Remember Love (7 page)

"I had a
plan, a very good plan. But things have changed now."

"Rachel
thinks you want revenge." She worked hard to keep her voice steady.

"Revenge?"
His mouth twisted. "You think I would wait ten years for some silly plan
of revenge, just because you started weeping at our wedding? Left me at the
altar? No, I understand why you ran." A mirthless laugh escaped his lips. "Marrying
an unemployed eighteen-year old from the wrong side of the tracks would scare
anybody, especially a girl with dreams as big as yours."

Katrina exhaled
softly. He didn’t sound angry or vengeful about their failed wedding. Perhaps
God would not allow her to reap all that she’d sown, for surely bitterness and
sorrow had been planted in her rejection of his love. In her withholding of his
child.

But his words
bothered her. They stirred up worry from deep inside. Did he really think his
financial status was why she’d rushed from the altar? She watched him fiddle
with the tablecloth and frowned.

He looked up,
questions in his dark eyes. "What happened to you, Katrina? Why are you
still here? Discovering you own Kat’s Korner shocked me."

"Dreams
change," she murmured. And found she didn’t regret it.

"You wanted
to see Paris. Rome. Have you even left the state?"

"My
priorities are different." She took a deep breath. "Look, I don’t
know why it even matters to you. What are these business plans of yours?"

"I thought
your mom owned the store and out of curiosity, I went in to check things out."

"Just
because you were curious?"

His eyebrows
pulled together. "I wanted to see you. Make sure you were okay. Married."
He stopped abruptly.

Prompted by a gut
feeling, she leveled a steady stare his way. "And?"

"If you were
alone..." He paused, and his gaze seemed to become more intense, narrowing
until she felt the breath in her body still, waiting for him to speak. "I planned
to steal your heart and marry you."

She exhaled
sharply.

"You’ve got
to be kidding me." She faltered, yet some part of her believed it of him.
He’d always been singular in his pursuits. Persistent. "It’s been ten
years."

"I was
completely serious at the time." His eyes rested on her and a ripple of
uneasiness shivered through her. The harsh line of his jaw told her clearly his
plans had recently changed.

Blinking, she reined
back the urge to fall on her knees and weep her remorse. Instead, she focused
on what had anchored her throughout the storms. "As you’ve already
guessed, Kat’s Korner is not doing so well. It wouldn’t be in your best
interest to become involved like you intimated at the reunion." She rose
and walked to the sink, feeling his gaze on her back. Her knees wobbled when
she turned to face him. "The box is in the garage. I’ll carry it to your
car."

Alec stood. "I’ll
get it. You don’t look like you can lift much over twenty pounds."

"I’m
stronger than I appear."

He grunted his
disbelief but she ignored it, battling instead the goose bumps that rose on her
arms. The chill residing in the pit of her stomach.

They walked into
the garage and she retrieved the neatly boxed carton of home movies, letters,
and pictures. As always, the heavy feel of the box tightened her chest, the
dusty surface bringing tears to prick at her eyelids.

"I’ve got
it." Alec reached for the box.

In the quiet dark
of the garage, she hesitated. Gripped the cardboard and pressed it against her
chest as though the memories within belonged only to her. He waited silently,
eyes unreadable, mouth drawn.

Swallowing,
surrendering, she gave him his box.

She pressed the
garage door button and it squealed open, a deafening grind that reminded her of
one more chore on the eternal to-do list.

Together they
walked into the bright Florida sun.

"Mike Weston
says you go to church."

"I do."
Katrina inhaled the rich scent of freshly cut grass, the newness of the day. God’s
mercies were supposed to be new every morning. If only she could believe it. And
yet, she felt a smile bloom on her face, unfurling like a rose to the sun.

Alec stopped,
squinting. "You went to church before. Weren’t you a Christian then?"

"When you
knew me? No, just believed in God." They reached his car.

"Most people
think it’s the same thing." His voice muffled as he slid the box into the trunk.

"I used to."
Katrina watched him straighten, tall and lean. He’d changed, but not wholly. He
still reminded her of the boy who’d dared her to jump into the river from crazy
Louie’s roof, the young man who’d won her heart with a kiss. The man from whom
she’d stolen the only chance to know his child.

She swallowed
thickly, finding it hard to breathe in the humidity of morning. Hard to
remember anything but her son. Gone.

"Has
religion helped you at all?" Alec closed the trunk, then walked to her.

"Jesus
changed my life." She looked up into his eyes and held his gaze. "I
don’t know where I’d be if not for Him." Even if He was further from her
heart than anyone could guess.

"Seems to me
you’re pretty miserable."

"That’s
ridiculous." Katrina spun away and began to march back to the house. What
did he know of what she’d been through? He hadn’t seen the zombie she’d been
the first few months.

Alec grabbed her
arm, gently but firmly stopping her in her tracks.

"You’re pale.
Lifeless. Nothing like the girl I used to know. Where’s Jesus in that?" Though
he said it in a tight way, as if the words barely escaped his lips, his eyes remained
soft. His reluctant compassion didn’t help. It didn’t ease the burning pain
that convulsed the muscles in her chest.

Morning, newness,
what did it matter now? What did anything matter? Not guilt, not shame.
Nothing.

"My child
died," she hissed, and yanked her arm from his grip.

Comprehension
slammed into her a moment later.
Our
child. She saw the realization hit
him too, in the squaring of his jaw and the stiffness of his posture.

"Three years
ago," he bit out.

"Three years
ago today," she said as tears burned streams down her cheeks. Alec blurred
in front of her.

"Today?"
There was a pause. Heat from the warming morning did nothing to stem the cold
washing through her. A bird chirped. For a long second they stood there. She
stared at the ground. The grass wavered beneath her gaze.

Before she could
compose herself, he tugged her to him. She melted against his chest. His chin
pressed against the top of her head, and she blinked against his black cotton
shirt. It smelled like soap and Cool Water cologne. His heart thudded against
her cheek, the beats fast and hard. The warmth of his body seeped through her,
and she struggled to control her pain. It was fading quickly, replaced by a
tenderness she had no business feeling.

The tears slowed.
The chill receded. Shame took the place of heavy grief. After what she’d done,
he would comfort her? And she’d slid readily into his arms. This reprieve
couldn’t last. He’d drive off with that box and she’d never see him again.

And that’s what
she deserved.

Humbled and
disturbed by his gesture, she pulled out of the cocoon of his arms. Curtness tightened
her stride to the house. She heard him behind her, his steps light on the still
dewy grass, then clapping against the concrete floor of the garage as he
followed her.

She opened the
kitchen door and the cool air relieved her swollen lids. "I’m sorry for
crying on you." Once inside, she turned to face him.

Alec shut the
door and leaned against it, his stance suddenly predatory. The change from
comforter to hunter made Katrina gulp. His heavy-lidded eyes traveled the
length of her, and the hair rose on her neck. "Seems to me you’re sorry about
a lot of things."

"I don’t
expect you to forgive me."

"Good."
His words hung between them.

A slow churning
moved through her gut. "Are you leaving town now?"

His eyes
flickered. "Maybe. I have unfinished business." He stepped away from
the door and further into the kitchen.

Feeling trapped,
she moved backwards. He noticed because he stopped and rubbed his chin. "Were
you embarrassed by our hug?"

Trust Alec to
pick up on that. Swallowing, she edged further back. "It’s been ten years."
The cold steel of the sink pressed against her spine.

"We’ve been
more intimate than a hug." His eyes shuttered and dropped to her lips.

Alarmed by the
look, by the way it picked up her pulse and made blood pound through her body,
she swallowed hard.

"Ten years
ago." Her voice firmed. "You’re not stealing my heart or any other
such nonsense. The anniversary of Joey’s death is always hard, but God truly
changed my life. Living the way I used to is no longer an option."

"You think I
don’t know that?" His eyes narrowed, changing from interest to disgust in
a second.

Her pulse slowed,
reduced to sludge by that glare. "I…I wasn’t sure."

She took a deep
breath, stiffening the backbone she rarely used. "I’m more sorry than I
can ever prove that I didn’t tell you about Joey. But I’m not about to be . . .
intimate with you or sell Kat’s Korner to you. So take the box, and maybe I’ll
see you around."

A strange look
crossed Alec’s face, an almost-sadness she couldn’t place. He moved forward,
and for a heartbeat Katrina thought he would touch her. But he looked past her.

"How old was
Joey there?" He focused on the small frame she kept beside the sink, a first
grade wallet taken right after Joey’s front teeth had fallen out. He looked
like a grinning pumpkin with shaggy brown hair and Alec’s golden eyes.

"Six," Katrina
said, surprised Alec hadn’t seen the picture earlier. She handed it to him so
he could study the son he’d never met.

"He has your
chin."

Katrina cringed. "You
mean my dimple. Poor kid."

"I want to
see where he’s buried."

"Today?"
Her brow wrinkled. The store was always closed on the anniversary and every
year she went to the gravesite alone. Giving away some of Joey’s things had
been hard enough, but to share his burial place?

As if he’d read
her thoughts, Alec cleared his throat. "I have to go back to New York for
the rest of the week. Maybe Sunday, after church?"

"That would
be better," Katrina answered, slumping against the sink. She crossed her
arms. "You go to church?"

"Yep."

"Why?"

"Don’t sound
so suspicious. It’s all just a part of my evil plan to take over your life."

Katrina frowned.
The man had a right to come to his hometown, to see his son’s grave. Why did
she assume it was all about her? Falling back on old habits.

"I’m sorry."
She chewed her lip, uncertain of what to say next. "Is there anything else
you need from me?"

"Quite a
bit." A dark shadow crossed his face. "But I’ll be back."

CHAPTER
SEVEN

Alec returned to
Katrina’s neighborhood the next morning. Not to see Katrina, though the
temptation struck him senseless for a good five minutes in his car. He battled
the urge and won. The wounds were too deep, too fresh to expose himself to her
again.

The scent of her
called to him, while her betrayal made him want to hurt her. Yesterday he’d
been tempted to slam those papers on her table and inform her he wouldn’t be
renewing her lease come December.

But giving news
like that on the anniversary of Joey’s death was too cruel.

She deserves
it
. The harsh thought sprang up from some deep and dark place inside. A place
he’d tried to convince himself didn’t exist anymore.

But it did, and
it hungered for revenge.

From behind the
steering wheel, he focused on the house next to Katrina’s in a bid to rid her
from his thoughts. The house's paint had faded with time. The grass covered the
yard like a beard in need of a shave.

Yesterday he’d
been surprised to discover Katrina’s home next to Ms. Lincoln’s. He remembered
that house and the woman within. His fingers flexed on the wheel. Would Ms.
Lincoln remember him?

He opened his car
door, unfolding his frame onto the misty, early morning street. He closed the
door and then strode to Ms. Lincoln’s house.

 He chanced a
glance at Katrina’s. The dark windows of her house indicated she’d left for
work already. But Ms. Lincoln’s kitchen glowed golden, a beam that shot warmth
straight to his soul.

Hesitantly, he
lifted his fist to her door, his knocks dropping in quiet beats. Then he
waited. It was early, but she’d always been up by dawn when he was a child.

He heard clicks
as locks disengaged, then the door creaked open. Her face, lined deeply, stared
at a place somewhere past his shoulder.

"Yes?"
Raspy, older, yet her southern accent still lengthened her vowels.

He swallowed
against the emotion tightening his throat. The safety chain stretched inches
above her head. At least she hadn’t opened the door completely to a stranger.
He moved his gaze, trying to look into her eyes.

He remembered the
depths of them, walnut brown, softer than the coats of her Persian cats. Eyes
that used to look deep into a person, seeing truths others missed. What would
she see now?

He shifted
closer. And stopped. Her unfocused eyes still looked past him. His fingers
jerked against his jeans. She would see nothing, because she was blind.

"Alec
Munroe?" Her voice lilted, lifting with the upturn of her lips.

"You
remember me?"

"Your
cologne is distinctive." Her grin widened and a gnarled, shaky hand
removed the safety chain. She swung the door open. "Come in, my sweet boy."

He stepped into
her home, its yeasty smell transporting him to his childhood. To the escape
she’d provided in the form of sweet rolls and milk. His tongue tingled.

She shut the door
behind him and he followed her shuffling gait to the kitchen. Years ago her
uncommonly tall stature added authority to her teacher status, but now he
realized time had shrunk her.

He’d missed the
change. Too busy forging a new life for himself to remember the good in the
old.

But her kitchen
hadn’t changed. Rectangular and small, it boasted a round table topped by a
vase of pink-edged hyacinths and surrounded by four cushion-padded chairs. She
gestured to one. He pulled it out, the wooden feet scraping against the
linoleum floor, and sat.

Hobbling to the
counter, she deftly removed a plate from the cupboard, lifted something from a mint
colored jar and carried it to him on the plate.

The scent reached
his nose, made his mouth water before he could identify the source. She set it
before him. A cinnamon roll coated thickly with glossy white glaze. He stared
at it, uncertain how she’d managed to bake when blind, while she put a glass of
milk beside the plate.

He glanced up as
she lowered herself onto the chair opposite him. Chuckling, she rapped the
table with her knuckles. "Eat, my boy. Don’t just stare at it."

"Yes, ma’am."
He lifted the roll, his fingers sinking into its sticky sides, and took a bite.
The taste threw him back to a time when he and Katrina brought Ms. Lincoln
trout in exchange for fresh-baked cookies. They’d wolfed the treats down,
giggling. As they’d grown older, childish pleasures died and Katrina stopped
visiting Ms. Lincoln in favor of hanging out with Rachel and her other friends.

But he’d never
stopped coming.

Not until he’d
left Manatee Bay for good. He grabbed the milk, the glass slippery with cold
perspiration, and downed the contents.

It did nothing to
wash away the bitter taste suddenly tainting his memories.

While he ate, Ms.
Lincoln talked. He’d forgotten her animated gestures, the way she flung her
hands through the air for no particular reason. She fed his soul with her
reminiscing and the hurt of how he’d left faded beneath her exuberant words.
When he emptied his glass and set it on the table, she leaned forward, the
lines on her face settling into sober furrows.

"Why did you
come back?" Her fingers waved in the air, anticipating his response. "Don’t
tell me the reunion. What else, Alec?"

Alec fumbled with
the napkin beside his plate. "Business," he said, hoping the answer
would suffice.

She studied him,
her gaze on his shoulder. "As a boy, you struck me with your fervor for
justice. Has that changed?"

He shifted in his
chair. The conversation had veered in a strange direction. Towards the heart of
his conflict. "No, it hasn’t. Ms. Lincoln." He paused, firming his
jaw. "Did you know Joey was my son?"

Her eyes widened
but she didn’t look shocked. "I wondered, when he was first born, but my
eyesight was declining rapidly by then. I never saw his face after the first
year." Her lips pressed tight and she shook her head. "You poor boy.
Katrina never said. I’d heard rumors of course…"

"That I’d
left them."

"You’re
angry." Her head tilted to the side. "But yes, I’d heard the rumors
and didn’t believe a word of it."

"Why?"
The question choked out of him. The unexpected sadness bearing down on his
shoulders unnerved him. Why should it matter what she thought? But it did and
judging by the sudden glistening in her eyes, she knew it.

"Because of
your father. You wouldn’t ever do to your child what he did to you."

Alec’s throat
constricted. He cleared it, then reached for her hand. "Thank you."

Her fingers
closed around his, warm and surprisingly firm. "No thanks needed."
She smiled and her wrinkles transformed into loveliness. "Now, can you
tell me what time it is?"

He glanced at the
clock on the wall. "Eight o’clock."

"Oh, dear."
She patted the gray curls on her head. "Ms. Douglas will be here soon.
She’ll harp on my lawn, I just know it." From the sound of things, Ms.
Douglas must be a fearsome taskmaster. The companion, he figured, who probably
helped Ms. Lincoln with baking, errands and other things. But not lawn mowing.

"I need to
go anyhow. A flight to catch." He stood. He’d make a call and get Ms.
Lincoln’s lawn taken care of. It was the least he could do to repay her many kindnesses
in his youth.

"Thank you
for coming by, Alec." Ms. Lincoln rose, rounding the table to ensnare him
in a hug. "You come back. And keep wearing that cologne."

Maybe he should
smile, but she wouldn’t see and his hurt had morphed into a heaviness that
sagged his shoulders. He patted her back instead, then drew away. His gaze
rested on the pumpkin on her counter. Set there for baking most likely, but it
had a nostalgic effect on him. Autumn in Manatee Bay.

"Does the
town still have its Fall Festival?" he asked.

Ms. Lincoln’s
face brightened. "Oh yes, and bring Katrina. She hasn’t attended since
Joey passed. It will do her good."

Alec made a
polite sound then let her usher him out the door. Bringing the woman who’d kept
his child from him was the last thing he should do. He crossed the street to
his car and slid in, his mind on the Fall Festival. He could still see Katrina,
seventeen, her face shining with the carefree happiness of youth. She’d
traipsed beside him the year before he proposed, holding a candied apple to his
mouth then laughingly pulling it away before he could bite it. She’d loved the
Fall Festival. Went every year.

But she hadn’t
gone for three years.

His hands rested
on the steering wheel, his fingers tapped the leather. Firm plans had
accompanied him on this trip to Manatee Bay, but seeing Katrina had changed
things, just not how he’d expected. He tore his hands from the wheel and
slammed the door shut. He gunned the engine. Finding out about Joey complicated
things, ripped him in different directions.

No plan was
certain now.

*****

"
But I’ll
be back
."

Alec’s words
lingered in Katrina’s thoughts throughout the week. Traffic at the store crawled
along, consistently reminding her that she could use advice for the business
aspects of it.

On Sunday she trudged
up the stone steps of the small church she attended. Alec’s sports car sitting
in the parking lot reminded her of the one thing she’d tried to forget. The
cemetery visit. Going with him wasn’t something she looked forward to but she’d
do it because she owed him.

She stepped into
the church, inhaling the tangy scent of lemon polish on ancient wood floors.
The worn scarlet-clad pews where parishioners had sat for decades to worship
God together were slowly filling with people. Pale light filtered in through stained
glass windows, diluting the Florida sun to a golden mist. The church was a
place of peace, one she’d literally stumbled into shortly after Joey’s birth.
It held an atmosphere of splendor and serenity, of quiet wisdom and modern
worship. She loved this place.

Katrina glanced
at the clock on the wall. Five more minutes until the start of service. She
shifted in the narrow entryway so Widow Carmichael could squeeze through.  Her
sulky, multi-pierced granddaughter followed, and refused to return Katrina’s
tentative smile.

Clutching her
leather-bound Bible, she trailed the pair and then passed them to sit in a pew
towards the front. She leaned back, adjusted the hem of the new sundress she’d
found on clearance at Wal-Mart, and looked around. She hadn’t sat in this spot for
a while.

"There you
are." Rachel huffed past Katrina and plopped down next to her. "Always
switching rows. Why can’t you find a place and stay there?"

"I like to
change it up. The same spot gets boring."

"I’m glad
you’re so into change. Starting Wednesday, you’re on the nursery schedule."

The muscles in
her face froze. She stared at Rachel. Was she crazy? "Take me off."

"You need to
heal."

"Not like
that."

Rachel cocked her
head, gaze soft. "You love children. Just try. One Wednesday. They’re
short-staffed and Joe approved you to help."

Stuffed in a
corner. That’s how she felt. A tremor worked its way down her spine, evoking
ripples of nausea in her belly. Hands pressing against her stomach, she let out
a shaky breath. "One Wednesday."

"Good."
Rachel smiled a self-satisfied smile. Mission accomplished.

Katrina pressed
her knees together. Things would be okay. Just kids. She could handle them.

As if sensing her
fear, Rachel laid her hand on Katrina’s leg. "You’re great with Sharon’s
kids. It’s no different."

Of course. Her
gaze lifted to Rachel’s. "I’m being silly."

"No, you’re
scared."

"As usual."

"Oh, stop
it." Rachel grinned, then wrinkled her nose and glanced around the filling
church. "Where’s Sharon?"

Katrina pushed
her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "Sharon refused to come today. I
don’t know where she’s going to go but she can’t stay at my house anymore."

"Why not?
You have plenty of room."

"Yeah, and
guess who knows it? Tuesday night he was banging on the door in a rage. I had
to call the police. I’m afraid he’ll hurt Sharon and the kids once he knows for
sure where they are."

Rachel’s jaw
dropped a mile. "Why didn’t you call me?"

"I thought
you went to the Keys for a case."

"You
could’ve called me."

"I knew I’d
see you today."

"Keeping
secrets."

"Letting you
work," Katrina countered.

"Whatever."
Rachel shook her head, red curls whipping across her ivory skin in fiery
lashes. "I can’t believe that man. It’d be nice to blame his temper on
alcohol, but he’s just plain mean."

"I don’t
know. Sharon seems to think his drinking is making him worse."

Steve had started
drinking heavily in the last few months. At least Sharon had been brave enough
to leave him once things escalated.

But where could
she go and be safe?

Katrina twisted around
to watch the sanctuary entrance. As she pondered Sharon’s future, a new problem
walked into her line of vision. He looked as savvy as he had in her home the
other morning, his pinstripe suit molding cleanly to his body. Every inch the
business man, less roguish than she’d ever seen him. To her horror, he turned
his head and caught her gaping gaze. His mouth tightened and he strode towards
her pew.

"Oh no."
She patted her hair, wondering if she’d remembered to put on lipstick. Which
was ridiculous because she had no romantic interest in Alec Munroe. None
whatsoever.

Besides, the odds
of him ever wanting her again had to be astronomical.

"What’s
wrong?" Rachel swiveled next to her. She caught the direction of Katrina’s
gaze. "What’s he doing here?"