Remember Love (5 page)

Alec nodded
toward Grant’s clothes. "Government treating you well?"

Grant grinned. "Yeah,
I get by. If the citizens of Manatee Bay behave, I might actually finish my lunch."

Alec took the
water the waitress handed to him. "No one makes a fuss here."

"We’ve got a
couple of troublemakers." Grant took his water then winked at the
waitress. She blushed and smiled before rushing off.

Amused, Alec set
his water down. "Flirting brings food faster?"

"It helps.
Adds spice to my day, too." Grant’s cheeks dimpled and Alec didn’t bother
to hide his smirk.

So Grant was a
womanizer. A far cry from the nerdy prankster he’d been in high school. People
changed. Alec unrolled his silverware and lined them up against his plate.
Would people see him differently too?

"You’re
still an organizer."

With surprise,
Alec looked down at his place area. Maybe he hadn’t changed after all.

"You
married?"

Grant’s question
seemed to come out of nowhere and Alec schooled his face into a placid mask. "No.
You?"

"No way."
Grant laughed, leaned back and folded his hands behind his head. "You came
close though, closer than I ever have. You seen her lately?"

Because he could
still hear Katrina’s voice in his head, see the sorrow in her eyes as she’d sat
on the swing, he feigned ignorance. "Who?"

"Interesting."
Grant’s brows pulled together. "You’re pretending not to know who I mean."

The waitress
placed a basket of yeasty garlic bread on the table, her service probably faster
than normal thanks to Grant’s masculine appeal. Alec grinned at the thought. He
grabbed a slice of bread. He didn’t want to talk about Kitty or the depths of
her deceit. Thinking about her, about the son he’d never had a chance to know,
made him want to do something violent. Ram his fist into a wall or scream until
his throat bled.

He dug into his
food and hoped Grant would mind his own business.

Apparently that
wasn’t possible. Grant let the subject rest for less than a minute.

"I called
you about that building for more than one reason," Grant said. "When
I saw her at the grocery store a few months ago, she freaked me out. The last
time I saw her was eight years ago, at the park with her kid." He stopped
talking as a grimace stretched his face. "He looked like you."

Alec’s throat
convulsed and he reached for his water, unable to reply.

Grant’s fingers
drummed against the table as Alec choked the water down.

"Was he
yours?" 

"Yes."
Harsh and quick, the answer broke free from his lips.

"Why’d you
leave then?" Grant paused, head cocked. "I never thought you’d be the
type to abandon your kid. Just figured she’d cheated and that’s why—"

"I didn’t
know about Joey."
My son.
He sipped his water again, willing the
liquid to ease the parched sting inside. His jaw ached.

Disapproval
painted a scowl on Grant’s face. "She kept him a secret."

Alec nodded
slowly, almost feeling as though he betrayed her. Which was absurd. She’d done
the betraying.

"I should
have said something. Everyone felt so bad for her and I had my suspicions he
was yours but I knew you wouldn’t leave your own kid." Grant visibly
winced, then his features darkened. "I’m sorry."

Alec waved his
hand, forcing himself to look fine. "It’s not like we talked more than
once a year."

Grant shook his
head. "At the store, she looked so lost and ill that I thought maybe you
could help her, since she didn’t have any family left."

He didn’t want to
help her. He wanted to hurt her, to punish her for the way she’d destroyed one
of his greatest dreams. "Katrina and I aren’t close. I doubt I can help
her with anything."

"No kidding.
I wouldn’t either." Disgust thickened Grant’s voice. "You two didn’t
keep in touch at all, huh?"

"The first
time I saw her was Thursday, the day before the reunion."

"She still
look rough?"

"Kind of."
No, she’d looked beautiful to him. Sad, older, but lovely in her way. Too bad her
beauty only flowed skin deep. He changed the subject. "The building is in
a good spot. Are you sure you don’t want to take a share of the investment?
There’ll be a huge profit."

"That’s
generous of you, but I’m not a business man. I’ll buy the coffee though."

"We’ll give
the police force a discount when we open," Alec said.

 They finished
eating in silence. Alec’s thoughts roved to Kitty. As if leaving him at the
altar for no apparent reason in front of everyone hadn’t been enough, now he
found out she’d done this to him. Let people think he'd left  his child.
Abandoned him.  He clenched his fork, wishing it would break beneath the
pressure of his hands. That it would gouge his skin, pain him in a different way
to take his mind off the sore that festered in his heart.

He would never
forgive her for this.

Ever.

CHAPTER
FIVE

Katrina walked
into O’Donnell’s at noon, scanned the room for the widow and plunged into a sea
of lunchtime diners. Her head spun from all the noise, the mingling of scents
that accosted her.

She didn’t want
to be here, doling out free stuff because she felt guilty. Her friend Joe, the
widow's pastor, could have come over and picked up the books. Why hadn’t she
called him? Groaning, she beelined for a table in the center of the room where Widow
Carmichael sat, her permanent frown sending shivers up Katrina’s neck.

Just lunch. She
could do this. Face the widow, appease her demands and then run back to the
bookstore. Wetting her lips, she pulled out the chair and sat. The vinyl seat
felt cold against her thighs, despite the warmth of the crowded room. She
clutched her purse, pushing it against her stomach as if it could ward off the
world around her.

"I’m so glad
you could make it, Katrina." Widow Carmichael studied her over the rims of
tiny oval glasses.

"Thank you
for inviting me." She pushed her own glasses up and hoped the widow could
hear her over the din.

"We’ll order
first then talk, hmmm?"

"Sure."
A forced smile twisted her lips and she picked up the plastic menu. The reunion
had been easier to face than this crowded atmosphere. She hunkered down in her
seat and let Pastor Joe’s secretary take charge. They ordered their food and
waited for it to come, the widow passing the time with small talk about her
granddaughter.

A waitress
eventually brought their food. The scent of Katrina’s stuffed shells turned her
stomach.

"We need new
books for the church library," the widow said abruptly. "As a fellow
Christian, I’m sure I can count on you to donate something." She smiled at
Katrina, a menacing stretch of her wrinkled lips.

Somehow Katrina
managed a few bites of food and a whispered consent to bring books by the
church during the week. When Katrina thought she wouldn’t be able to handle
another minute in the congested restaurant, the widow set down her fork.

"Do bring
those books soon, dear. I’ll see you Sunday." She rose and swept out of
the room, nose high, pocketbook in hand.

Katrina glanced
at the unpaid bill that lay next to the widow’s empty plate. She was almost
afraid to look in her wallet and discover a lack of funds. Did she have enough
to cover both their meals? Joe would be so upset to know his secretary had left
her with the check. Somehow she had to pay up.

Face ablaze, she
opened her purse and dug for her wallet. Her skin prickled suddenly. Almost as
though someone were watching her. Shoulders forward, she peeked around the
room. No one seemed to be paying her any attention.

Releasing the
breath caught in her throat, she carefully counted out the cash she’d tucked in
this morning. A dollar short. And she still felt eyes on her. She fumbled with
the wallet and spilled change onto the table. Several quarters rolled off the edge.
She counted out the four quarters still on the table and scooped up the rest of
the change, sliding it into the zippered pocket of her wallet. She eyed the
money on the floor.

Only a few coins,
but they’d buy eggs. Before she could lean forward and snatch them up, a man
bent in front of her. His tan fingers plucked the quarters from the ground in a
smooth movement and his overly long hair fell past his features.

Cologne, a tease
of old memories, rose above the scents of lunch, and her breath hitched.
Prickles skittered across the backs of her hands.

"Playing
when you should be working?" Alec held out the money. His tone sounded
tight and his eyes seared her. They blazed, scorched her conscience, pointed
out her perfidy.

Fingers
trembling, she held out a hand and he dumped the money into her palm, careful
not to touch her. His hair, so like Joey’s, hung over one eye as though it
couldn’t be bothered to stay where it should. Tears stung the backs of her
eyelids but she met his burning gaze.

"Thank you."

Their eyes locked
and for a moment the past rushed up against her, a deep and cold wave that threatened
to pull her to the depths of her grief until she drowned. He nodded. The swift,
curt movement of his chin left no doubt as to where she stood in his opinion.

She squeezed the
money in her palm, letting the coins’ edges bite into her skin. If only he’d
leave. Leave her to the selfish sorrow that had been her only company for the
last three years. But she didn’t deserve a reprieve. Look at what she’d done to
him. For the rest of his life, he’d remember this.

And she doubted
he’d ever forgive the betrayal.

There was a deep,
angry look to the set of his chin. So cold...swallowing hard, she looked away.
She watched as his shoes shifted direction, as they left her sitting alone and
afraid, and wondering if things would ever feel right again.

*****

Tuesday morning,
Alec signed on the dotted line. He scribbled his name throughout the pages of
the contract then handed it to the building’s owner.

Greg Seaward
grabbed at the contract from across their table at Denny’s, his sausage fingers
quick to flip through the folder in search of Alec’s check. He smiled, then
took the check out and stuffed it in his back pocket. The booth groaned as he leaned
forward, belly digging into the edges of the table.

"What are
you going to do now?" Alec asked while glancing around the busy
restaurant. As soon as the bill came, he could head back to Manatee Bay and
settle things with Katrina once and for all.

Seaward scratched
his week’s worth of whiskers. "There’s a place in Orlando that looks
promising. Too much effort trying to drive down to Manatee Bay once a month. This
here’s a good building. I’ll miss the money. Lots of revenue from the pizza
place."

"Not so much
from Kat’s Korner, huh?"

The man grinned, the
check in his pocket loosening his tongue. "That one’s been late on the
payment a few times. I wanted to give her the boot but she’s so sad and all, I
was waiting."

For a better lease
agreement, Alec bet, but he kept silent. Thankfully the waitress came and after
paying, he waved to Seaward and drove back to his hotel.

For the next few days
he wrapped up other business for his uncle and cleared his schedule for the
coming weeks. And as he worked, a thick and steady anger grew within. He
snapped at his secretary over the phone and lost his temper with a slow waiter.

All Katrina’s
fault.

He couldn’t
forget her sitting at O’Donnell’s, calmly having lunch with the Widow Carmichael,
a spiteful excuse for a woman. He’d scared Katrina when he gave her the measly
pile of coins. She’d paled, shriveled before his very eyes. Maybe she’d seen deeper
than he intended, straight down to his bone-deep rage.

Good. Scaring her
had felt right. The satisfaction of having the upper hand eased the monster
inside that clawed at his guts for justice.

Alec checked out
of his hotel on Friday, lugged his bags to the new car he’d rented and hoisted
them in. As he drove to Manatee Bay, his head pounded with the rhythm of his
thoughts. He gripped the wheel, readying himself to tell Katrina exactly what
he thought of her as soon as he walked into her store.

And then he’d
slam the contract down and take from her, just as she’d stolen from him. Jaw
clenched, he turned off the interstate and onto the narrow road that would lead
him to his hometown.

He wouldn’t hide
his actions from her. Sneak around like a coward. Up front and honest, he’d give
her the tiniest taste of what had been goring his conscience for the last week.

Thus prepared, he
pulled into the parking lot and stopped in front of Kat’s Korner. He marched up
to the store and jerked on the door handle. It didn’t open. Scowling, he shaded
his eyes and peered in. No lights.

"Excuse me?"

A
cigarette-crackled voice intruded on his spying and he swiveled around. The
woman had come out of the pizza place. Familiar frizzy blonde hair, broad smile
and dimples in each cheek.

"Hey, Lynn."
He took a quick breath, trying to check the anger still swirling through him.

She squinted. "Alec
Munroe?"

"Yeah."
He thumbed his jean pockets, tempted to bolt back to his car.

That broad smile
of hers faded, replaced by a frown. "Kat’s Korner is closed."

"For how
long?"

"What’s it
to you?"

Oh, yeah.
Definitely an edge to her tone. She’d always liked Katrina. He remembered the
dirty looks they’d get when Lynn served them long ago. Lynn hadn’t approved of
him. She still didn’t.

He flicked his
gaze over her, made his expression into the blank stare that unnerved haggling
sellers. Lynn took a step back.

Uncle Jim’s
intimidation tactics could always be counted on.

Alec stepped
forward, out of the sun and into the meager shade provided by the building’s
overhang. His shirt clung damp to his skin, despite the move. "I need to
talk to Katrina. Where can I find her?"

Lynn’s eyes
widened. "I heard her friend Rachel say they were going to Sharon’s, over
on Patton Place." In a quick movement, she disappeared into the Pizza
Place.

Hopped away like
a scared little rabbit.

Jaw clenched, Alec
turned on his heel and jumped in the car. He felt like cussing but he’d quit
the habit after becoming a Christian months ago. The last thing he needed was
to butt heads with nosy Rachel. She’d try to block Katrina from him.

He frowned and
started the car. No one could keep him from Katrina. She deserved every bit of
what was coming to her.

Justice.

*****

A rescue mission
wasn’t Katrina’s idea of fun. She scrunched into the seat of Rachel’s SUV, consumed
with thoughts of Alec. She shot a look at Rachel’s determined profile. Was this
even necessary, dragging Sharon from her home? After lunch with Widow Carmichael
the other day, Katrina had sucked up all the guts she had and forced herself to
ask Sharon if Steve hit her.

Sharon denied any
wrongdoing on his part, insisting he would never do something like that.
Katrina wasn’t so sure. She’d met him a few times and found his unblinking
stare disturbing. Over the years, avoiding him became a pattern because he sent
chills up her spine.

She shivered and
hunched lower in her seat as Rachel swung around a curve in the road. Rachel
could have done this herself. What if Steve were there? What if he came home
from work while they loaded up the kids?

She frowned and
stared out the passenger window.

Rachel pulled
onto a driveway of cracked asphalt. The dilapidated house caught Katrina by
surprise. "Was it this run-down last week?"

"You were in
a fog and didn’t notice." Rachel turned off the engine and they both got
out of the vehicle.

"Let’s do
this." Rachel marched to the door and rapped three times.

Katrina gaped at
the disrepair of Sharon’s yard. Her employee usually came to work
professionally dressed with neat hair and organizational skills that would put
Martha Stewart to shame.

But her yard … Katrina’s
nose wrinkled at the weeds and debris littering the patches of grass, the
crooked shutters in need of a paint job, the stench of rotting garbage. For all
of Sharon’s years at Kat’s Korner, now Katrina knew why she’d never been
invited over.

"Is she
home?" She stepped behind Rachel.

When Rachel called
this morning and announced her rescue plan, regret had thrown Katrina into
sadness. She’d failed her friend. The belief hovered over her as she stared at
Sharon’s cracked-paint door.

"I should’ve
urged Sharon to leave Steve sooner," she said.

"Probably
wouldn’t have made a difference." Rachel rapped again, louder.

"But I should’ve
seen the truth. I was with her almost every day." The afternoon sunlight heated
the back of her neck. A warm trickle of wetness slid down her temple. She shifted,
uncomfortable with seeing herself in a different light. She’d hardly noticed
Sharon’s jumpiness until recently. If there’d been bruises, she’d missed them. Locked
in her own grief, she’d reasoned Sharon could take care of herself. The
inaction covered a cowardice Katrina only now realized ran bone deep.

"Truth can
be hidden pretty easily. Stop worrying. I told her to be packed and ready."
Rachel pounded on the door this time, and it cracked open. A pair of almond-colored
eyes peered out. The door swung wide and little Paul launched himself into
Katrina’s arms.

She’d watched the
kids over the years so Sharon could have nights out and without fail, Paul
always snuggled right up to her.

"Auntie Kat,"
he whispered. She hugged his wiggly little body, inhaling the fresh scent of
Johnson and Johnson before setting him down. She swallowed the catch in her
throat and followed him into the dim house.

"Sharon,
where are you?" Rachel called.

"In the
bedroom," came the muffled answer. Katrina tried not to notice the stained
carpet or the peeling wallpaper as they moved down the hallway.

Sharon stood in a
small bedroom, throwing clothes into a suitcase. Her blonde hair hung in greasy
clumps and her clothes bagged around her as if she’d shrunken overnight. Tear
streaks stained her cheeks and her eyes were puffy. Katrina winced. Sharon’s
black eye looked even worse, the purple and green fading to a sickly eggplant
and mud.

Focus.

Escape first, hug
later.

"Where are
the rest of the kids?" A quick fear pulsed through Katrina, urging her to
get them out of the house even though Steve had already left for work.

"In the
other bedroom." Sharon turned dull eyes away and continued packing.
Katrina hurried out of the room, Paul still clutching her hand.