CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Then
Kathryn
The first sign of trouble came to 228 Ocean Avenue on a Saturday morning just after Max’s fifth birthday. Thunder shook the walls in the middle of the night, and Max slipped into Kathryn’s bed and pressed his face to her chest. When the rain glided out over the ocean and the world grew still, they drifted off, the residual fog keeping the morning sun at bay, the cottage cool and dark.
Later she made her way across the wet driveway and found Lucas sitting at the kitchen table. Harper bounced around the room, topping off their coffee mugs. These were the mornings Kathryn cherished, when she could leave her responsibilities outside the door and bask in the companionship of their patchwork family.
Max and Emmy scurried from room to room until they burst into the kitchen, a tattered book dangling from Emmy’s fingers.
Lucas pulled his daughter into his lap, where she squirmed out of his grip. “They’re stir-crazy.”
“Let’s take them to the zoo.” Harper grinned. “I don’t remember the last time we all did something together.”
“Zoo!” Emmy shrieked, her ringlets bouncing onto her cherubic face.
Kathryn looked at her son and ran her fingers through his hair. It seemed Max was growing before her eyes, and she wanted to press pause, to cling to every minute she had with him. “That sounds wonderful.”
The zoo was mostly deserted, the air heavy with the earthy smell of wet dirt and the barnyard smell of animals. The three adults lagged while Max and Emmy ran along the pathways, laughing and pushing each other into puddles.
At the otter exhibit, the creature dipped beneath the surface of the water to tease Max through the Plexiglas. A grinning Max pressed his hand, which had just begun to lose its toddler chubbiness, against the glass. When the otter swam away, climbing up a branch in its enclosure, Lucas lifted the boy so he could get a better look.
Max’s eyes were wide with wonder. “Mama, look.”
Kathryn regarded Lucas, holding her little boy, and her heart swelled. He’d always been nurturing with Max, guiding him, teaching him new things, though at a respectful distance. When Emmy had arrived and Lucas stepped into the role of a father, he became more hands-on with Max. Now five, Max craved male attention, and Lucas obliged. To Kathryn’s relief, Max hadn’t yet asked why Emmy had two parents while he had one, and why he didn’t have someone to call Daddy like Emmy did.
Kathryn realized how fortunate she and her son were to have Lucas, and guilt tugged deep inside her when she pictured Andrew in his place, Max perched on his hip, sharing the same messy blond hair, the same inquisitive expression.
Did I do the right thing? Max was happy, yes. It occurred to her that she was living a semblance of the life she’d once fantasized about with Andrew: she had a brilliant child with Andrew’s blue eyes, her career was finding its footing, and the beachfront home she lived in exceeded her wildest dreams.
But it didn’t belong to her. This was Harper and Lucas’s life. Kathryn’s reality was a distorted version of the one she’d once imagined, like a dream where everything was upside down, familiar, but unrecognizable. And it was penance for what she’d done to Andrew.
At the end of the day, the five of them slid into a booth at an Italian restaurant, and the kids nodded off, Max first, head slumped against the wall beside them. Emmy followed shortly thereafter, nodding off in Lucas’s arms, her sweaty hair stuck to her forehead.
Kathryn draped a sweatshirt over Max and devoured her lasagna. When she looked at Lucas, he squinted, brows narrowed in what looked like anguish.
Harper’s fork dropped. “Is it happening again?”
Lucas gave a weak nod.
Harper was shrill. “This is the third time this week.”
Lucas kept his eyes screwed shut and didn’t respond.
“I’m taking you to the emergency room,” Harper said.
Kathryn had never heard Harper speak so assertively.
“No, I’m fine,” Lucas argued, his voice weak, and pressed his fingers to his forehead. “I just want to go home, get some sleep.”
Harper drove home, Lucas slumped in the passenger seat, Kathryn tucked between the sleeping kids in the back, fingers of apprehension twisting her thoughts. Quick, suspicious memories flashed in her head; things that had meant nothing at the time suddenly bubbled into a dark, swirling paranoia.
Lucas had been less patient, sometimes snapping at the kids for being noisy. Kathryn often saw the light on in the kitchen long past the time Lucas normally went to bed. When Kathryn came to the beach house to drop Max off before her evening classes, she’d noticed Lucas’s eyes were shadowy, the lines around them more defined.
What else had slipped by her unnoticed? Her stomach twisted.
That night Kathryn thought she could hear arguing through her open window. She tossed until well after midnight, then rose to get a glass of water. Across the driveway, the kitchen light glowed. Kathryn rapped on the door. Lucas opened it without a word but stood at the top step.
“Are you okay, Luke?”
He nodded, his response as weak and unconvincing as it had been at dinner.
“Let me make you some tea,” she offered, stepping into the kitchen.
Lucas sat and, in reversed roles, Kathryn set about filling the kettle. “How long have you been feeling this way?”
“I’ve had migraines come and go for the last few years.”
Kathryn tried to let this explanation soothe her, but concern still tugged at her. “Have they gotten more intense lately, more frequent?”
Lucas didn’t answer.
Kathryn sat across from him. “Harper’s right. You should see a doctor.”
Lucas’s eyes were sunken, and Kathryn wondered when he’d last slept through the night. He gave a resigned nod, then settled against the wall.
This man had changed her life permanently. Allowing her to live on their property had saved her when she’d needed it. It gave her a place to hide, to heal, a family when she’d needed one. He’d been a confidant, a partner in insomnia, and, for a period, a partner in parenting. She scrambled to find the words to sum up how much she loved him. Instead, Kathryn reached out, setting her hand on top of his. Lucas rolled his hand, and Kathryn gripped it. She held his warm, golden eyes with hers, and squeezed his palm. She clung to him, love coursing through her fingers, a love she had no words for.
“Luke?” Harper’s voice cut the space, and Kathryn looked up to see Harper, half of her face illuminated by the light of the kitchen, the other half obscured in the shadows of the house. Harper’s gaze fell to their hands. “What are you doing?” she demanded.
Kathryn recoiled, yanking her hand from the table.
“Having some tea,” Lucas said.
Kathryn shoved her chair back and rose. “I was just going home.” She tossed her steaming tea into the sink, then dashed out the door and down the steps. The familiar, grimy feeling at Harper’s accusatory glare followed her across the driveway, the same one she’d felt in that electric-pink bikini all those years ago, after she’d slept with Nick, and at Andrew’s mother’s pointed words.
The following morning there was a harried rap on the cottage door. Kathryn opened it to the brilliant sunlight and to Harper clutching Emmy’s hand. Emmy was still dressed in a nightshirt, her hair messy, as if Harper had snatched her from bed.
Relief washed over her, and Kathryn squinted. “Hi, Harp.”
“It’s Lucas—his migraine is worse.”
Kathryn shielded her eyes, caught Harper’s expression; the fear from the previous day now encompassed Harper’s entire being. The back door swung open, and Lucas ambled down the steps. He didn’t move like the Lucas she knew, as if he didn’t trust his own movements. Dread coursed through her; he was pale, his face gray and hollow.
“I’m taking him to the ER.” Harper nudged Emmy into the cottage.
Kathryn lifted the little girl and watched the couple climb into their car and drive away.
She cooked breakfast for the kids, then walked them down to the shoreline. At the edge of the breaking waves, Kathryn lowered herself into the sand while Max and Emmy splashed and shrieked around a cluster of seaweed. Lucas’s house towered behind her, solid, but their existence there was fragile.
When the kids were worn, she plopped them in front of cartoons and paced the beach house, stomach roiling. By dinnertime, there was still no sign of Lucas and Harper. Kathryn made pasta for the kids, then watched the sun set through the kitchen window while she washed dishes in warm, soapy water.
There was so little she could hold on to in this life; everything seemed to have a way of slipping through her fingers.
She took Max and Emmy back to the cottage and ran them a bath. Kathryn tucked the kids, clean and in their pajamas, into her bed and read them picture books, one story after another, relishing the smell of their strawberry shampoo on their damp hair. “Read another one.” Max’s sweet, sleepy voice came from beside her. Emmy had drifted off, her small body curled next to Kathryn.
Everything is fine. No news is good news. But the sinking feeling in her belly remained.
When Max drifted off, Kathryn reached for a novel from her nightstand, which she read until drowsiness overtook her. She was awakened by the sound of tires crunching on the gravel. She glanced at the clock: 11:35.
Terror gripped her. Why were they home so late? She heard voices, two of them, unmistakable, but Lucas’s tone had an edge to it, harsh and angry. Harper’s voice was naturally soft, but now her words were pointed. Kathryn couldn’t hear what they were arguing about, but it lasted only a few seconds before the car door closed and footsteps approached the cottage. Kathryn leaped from her bed.
Harper pulled the front door without knocking, and their eyes met. Worry overrode any shame Kathryn held from the incident in the kitchen the night before, and her words came out in a breathless rush. “Is everything all right?”
For a second Harper didn’t say anything. Her red eyes were puffy, her expression wide, like she didn’t know where to look. “Everything’s fine.” She moved across the space and scooped Emmy into her arms, buried her face in her daughter’s hair, and drew her in. Finally, she looked at Kathryn, and her voice trembled. “Thanks for watching her.” Harper stood in the doorway with her back to Kathryn for a moment before she turned around and said, “It was a bad idea to have you come live with us. I should have known after what you did with your boyfriend’s roommate.”
Harper’s blade-sharp words gouged Kathryn. “It’s not like that, Harper.”
But Harper turned, her hair swaying behind her back. She hitched Emmy on her hip, and Kathryn watched the two disappear into the house.