Welcome to Forever (26 page)

Dora's frown deepened. “I'm sorry you feel that way.”

“And I'm sorry we won't be able to work together any longer.”

Now, the older woman's eyes widened. “You can't fire me. You don't have that kind of power.”

“No, but I can have you transferred to another school. I have that kind of power, and I'll use it. Not to get back at you. I don't care about revenge. I care about this school's reputation. I care that parents feel good about sending their children here. And what you've been doing to undermine my authority has been hurting our students. That's unacceptable.”

“Katherine, please.” The woman's voice shook a little.

Kat held up a hand. “That's all. I hope we can end this relationship professionally.” She turned and started walking back to her office, feeling weak and shaky. And pretty damn good.

When she plopped behind her desk, Val was already leaning in her doorway with one leg crossed in front of the other. “You've changed.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Kat I grew up with never would've done that. She'd have bitched and moaned about wanting to do that, but she never would've actually gone down there and told that prude off.”

Heat moved up into Kat's cheeks. “Was it too much?”

“Hell, no. It was perfect. I just wish I would've gotten it on video. Your sister would be proud.”

“Yeah.” Kat smiled to herself. “It felt good. I can see why men pick bar fights. I feel like going in for round two.”

Val shook her head. “Stay, lady, stay. I think you've done enough. And I plan to personally head up the farewell party for Dora.”

Kat chewed her lower lip. “It's not too mean to threaten to transfer her?” she asked.

Val cocked a brow. “That wasn't a threat. It was a promise, and you better make good on it or I'll take back everything I just said about being proud of you.”

“You didn't say you were proud of me.”

Val's mouth quirked to one side. “I didn't? Hmm.”

Kat smiled as she watched her best friend walk away. Then she leaned back in her office chair and laughed a little, feeling good.
Really
good. And she couldn't wait to share this moment with one person, the man who'd helped her find her way this year—Micah.

Micah slowed the Jeep as he approached his home, seeing the stiff figure sitting on his front porch rocker. What was his father doing here? His father had been perfectly clear over the weekend on how he'd felt about Micah's decision to “quit” the military. Or actually, his father had said that he was throwing his life away.

Micah's jaw tightened. It was a good thing Ben was next door with Aunt Clara. At least he'd be spared his grandfather's dramatics. The last thing Ben needed right now was another example of how dysfunctional his family was.

“Hey, Dad.” Micah approached the older man seated on his front porch. When his father looked up, it struck Micah for a second how old the man suddenly looked. His hair had always been a distinguished gray, ever since his late twenties. But now his father's skin looked wrinkled, and the twinkle of his eyes seemed dull.

“You're making a mistake.” His father's voice was low, unlike the other night.

Micah stopped walking. “I've heard your opinion on the matter already. The decision is made, so if you came here to talk me out of it, you can go home.”

Colonel Peterson folded his arms across his broad chest. Old or not, he was in shape. “What is this about, Micah? Me? Are you getting back at me because of your mother? You never forgave me for not being there when she got sick.”

Micah shook his head. “I forgave you.” But he'd never forget. It proved his father's character. The man didn't care about anyone but himself. His father's only concern was that Micah was a reflection on him and, as a reflection, he needed to climb the military ranks and surpass all that his father had done in his own career.

“I push you so hard because I know what you're capable of, Micah. You're capable of a hell of a lot more than gardening.”

Micah ran a quick hand through his military-regulated hair and laughed under his breath. His father
would
call it gardening. He started to unlock his front door, but it was already open. Ben must've come home already, which meant Aunt Clara was likely inside, too. She should've given him a heads up that his father was waiting here for him. Maybe he'd have driven around back and avoided him altogether.

Colonel Peterson stood, his chin lifting high as he looked at Micah, who was a good inch taller. “I'm still your superior.”

“For another six months. Yeah. I get that.” Micah pushed the door open and glanced inside, seeing Ben coming his way in his wheelchair. “I'll see you at the base, Colonel Peterson,” Micah said, ready to slam the door in the good colonel's face.

“Micah.” His father's commanding tone barked, making Micah turn. “You're deploying.”

Micah's mouth fell open. “My squadron isn't scheduled to leave until next year.” And schedules didn't change that fast, not in a profession that made you wait for everything, starting with entry onto the military base every morning.

“Things changed. You're leaving next month. I approved it. It'll be good for you to remember where you belong, Sergeant.”

Blood hammered in Micah's ears. Hot, loud blood. “I belong in Seaside with my family. That's where the hell I belong.”

“It's done.” If his father had any emotion, it was kept in a safe with no evidence as to its existence.

“Dad?” Ben was suddenly in the doorway with tears clouding his eyes. He swiped a lock of hair out of his face and looked at Micah. “Dad? You're leaving, too? Who's going to take care of me?” Ben's gaze moved to his grandfather. “You can't send my dad away, too!” he cried.

A decent grandfather would've had some words of comfort. This one averted his gaze and descended the wooden front porch steps, not bothering to look back.

“You can't make my dad leave!” Ben yelled between sobs. “You can't!”

Colonel Peterson didn't turn, didn't so much as flinch as Ben's angry, pleading words followed him all the way to his polished SUV. Then he got in, calmly closed the door and robotically buckled his seatbelt. Standing on the front porch, Micah, Ben, and Clara watched the colonel drive away.

“Ben, let's go inside. We'll figure things out,” Micah said, knowing there was nothing to figure out. Until next spring, he belonged to the military.

“Mom's already gone. I need a dad. This isn't fair!” Ben's freckled face was a mottled red color now. He wheeled himself toward his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

Yeah, Micah felt the same way.

Aunt Clara folded her arms under her chest as she shook her head. “Can he do that do you? You're getting out.”

“He can do it. And I have no choice in the matter.” Micah plopped down in a chair at the kitchen table.

“You know I'll take Ben while you're gone. He's no problem.”

Micah felt as if his entire life had just been suddenly twisted and rearranged with the efficiency of a tiller to solid earth. He was never supposed to leave his son again. “Thanks, Aunt Clara.” He stood, needing to work. “I'm going outside. I'll come back and talk to Ben in a little bit. He needs some time to calm down right now.”

And so did Micah.

“Sure. Micah?” Aunt Clara waited for him to face her. “If it's any comfort, I think my brother does believe he has your best interest in mind.”

Micah shook his head. “It's no comfort.” He closed the door behind him, forcing himself not to slam it. He'd forgive his father later, when it didn't hurt so badly. He wanted to believe his father was a good guy. When he was a child, he'd thought his father was the biggest hero, braver than Superman and Batman put together. Now, his father was just a man who'd let him down one too many times.

Grabbing his shears, he growled in frustration and then started hacking at an overgrown bush. He'd go on one more deployment and then nothing, and no one, would stop him from being there for his son for the rest of his life.

Val nodded in satisfaction. “You did great.”

Kat lifted her mitted hands off the hot cherry pie that had just come out of the oven and stood back to admire it. “I hope everyone is right, and food really is the way to a man's heart.”

Her friend arched a brow. “I think you're already in his heart, my friend. But a little pie might be incentive for him to spend an extra long time devouring your body later.”

Kat laughed. “One of these days you're going to make some pie-loving guy very happy.”

“In the meantime, my pies serve as good deeds and they make Preacher Hunt less likely to disown me as his daughter.”

“You're a great daughter. And a great friend, in case I haven't told you lately.”

Val held up a hand. “That's my cue to leave before you go all Pollyanna on me.” She winked. “I have to change clothes anyway.” Kat slipped her cherry-stained apron off.

“I'll see my way out.” Val gestured to the door. “My father has a mile-long list of things for me to do for the church anyway. I've run out of excuses not to do them.”

Kat made a point of looking at Val's attire—a fitted blouse and too short skirt, perfected with knee-length black boots. “I hope you're going to change clothes first, too. That's not exactly an angelic image.”

“I never claimed to be an angel.” Val grinned. “I'll see you later,” she called, walking out and closing the door behind her.

Kat left the pie to cool and retreated to her bedroom to change into something fresh. Something that said rip my clothes off later, because she kind of liked Val's promise that the pie would make her body a second dessert.

When she got to Micah's house an hour later, Kat found Ben sitting on the porch. “Hi,” she said as she walked up, her heart swelling at the sight of him.

He kept his head down, his gaze just barely bouncing up to acknowledge her. She knew the look. It was the same one he'd had when he'd been sent to the principal's office the week before. Something was wrong, and she worried that maybe he was thinking about his mom again.

After setting the pie on the porch railing, she walked over to sit on the wooden swing. It creaked as she wiggled back and pushed the swing off with her feet. “Wanna talk?” she asked.

His left arm was coiled tightly across his waist. “Dad is leaving,” he muttered.

Her heart gave a pause. Marines left all the time. They had weekends in the field, month-long trainings in other parts of the United States. “Leaving? What do you mean he's leaving?” Hopefully, Micah was just going away for a few days because that was as long as she could endure without him lately. Her body was completely addicted to his.

“My mom doesn't want me, and my dad is leaving me to go to the war just like her,” Ben said.

Kat's feet scuffed the ground to make the swing come to an urgent halt. “Going to war? But your dad is getting out of the Marine Corps.”

Ben sniffled as huge tears rolled down his already red and swollen cheeks. He must've been crying for hours already. Poor kid. Obviously, he'd misunderstood something he'd heard because there was no way Micah was deploying again. No way.

She turned and saw Micah standing at the front door, looking nearly as forlorn as Ben. Her heart sank like lead in her stomach.

“Guess he told you,” Micah said, stepping toward them.

Her lips parted, but no words came. They were stuck in her throat and choking her. There was no way this was happening. It was a nightmare—a horrible one that she needed to wake from right now.

“It's a six-month deployment, so it'll take up the rest of my time in the Marine Corps. I can't get out of it,” he said.

“Who will keep Ben?” she asked, quietly.
And who will make me laugh? Help me with the Friendship Club? Hold me at night? Love me?

“Aunt Clara and Uncle Rick will keep him. They've done it before.” Micah's gaze moved to his son and he offered a weak smile. “Six months will fly by. Then I'll be home and I'll never leave you again. I promise.”

“You said you'd never leave me again after the last time,” Ben croaked. “You make promises and don't keep them, just like Mom.”

Micah crouched in front of him. “I'm sorry, little man. It sucks. That's all there is to it. If I had a choice, I'd choose you every time. But I have a duty as a Marine. Do you understand that?”

More tears rolled down Ben's quivering cheeks.

Kat realized she had tears of her own. “I shouldn't be here. You two should be alone.” She stood and headed toward the porch steps, stopping when Micah grabbed her gently, pulling her to face him.

“I'm sorry,” he said softly. “I don't have a choice.”

Rolling her lips together, she blinked heavily through burning eyes. “Right. Of course.” He didn't have a choice. He was leaving and,
damn him
, he was taking her heart with her.

She stepped back, just wanting to escape, and knocked the pie that she'd set on the railing, sending it falling to the ground. “Oh!” She hurried down the steps to get it as red cherry filling spilled out of its tinfoil cover. “It's ruined,” she said, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from bawling.

“You made me a pie?” he asked, his gaze lifting to meet hers.

There were those cocoa-colored eyes she'd grown to love staring into. “No. Yes.” It hurt to breathe. “I have to go.” She took another step backward, tears blurring the image of Micah and Ben staring at her. She could hear Ben's soft cries, though, and her heart ached. She wanted to go to him, but she couldn't—not now. All she could do was leave. She left the pie. Left the man she loved, and his son on the porch, and ran to her car as quickly as she could. Then she drove blindly through thick tears of anger and confusion, heartbreak and despair, to the only place she knew to go.

Kat sat in her car and stared at the shaded cemetery for a long moment before getting out of her car. Blinking through the tears that refused to quit falling, her eyes burned against the wind that seemed to blow constantly through this little town. She hadn't visited this place much since he'd been gone. He wasn't in that grave, she knew that. His body may be, but John wasn't a man who could be caged in. That was one of the things that had surprised her when he'd asked her to marry him. He was willing to bind himself to her forever.

Their forever had been too short.

The gate to the cemetery creaked loudly as she entered. She wasn't even sure why she was here. She just didn't know where else to go to feel his presence anymore. She'd felt him with her when she'd worn his ring. But that was silly. She knew that in her head.

Now everything was so confusing. Her heart was starting to love someone else, and she was beginning to forget pieces of John, molding his memories with those of the man she was in love with now. How could she do this all over again? Love a man who was deploying to some foreign country, to put himself in danger?

She stood in front of John's granite headstone. Being here always felt surreal. A few feet below her was the body of the man she missed snuggling into at night. She missed talking to him, telling him how her day was, and how she felt.

“Hey.” Her voice cracked as she knelt on the soft grass. “It's me. I'm sorry it's been so long.” A sob escaped as she spoke, and she wiped at her tears. Her nose was running now, too. “I wanted to tell you that I met someone. He's strong like you.” Strong the way she had tried to be, and she'd almost succeeded until now. “I should be there with him right now, but I'm scared. Losing you was—” She swallowed hard, shaking her head and pressing her eyes shut. “I can't go through that again, John. I can't risk everything for something that might not work out. What if he doesn't come home? What if I'm left all alone?”

Her shoulders shook as she waited for an answer she knew wouldn't come. John was dead. He couldn't tell her what to do. But if he were here, he'd be arguing her out of these fears. That's what he'd done when she'd nearly backed out of applying for the principal job at Seaside Elementary. Anytime John had faced something that scared him, he'd run toward it head-on. Fear was like a personal challenge to him, and he'd never backed down from a challenge. That's what made him an incredible leader. A hero. The man she'd loved.