Chapter 20 Kate
KATE
Eddie followed me down the hall. “I’m still not sure,” he said, his voice low. “But you’re the headmistress. It’s your call.”
“Damn right it is,” I said, making him grin.
“Careful girlie. I’ll think you’re starting to get a big head.”
I grimaced. “Hardly. All I accomplished this morning was giving a lost boy some hope—and probably terrifying the students, too. I still have a portal that probably goes straight to hell in my basement.”
He snorted. “Always the glass half-empty. You’re starting to sound like me.”
I paused, then tilted my head as I looked at him, that curmudgeonly face on a man who cared more than he wanted anyone to know. “Yeah, well, that wouldn’t be a bad thing.”
The tiniest, microscopic hint of a smile touched his lips. “See you at dinner.”
“Deal,” I said. “Unless that portal eats us first.”
I heard his soft chuckle as he walked away...and hoped that my snappy comeback had been a joke and not a premonition.
I stood there for a moment, letting the silence settle. The old mansion creaked around me, its bones shifting. Somewhere upstairs, I could hear the muffled sounds of the students—voices, footsteps, the ordinary noises of young people trying to pretend their world hadn’t just tilted sideways.
Something caught my eye, and I saw that Stuart was standing at the end of the hallway, near the stairs.
He wasn’t moving, wasn’t calling out to me.
Just standing there, watching. When our eyes met, he raised one hand to gesture me over.
I set off toward him, but the closer I got, the slower I wanted to move—and the tighter my chest became.
“Hey,” I said.
“I heard about what you did in there. That was the right call for that boy.”
“Is that the attorney or the oracle talking?”
“The father,” he said. “So long as they can earn it, the saying’s true.”
“Saying?”
He shrugged. “Everyone deserves a second chance.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
He nodded. “I do. You deserve one as well. So do I.”
I noted the fact that he didn’t say that we deserved one. But all I said was, “What do you mean?”
He didn’t answer at once, and as something in my chest went cold, I looked at him. Really looked at him. I’d watched this man for years. Playing with Timmy, hanging with Allie, helping me cook, which is something I need a lot of.
I’d watched him do yard work one day and give a campaign speech the next. I’d seen him put on a hard hat and dive into renovations on this incredible mansion.
And I’d seen him dead tired and scared, drained by visions, hollowed out by prophecies that ripped through him without warning or mercy. I’d seen him struggle to hold himself together when this world had met my old one, and nothing quite made sense for him anymore.
I’d seen all that and more. But I’d never seen him look like this. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” He tried to smile. It didn’t quite work. “Can we talk? Somewhere private?”
“Of course.”
He led me upstairs to the large training room—empty now. Late afternoon light slanted through the high windows, painting everything gold and amber. It should have felt warm. But something about the tone in Stuart’s voice made it feel like the light before a storm.
Stuart closed the door behind us, then pressed his forehead against it for a moment, his back to me, his shoulders rising and falling with a breath he seemed to be gathering from somewhere deep.
“Did you have a vision?”
He shook his head, then turned, and even though I’d looked into those eyes a million times, I couldn’t read a thing in them.
“I’m leaving,” he said.
The words didn’t make sense at first. They just hung there in the air, disconnected from anything real.
“Leaving? Why?”
He shook his head. “I got a call from Rome the day of Allie’s party. Do you remember?”
I nodded slowly, unsure where this conversation was going.
“It was Father Corletti. He suggested I come to Forza. Permanently. He wants me in Rome. To train with the oracles there, to learn how to control whatever this is that’s happening to me,” he said, pointing to his head.
“Oh.” I stood looking at him, hating myself for not being sure how I felt.
“I’m going. Actually, I’m going tonight.”
“Oh.” A wave of grief crashed over me. Grief mixed with pain and loss and the slight stain of failure.
I opened my mouth to say something, realized I didn’t know what, then closed it. I drew a breath and tried again. “And you’re just telling me now?”
“I needed time to figure out what to say.” He pushed off from the door and went to sit on a bench. “The visions aren’t going to stop, Kate. They’re exhausting. I need to learn how to deal with them.”
“Well, yes. I get that. But...” I trailed off, hating myself for not saying what should come after but. That I loved him—I did. That Timmy needed him—true. That I wanted him to stay.
That one... Well, that one was the kicker, wasn’t it?
I looked down at the floor. “I hate that this has happened to you.”
“I don’t,” he said, and I jerked my head up in surprise.
“Really?”
“I’ve been an outsider in your life for years, jealous that you and Allie were able to do something so fundamentally important.”
“Everything you’ve done—being an attorney, being a father, supporting the school, your visions. They’re all important.”
“Maybe. But that’s not the only reason.”
“Then what is? Because Timmy and I want to hear it.”
He flinched, but to his credit he didn’t falter. “Kate, please. You’ve seen what this has done to me. I can’t be the father I should to Timmy. And I’m not what you need, either. Not anymore. Maybe not ever.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is.” His voice was gentle. Unbearably gentle. “And we both know it’s not just the visions.”
The room seemed to shrink. The golden light seemed to dim.
“Stuart.”
“I know about you and Eric.”
The words landed like a slap. I felt my face go hot, then cold. “No, Stuart, there’s nothing going on with Eric.”
He held up a hand. “I know it was just the one time. I think it might have been what pulled me out.” He flashed a sideways grin as I tried not to melt into the floor. “Sorry about that,” he said, with a tiny smile that somehow seemed both amused and sad.
“I’m sorry. I thought you were never going to wake up.”
“And you love him.” The words were simple, matter-of-fact.
“I love you, too,” I said, hearing a note of panic in my voice.
“I know,” he said. “The question is whether loving me is enough. Whether it’s the same as what you feel for him.” He squeezed my hands gently, then let go. “And we both know the answer to that.”
I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him he was wrong, that what we had mattered, that it was real and important and worth fighting for.
But the words wouldn’t come. Because he wasn’t wrong. He’d never been wrong about the things that mattered.
“I love you, Kate, I always will. You and Timmy and Allie.” He drew a breath.
“I see me, too. In the visions, I mean. Two paths. One staying here with you and the kids. One going to Rome. Learning. Doing something terribly important. Away from my family, yes. But knowing that you’d have each other.
That you’d be as safe as you can considering the world you live in. ”
Tears streamed down my face.
“And Timmy?”
“I’ll still see him.” He grinned. “More than he’ll see me if I learn to control this thing.”
I actually laughed. “Won’t that make his teenage years special?”
We shared a smile, and I sagged a little. “I get it,” I said. “I’m so sorry, but I get it. I do love you.”
He moved closer and took my hands in his. His fingers were warm. Familiar. How many times had I held these hands? How many years?
“I know you love me. That was never the question.”
“I never wanted to hurt you,” I whispered.
“I know that, too.” He reached up, touched my cheek. The gesture was so tender it made my throat ache. “You held back as long as you could. I know what that cost you.”
“It wasn’t enough.”
“It was more than most people would have given.” He dropped his hand. Stepped back. “I’m not angry, Kate. I was, for a while. But then I realized—being angry at you for loving him is like being angry at the sun for rising. Some things just are. You can fight them, or you can accept them.”
“And you’re accepting?”
“I’m letting go and looking forward. You’re the one who needs to think about acceptance.”
“Oh,” I said, not sure how to respond, or even what exactly he meant.
He pointed to his head. “I believe this happened for a reason. And I’m going to Rome. To figure out what it is.”
I didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to let him go, this man who had been my anchor for so long. Who had stepped into my life when I was drowning in grief and given me something solid to hold onto.
“I’ve said goodbye to Timmy. I’m going to go talk to Allie, then go over the books with Laura.
I have a car coming in a couple of hours to take me to the airport.
Take care of yourself, Kate.” He moved toward the door, then paused with his hand on the frame.
“And ask Eric not to be smug in victory. It’s not a good look for him.
” He tapped his head. “And that if he hurts you, I’ll see it. And that I have a nasty right hook.”
I laughed. Despite everything, I actually laughed.
“I love you,” I said instead of goodbye.
“I know. I love you, too. Stay safe, Kate.” He kissed my cheek, and then he was gone. And for a moment it was just me, alone in a house full of people.