Red Collar (25 page)

They both stood in awkward
silence. Leah fidgeted with the hems of her shirt.

“Kate,” Leah said
finally. “That’s why I wanted to apologize. I shouldn’t have screamed at you last night. It isn’t your fault. I mean… it was Clayton who hired your services. You were just doing what you were paid to do. I was angry and didn’t think too clearly. And then this morning…I just felt so bad. You’ve been so nice. And I really enjoyed spending these past few days with you…”

She was babbling.

Kate stopped her. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done what I did. I should never have accepted this job, no matter how lucrative the money was. I’m terribly sorry for hurting you all.”

Leah gave her a small smile. She reached out for her hand and clasped it fondly.

Kate stood at the bedroom window, staring out at the woods.
She would cherish the days she had spent on the island. She would never have believed that she would miss it. But most of all she regretted hurting the people who had given her so much in such a short time. And even though she appreciated Leah’s attempt to give her a more polite, compromising leave, she would never truly believe that she was completely excused from participating in the lie. And then there was her reputation… as a prostitute. Would they ever believe that Clayton was her one and only client? Regardless, she imagined them say she was still a prostitute; no longer on par with their social standing, not credible enough to qualify even as an acquaintance.

Another knock rapped on her door. Who could it be this time?

“Kate, it’s Grandma.”

Kate paled. She could never face
her
. No, she mustn’t. She must hide… she must…

Her thoughts stabbed at her. Her heart raced. What could she do?

She opened the door and stepped aside to let the older woman into her room. Hanging her head in shame, she waited for her to barrage her with rebukes.

“
Clayton’s waiting for you to join him at the helicopter,” Grandma said. “Are you ready to leave?”

“Grandma…,” Kate started, but then whispered a soft ‘yes’.

“Good,” Grandma said. “Then I’ll get Carl to get your things.” And at the mere mention of his name, a sturdy, middle aged man walked into her room to take her bags.

Kate pointed out her luggage and he swiftly carried them out.

“Can I walk with you to the veranda?” asked Grandma.

“Um…,” was all Kate could say. She didn’t know what was happening.
She was still waiting for an earful.

Instead Grandma wound her arm around hers and walked her out of the room.

They were quiet until they reached the veranda. The helicopter was whirring on its helipad in the short distance.

“I don’
t know why it is you do what you do,” Grandma said slowly, her eyes on the chopper. “But I’m trying not to judge. You must have a reason. I will not ask of it, though. I don’t expect you to explain yourself.” She sighed tiredly. “Undoubtedly, what both you and Clayton have done has hurt us. That doesn’t take away from the fact that we loved you while you were with us.” She turned to Kate and smiled. “You’re beautiful, child.  And I will miss you.”

She indicated for Carl to come closer. He carried a small painting in his hand which he handed over to the elderly woman.

“I never told you I painted, did I?” she smiled as she passed it over to Kate.

Kate looked up at Grandma, befuddled. “But…”

“It’s a painting of Willem and Anya,” she said. “I remember you were quite taken by their story.”

It certainly was. There was Willem kissing Anya under the shade of a tree. Grandma had accurately captured the essence of the island, the breeze in the leaves of the trees and if she stared long enough into it, she believed she would also
be able to hear the roar of the ocean, its waves crashing against the rocks.

She teared again and she bit her lips to prevent them from falling. “Grandma… I’m sorry…thank you…,” she stuttered. “I mean… I’m sorry about what we did. I didn’t want to hurt
anyone. But I did…” She gulped. “That’s why I can’t take this. I don’t deserve it. It’s too beautiful…”

“Child, you’re going to insult me if you refuse,” Grandma growled. She rubbed Kate’s arms tenderly. “We make mistakes. And that painting’s not because you made one. That painting is for the precious time you spent with me… with all of us. And I’m sorry that my grandson got you involved in this mess. But I will not be sorry that we met you.” She moved away and began hobbling towards her room. “Take care now, child.”

Kate stared after her, finally able to release those tears clogging her eyes.

She heard argumentative sounds pierce through the walls.

“Let him go!” Frank was screaming.

“Oh, shut up, Frank!” Olivia screamed back. “Clayton, darling, let’s talk about this. Clayton!”

But Clayton was already marching out into the veranda.

“Are you ready?” he asked her and led her towards the
awaiting helicopter.

Kate mechanically watched the stream of cars speed by theirs. They were back in the bustle and the heat of New York.

They had scarcely
spoken during their entire trip. He had avoided her, working on either his papers or computer. He never once looked at her. Even now as he drove through the maze of streets, he focused on the road before him.

He
suddenly steered off his course, pulling the car into the parking lot of a subway station.

“I suppose you wouldn’t want to go back to my apartment,” he said.

Kate was quiet. He was right. She didn’t want to go back to his house. But why did it hurt when he said it out aloud like that?

“I need to get my things,” she whispered.

“Right,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’ll get them for you.”

“No, don’t,”
she added, rather quickly. “I…I’ll manage. If you don’t mind opening the trunk?”

“
Kate,” he said before she could leave and handed her a check. “I promised you a further hundred thousand at the end of the contract.”

“I guess I did a good job then,”
she said, accepting it reluctantly. She gave a brief glance at it and then stepped out of the car.

Clayton popped open the boot.

She stepped behind the car and pulled out her old bag she had stored inside the Samsonite suitcase. She picked up Grandma’s painting and clutched it to herself.

She slammed the trunk shut and stepped away from th
e car, planning on how she should return home from there.

She averted her eyes, refraining to look towards Clayton.  It was over. It
was finally over.

Clayton pulled away from the curb. He watched her in the rear view mirror as he drove away. It was probably the last time he would ever see her.

Eight months. Eight months had passed since the “Sitka Incident” as she termed it.

The restaurant bustled with noise and chatter.

“Have a nice evening,” she told a customer as she handed
over his receipt. She gave him a smile and he stalled at his feet.

“I’m Gavin
,” he said. “Perhaps one day when you’re free…”

“I can’t Gavin
,” she let him down gently. He was her client and she knew in her business, word of mouth was important. “Thanks though.”

“Another man?”
he teased and walked on.

She blushed. There was. There never
had been another since Clayton, although she had never seen him in eight months. So how was it she felt he still was in her life?

She looked at her restaurant. It was most probably because of it.

Six hundred thousand dollars had certainly changed her life. She returned home that day, attempting to be more cheerful of her new found fortune. Instead it took her two entire days to finally get herself out of bed and get her life back to normal; back to the days of pre-Clayton.

However, s
oon after, her mother’s health took a turn for the worse and suddenly all that money was no longer important. She didn’t even have the time to call for an ambulance. Terri passed away while she was attending to the children’s breakfast and preparing them for school. When she went to check on her later that morning, her mother lay lifeless and ashen on the bed she was confined to for the last years of her life.

She
was now six hundred thousand dollars richer and the reason for which she had sold her soul no longer existed.

But she was determined to survive. She pulled Lorenzo one day by the sleeve and told him she was leasing that store
he always had his eye on. It was up to him if he wanted to partner with her. She remembered crossing her fingers behind her. Her success was riding on Lorenzo joining her. She would never forget the smile he had given her.

“
Bella dama!”
he had screamed as he had twirled her in the air.

“
Bella dama
,” Lorenzo said, interrupting her thoughts. “You seem lost.”

“Shouldn’t you be in the kitchen?” she teased. “This is my area.”

He grinned. “Someone asked to see the sous-chef again. Compliments, you know.”

“Oh come off your high horse,” she laughed.

“Yeah, life is certainly good. I am assistant to the chef and yet he can’t scream at me because he just might get fired.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “Have you enrolled in that cooking course yet, sous-chef?”

“Oh, yes. I start next semester.”

“You shouldn’t leave it too late. You know we’ll be able to manage in the few hours you’ll be away.”

“It’s my restaurant too,
bella dama
. I get all anxious if I don’t get to oversee the kitchen. You know, like new mom fears. And I am determined to not leave the chef rest in peace. I’ve had enough of steward abuse from all the chefs I’ve worked under.”

Kate giggled. “So you’re deciding to take it all out on poor Chef Mancini?”

“Yeah, I shouldn’t kill him just yet. I still have a lot to learn from him,” he pretended to sigh.

“What are you two grinning about?” scowled Libby, walking in with Johnny and Lily in tow.

“What are you three doing out so late?” Kate said, picking up Lily into her arms. “Shouldn’t you, little one, be in bed?”

“
It’s Friday night. Besides, Rudy gets to stay,” Libby grumbled.

“
That’s different. Rudy’s taking cooking lessons, Libby,” Kate sighed.

Lorenzo
straightened his apron. “I’m needed in the kitchen.”

He disappeared through the kitchen doors.

Libby followed suit, close at his heels.

Lorenzo picked up the garbage bags and stepped out into the dark alley. He threw the bags into the dumpster.

He put his hands on his hi
ps, breathing in the fresh night air. It was quiet, the few street lights throwing some little light into the alley.

The kitchen back door flung open.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Libby said.

Lorenzo arched his eyebrow. “What have I done now?”

“Do you know I turned sixteen two months ago?” Libby growled.

“You make it sound like that’s a bad thing.”

“I haven’t been giving Kate any trouble. And I help out as much as I can in the house.”

“Ok?” Lorenzo said.

“Why won’t you then… why won’t you…?” she stammered.

“Why won’t I what?” Lorenzo asked, edging closer to her.

She froze, her skin prickled with her nervousness.

He put an arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him. “Why won’t I do this?” he said.

“Yes,” she muttered.

He cupped her face and drew her to his. “And why won’t I do this?”

“Yes.”

“And why I won’t do this?” he whispered as he tasted her lips. He kissed her
tenderly, his mouth capturing, exploring hers.

She uttered a soft moan and he drew away
hesitantly.

“Because
querida
, I’m only a man,” he groaned. “I need my sanity.”

He started walking away.

“What?” she stared after him speechlessly. “Lorenzo! What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You better start counting to twenty-one,
querida
,” Lorenzo said.

“Twenty-one?!” she snapped. “That’s five years away!”

Lorenzo smiled, heading back into the busyness of his kitchen.

Kate instructed her wait staff to clear the sidewalk furniture. She leant against a lamp post tiredly as they worked.