Safe Haven (18 page)

She was so tired and her back throbbed. She lay down on the bed and drifted off to sleep almost immediately. Kevin called later, the bleating of the cell phone waking her up. It took everything she had to keep her voice steady, to betray nothing, but she sounded as tired as she felt and she knew that Kevin believed that she was in their bed. When he hung up, she fell asleep again within minutes.

In the morning, she could hear people walking down the hall, heading for the bathroom. Two Chinese women stood at the sinks and there was green mold in the grout and wet toilet paper on the floor. The door to the stall wouldn’t lock and she had to hold it closed with her hand.

In the room, she had cheese and crackers for breakfast. She wanted to shower but she realized she’d forgotten to pack shampoo and soap, so there wasn’t much point. She changed her clothes and brushed her teeth and hair. She repacked the duffel bag, unwilling to leave it in the room while she wasn’t there, and slung the strap over her shoulder and walked down the steps. The same clerk who’d given her the key was at the desk and she wondered whether he ever left this place. She paid for another night and asked him to hold her room.

Outside, the sky was blue and the streets were dry. She realized the pain in her back had all but vanished. It was cold but not as cold as Boston, and despite her fears she found herself smiling. She’d done it, she reminded herself. She’d escaped and Kevin was hundreds of miles away and didn’t know where she was. Didn’t even know she’d left yet. He would call a couple more times, then she’d throw away the cell phone and never speak with him again.

She stood straighter and breathed in the crisp air. The day felt almost new, with endless possibilities. Today, she told herself, she was going to find a job. Today, she decided, she was going to start living the rest of her life.

She had run away twice before and she wanted to think she’d learned from her mistakes. The first time was a little less than a year after she was married, after he’d beaten her while she was cowering in the corner of the bedroom. The bills had come in and he was angry with her because she’d turned up the thermostat to make the house warmer. When he’d finally stopped, he’d grabbed his keys and headed out to buy more liquor. Without thinking, she’d grabbed her jacket and left the house, limping down the road. Hours later, with sleet coming down and nowhere to go, she’d called him and he went to pick her up.

The next time she’d gotten as far as Atlantic City before he found her. She’d taken money from his wallet and purchased a ticket on the bus, but he’d found her within an hour of her arrival. He’d driven his car at breakneck speed, knowing she would run to the only place where she might still find friends. He’d handcuffed her in the backseat of the car on the drive back. He stopped once, pulling the car over to the side of a closed office building, and beat her; later that night, the gun came out.

After that, he’d made it harder to leave. He usually kept the money locked away and started tracking her whereabouts obsessively. She knew that he would go to extraordinary lengths to find her. As crazy as he was, he was persistent and diligent and his instincts were usually right. He would find out where she’d gone, she knew; he would come to Philadelphia to find her. She had a head start, that was all, but with no extra money to start over somewhere else, all she could do was watch for him over her shoulder for the time being. Her time in Philadelphia was limited.

She found a job as a cocktail waitress on her third day in town. She made up a name and social security number. Eventually, it would be checked, but she’d be long gone by then. She found another room to rent on the far side of Chinatown. She worked for two weeks, accumulated some tip money while searching for and finding another job, and quit without bothering to pick up her paycheck. There was no point; without identification, she wouldn’t be able to cash it. She worked another three weeks at a small diner and eventually moved out of Chinatown to a run-down motel that rented by the week. Although it was in a seedier section of town, the room was more expensive, but she had her own shower and bathroom and it was worth it, if only to have some privacy and a place to leave her things. She’d saved a few hundred dollars, more than she had when she’d left Dorchester, but not enough to start over. Again, she left before picking up her paycheck, without even going back to quit. She found yet another job at yet another diner a few days later. In the new job, she told the manager her name was Erica.

The constant job changing and moves had kept her vigilant, and it was there, only four days after she started, that she’d rounded the corner on her way to work and saw a car that seemed somehow out of place. She stopped.

Even now, she wasn’t sure how she’d realized it, other than the fact that it was shiny enough to reflect the early morning light. As she stared at the car, she noticed movement in the driver’s seat. The engine wasn’t running and it struck her as odd that someone would be sitting in an unheated car on a cold morning. The only people, she knew, who did that were those who were waiting for someone.

Or watching for someone.

Kevin.

She knew it was him, knew it with a certainty that surprised her, and she backed around the corner, the way she’d come, praying that he hadn’t glanced in the rearview mirror. Praying he hadn’t seen her. As soon as the car was out of sight, she began to run back toward the motel, her heart hammering. She hadn’t run so fast in years, but all the walking she’d been doing had strengthened her legs and she moved quickly. One block. Two. Three. She looked constantly over her shoulder but Kevin didn’t follow.

No matter. He knew she was here. He knew where she worked. He would know if she didn’t show up. Within hours, he would find out where she was staying.

In her room, she threw her things into the duffel bag and was out the door within minutes. She started toward the bus station. It would take forever, though. An hour, maybe more, to walk there, and she didn’t have the time. That would be the first place he went when he realized she wasn’t there. Turning around, she went back into the motel and had the clerk call her a cab. It arrived ten minutes later. The longest ten minutes of her life.

At the bus station, she frantically searched the schedule and selected a bus to New York. It was scheduled to leave in half an hour. She hid in the women’s restroom until it was time to board. When she got on the bus she lowered herself into a seat. It didn’t take long to get to New York. Again, she scanned the schedules and bought a ticket that would take her as far as Omaha.

In the evening, she got off the bus somewhere in Ohio. She slept in the station, and the next morning she found her way to a truck stop. There she met a man who was delivering materials to Wilmington, North Carolina.

A few days later, after selling her jewelry, she wandered into Southport and found the cottage. After she paid the first month’s rent, there was no money left to buy food.

23

I
t was mid-June and Katie was leaving Ivan’s after finishing up a busy dinner shift when she spotted a familiar figure standing near the exit.

“Hey there.” Jo waved from beneath the lamppost where Katie had locked up her bike.

“What are you doing here?” Katie asked, leaning in to give her friend a hug. She’d never run into Jo in town before, and seeing her out of context felt strange for some reason.

“I came to see you. Where’ve you been, stranger?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

“I’ve been around enough to know you’ve been seeing Alex for a few weeks.” Jo winked. “But as a friend, I’ve never been one to impose. I figured you two needed some time alone.”

Katie blushed despite herself. “How did you know I was here?”

“I didn’t. But your lights weren’t on at the house and I took a chance.” Jo shrugged. She motioned over her shoulder. “Are you doing anything? Do you want to grab a drink before you head home?” When she saw Katie’s hesitation, she went on. “I know it’s late. One drink, I promise. Then I’ll let you go to bed.”

“One drink,” Katie agreed.

A few minutes later, they stepped inside the pub, a local favorite paneled in dark wood scarred with decades of use, with a long mirror behind the bar. It was quiet tonight; only a few tables were occupied and the two women took a seat at a corner table in the back. Since there didn’t seem to be table service, Katie ordered two glasses of wine at the bar and brought them back to the table.

“Thanks,” Jo said, taking her glass. “Next time, it’s on me.” She leaned back. “So you and Alex, huh?”

“Is that really what you wanted to talk to me about?” Katie asked.

“Well, since my own love life is in the dumps, I have to live vicariously through you. It seems to be going well, though. He was over there… what? Two or three times last week? And the same thing the week before that?”

Actually more, Katie thought. “Something like that.”

Jo twisted the stem of her wineglass. “Uh-oh.”

“Uh-oh what?”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was getting serious.” She raised an eyebrow.

“We’re still getting to know each other,” Katie offered, not sure where Jo was going with this line of questioning.

“That’s how every relationship starts. He likes you, you like him. Then you both go from there.”

“Is this why you came down?” Katie tried not to sound exasperated. “To hear all the details?”

“Not
all
of them. Just the juicy ones.”

Katie rolled her eyes. “How about we talk about your love life instead?”

“Why? Are you in the mood to be depressed?”

“When was the last time you went on a date?”

“A good date? Or just a date-date?”

“A good date.”

Jo hesitated. “I’d have to say that it’s been at least a couple of years.”

“What happened?”

Jo dipped a finger in her wine, then ran it around the rim of her glass, making it hum. Finally, she looked up. “A good man is hard to find,” she said wistfully. “Not everyone is as lucky as you are.”

Katie didn’t know quite how to respond to that, so instead she touched Jo’s hand. “What’s really going on?” she asked gently. “Why did you want to talk to me?”

Jo looked around the empty bar as if trying to draw inspiration from her surroundings. “Do you ever sit back and wonder what it all means? Whether this is it or if there’s something greater out there? Or if you were meant for something better?”

“I think everyone does,” Katie answered, her curiosity growing.

“When I was a girl, I used to make believe that I was a princess. One of the good ones, I mean. Someone who always does the right thing and has the power to make people’s lives better so that, in the end, they live happily ever after.”

Katie nodded. She could remember doing the same thing, but she still wasn’t sure where Jo was going so she stayed quiet.

“I think that’s why I do what I do now. When I started, I just wanted to help. I’d see people who were struggling with the loss of someone they loved—a parent, a child, a friend—and my heart just overflowed with sympathy. I tried to do everything in my power to make things better for them. But as time passed, I came to realize that there was only so much I could do myself. That in the end, people who are grieving have to
want
to move on—that first step, that motivating spark, has to come from within them. And when it does, it opens the door to the unexpected.”

Katie took a deep breath, trying to make sense of Jo’s rambling. “I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me.”

Jo swirled her wine, studying the little whirlpool in her glass. For the first time, her tone became utterly serious. “I’m talking about you and Alex.”

Katie couldn’t hide her surprise. “Me and Alex?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “He’s told you about losing his wife, right? About how hard it was for him—for the whole family—to get past it?”

Katie stared across the table, suddenly uncomfortable. “Yes…” she began.

“Then be careful with them,” Jo said, her tone serious. “All of them. Don’t break their hearts.”

In the awkward silence that followed, Katie found herself recalling their first conversation about Alex.

Did you two ever see each other?
she remembered asking Jo.

Yes, but maybe not in the way you’re thinking
, Jo had answered.
And just so we’re clear: it was a long time ago and everyone has moved on
.

At the time, she’d assumed that it meant that Jo and Alex had dated in the past, but now…

She was struck by the obviousness of the conclusion. The counselor Alex had mentioned, who had seen the kids and consulted with him in the aftermath of Carly’s death—it must have been Jo. Katie sat up straight. “You worked with Alex and the kids, didn’t you? After Carly died, I mean.”

“I’d rather not say,” Jo answered. Her tone was measured and calm. Just like a counselor’s. “I can say that all of them… mean a lot to me. And if you’re not serious about a possible future with them, I think you should end it now. Before it’s too late.”

Katie felt her cheeks flush; it seemed inappropriate—presumptuous, even—for Jo to be talking to her like this. “I’m not sure any of this is really your concern,” she said, her voice tight.

Jo acknowledged her point with a reluctant nod. “You’re right. It’s not my concern—and I’m crossing some important boundaries here. But I really do think they’ve been through enough. And the last thing I want for them is to become attached to someone who has no intention of staying in Southport. Maybe I’m worried that the past is never really in the past and that you might decide to leave, no matter how much sadness you leave in your wake.”

Katie was speechless. This conversation was so unexpected, so uncomfortable, and Jo’s words had definitely thrown her emotions into turmoil.

If Jo sensed Katie’s discomfort, she pressed on anyway.

“Love doesn’t mean anything if you’re not willing to make a commitment,” she said, “and you have to think not only about what you want, but about what he wants. Not just now, but in the future.” She continued to stare at Katie across the table, her brown eyes unwavering. “Are you ready to be a wife to Alex and a mother to his kids? Because that’s what Alex wants. Maybe not right now, but he will in the future. And if you’re not willing to make a commitment, if you’re only going to toy with his feelings and those of his children, then you’re not the person he needs in his life.”

Before Katie could say anything, Jo got up from the table as she went on. “It might have been wrong of me to say all this, and maybe we won’t be friends any longer, but I wouldn’t feel right about myself if I didn’t speak plainly. As I’ve said from the very beginning, he’s a good man—a rare man. He loves deeply and never stops loving.” She let those words sink in before her expression suddenly softened. “I think you’re the same way, but I wanted to remind you that if you care about him, then you have to be willing to commit to him. No matter what the future might bring. No matter how scared you might be.”

With that, she turned and left the bar, leaving Katie sitting at the table in stunned silence. It was only as she got up to leave that she noticed that Jo hadn’t touched her wine.