Remember Love (6 page)

She switched off
the cartoon blaring on a little TV set on a crate and herded the three children
out to Rachel’s SUV. Sharon owned a van but Steve drove it, dropping her off at
the bookstore on days she worked before going to his construction job.

Whispering words
of comfort, she strapped the kids in and made sure they were settled before
climbing out of the back seat. As she rounded the SUV to hop into the passenger
side, a car caught her attention.

Slowly it drove
forward, the driver hidden behind a tinted windshield. A tremor swept through
her. It couldn’t be Steve. How would he know? Paused at the back of the SUV,
legs frozen, she watched as the car stopped across from her.

She could feel
her heart slamming against her ribs, pounding, yet blood wasn’t flowing to her
extremities. They were cold, goose bumps rolling over her in waves.

The window rolled
down.

The plush leather
caught her attention first, then the driver’s strong chin. Blood rushed through
her, and she sucked in the moist air.

"I have
something to give you." Alec didn’t yell but his words carried to her
nonetheless.

"How did you
find me?"

"Lynn."
The clipped answer clued her in that he was angry.

Back
straightening, she eyed him from her stance behind the SUV. "We’ll have to
talk later. I’m busy."

"Kidnapping?"

"None of
your business." She gave him the best glare she could muster, then pivoted
and hurried to the passenger side. The humid warmth inside the vehicle billowed
in her face as soon as she opened the door.  Leaning forward, she quickly
started the engine and cranked the air conditioner.

Katrina glanced
back at the kids. Their quiet, subdued faces worried her. They must’ve seen
everything. Anger rose sharply in her chest, burned against her breastbone.
Kids didn’t deserve this. They deserved love and tender care, not a home
polluted with the stench of unchecked rage.

A door slammed,
jerking her attention to the house. Rachel and Sharon scurried down the
driveway. The back of the vehicle popped open and as they threw luggage in,
Katrina realized Alec had parked at the curb a few feet back. Watching them.

She felt like
stealing Rachel’s penchant for growling. He could spy all he wanted. He’d
caught her off guard in the restaurant, but now she was prepared for his anger.
Just because she felt guilty didn’t mean he could intimidate her.

She wasn’t a love-sick
teenager anymore.

Rachel popped
into the driver’s seat and Sharon slid in back with the kids. Katrina glimpsed
a jagged red cut on Sharon’s arm as she buckled in.

Sharon was
murmuring to her children as Katrina whispered to Rachel, "What happened
to her arm?"

"Steve did
it." Rachel peeled out of the driveway, tires squealing. Katrina grimaced.
Poor Sharon.

Rachel glanced at
the rearview mirror. "Someone’s following me."

CHAPTER
SIX

Katrina turned
and immediately recognized the sporty car behind them.

"It’s Alec."

Rachel’s mouth
tightened. "What does he want?"

Sneaking a peek
at the back of the SUV to make sure Sharon was still talking to the kids,
Katrina shrugged. "I don’t know," she said in a low voice.

"I’ll lose
him."

But Rachel didn’t
need to. Alec’s car turned left on Main and they continued on back roads. Steve’s
violence convinced Katrina to have Rachel stop at the hardware store and pick
up some sturdier locks. Manatee Bay was a small town and it wouldn’t be long
before Steve figured out Sharon’s whereabouts. As old as Katrina’s house was, he
could break in easily.

After finagling
the new locks on archaic doors and then helping Sharon put the kids to bed,
Katrina took pictures of Sharon’s arm while Rachel blustered and paced.

"Are you
sure you won’t go to the hospital?" Katrina peered at the digital photos,
a frisson of alarm tingling along her nerves. The cut looked more vivid onscreen.

"No. I
can’t." Sharon visibly swallowed and looked away.

At least they
would have pictures then. Pursing her lips, Katrina snapped a few more shots
and then steered Rachel out the door, shoving the camera into her hands. Her
friend talked the whole way out, but she left. Thank goodness. Nagging was the
last thing Sharon needed. She was weary, overwhelmed and sat on the couch with
a dull glaze in her stare. Katrina dropped down beside her, thankful for the
plump cushions that welcomed her tired body.

Sharon’s eyes
were closed, her head leaning against the back of the couch. "He’ll know I
came here."

Katrina almost
missed the softly spoken words and felt a shiver course through her when the
statement registered. "You think so?"

"I’m afraid
of it."

"We called
the police." As soon as they’d been safely on the way home, Rachel phoned
Sharon’s injury in. A police officer met them at Katrina’s house and took
Sharon’s statement. They should be safe now, Katrina hoped, but the image of
Steve getting anywhere near Sharon and the kids gave her chills.

Just thinking
about him was enough to make her second-guess bringing Sharon here.

Sharon’s hands
trembled. "He looked like he wanted to kill me."

Katrina shifted
closer to Sharon, ashamed she’d just regretted Sharon’s rescue. With gentle
fingers, she picked up her friend's injured arm. "He slashed you pretty
good. Is this why you let us come get you?"

"Pretty
much. And the kids." Tears rolled down Sharon’s swollen cheeks. "They’ve
seen his rages, and now this, and things just became clear. Look what I’ve done
to them, trying to make this marriage work. How will they ever know what a real
family is like?"

"He could’ve
killed you." Katrina shuddered. "How did you get him to stop?"

"I locked
myself and the kids in the bathroom, left the breakfast dishes in the sink. He
passed out a few minutes later. I woke him up for work around four and he acted
like nothing happened." Sharon’s voice broke on a thinly disguised sob.

Katrina covered
Sharon’s clammy hands with her own warm ones. "You can’t blame yourself
for Steve, but I’m glad you decided to come here." Katrina stopped herself
from going on. "Everything will be okay," she said instead, and hoped
fervently she’d be right.

Later that night,
heavy pounding pulled Katrina from a deep sleep. She bolted from her bed and
ran into the living room, heart thudding against her ribs. Sharon’s shadow
hunched against a wall.

"Steve?"
Katrina crept toward her.

Sharon nodded in
reply as her husband continued rattling the front door knob and screaming for
her to come out. One of the kids began crying from the back room and Katrina’s
mouth tightened. "Go take care of them. I have a bat and I’m calling the
police."

"Do you have
to?" Sharon’s pale face peeped out from the shadows.

Katrina’s hands
clenched. "Yes. Put your kids first. Go and comfort them."

Sharon rushed
away, and Katrina tried not to feel guilty for her harsh answer. She grabbed
the softball bat from the front closet and looked for her cell. The pounding on
the door grew louder, broken only by Steve’s hoarse cursing. She threw a pillow
off the couch. Shoved aside a blanket. No phone. The new locks would hold the
door but if he got desperate he might break a window.

Shaking, she
scanned the living room. There. A shaft of moonlight glinted off the silver
phone wedged between the TV and DVD player. She lunged for the phone. Fingers
trembling, she dialed 911.

*****

Insistent
knocking on the front door roused Katrina from uneasy dreams. She clutched the
bat to her chest and stumbled up from the couch, hips and legs protesting the
movement. Warm sunshine spilled through her lacy curtains and covered the
carpet with snowflakes of light.

Made a house of
shadows look like a warm place.

She looked away
from the offensive illusion and yawned. Steve had fled before the police pulled
up. She’d spent the better part of the night making a statement and pressing
charges. After everyone left, she tossed and turned on the couch, finally dozing
off around dawn.

The knocking came
again, hard and sharp against the door. If Steve stood on the other side of
that door, he better back up. Morning made her a whole lot braver.

Swooping the bat up
from the floor, she relished the feel of the cold metal in her hands. Let him
try to mess with them today.

It wasn’t just
morning that made her brave. It was today. October 16. Not a good day to
intimidate an angry and bitter woman.

Thus bolstered,
she looked through the peephole.

And groaned.

"You,"
she sputtered, flinging the door open. Slick, clean shaven, and shrewd, Alec’s
eyes beheld Katrina in all her morning splendor, and she flushed. The door
should’ve stayed shut.

"You going
to hit me with that?" He nodded at the bat clutched against her chest.

With a twist of
her lips, she set it against the wall.

"You always
did freshen up well in the morning." Wearing a crooked grin, Alec pushed
past her into the living room. She shut the door, a little unnerved by his
presence. Despite their parting yesterday afternoon, he didn’t look angry.

He studied her living
room with the same intensity he’d shown in Kat’s Korner. Almost caressing the
frames on the walls yet not allowing his fingers to make contact. He looked at
her, his eyes dark with some unnamed emotion. The stare scared her a little.
And yet, a tiny thrill raced through her like a shot of caffeine to the
bloodstream.

She rubbed her
face and smoothed her hair. It figured she’d look like a wreck.

"You
could’ve called." She walked into the kitchen, aware his presence was
doing something strange to her emotions. The thrum of excitement humming
through her veins made her wary. Attraction was better ignored. It led to complications.
And so she kept her distance, finding a spot near the fridge to huddle.

"Thought I’d
drop this by in person. You left it in the car the other night." He
plopped the black purse she’d carried to the reunion on the kitchen counter.

"You’re just
now returning it?"

The smile left
his face. "Did you expect me to come see you right after you confessed to
hiding my son from me?"

"No. I’m
sorry." Flushing again, she moved away from the fridge and plucked at the purse.
"Thank you for bringing it by. I’d thought I left it at the restaurant."

Alec’s gaze
dropped to her fiddling fingers. "Do you always drive without a license or
wallet?"

"I keep my
license in my car so it doesn’t get lost. That isn’t my everyday purse but
thank you for bringing it back." She picked it up and held it in front of
her like a shield. His gaze lifted to her face. Her hair must be sticking out
in a dozen directions. Like a rat’s nest. She grimaced.

"If you’d
like to stay a few minutes, I’ll be right out." And then she’d give him
Joey’s box of letters, pictures and videos so he could leave for good.

"Mind if I
grab some coffee?"

"Not at all."
If he could find some. But she didn’t stay to find out if he did.

She escaped into
the hallway, leaving Alec to clink around her kitchen. She passed the closed
bedroom doors and sighed. Not a peep could be heard. That was good. Sharon and
the kids needed rest.

Putting on makeup
was a temptation that, in the end, Katrina resisted. Alec had shown up at her
door without calling. What did it matter if she looked ugly to him? It wasn’t
as if she was still a teenager, head over heels in love with Manatee Bay’s wild
child. And they had nothing in common anymore.

Except Joey.

She banished the
thought and finished pulling her hair into a ponytail before heading to the
kitchen. Alec stood near the fridge holding one of her picture frames. His face
twisted oddly, a pained grimace. He looked up when she walked in and she caught
the raw emotion shadowing his eyes before they shuttered. 

Once again the
enormity of what she’d done rushed in on her. She gripped the kitchen table,
legs weak, chest heaving. The naked sorrow on his face . . . She took a deep
breath and forced herself to sit in a chair. She couldn’t cry. Not now.
Thoughts raced, jumbled.

 "Why are
you here, Alec?" she asked, unsure why the question tumbled out but
suddenly needing to know.

"The
million-dollar question. But do you mean in town or in your house?"

"My house."

"Had to
return your purse."

Her face heated
as she remembered. Somehow, it didn’t seem like it should be the only reason. "That’s
right," she whispered, throat parched.

Alec eyed her,
then sat down across from her. "I’m also here to see those videos. I want
to know Joey. I need to see everything there is."

Water. If she
could only have a sip, maybe it would ease the stiffness of her tongue. "I
have them ready for you."

"How
convenient. Almost as if you planned to tell me I had a son."

It was probably
lack of sleep, but her hackles rose at his tone. "You should’ve answered
the letters I sent."

His eyebrows shot
up. "Letters?" Then his eyes narrowed. "You mean your sporadic
e-mails the first year or so?"

"No, I mean
paper. Real letters."

"I have no
clue what you’re talking about."

"Your post
office box in New York?"

The scorn on his
face drained away, leaving his mouth soft. "I’ve never had a box in New
York, Kitty." His fingers drummed the table. "But my mother did."

Idiot. Why hadn’t
she suspected? She gnawed her lower lip. That his mother, a junkie and an
alcoholic, had the presence of mind to thwart her letters was beyond strange.
Yet it had to be true because they’d been sent back. She saw the anger
simmering in Alec’s eyes at the realization of his mother’s interference.

Shame smoothed
away any lingering defensiveness. "I’m so sorry. When the letters were returned
unopened, I assumed it was you. Just like you ignored my other attempts at
contact."

"There
weren’t many, and I only ignored you for awhile."

"More than a
year."

He inclined his head,
surrendering to the fact that he had left her alone. Deserted her.

But
he
hadn’t sent the letters back. This changed things, if only a little. Maybe if
she’d tried harder to reach him, through some other means . . .

"Mom and I
rarely saw each other in New York." Alec spoke slowly, as though he
struggled to form each word.

"She told me
she moved there for you."

"And you
believed her?" His fingers slid together, resting on the table in a clasp.
"There were other ways to tell me."

Katrina winced. The
truth was that trying to reach him hadn’t topped her list of priorities. In the
beginning, perhaps, before she’d known she was pregnant, when she’d just wanted
him to come back to her. But he ignored her calls and e-mails. His actions hurt
and she stopped trying to contact him, not even bothering to tell him about the
pregnancy.

 After Joey’s
first birthday, however, she’d changed her mind, but then he’d been so hard to
find. Her efforts became half-hearted.

She swallowed
hard. No way could she tell Alec that.

 "I filled the
box for you after Joey died." As if that made up for her avoidance.

"Really?"
His brow arched, a haughty curve that said nothing was forgiven, despite his
mother’s intrusion.

"I was going
to mail it to you once you came back to the States."

"I’ve been
back for a year."

"Yes, I
know." Her fingers laced together, their grip so tight her knuckles ached.
"Things have been busy at the shop." A pathetic excuse. But Joey was
dead, and she hadn’t been able to work up the nerve to contact Alec. Why bother,
when he could never meet his son?

"Too busy to
let a man know about his only child?" Bitterness edged his words, cut
through the pretense, and her shoulders slumped.

She scooted the
chair back and stood. Fighting accomplished nothing. "I can’t apologize
enough. If you’ll follow me, I’ll get that box for you." She hated how
formal she sounded, how far time and guilt took them from what they once had.

Alec held up a
hand to stop her. "The other little thing I’m here for is business."

Katrina slowly
sat back down in her seat, pulse tripping unevenly. Was this where he’d
pressure her into selling? She’d read in the papers years ago about his
corporate piracy, the way he pushed a small construction firm into selling. All
legal, of course.

Please, Lord, not
that. She needed Kat’s Korner. She felt as fragile as the china cups in her
cupboards and hoped Alec didn’t notice.