And Then I Found You (25 page)

Then in a vow inside what remained of the first day of spring, Kate promised herself
to never again believe a man to be an answer.

And until she met Rowan Irving in New York, she’d stayed far from that idea.

Now, curled up and alone in Rowan’s bed, the images in her mind grew. She’d tried
to cover the pain and unknowing in so many ways. But it never ended. Yes, she thought.
It stayed. And stayed. The need and want for what she lost never went away.

Eventually she drifted off and when she finally felt the bed tip, she inhaled the
stale beer aroma of Rowan crawling under the sheets. It was five
AM.
She sat up.

“Where have you been?” she asked.

“Out,” he mumbled. “Go back to sleep.”

He turned away and she stared at the back of his head, at his shoulders squared away
from her like a wall she could never climb. “I’ve been up all night,” she whispered,
reaching to touch him.

He rolled toward her and squinted. “Looked like you were sleeping to me.”

“I’ve been worried sick.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t know where you were and you didn’t call or answer my calls.”

“Are you now my mother?”

“What?”

“I mean, I’d think you were worried because you love me, not because you couldn’t
find me or keep tabs on me.”

“What?”

“Stop saying “what?” You sound ridiculous.” He sat up. “I didn’t want you to worry.
I just needed some space and time to think, and I fell asleep on Mark’s couch after
the poker game. I had my phone turned off. I’m exhausted. Can we please talk about
this tomorrow?”

“It is tomorrow. What did you need some time and space to think about?”

“Are you even kidding? You’ve been happier the past few months than I’ve seen you
since I met you and you don’t think I know that you’re happier because
they
are back in your life? So not only did you keep this from me, but they bring you
more happiness than I ever could?”

“No.” She took Rowan’s face in her hands. “I don’t know how to say sorry again. But
it’s not ‘they’ who bring me happiness. Don’t say that. Yes, I am relieved and full
of lots of emotions because my daughter found me, but it has nothing to do with Jack
or having him back in my life.”

He stared at her for too long; long enough that she thought he might not answer, and
maybe it would have been best if he hadn’t. “I don’t believe you,” he said and rolled
over. The sentence was spoken into his pillow. “I just don’t.”

Kate pulled at his shoulder. “Please.”

“Stop. Let’s sleep. Nothing good can come of this discussion right now.”

Kate flopped back onto her pillow. When the alarm buzzed, she turned it off as Rowan
snored. She would fix this. She would not let old feelings ruin something wonderful
that was right here, right now.

*   *   *

The dinner party with friends was every other month and it wasn’t until four o’clock
that afternoon when Kate remembered it. She was responsible for an appetizer. In a
quick run to the grocery store, she grabbed a premade cracker and cheese tray wrapped
in cellophane. They were late to the dinner party and Kate almost dropped the plate
on the way to the front door. Rowan grabbed her elbow and steadied her. “You okay?”

“No, and you?”

“I’m just fine.”

“How?” she asked and turned to face him, balancing the plate and fighting tears.

“What?”

“I mean, how are you fine when we had a big fight and we haven’t talked about it all
day and now you’re just pretending everything is okay?”

“Let it go. It’s over.”

“Over? You came home at five in the morning and said you think I care more about Emily
and…” She stopped, biting back
his
name.

“You can say his name. Jack. Jack. Jack. Isn’t that what you wanted to say?”

“See? You’re not okay. This is ridiculous.”

The front door opened and Bessie Lovett stood there in the doorway in her pink shift
dress and kitten heels. “What are you two doing just standing on my doorstep without
ringing the bell? Silly you, especially when you have the appetizers, my dear.” She
reached over to hug Rowan first and then took the plate from Kate as she stepped aside
to let them enter the house. “Come in.”

Rowan placed his hand on Kate’s lower back and they entered the house. He leaned down
to whisper in her ear. “I’m sorry, baby. It’s been a long day; I have a helluva hangover,
and I don’t mean to be an ass.”

Kate stopped in the hallway and grabbed his hand. “Please don’t be mad at me. I can’t
bear it.”

He nodded and kissed her.

“Look at you two lovebirds,” Larson’s voice bellowed, which is what his voice always
did, and he joined them, slapping Rowan’s back. “How you feeling today, buddy?”

Larson’s wife, Cindy, tall and wearing an orange tunic as bright as her personality,
walked into the hallway. She handed a glass of white wine to Kate, nodding between
Larson and Rowan. “These two should be in bed after the night they had.”

“Huh?” Kate took the wine from Cindy and smiled through the stomach-dropping realization
that Cindy knew something she didn’t.

“Last night. These two out all night at some club in Hilton Head, pretending they’re
young, single, and cool. Ridiculous.”

Larson grabbed his wife around the waist and dipped her backward. “I only have eyes
for you, baby.”

“Yeah, but unfortunately last night, you only had lips for your beer.”

Kate looked to Rowan. “Mark’s house?” she mouthed.

“So,” Larson said and turned to Kate. “Last night, Rowan told me your story. Unbelievable.
It’s like a sappy movie, but better. Are you floating on air?”

“What?” Cindy pulled at Kate’s arm. “What’s he talking about?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Kate said as the four of them entered the kitchen.

“No, tell me now,” Cindy said, “I can’t stand it when Larson knows something I don’t.
It kills me. Tell me,” she hollered, slapping her hands together. Everyone in the
kitchen quieted, waiting.

Tasting Rowan’s lie and feeling her gut fold inside out, Kate shook her head. “No.”
she took a long sip of wine. “Not now. Maybe later.”

“Oh, you’ve got to tell the story,” Larson said. “It’s amazing. I mean, shit, I’ve
known you since high school and I had no idea.”

The hushed room stared at Kate and the floor below her feet shifted, altering her
world in the same way an earthquake shifts a coastline, changing the view.

“It’s kind of … private,” she said. “I haven’t really told anyone yet.”

“Well, Rowan was telling the world last night,” Larson hollered.

Bessie lifted the tin foil off the crackers and cheese, staring at the prepackaged
appetizer.

Kate cringed. “Sorry, it’s nothing fancy. I had an insane day and…”

Bessie laughed. “No problem, sweetie. But to make up for it, you must tell all of
us the story Larson knows that we don’t.”

Rowan had moved to the other side of the kitchen, sitting on a barstool and drinking
straight whiskey. The four other couples in the dinner club stood around the granite
kitchen island waiting in various poses of expectancy.
A story.
Who doesn’t love a good story? But this was her story.

“The story.” Kate leaned against the counter.

“Yes,” Rowan said from the other side of the kitchen.

“Fine, a story it is then,” Kate said, using a singsong voice of sarcasm, the voice
that as a child had sent her to her room one too many times. “Once upon a time, a
long time ago before I knew Rowan, I slept with someone else.”

The kitchen sank into unsure silence, the friends not knowing whether to laugh or
play along.

“Shocking, isn’t it? I mean, I’m sure Rowan never slept with another soul before he
knew me. Right? Well, then … even more shocking, I got pregnant with Jack Adams and
we had a baby and then we chose adoption. This baby, this little girl, found me and
found us.” Kate took in a long, deep breath. “So, there you go. That’s the story.”

Larson came to Kate’s side. “Jack Adams? Are you shitting me?”

“No, I don’t think I am.”

“But you and Jack were … the perfect and inseparable couple. If he was the father …
why?” Larson looked to Rowan and cringed. “Sorry, buddy, I didn’t mean it that way.
Damn, why am I still talking? I should shut up now.”

“Good idea,” his wife said and took his hand.

Larson looked to Kate. “I just think it’s unbelievable that you got to meet your daughter
after all these years. That’s the part of the story I wanted you to tell. It’s … surreal.”

“Yep, surreal,” Rowan said and stood from the barstool. He left the kitchen and then
the house shivered with the slammed front door.

“Damn, I’m an ass,” Larson said. “He told me all about it last night and I thought
it was common knowledge. You know, something you’d want to talk about. A cool reunion
story. Forgive me.”

“It’s not your fault, Larson. It’s mine.” She glanced around the kitchen at the faces
of the couples she’d known for years. Oh, she thought, the things we don’t know about
friends. They were all staring at her as if they’d just met her, as if they hadn’t
laughed and cried, as if she’d never babysat their kids or cooked them dinner.

Bessie spoke first. “Girlfriend, it’s not a big deal. We…” she motioned to the women
in the room. “Are here for you. We can’t wait to hear everything. But I know you gotta
run off and catch that Rowan.”

“Thanks. I’ll call later…”

“I’ll repeat myself,” Larson said. “I’m an ass.”

“No.” Kate shook her head and hugged him. “You are not.”

*   *   *

Rowan sat in the car waiting on Kate, which brought relief. She climbed into the passenger
seat and placed a hand on his leg. “I am so, so sorry this is hard on you. I don’t
know how to make it any better. I just don’t. What do you want me to do?”

“Stop talking about it.”

“I wasn’t. You’re the one who told Larson.”

Rowan stared out the windshield. “Stop talking about it. Stop obsessing about it.
Stop seeing your old love. Just stop.” Then he looked at her and his eyes were cold,
marbles from a bowl, not real. “Tell me now, Kate. Look me in the eye and tell me
that you don’t love Jack Adams. If you say that, I’ll believe you.”

There it was—the small space in a world where everything changes with a single answer,
an honest answer. “I can’t,” she said, closing her eyes. “I can’t say that.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“But I want to move on, Rowan. I do. I’m with you because I want to be.”

“I wish that was enough. God, I wish that was enough. You should see the way you look
when you talk about him. You should see the way you smile when you talk about both
of them.”

“No,” she said so quietly she wasn’t sure she even said it.

“Look how we’re hurting each other. Look at the things I’m doing and saying. This
is turning us into people we don’t want to be. It’s turning me into someone I don’t
recognize.”

“You told your friends without asking me.”

He held up his hand, stopping her. “No. These aren’t just my friends. Supposedly they’re
our
friends. They’ve tried for years to be your friends, but you don’t let anyone in,
Kate. Don’t you even sort of see that? You keep your distance, always on the surface
of things, always a little bit not-there. It’s killing me.”

“Don’t do this,” she said.

“Do what? Tell the truth? Well, here it is: We need to take a break. We need to breathe
our own air for a while.”

Kate wanted to find a way to talk him out of this, to continue trying to be happy
inside their life, but she couldn’t and didn’t.

twenty-seven

BIRMINGHAM, ALABAMA

2010

The baggage carousel turned endlessly, suitcases and golf bags a jumbled mass. People
pushed forward as they grabbed their belongings. Kate spied her own luggage—a small
black bag with a pink tag. The Birmingham airport was crowded on that Friday afternoon
and yet when she walked outside, she didn’t need to wait for a cab, because no one
else was in line. It seemed as if the whole world had someone to pick them up and
she alone was alone.

She could have called Jack to get her, but she wanted to surprise him. Or maybe she
didn’t want him to tell her not to come. She waved at the cab.
This is real.
She was in Birmingham and she was putting it all on the line:
I want you and you alone,
she would say. She hadn’t said that yet. She’d told him she wanted him in her life,
that she missed him, but not yet that confession.

The cab driver took Kate’s bag, throwing it into the open trunk. “Where to?”

She recited Jack’s address and slid into the backseat. The short drive into Forest
Park took her past downtown. She looked up to Vulcan and she wanted to whisper a prayer
to the iron god, but he wouldn’t be any help at all. And she wasn’t sure what would
help. Telling the truth seemed the only thing that mattered.

His house was dark in the afternoon shadows, and she stood on the flagstone front
porch for longer than she wanted. Her bravado had fled. Finally she lifted her hand
and pressed the buzzer, hearing the sound echo through the house, the empty house.

Again, she hadn’t thought through her plan. He wasn’t home. For all she knew, he could
be on a two-month trip to Europe. Or out with a date he wanted to bring home. She
turned around and faced the street, her back to the front door. She slid down, leaning
against the doorframe and then sitting on her suitcase. Far off, a train called a
mournful sound as it passed through the city without stopping.

The December air changed its mind every few minutes, calm and then lifting a cold-draft
reminder of winter’s stay. Kate pulled her coat closer and waited. What was there
left to do?

An hour later, but what seemed many hours later, Jack’s truck rounded the corner and
turned into the driveway. He spoke to someone in the passenger seat, laughing, and
he didn’t see her. She wanted the flagstone to crack open, create a crevice to hide
inside. She dropped her head onto her knees and closed her eyes: maybe he’d go in
the back door, never see her, and she’d call a cab.