Chapter 4 — Holt #3
"The after-action review cleared me. Said the intel was bad and the decision was reasonable given what I knew. Doesn't change the fact that I'm the one who made it and they're dead."
She's quiet for a long moment. Then she asks, "Is that why you're so careful with everything? With Louis? With decisions?"
"Yeah. You make one wrong call and people die. I won't make that mistake again."
"That's why your marriage ended."
It's not a question but I answer anyway.
"I came back different. Jenna needed me to be warmer, to talk about feelings, to be emotionally available.
I tried. I couldn't be that person anymore.
She needed more than I could give and we both knew it.
She signed over custody of Louis when he was three and moved to Arizona.
It was the right decision for both of us. "
Katherine is still holding my hand. "And you've been alone since."
"Yeah."
"By choice?"
"Partially. Also because I didn't have room for anyone. Louis needed stability and I needed to be excellent at being his father. Everything else was a distraction."
"And now?"
I look at her. "Now I met you and the wary part of my brain is saying this is too fast and too complicated and I should slow down. And the other part is saying I don't care."
She's quiet again. Processing. Then she says, "Can I tell you something?"
"Yeah."
"My mother died two years ago. Sudden stroke.
She was in her garden and she just collapsed and she was gone before the ambulance arrived.
" Her voice is steady but I can hear the grief underneath.
"I got the call on a Thursday at 11:30 in the morning while I was teaching rhythm patterns to third graders.
I drove home and stayed for two weeks and helped my father with everything. "
"I'm sorry."
"The thing that broke me wasn't her dying. It was watching my father afterward. They'd been married thirty-one years and he just kept moving through the house like he was looking for her. Like maybe if he checked one more room she'd be there." She looks at me. "I learned something watching him."
"What."
"That some people stay. That's the dividing line. Not whether you're warm or cold or talk about your feelings. It's whether you stay when things get hard. My mother stayed with my father for thirty-one years through everything. She chose him every day. That's what mattered."
"Your father still alone?"
"Yeah. He's in the house where I grew up. Still plays piano badly every night. Still content. I call him twice a week and visit once a month. He's okay. But I don't think he'll ever stop looking for her in the next room."
We sit in her kitchen holding hands and I'm processing what she just told me. About her mother. About staying. About the fact that she sees the dividing line the same way I do.
"The men I dated before," she says quietly. "They were fine. Nice. We'd date for a few months and it would be pleasant and then it would just fade out because neither of us cared enough to stay. They didn't see me. I didn't see them. It was just time passing."
"And this?"
She looks at me. "You see me. I see you. The parts that are difficult and the parts that aren't. And I'm not going anywhere."
Something in my chest that I didn't know was tight loosens completely.
"Katherine," I say.
"Yes."
"I need to go get Louis."
"I know."
"But I want to come back."
Her breath catches. "When."
"Tomorrow. After Louis is asleep. If you'll let me."
"Yes."
"I want to finish what we started last night."
She squeezes my hand. "So do I."
I stand up and she stands with me. I pull my shirt back on over my shoulder. She walks me to the door and we stop there in her entryway.
"Lock the door after me," I say.
"I will."
I should leave. Should walk out and get in my truck and go get my son. I cup her face in my hand instead and kiss her. Slow and deliberate. Tasting her. Feeling the way she leans into me.
When I pull back we're both breathing harder.
"Tomorrow," I say.
"Tomorrow."
I leave and I hear the deadbolt slide home behind me. Get in my truck and sit there for thirty seconds trying to get my heart rate under control.
Tomorrow I'm coming back. Tomorrow I'm not leaving until I know what she sounds like when I'm inside her. Tomorrow I'm making this permanent whether it's smart or not.
I drive to Ray's place and pick up Louis. He's tired and happy.
They watched a superhero movie and had popcorn. I thank Ray's nephew and get Louis in the truck.
"Dad, your hands are bandaged."
"Just scraped them at work."
"Does it hurt?"
"Not much."
He accepts this. We drive home and do the routine. Bath. Pajamas. Reading. He's asleep by nine-thirty.
I sit on my back porch after he's down. My shoulder aches. My hands ache. I can still feel Katherine's fingers on my wrists and her breath against my mouth.
I told her about Torres and Webb and Keller. About the call I made that killed them. About why my marriage ended. Things I haven't told anyone in years.
And she told me about her mother. About her father still looking for her in the next room. About staying being what matters.
Tomorrow.
I sit there until after midnight just thinking about what tomorrow means.