Heart-Shaped Hack (26 page)

“You were going to move?” Diane said. “What about the food pantry?”

“I was going to resign. I loved Ian and I wanted to be with him.” Kate started crying again.

Diane kissed Kate’s temple and smoothed her hair the way she had when Kate was a little girl.

“He was the one I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with. When people talk about a once-in-a-lifetime love, I thought I knew what they meant. But I didn’t. Ian was the man I didn’t know I needed until I met him. The whole time I was with Stuart, Ian was out there, waiting. And we found each other, but then I lost him.”

“I promise you’ll get through this.”

Kate wiped her eyes. “Right now I’d settle for not feeling quite so much pain.”

“It’s going to take time,” Diane said gently.

Her mother spoke the truth. It’s what Kate would have said to anyone who had suffered a similar loss. “I think I’ll go to bed,” Kate said. “I don’t want any more of my wine.”

She kissed her mother and then went into the bedroom and lay down on Ian’s side of the bed, clutching her phone and listening to his voice mail message as she cried herself to sleep.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Diane went home a week after Ian died. Kate had convinced her mother she’d be okay on her own, not that she actually believed it. But she couldn’t keep using her mother as a buffer, a crutch. It was time to see if she would sink or swim.

“I can come back in a few weeks,” Diane said.

“We’ll see,” Kate said. “I love you, Mom. Thank you so much for being there for me.”

After Diane left, Kate continued with the routine Diane had set for her: sleep, shower, dress, try to eat. Now she added work, and walking through the door of the food pantry on her first day back was the most difficult thing she’d had to do since losing Ian.

She owed it to her clients not to look like she was at death’s door and to try to function like a real human. But her eyes were constantly swollen and red-rimmed, surrounded by dark circles. She kept a bottle of eyedrops in her desk drawer, and she stopped wearing eye makeup. Her complexion, normally so healthy and bright, looked dull and ashen. Styling her hair in anything other than a ponytail seemed like a waste of time. Acting as if nothing was wrong took a monumental amount of energy, and she felt physically drained by the end of the day, a brittle shell of her former self.

Her smiles were forced and she could only maintain them for so long, but she tried her best, especially for new clients. She didn’t want them to think there was something wrong with her although many probably wondered if there was. When Samantha came in with the kids, Kate held Georgie on her lap and tried not to cry. Only Helena knew what had happened to Ian, and she treated Kate like one of her own daughters, fussing over her, hugging her, doing whatever she could to help.

Two weeks after Ian died, Kate was having a particularly hard day and had been hiding out in the back room so no one would see her cry. That morning, she’d found a note Ian had once left for her and that she’d shoved into a drawer in the kitchen and forgotten about. But then her smoke alarm had started to chirp while she was getting ready for work—the relentless, grating noise almost sending Kate over the edge—and the note was in the drawer where she kept the batteries.

Picking up dinner. Back soon, baby. xoxo

She’d put the note in her pocket and had reached for it throughout the morning. It had the same effect as Ian’s voice mail message, which she listened to constantly. It only heightened her sorrow, but Kate couldn’t stop reading his words, couldn’t stop rubbing her fingers across the paper. She promised herself that tomorrow she’d leave the note at home.

Helena stuck her head into the back room. “Kate?” Her tone was gentle, the way it always was with Kate now.

She looked up. “Yes?” Her voice sounded raspy and hoarse.

“A client is asking for you.”

“I’ll be right out.”

Everyone at the food pantry had been picking up her slack, Helena especially. Feeling like she wasn’t pulling her weight only contributed to Kate’s sadness and general unhappiness. She needed to work harder on pulling herself together, and she promised herself that she would. It was just that getting through the day felt like wading through quicksand.

There wasn’t time for eyedrops, but Kate smoothed her hands over her hair and tightened her ponytail. Zach Nielsen, the young man who’d been so worried about his younger brother, was waiting for her by her desk.

“Hi, Zach,” she said.

“Hey. My mom wanted me to stop by and say thank you. She’s been so worried about my brother, and she said you really saved us.”

“Please tell her it was my pleasure. We’re happy to help.”

He looked at her curiously, and Kate became painfully aware of her appearance. “Um, are you okay?”

She felt the tears forming again and blinked rapidly as heat flooded her face. Many of Kate’s clients had shed their own tears at the food pantry. They would come to her hungry and destitute, but when they left they would be smiling. They deserved an executive director who was strong and mentally healthy and would take away their troubles and save them from their dire circumstances.

Not a broken woman who looked like she was the one who needed saving most of all.

Mustering a weak smile, she attempted to convince him he was in good hands. “I’m fine,” she said, fooling no one.

“Okay,” he said, looking embarrassed to have caught her in such a personal display of emotion. “I guess I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

“Take care, Zach.”

Kate’s shoes kicked up plumes of muddy water as she marched through the puddles left behind by the melting snow. Spring in St. Anthony Main was a dirty, sodden affair, as if Mother Nature’s brushstrokes had come from a palette of gray, black, and white. The pastel colors of spring would not arrive for another month at least, and that’s only if the season arrived on time in Minnesota.

Kate had been staring at the ground and didn’t notice the man until she was halfway up the steps to her building’s front door. Stopping suddenly when she sensed him, she swerved to the left, her arm brushing the fabric of his suit coat. He was leaning against the metal handrail, the same one Ian had once leaned against while waiting for his cab. He looked like he was in his early fifties. His hair was light brown with a sprinkle of gray, and his eyes were blue.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“No problem,” he said, and his smile was kind. “My name is Don Murray. I’m your neighbor, by the way. I’ve seen you in the hallway a couple of times. I dropped off a business card when I moved in. I gave it to the woman who answered your door.”

“You did?” Kate didn’t remember that. He must have come by when her mother was there because Kate rarely received unannounced visitors and hadn’t opened her door to anyone since Ian died. The man fished a card out of his pocket and handed it to her.

“In case you can’t find the other one,” he said. “Let me know if you ever need anything. I’m right down the hall from you.”

“Sure. Thanks” A quick glance at the card revealed his name and phone number, but there was no business listed, no occupation. Kate shoved the card into her pocket. “Sorry, I’m Kate. Kate Watts.” She held out her hand and he shook it.

“Nice to meet you.”

“You too.” She didn’t want to be rude, but she didn’t have the energy for small talk and her head was pounding. “Well. I’ll see you around.”

“Have a nice day, Kate.”

She made her way up the steps and disappeared into the building.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Stuart stopped by the food pantry on what would have been Ian’s thirty-third birthday. Kate was hiding in the back room again, this time under the pretense of doing inventory after experiencing a particularly intense and sudden crying jag, which she feared might recur at any moment. She was momentarily confused when she looked up from the cans she’d been rearranging and noticed him standing there.

“Hi,” he said. Stuart had once spent a considerable amount of time at the food pantry helping to unload food, build shelves, and carry in desks and office equipment. Whatever Kate had needed in the early days of the food pantry, Stuart had been there to lend a hand.

“Hi.”

He approached her slowly, as if she were a wounded animal that might strike out at him, and hugged her. Stuart might not have been the most stimulating man she’d ever known, but she’d once found safety and comfort in his arms and she found it again now.

“I was walking by and thought I’d stop in and see if you were okay. I ran into Paige and she told me you were dating that guy who crashed into the river, except she said his last name was Smith and I don’t really understand that. Anyway, I wanted to tell you I was sorry about what happened to him. If you ever want to get together, for a drink or dinner or whatever, just let me know, okay?”

“Thanks, Stuart. That’s really nice of you.”

Kate had wanted excitement. She had wanted an adventure.

But maybe safe was better.

Maybe safe wasn’t so boring after all.

He’d almost reached the door when Kate spoke. “Stuart? Maybe I’ll give you a call sometime.”

He smiled and said, “I would really like that.”

Kate went for a walk after she locked up the food pantry. She’d been doing that a lot lately because her apartment seemed too quiet and empty now that it was just her again. She set off toward the pedestrian walkway of the Stone Arch Bridge that spanned the Mississippi River below the St. Anthony Falls.

Once she reached the bridge, she pulled out her phone and listened to Ian’s voice mail message.
“Hey, sweetness. Just left my place. I’ve been thinking about you all day. Be there soon. Love you.”

She knew that listening to his message so often wasn’t healthy.

She knew it was preventing her from starting the healing process.

She thought she might be losing her mind because of her attachment to it, and that scared her a little.

Instead of playing the message again, she chose the only contact in the phone and dialed. The call went to voice mail as she knew it would. His cell was either resting at the bottom of the river or had been carried downstream. Even if it had stayed in his pocket, it would have been damaged beyond repair, the corrosion starting immediately upon the phone making contact with the water.

Kate listened to the generic outgoing message that had come with the phone and began to speak after the beep. “Today is your birthday, and I’m having a really hard time. I miss you, Ian. I loved you so much, and I don’t know what to do. I listen to your voice mail message every day, multiple times. I listen to it at night when I’m lying in bed, and I cry because you’re not there. I found a note you left me, and I keep it in my pocket and I can’t stop touching it.
”

She was crying hard, wedging the words in and around her sobs. A man walking his dog gave her a concerned look, but she ignored him.

“You were supposed to be the one I would spend the rest of my life with. I’m so mad at you for taking that car out. I will never get over the loss of you, and all I have are the things you left behind. Sometimes I wear your clothes, and I know that’s weird, but they smell like you and when I’m wearing them I feel close to you. I will never love anyone the way I loved you, and I will never stop loving you. My heart hurts so much and I’m trying to be strong, but it’s so hard. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, and it’s not fair that I didn’t get more time with you.”

A beep sounded in her ear when she ran out of time and the recording cut her off. She rested her head on the railing of the bridge, her shoulders shaking as she cried.

When she was all cried out, she looked up and hesitated only for a moment before heaving the phone into the Mississippi River.

That night, Kate reached into the cupboard for one of the glasses she’d given Ian for Christmas. She filled it halfway with bourbon and sat in the chair by the window where she had waited for Ian to come home. But he would never come home again no matter how long she sat there.

She took a drink and winced at the taste. She would never truly be a whiskey girl, but since Ian wasn’t there to celebrate his birthday she’d decided she’d drink it for him. The second mouthful went down a little easier, and the alcohol warmed her, which she welcomed because she felt cold all the time.

When the glass was empty, she poured another. Her tears flowed freely because at home she didn’t have to hide them or pretend everything was okay. She drank and she cried, and her longing for him was as bottomless as her glass.

Earlier that day, shortly after Stuart left, Samantha had come into the food pantry alone. She’d pulled Kate aside and whispered, “I got some money. This is the second time it’s happened. The bank traced it to one of those charitable websites where you can ask for help and people can donate anonymously. But I never went to that website, and I never asked for help. I spent it because I needed it so badly. Do you think it’s okay to spend this one too?”

Kate had scared Samantha when she’d grabbed her hands and started crying.

“What is it?” Samantha had asked. “What’s wrong, Kate?”

“Nothing,” she said. “I’m just so happy for you. You should definitely spend the money.”

“If you think it’s okay, then I will.”

Kate finished the second glass of bourbon, head spinning and tears rolling down her face. She didn’t know why some people could have everything and others had to struggle and fight. Why some people lived to one hundred but others would not see thirty-three.

The only thing she knew for sure was that Ian had not been granted enough time on this earth, and she’d give anything to have him back.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Ian had been dead for thirty-one days when Kate received the message. She’d been walking home from work in the pouring rain, umbrella turned inside out from the gusty wind that had accompanied the downpour, when her phone sounded an alert to let her know she’d received a new e-mail. She forgot all about it until she went to call her mother an hour later and couldn’t find her phone. After finally tracking it down in the front pocket of the soaked jeans she’d removed immediately upon her arrival at home, she remembered the alert. When she hung up with Diane, she scrolled through the unread e-mails. A message from the dating site she no longer used caught her eye.