budge as I fumbled around the bedroom looking for my bathrobe in the morning. His travel clock was next to him on the table. The alarm appeared to be set so I didn’t wake him.

Gabe was looking over the paper, wearing his cop get-up, as I made my way into the kitchen. The house had become an organized mess. A laundry basket of clothes that needed to be folded adorned the kitchen bar along with a mountain of correspondences I needed to answer. Ms. Martin had been busy with Mattie over the last several days and I’d been camped out in my room thinking of my father.

“Leaving for work?” I inquired. “Where’s the Little Man?”

“He’s sound asleep, upstairs with my mom. I have some time. Eat breakfast with me.”

“Henry’s back,” I informed him as I searched the fridge for something to eat.

“His car in the driveway was a big tip off,” he replied smirking. “Yes. England’s finest has returned. We are saved.”

Giving him a look of disgust, I walked over to the sink to rinse some juicy, red, ripe strawberries. My eyes were drawn away from the fruit, out the kitchen window, to a car that was coming down the drive.

“Who in the world is coming here at this hour? Are you expecting someone?” I asked.

“No,” he replied as he left his seat to take in my view.

We watched as the silver Porsche slowly came to a halt. The woman inside didn’t exit the car immediately. She took time applying lipstick and brushing her hair before opening the door. Her long leg was bare, due to the small swatch of black fabric constituting a skirt that clung to her hips. A black stiletto heel was attached to the slender limb. After the first mile long leg, another followed. Her hand slid out into view, pulling her tiny torso out of the vehicle. The biggest thing about her was the thick, blond mane that fell down past her shoulders. Slamming the door closed, she paused briefly to admire her reflection in the car window. After rubbing her teeth clean of any lipstick residue, she confidently strutted toward the front door. In awe of her perfection, I mirrored her movements through the drawing room and into the foyer, opening the front door before she had a chance to knock.

“May I help you?” I asked curiously.

“Maybe,” she replied. “I’m looking for Henry Walker.”

“You’re looking for Henry?” I said coolly.

“He’s expecting me,” she retorted annoyed.

“Funny, he didn’t mention it,” I replied, pausing to see if my intimidation tactic worked.

“I’m sorry. Who are you?” she asked, turning her head to the side as she scanned my body top to bottom, and back up to my face.

“The mother of his baby,” I shot back, rubbing my belly and smiling innocently.

“Funny, he didn’t mention it,” she spewed with delight.

“He’s asleep, but feel free to wait,” I responded, motioning to the drawing room.

“No, thank you. I have some calls to make. I’ll just wait in my car.”

“Suit yourself.”

“I usually do.”

She turned, just as I slammed the front door closed. Gabe stood in the doorway of the drawing room trying to hide his amusement.

“Well done,” he said.

Ignoring his jab, I walked back to the kitchen, with him following closely behind.

“Who do you think she is, Julia,” he asked, standing at the kitchen window, staring at our visitor as she shoved those gangly legs back into her small sports car. “Do you think he is seeing her?”

“I doubt it. She’s so…”

“Thin?” he replied, laughing.

“She is, isn’t she?” I leaned further toward the pane of glass to improve my view. “I could snap her like a twig, that one.”

“You’re pregnant, Julia. You’re not supposed to be thin. You’re beautiful,” he said in a reassuring gesture, smashing down parts of my hair that were obviously in their own zip code.

Realizing that his appearance intervention had not stopped, I reached for the silver platter, removed its contents, and gazed upon my unsightly reflection

“Why didn’t you tell me I looked like this? You shouldn’t have let me answer the door in this state of disrepair,” I said, smacking him on the arm. “Turn around.”

“What? Why?”

“Turn around. I’m going to change into this black dress.” I reached for the most attractive apparel I could find in the laundry basket.

“What’s the point? She has already seen you,” he said throwing his arms up, confused.

“I don’t care. Just turn around,” I demanded.

Turning his back to me, as ordered, I proceeded to slip off my robe and nightgown. The black, belly hugging dress just barely fit.

“Okay,” I said, signaling that I was clothed.

“Okay, I can turn around?” he asked.

“Yeah. Will you hand me that hair clip on the counter next to you?”

He complied with my request, tossing it to me. I twisted my long, dark curls up and clipped them tight.