Remember Love (24 page)

"And we’ll
have ice cream."

Rachel cocked an
eye open. Katrina saw it through the cracks in her fingers. "You’ve been
taking Dr. McCormick’s advice, haven’t you?"

Katrina lifted
her head and smiled. Rachel loved to be right. Let her think she was
responsible for the healthy weight gain. "Let’s go get the movie. I don’t
want to stay up late because tomorrow I’m going to see Anthony."

Rachel
straightened. "You know, you did a really hard thing. You forgave the guy
who killed your family. Why can’t you forgive Alec?"

Katrina grimaced.
"He lied to me. Only weeks ago."

"I think you
ought to give him another chance."

Katrina felt her
eyebrows rocket up to her hairline. "Are you kidding me? This, from you?"

"I’ve been
thinking about what you said." Rachel twisted her hair back up and clipped
it. "I do judge people based on my past. But Alec. . . he’s done
everything he could to get you back." She paused. "Do you really want
to lose him again?"

*****

Anthony sat by
himself, the back of his chair leaning against the wall, his eyes closed. He
looked relaxed in the windowless visitation room.

Katrina hoped she
wouldn’t break that peace. She quietly set the bag of books and cookies on the
table and pulled a chair over. Its legs screeched against the concrete floor.

Anthony’s eyes
popped open. She made a face. "Sorry."

"No prob."
He yawned, then gestured to the table. "This stuff for me?"

She nodded.

He smiled. "You’re
always so serious. Some people might’ve had a sarcastic comeback. Not you. I
bet you’re always nice."

"Not always."
She studied him. "You cut your hair. It’s not short, but not shaggy
either."

"Yeah. Time
for a change, I think. I’m about ready to take my GED."

It was good he
planned to get his GED, good he planned ahead for his future. Some of the tight
pressure in her chest eased.

She shouldn’t
feel anxious. He had a right to know she was Joey’s mom, but her palms were
clammy. He might feel that she’d deceived him. And she had, because she hadn’t
known if she’d keep visiting him. Hadn’t wanted the personal connection until
she was ready for it.

His head cocked
to the side, his gaze glued to her face. She saw that the shadows beneath his
eyes were fading. Another sign of change.

"Hey, you
nervous?"

She jolted. "Why?"

"I just
never saw anyone do that to their cheeks."

She sucked in a
breath and tried to force herself to relax. "I guess I am a little."

"Got
secrets, huh?" His face came closer.

"Everybody
does," she said slowly, tilting her chin up. Did he know already? She
wouldn’t be surprised. At the time of the accident she’d been on the cover of
several issues of the local news.

Anthony leaned
back, arms hanging loosely by his sides. "You stopped wearing your
glasses."

"They’re
only for reading. Anthony," she paused. Oh, for courage right now. "There’s
something I should tell you—"

"Forget it.
I know."

"You do? I
mean, you’ve never said anything."

"Yeah, well,
it hurt, reading the papers and stuff. Just found out a few days ago. One of
the guards got me a copy of an article from the crash."

"Anthony,
I’m sorry."

"You don’t
gotta cry." His voice cracked. "I’m the one who’s sorry."

Katrina blinked.
It didn’t stop the tears.

Anthony looked to
the side, his eyes suspiciously bright in the dim room. "Why’d you come?
The first time, you looked so sad. I thought you maybe made a mistake. Maybe
that you were looking for a family member. Then I thought, for a long time,
that you were earning some kind of points for church. You know, trying to save
the sinner and all."

Her throat
clogged for a moment as she tried to formulate an answer. She swallowed. "It
wasn’t a mistake or for points. I wanted to meet you. I needed to see the man
who—"

"Murdered
your family?"

"Anthony,
look at me." He wouldn’t turn his head. Her hands were cold, frozen in her
lap. "You didn’t murder them. It was an accident."

"That’s not
what the state says."

"I don’t
care what the state says. I forgive you, Anthony."

She saw the way
his lower lip trembled, the way his jaw thrust forward. Then he faced her, a
single tear traveling slowly down his cheek to the peach fuzz on his chin.

"I know."
His lips pressed together. "I know."

On impulse,
Katrina leaned forward and gathered him in a hug. His shoulder blades quaked
beneath her hands.

"Alright,
Anthony." One hand lifted to smooth his hair, just like she used to soothe
Joey after a fall.

Funny, but even
though she’d been visiting Anthony for a year, she’d never touched him. And he
must have needed it. Her heart ached to think of him as a toddler, reaching
chubby arms out to a stranger every few weeks. Rachel’s report stated he’d been
in and out of foster homes since he was a baby.

She let him cry
until finally he pulled back and wiped his arm across his eyes.

"I guess you
ought to know, I’ve decided to follow Jesus." He said it in a thick voice,
eyes red-rimmed.

The pressure that
had been in her chest eased. She grabbed for his hands. "That’s wonderful.
I didn’t even know you were considering something like that."

She didn’t have
to fake the joy in her voice and the flush on his face told her he’d heard it.
She only hoped he hadn’t heard the surprise. After the accident, the only thing
she’d prayed for was justice. And that had been after the rage passed. Then
he’d been convicted and she’d stopped praying for him at all.

Once she met him,
she’d begun hoping something new. That she could forgive him. Maybe, even, that
God would give her a heart to love him.

But for him to
become a Christian? That had been outside her vision.

God was so
awesome. She felt her smile grow. "How? Why?"

"I hear a
lot of people say God works in mysterious ways. Never believed it. Seemed He
didn’t work at all, to my way of thinking. So I lived how I wanted. Wound up
here." His eyes scurried away.

She winced.
Forgiveness couldn’t erase his guilt. Soften it, maybe. At least she hoped so, for
his sake

"Anyhow,"
Anthony continued, "apparently God’s been trying to speak to me. Joey’s
dad came to see me."

Her vision
wavered. She took a deep breath. "He did?"

"Yeah. He
said you two aren’t married so I figured you wouldn’t know he came."

She tried to
straighten her thoughts out because they seemed to be going haywire. Why would
Anthony credit Alec with his decision to follow Jesus?

It made no sense
to her. She took a deep breath, suddenly aware Anthony had fallen quiet.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE

"I don’t
understand. You’re saying Alec—"

"Showed me
something real." Anthony rubbed the back of his neck and then gave her a
crooked grin. The smile lit his face, chasing the shadows away.

"Did Alec
lead you to Jesus?" Katrina asked it slowly, hope blossoming inside.

"What, like
a prayer or something? Nah."

"Oh."

"He did
something better."

She was lost.
Yo-yoing between Alec’s different, Alec’s the same. And then she knew. "He
forgave you, didn’t he?"

Anthony nodded,
eyes shining.

"He visited
and . . ."

"He told me
who he was and I started crying like a baby." His cheeks flushed. "The
guy forgave me. Like, he just chose forgiveness. So we talked about Jesus a
little, then after he left I grabbed that Bible you dropped off a long time ago
and the rest is history."

Katrina’s heart
thumped a manic beat against her chest. "You became a Christian."

"Well, first
I asked to talk to Linc. He’s our cell block preacher. He showed me some stuff."

"That’s
wonderful, Anthony."

"Hey, don’t
cry again. Look, I gotta go. Bible study thingy."

"Well, don’t
forget the bag." She handed it to him as they stood. Leaning forward, she
hugged him one more time.

"I just want
to say something." Anthony cleared his throat.

She stepped back.

"You… you’ve
been real good to me. I wish. . ." He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her
into an awkward hug. "I wish that you’d been my mom." He let go and
hurried out of the room, his new haircut exposing a bright red neck.

Katrina watched
him go, her heart lighter. Usually her visits left her melancholy, sad for both
her loss and Anthony’s.

Anthony would be
all right.

But now she
needed to find Alec. She owed him an apology.

Because if he
could forgive Anthony, then maybe he really
could
forgive her. Maybe he
hadn’t been lying about wanting her and not just trying to get back at her.
Maybe moving past their mistakes was possible after all...Maybe they could have
a future together, free of resentment and unforgiveness.

She gathered her
purse and marched out of the prison, into the sun.

*****

Alec paced his
hotel room, his luggage packed and standing like sentries by the door.

He didn’t want to
go. Hated the thought of leaving Katrina behind. But he hadn’t heard from her
in the last few days and a customer had flown into New York, needing to meet
with him.

He shoved his
hand through his hair. Why couldn’t she see how much he loved her? That he
could set the past behind them and move forward?

"Are you
leaving?" Grant appeared in the doorway, face grim.

Alec spared one
last glance for the sparkling river below the balcony doors before turning to
Grant. "Yeah." He grabbed his bags, and they walked down the hotel
hallway. "I have an appointment. Have you picked Steve up yet?"

"Nope."
Grant pushed the elevator button. "I’m glad I caught you. I was going to
invite you to a barbecue tonight."

Alec gestured to
the bags. "Thanks, but obviously I won’t be making it." He shifted
the bags so they rested on the carpet in neat angles. "Is there an officer
still guarding Katrina’s house?" He didn’t want to worry about her while
he was gone.

 "A couple
of sources say Steve skipped town."

Alec’s jaw
tightened. "No one is guarding her house?"

Grant slid him a
look. "We’re a small force. We don’t have the manpower for that."

They stepped into
the elevator. The doors closed and Alec punched the first floor button. He’d
hire security for her as soon as he left the hotel. Then there was also Sharon to
think of.

"Any chance
he knows where Sharon is?" Alec asked.

"I don’t
think he knows much of anything right now. The guy’s off his rocker."
Grant cleared his throat. "Got any idea what people are saying in town?"

"Don’t know,
don’t care."

The elevator dinged.
Alec stepped out, Grant right behind him like a terrier nipping at his heels.

"They’re
saying you didn’t know about Joey."

"And?"

"They’re
saying maybe Katrina’s an unfit Christian."

Alec stopped. "How
do you know this?"

"You know my
aunt goes to Katrina’s church." Grant shrugged.

"No,
actually I didn’t. So why are you telling me this? I thought you didn’t like Kitty."

"Just didn’t
care for what she did to you." His feet shifted and he looked away.

Alec’s eyes
narrowed. Maybe she’d taken the easy way out by letting people assume he
abandoned his family, but that didn’t erase all of her other virtues. "Katrina’s
a fine Christian and you can tell all the busybodies I said so." He
glanced at his watch. "We don’t have time to sit here and talk. I need to
catch my flight." The plane left in three hours and the trip to the
airport took a solid hour.

He started
forward but Grant gripped his shoulder, stopping him. Alec gave him a look that
would freeze anyone else but Grant didn’t seem to notice.

"You come back
after ten years and now you’re gonna leave?"

"Not much I
can do here," Alec said coldly. "The building’s burnt down."

"Fine."
Grant stepped away from him. "I don’t much like how Katrina treated you
but seeing how happy she’s looked, I can’t help but think you’re making a big
mistake."

"I asked her
to marry me."

Grant’s jaw
dropped.

"She said
no," Alec continued.
Three times
. "Let’s just leave it at
that."

"Dude, she
messed you over. Why would you marry her?"

"I left her.
Promised I’d never leave, and then I did. I forgot my promise."

Grant grunted.

"I should’ve
given her more time." Alec turned to the entrance of the hotel. Through
the glass doors the sun gleamed off the cars in the parking lot.

"Time."
Grant’s hands rode low on his hips. His feet planted apart. "Seems to me
like she’s had ten years."

"Yeah."
Alec rubbed his chin. Could he really give her up without a fight? His jaw
firmed. No way. He would make things up to her, prove she could trust him, that
he was a different man. An honest man.

Grant’s radio
beeped. A disembodied voice crackled over it, but all Alec caught was the word
Barbour street.

His head jerked
up. "That’s Katrina’s road."

*****

Where was Alec?
Katrina’s hand tightened around the steering wheel while her other gripped the
cell phone. She dialed the number again, careful to watch the road in front of
her. His phone rang and rang.

It was a little
after noon, the day bright despite the cooler temperatures. He might be at
lunch, but he wasn’t answering his phone.

She drove for
five more minutes before trying again. It went to voicemail.

"This is
Alec Munroe. I’ll be back in the office tomorrow, Thursday, the fifth. If you
have an emergency, contact my secretary at—" Katrina snapped the phone
shut and threw it to the passenger floorboards.

She took a deep
breath and concentrated on driving straight. Her hands trembled against the
steering wheel. It sounded as if he was going back to New York. She had to stop
him. He should know that she was sorry for judging him, that she forgave him for
lying to her.

Furthermore, now
she could truly believe their relationship could move forward. All her life had
been spent protecting herself, even as a Christian. Taking risks had never been
in her nature. She would now though. Fly to New York, chase him to Europe. This
time she’d make sure he knew she would love him forever. That she’d marry him,
if he’d still have her.

She turned onto
her street and then pulled into her driveway. Opening the garage took too much
time. She’d grab the emergency cash stuffed under her mattress, pack a
suitcase, and then head to the airport.

She dropped the
key twice before she got it in the front door lock. Hand shaking, she twisted
the knob. Nerves. If only she’d chased Alec down before. She shoved the door
open.

And gagged. The
house reeked like rotten eggs. She spun back to the door, retching, but it was
too late. Steve slammed it shut, his eyes glittering.

"You’re
gonna be real sorry." A gun appeared from beneath his ragged clothing. He
swung it through the air. "We’re calling Sharon. Now."

Katrina nodded,
hands pressed against her mouth. She couldn’t scream. She wouldn’t.

She hadn’t
realized she wasn’t moving until a smooth, chilly finger pressed against her temple.

Not a finger, but
the cold kiss of steel.

She shivered and
stumbled farther into the living room. The phone. Where was it? Her tongue
seemed too thick for her throat, her breath came in rapid hitches.

"Get the
phone." Steve’s eyes rolled wildly. The gun in his hand wavered.

Katrina flinched.
"I have to find it."

"Quick,
hurry." Steve stuffed the gun beneath his shirt and paced erratically, his
sneakers scuffing against the carpet.

She stumbled to
the phone charger and mashed the finder button. The phone beeped loud and
shrill from the kitchen. She brought it back to the living room.

He aimed the gun
her way. "Call Sharon."

Fingers
trembling, she dialed her friend. Steve snatched the phone with greedy hands.
She could hear his breathing, heavy and deep. The sound drummed in her head, a broken
rhythm she couldn’t tune out. She cowered back on the couch. Nausea rolled
through her.

Steve muttered
into the phone. His shoulders jerked like a puppet on a string.

Did he see her?
He seemed crazily out of it, but now might be the perfect time to call for
help. Except that her phone was on the floorboard of the car.
Oh, Jesus. I
need help. Please
. She forced her breathing to slow when spots began
dancing in her vision.

Think. Think.

Steve’s voice grew
louder, the scuffing of his shoes against the carpet more desperate.

She needed to get
free. She needed a weapon. The bat. In the closet. Her head whipped over to the
kitchen. If she could get in there. . .

She rose slowly,
trying not to alert Steve. He didn’t seem to notice.

She inched across
the living room, breath held. Her heartbeat pounded unnaturally loud in the
quiet room. Steve held his head, muttering into the phone.

He’d lost his
grip on reality. Katrina could hear Sharon’s voice through the phone. Keep
talking, keep talking. It became a mantra in her head.

She was almost
there. Her fingers grazed the closet doorknob, its slick surface sending
shudders of relief through her.

"What’re you
doing!"

Katrina jumped at
the sound of Steve’s scream. Before she could react he was to her, grabbing her
by the hair and dragging her into the living room as if she were as light as a
rag doll.

Scalp burning,
Katrina tried to stay close to him. He shoved her to the couch. A sob caught in
her throat as she fell against the faded cloth.

 She had to stay
in control. Steve’s heavy breathing filled the room again. He pushed the end
button on the phone and the beep sounded like a death knell.

Katrina’s body
shook. Could this be happening? She wanted to gag at the foulness in her home.
Steve loomed above her, his pupils as black as the grave. He pulled the gun out
from beneath his jacket and then used his sleeve to swipe at the sweat dripping
off his forehead.

"You took
her," he rasped. "I want to know where my wife is." He leveled
the gun to her forehead.

Someone pounded
on the front door. Steve’s arm jerked and Katrina recoiled. He didn’t shoot
her, though.

His eyes rolled
to the side, his mouth dropped open. Saliva dribbled down his chin.

"Katrina!
Open up or I’m coming in." Alec’s voice boomed through the door. Her eyes
widened. She couldn’t let him come in. Steve was already swiveling towards the
door, gun moving with his body, his eyes gleaming with evil intent.

The door swung
open and Katrina jumped off the couch. The next moment passed in a blur.

She saw Alec’s
face creasing, first with shock, then with horror. And his lips moving. But she
couldn’t make out the words.

Adrenaline surged
through her, drowning out everything but the knowledge that if she didn’t get
in front of him, he’d be dead.

And then the
roaring in her ears stopped, interrupted by the sharp, staccato report of
gunfire.

She fell into
Alec’s arms. Behind him, Grant pushed into the doorframe, gun raised, eyes
hard.

Alec lowered her
to the floor and laid her on her back. He bent over her, hands smoothing her
hair, gripping her fingers. His hands were sticky, crimson . . . with blood?

"You’re
bleeding." Alarm sizzled through her and she struggled to sit up.

He pressed her
down, his eyes like polished gold. Tears?

He said
something, but she couldn’t hear him. Her thoughts wouldn’t connect. She wanted
to tell him she loved him, that everything was okay, but her lips wouldn’t form
the words.

She tasted metal,
razor-edged and silvery, before the edges of her vision grayed and his face
shimmered into blackness.