Unforgivable (10 page)

“That girl over Haddock way still hasn’t shown up yet,” Ben said from the living room, forcing her to leave the kitchen and ask him to repeat it.

“I hope she’s only teaching her mama a lesson for locking her out. How terrible.”

He snapped the paper open to a new page. “You might want to keep that in mind, that there might be someone out there hunting women, as you’re driving around by yourself.”

“I will.” 

She went back into the kitchen and stirred the gravy. One of her cardinal couples alighted on her bird feeder, and she watched them for a moment. The female, the duller of the cardinals, landed on the ledge first and started eating. The bright red male bumped her off, though, and she flew to a nearby bush and waited. Katie always wanted to tell her to go on the other side of the feeder, that there was room enough for both of them. The female flitted around, waiting her turn. Then the male took off, and she followed.

“Katie, you haven’t eaten your lollipop yet,” Ben said, again forcing her to walk to the living room to hear him.

She eyed the red-colored rose pop. “I don’t want to spoil dinner. I’ll have it for dessert.”

She hated chocolate. None of the Emersons could believe that any child could dislike chocolate, but she did. Ben couldn’t believe it, either, when he’d brought her an Easter basket one year. She’d eaten the chocolate rabbit out of guilt, exclaiming that for chocolate it wasn’t bad. Now and then he still bought her a chocolate something or another. Sometimes a Valentine’s Day box of the stuff. She always made a fuss over it, for the thought. It was a pattern she’d fallen into years ago and it was going to be impossible to break out of. She’d been pretending to like the Victorian décor for so long, how could she tell Ben that she hated it now.

She glanced down at the yellow jeans again and sighed. And when someone gave her something she actually liked, she was going to have to give it back.

Silas’s voice echoed in her mind:
What happened to you, Katie?
 

Damn him for asking! Marriage was compromise. Ben would never tolerate her being the way she was as a child. And that child had learned young that you paid for everything in life, every kindness and advantage. After her mother had left her in a chasm of darkness, finding security had become the most important thing in the world. 

She caught a reflection of her waist in the toaster oven. She really liked this outfit. Damn it, she didn’t want to give it back. Maybe she’d keep it and wear it when Ben wasn’t around. 

So there, Silas.

The dining area was in the kitchen and overlooked the small garden with her two newly-planted azalea bushes and the gazebo. A soft breeze filtered into the kitchen. Birds were singing and chirping and sounding a lot like a pet store she’d been in once. At the distant humming noise, she couldn’t resist looking out the window to try to spy the plane. At last it appeared in the opening of trees with the sun glinting off the metal. People were on that plane, going somewhere. 

“Katie, I really wish you’d changed before dinner,” Ben said, his unhappy gaze on her shirt. 

It was a flower print, and the material was thin and stretchy. Because of the scoop neckline, she’d discovered her bra straps had shown, so she’d taken it off. It was just her husband around anyway. But he didn’t look the least bit intrigued by the way the material sculptured her breasts and made the flowers look bigger. Maybe if she had more than a B-cup chest, he’d like them better.

“I’ll change after dinner.”

He punished her with silence. She thought about getting up and changing, just so they could talk. 

What happened to you, Katie?

Damn you, Silas. 

She remained at the table, feeling uglier by the minute. Sometimes she just didn’t like Ben much. It was a better feeling than not liking herself. 

“Ben—”

“I really don’t want to talk to you until you change. You look like a teenager, and it doesn’t suit you.”

Her muscles tensed, but she kept her seat at the table. God but she’d become a wimp. How had it happened? 

Slowly.

She pushed the plate of baked chicken away. “I saw the poster asking people to help at the fair. They crossed off
‘
need help’ and added
‘
begging for help’.” Still he didn’t reply, instead working the crossword puzzle—in pen, as usual. “I want to help. I know you don’t want to be all by yourself at the fair, but you wouldn’t be alone for long anyway the way people around here love you. But you could help out, too. We could work together. How about that?”

“No.”

Flattened with one word. “Why not?”

He set down the paper and looked at her. “I do stuff for people all day long. I don’t feel like doing stuff for them at the fair. I want to enjoy it, and I want to enjoy it with my wife. I don’t understand why you can’t be happy that I want to spend time with you. Why are you obsessed with helping at this fair?”

She stood and picked up her plate. “Because I want to belong to this town. I know you think I’m imagining it, but I am invisible here. Everybody greets you like you’re their best friend. I’m the stuff you stepped in.”

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

She squared her shoulders and felt the rush of independence. “No,” she said just as succinctly as he had.

“Katie, I don’t know what’s got into you lately, but I am not going to tolerate it. You think about what you want in life, and how much I’ve done for you.” He grabbed up the keys to the van and walked out.

If they had a spat, which was unusual, she always ran after him and gave in. 

She let him go this time.

He would probably go to the diner. She looked at the four pieces of chicken and the bowl of mashed potatoes on the table. If she couldn’t volunteer at the fair, then she’d do another charitable deed. After all, Silas probably didn’t have a refrigerator.

Ben couldn’t understand it. He’d done nothing wrong, nothing differently, yet Katie was changing. She hadn’t even run after him to smooth things out.

He’d gotten to thinking that maybe she’d wanted him to leave, so he’d parked at the end of the driveway and walked back to the house. That’s when he’d seen her walking into the woods wearing that whoring outfit. He’d gone farther down the road and pulled a short distance down the long, shadowed drive. The sunlight reflected on a car, though he couldn’t see what kind it was. 

He thought about going home and raising a fuss about her being gone, making her feel bad for wandering in the woods when she should have been home waiting for him to cool down. It obviously hadn’t done any good last time. Instead he drove into town and the comfort of the diner.

It was past the dinner rush, though still Saturday-night busy. He sidled up to the counter and ordered the blue plate special, or the “featured menu item” as Dinah called it. 

She gave him a curious look. “Where’s your wife? Don’t she cook for you no more?”

“Katie’s going through something right now. I’m just trying to be a good husband, give her some space.”

“She’d be a fool to make you unhappy. Why, what would she be without you?”

“I just hope she realizes that. And she will, I’m sure of it.”

When Dinah turned in his order, he swiveled around on the stool and nodded to several people he knew. Marion Tate, self-appointed town busybody was holding court with a group of people in the far corner. Her husband the sheriff sat next to her. Marion waved him over. 

“How are y’all doing?” Ben asked everyone with a sweeping nod. 

“How’s it going?” Marvin Bale asked.

“It’s going to the dogs, that’s how it’s going.”

The table laughed pleasantly, amazing Ben that they never tired of the saying. As long as he got a reaction, he’d keep on saying it.

“Where’s Katie?” Marion asked after surveying the diner. “Seems strange a married man eating by his lonesome.”

“Marion, mind your own damn business,” her husband muttered. The Sheriff looked like Mel Gibson with a paunch. If his wife was the queen of Flatlands, he was surely the king.

Marion patted the table after giving her husband a pinched look. “You’ll just sit here with us, no question about it.”

Their dessert plates littered the table, along with blue ceramic coffee cups. “Looks like you’re in the middle of something. Don’t want to butt in.”

“Nonsense,” Marion said. “Marv, just clear that spot next to you. No man should eat alone, that’s what I always say.”

“Why, thank you, Marion. Appreciate your thoughtfulness.” Ben went back to the counter to pick up his soda.

He met Sam Savino’s grim gaze as he turned back to the table. Sam was there with his wife, Clarice. He was dark-haired and olive skinned, traits he’d passed onto his son, Gary. His disowned son, that was. Ben wasn’t sure if the perpetual sneer on his face was voluntary or just the way his face was made. Seeing as Gary had the same sneer, Ben figured it was the genes. Clarice was fair in looks and coloring, always quiet and looking as though the world had just pissed on her. 

Ben stopped at their table. “Evening, folks.”

Clarice only nodded and averted her gaze to her cream pie. Sam did what he always did: appraised Ben and made it clear he didn’t like what he saw. “Don’t you ever take your wife out to dinner?”

Ben blinked at the rude statement. “Sir, may I ask what you have against me? A man’s entitled to know why another man doesn’t like him.”

“And a man’s entitled to dislike someone and not explain why.” 

Ben took a step back when Sam pushed out of the booth. He hated feeling afraid, but Sam outweighed him by fifty or more pounds, and it was all muscle. “Let’s go, Clarice,” Sam said and pushed by Ben. 

She glanced longingly at her unfinished pie, but followed dutifully.

“Don’t worry about them,” Marion said, obviously having watched the exchange. “Sam’s a grump, always has been. He’s got a big ole block of ice right where his heart ought to be. I thought he and Gary were going to get into fisticuffs the other day, right here in the diner. Can you imagine, a father and son who hate each other that much? And both of them on the side of the law?” She made a prim
tsking
sound. 

Ben took a seat between Marvin and Harold just as Dinah brought out his salad. 

“What’s this lumpy white stuff?” Ben asked.

“Goat cheese. It’s very chic. Just try it.”

Eating goat anything didn’t appeal. After Ben gave his salad to Harold, who ate anything, he said, “I don’t want you thinking something’s wrong. Katie’s just going through a phase is all. Everything’ll turn out fine.”

“Oh, good,” Marion said on an exhalation, as though she’d been holding her breath to find out what the scoop was.

Sheriff Tate rolled his eyes. “Now everyone in town’ll know about it.”

“I just don’t want people to worry about me,” Ben said, feeling good that people
did
worry. He didn’t want to dwell on it. “So, what are you all doing here?”

“Working out the County Fair details. We’re really behind, and we’ve lost some of our usual volunteers. Pauline’s got mono. Calvin broke his leg. Paul and Mary moved to Macon.” Marion sent a smiling look his way. “I know you’re busy with the farm calls and all, but what about your wife? It would give us the chance to get to know her.”

“I can ask her again. I mentioned it awhile back, when I saw the sign in the window. I said,
‘
Katie, you ought to see how you can help out.’  But she said,
‘
I don’t want to get involved in that silly fair.’  I gotta badger her into just going to it.”

Marion’s shoulders raised two inches. Her face was red as she looked around at the others. “Well, I guess we won’t ask her to get involved then.”

“Sorry, Marion. I didn’t mean to make you angry. I probably shouldn’t have repeated what Katie said.”

“No, I’m glad you did. I might have asked her to help out.”

“Well, we’ll be there to support you on the big day, don’t you worry about that.” Ben took the plate of Veal Marsala from Dinah and dug in while the others decided how to line up the game booths.

And God, please look out for that missing girl from Haddock. Please let her be all right. Please look out for all those women in bad places. And please fix my heart so I
’
ll be happy with Ben.

Patches of early evening sunlight danced on the leaves as Katie walked through the woods. The scent of warm leaves and earth had her inhaling deeply. 

She hadn’t prayed in a while. Too long. She and her mama had gotten down on their knees together every night and prayed for women who were victims. There were so many, in the news, famous and unknown. She clutched the plastic container with the chicken and the chocolate pop on top of it. She’d debated heavily on that. Would Silas take it as a romantic gesture, being a rose and all? Or should she tell him it was a gift from Ben and she hated chocolate so was giving it to him? Why was life so complicated? 

Branches pulled at her shirt, and she wrapped her arms tight around her as she twined through the trees. The warm breeze ruffled through the bright green leaves. Birds whooped and called, and a woodpecker chattered as it guided gracefully against the horizontal surface of the trunks. One bird even screeched like the sound effect from
Psycho
’s shower scene. Her sneakers crunched softly on the leaves and then the forest transformed to the grand oaks. 

This time she didn’t attempt to hide. She walked into the small clearing that surrounded the house. Silas was sitting on a rocking chair on the front porch watching for her, his feet up on the railing. The Boss was lying in the yard. He lifted his head and twitched his nose at her. Silas shrugged into a shirt and descended the steps in one smooth motion. She caught the glint of his gold cross against his collarbone as he moved through the filtered sunlight.

Coming here had seemed unselfish and innocent while she’d been convincing herself of her motives. Seeing the slice of bare chest and the mussed hair that brushed his shoulders made it seem like something more sinful.