Celebration (34 page)

“Woodie, please don't go. It's Christmas Eve. We should be all together.”

“There's one too many people here, honey. I'm not comfortable with the situation, and I don't want to say something I might regret later on. Do you want me to take any of the dogs with me?”

Kristine shook her head. Her face was miserable. Of course he was right. Woodie was always right.

“If you don't mind, I'll go out the front door.”

“Your jacket is in the kitchen,” Kristine mumbled.

“You know what, Kristine? I'd rather freeze than go back in there for it.”

“I'll get it,” Pete said. He was back in a moment with the shearling jacket. He held it while Woodie slipped his arms into it.

“Merry Christmas, everyone,” Woodie said as he was about to close the door behind him. Kristine stood rooted to the floor, her eyes filling.

“We're going to bed,” Mike said. Tyler, Cala, and Pete were on their feet in seconds.

“But what about the presents. I thought . . . Never mind, go to bed. We'll open them in the morning with the girls. Sleep . . . sleep well.”

Kristine wiped at her eyes with the hem of the sweatshirt. “God, I need a drink.” She turned to see Jack behind her.

“No, you don't need a drink. A drink is the last thing you need. What you need is a ton of guts. You got them—haul them out and use them. You got through eight of the worst years of your life. Your horizon is full and rich. I know I'm not family even though sometimes I feel like I am. The best is yet to come for you. Woodie is a hell of a guy. Your kids love him. Jesus, you love him, too. This... this, whatever this little visit is, is nothing more than a setback. Look it in the face, deal with it, and go on. You're tough enough to do that. You're an okay lady in my book. Please don't screw it all up now. That's all I have to say. I think I'll go to bed. Merry Christmas, Kristine. If you need me for the dogs during the night, just come and get me.”

“Okay, Jack. Thanks for that little pep talk.”

“My pleasure.”

Kristine gathered up the glasses, napkins, and leftover trash to pile on the trays. She carried it out to the kitchen. She stared at Logan for a full five minutes before she called Sugar to her side. “You can sit at the table, Logan. Would you like a cup of coffee? I see that there is some left in the pot.”

“I'd rather have a drink.”

“I don't keep alcohol in the house. I turned into an alcoholic when you didn't come back. With the help of a dear friend, I overcame it. I'm still an alcoholic,” she said, pouring coffee she knew was going to be black and bitter.

“You aren't . . . I expected . . .”

“I know what you expected, Logan. You thought I sat here pining away for you and that when you returned, I would throw myself into your arms. There was a point when I would have done that. That was a long time ago. All I want from you now is to tell me why you're here and what it is you want. Tomorrow, I want you out of here. I don't ever want to see you again. I think I speak for the kids as well.”

“You poisoned them against me, didn't you?”

“I didn't have to. You did that yourself. They turned on me, too, for allowing you to ruin their lives. It's taken all this time to convince them I'm a worthwhile person, a mother who loves them deeply. They didn't trust me any more than they trusted you. At best, our relationship is still fragile. I will not allow you to invade our lives and inflict harm on any one of us.”

Kristine fumbled in her pocket for a cigarette. She lit it, and then blew a luscious smoke ring that moved up until it circled Logan's head like a halo.

“You don't smoke. When did you take up that filthy habit?”

“That's pretty funny coming from you, Logan. You smoked like a chimney. But, to answer your question, I took it up around the same time I started to hit the bottle. You still haven't answered my question. Do it soon, Logan, or I'll boot your ass right out the kitchen door. I will get great pleasure from doing that.”

“I'm trying to find the right words, Kristine. This is very hard for me.”

“Just tell me why you took my money? Tell me why you deserted us. That's all I want to know. By the way, I sold the Kelly farm. I'm giving the money to the kids.”

“You can't do that. That was my parents' farm.”

“You should have thought about that before you deserted us and stole my money. My patience is wearing thin, Logan.”

“I didn't spend it, Kristine. It's all there in the envelope. At first I thought I was going to need it. I left you and the kids because . . . I'm dying. I didn't want to put you through that torture. I knew you wouldn't be able to handle my deterioration on a daily basis. I guess I thought . . . I had this cockamamie idea that I could buy a new kidney. To do that I needed a lot of money. Treatments were expensive. That's the best excuse I can offer. The two specialists I consulted had different opinions. One gave me eighteen months, the other said with proper treatment and dialysis, I might last three years until a donor could be found. As the years went on, I didn't get any worse, but I didn't get any better either. There were a lot of really black days. Until a few months ago, when my condition worsened. My days are numbered. I wanted to come back, to try and make things right. I guess I want to die on American soil. I want to die with my family around me. I see now that kind of thinking was a mistake on my part. I don't know why it didn't occur to me that you would all be so hateful and bitter. I understand it, though. I don't care about the farm. I'm surprised you got anything at all for it.”

Kristine tried to absorb what she'd just been told. She fired up another cigarette. “I'm sorry to hear that, Logan.” Logan dying. She could feel hot tears prick her eyelids. Something stirred in her, something she hadn't felt for a very long time.

“Not half as sorry as I am. This is a last-ditch effort on my part. There's a kidney specialist at George Washington who I was referred to. I've seen him twice. The best he can do is prolong things for a little while. I'll leave in the morning if that's what you want. I can stay in a hotel in DC. In fact, that might be better. I'll be closer to the hospital. I really wasn't going to come out here today. Then I started hearing the Christmas music, seeing the holiday shows on television, and I got sentimental. Yeah, hard as that is to believe, I really did feel it. So, the way I look at it is this. We're square. I gave you back the money, I apologized for leaving with what I thought at the time was a good reason. Look at you, Kristine. You look beautiful. You're healthy, you have your family, grandchildren, and a business. Talk to me, Kris. Tell me about your life these past eight years. Tell me how I can make things right before I ... go.”

Her whole body trembling, Kristine got up from the chair to stand by the sink. She filled the sink with hot, soapy water to have something to do. “I told you, I turned into a drunk. I overcame it, started the business, and it's thriving. It was hard on the kids. We just had enough money to get by. They worked all during college and during vacations. They hated me for a long time. I never saw them until they graduated. I never knew you beat them, Logan. I will never forgive you for that. Never! They don't just detest you, they hate you. And they blamed me for it all. I allowed it to happen. How could you do that? How? They flat out told me in the living room that if I allowed you to stay, they would leave.”

“I guess I wasn't a very nice person back then. You're making me sound like some sadist.”

“I saw the scars, Logan. Good little soldiers don't cry or tell tales. You were insidious.”

“It was the drugs I was on. I just learned that a few years ago. There were days I used to look in the mirror and wonder who it was I was seeing there. I knew I couldn't get off the medication. I didn't want to burden you. I hated myself for turning into that hateful person. If I explain, will they listen?”

“I doubt it.”

“I need to try. I don't want to go to my Maker with that on my soul. Just let me talk to them once. After that, I'll leave. I want to know I tried, that I gave it my best shot.”

“You're looking for absolution, Logan, and we're fresh out. You know that old saying, too much, too little, too late.”

“When you're dying it's never too late. I thought I could stay here, help out, do whatever is needed until I get to the point where I have to go to the hospital for the last time. I'd like us to have another shot at our marriage. We were happy once. We could be that way again. I always loved you, Kris. We were so good together. Those wonderful memories are what kept me going these last eight years.”

“Stop it, Logan. I don't want to hear all this. I divorced you. I had you declared dead. You aren't in my life, and that was by your choice. I would have taken care of you. I believed in the vow, in sickness and health, till death do us part. I would have honored that. Why couldn't you trust me?”

“I was trying to spare you and the kids. The end isn't going to be pretty. When I did my disappearing act, I thought I only had
months
to live, a year at the most, unless a miracle was found along the way. Eight years later I'm still looking for that miracle. I wanted you to be my miracle, Kris. I really did. Tomorrow before I leave, try and get the kids to talk to me so I can explain things. I don't want them to carry around hatred for me all their lives. By the way, I want to be cremated.”

“Shut up, Logan. Just shut up.”

“Would you mind getting me a glass of water, Kris. I need to take my pills. I'm a few hours late in taking them. That dog wouldn't let me move.”

Kristine felt a rush of guilt. She filled a water glass and handed it to Logan. She watched as he pulled six different pill bottles from his heavy jacket. He lined them up with precision before he popped the lids to shake them out.

“What are they?” she asked.

Logan shrugged. “They all have names that are difficult to pronounce. They're keeping me alive. One of these days they won't work anymore.”

“I'm sorry to hear that,” Kristine said. “I'm going to bed. You can sleep on the couch.”

“Wait a minute, Kristine. I want to give you something. I didn't come empty-handed.”

Kristine watched as Logan withdrew a jeweler's box from the inside pocket of his heavy jacket. He slid it across the table toward her. In spite of herself, she picked it up. She gasped. “It's beautiful, but you need to take it back. I don't move in the circles where I would wear something like this. I work with the animals all day. Return it and get your money back.” She slid the velvet box across the table. Hot tears pricked her eyelids again. She needed to get away from this man and into the privacy of her room, where she could think and allow herself to feel all the emotions she was trying to stifle.

“I thought you would like it. Each stone is flawless. A half carat each. One for each year of our married life, even the last eight. I guess I can't do anything right. I'm sorry if I made a poor choice.”

“I do like it. It's gorgeous. However, it's not practical for someone like me.”

“Why are you working so hard? Didn't you come into a hefty inheritance? Why are you doing all this? There must be a hundred dogs here. This can't be sanitary.”

“Sixty dogs. The heat went out. Yes, the inheritance came through, but it's going right back out. It's a long story, and I'm too tired to go into it. I have to work. I have to make this business into something that will provide security for our children and grandchildren.”

“But the inheritance, I don't understand.”

“It's simple. Your ancestors and my ancestors were the worst kind of slave traders. What they did to their workers was a sin. For the past four years Mr. Valarian and I have been working to try to track down descendants of those families so we can make things right. I don't want that kind of money on my conscience. Nor do my kids. We're giving it back.”

“That doesn't make any sense, Kristine,” Logan sputtered. “I resent your implying my ancestors had anything to do with something like that.”

“I have the records, Logan. There are
slave lists.
The words are so ugly I find myself getting sick each time I say them out loud. I spent four years of my life following up leads, writing letters, going all over the country trying to find families our families tore apart. It was an ugly, hateful, disgusting thing to have happened, and if I can do something about it, I will. You believe what you want to believe, and I'll believe what I know I can prove.”

Logan sighed. “You always were a do-gooder. I guess that was one of the reasons I loved you. I still do, Kristine. Can you ever forgive me, Kris? I know you still care for me. I can see it in your eyes.”

“Come along. I'll walk you to the couch. It's warm in the house, so you won't need any covers. Stay on the couch and don't get off, or the dogs will go after you. You're new to them, and I can't vouch for your safety. They've been through one trauma today. We'll talk in the morning.”

“Kristine?”

“What?”

“Merry Christmas.”

Kristine nodded. She didn't trust herself to speak.

In her room with the door closed, Kristine started to pace. From time to time she knuckled her eyes. Logan was dying. She needed to deal with that. Could she turn her back on him? Did she dare risk losing her children's love and respect for a man like Logan? What kind of person would she be if she turned her back on a dying man? No better than some of her ancestors. A divorce decree was a piece of paper. She'd borne the man downstairs on the couch three children. How did you turn your back on family? On the father of your children? What would six months or a year be out of her life?