A Boat Made of Bone (The Chthonic Saga) (5 page)

“Fine, that’s just fine,” Anita said, her voice taking on that victimized tone Kate knew very well. Anita sighed into the phone. “Well, I might be making a roast. Your father loaned it to some total stranger he met at a farmer’s political rally. Total stranger and he’s giving away our car, our farming equipment, our appliances—like always. If I get the crackpot back in time, we’ll have roast. Otherwise, it’ll have to be lasagna or some other pasta. Assuming I still have my bakeware. But we’d really love to see you, Katie.”

Kate grimaced. “I’ll see what I can do. I might have work that day. I need to check.” She bit her lip, hoping she had work. She wanted to see Jake and Owen, she really did. And in a small way, her parents. The problem was the during part, where everything Anita said to Lane corrupted Kate’s affection for her parents.

Anita said goodbye, claiming she needed to go look for her bakeware, and Kate hung up, falling back onto her bed. She stared up at the ceiling, heaving a sigh.

“Whoa, someone needs a pick-me-up,” Audra said, from the doorway. She strolled in and flopped onto Kate’s bed.

“Yeah, I do. I really do. My mom just invited me to dinner on Sunday,” Kate said, moving over to make room for her friend.

“And? You’re not going, are you? That would be, what, a miracle?”

“I almost said yes. Then she started railing on my dad and I couldn’t stomach it. It’s just—I love my parents. They’re my parents. Right? But watching their relationship is like watching a tsunami devastate an island. It’s so unhealthy. Not that I know what a healthy relationship looks like.”

“Who does? Your parents are decent people, they just have issues like every couple,” Audra said.

“Right. Issues. I mean, is it safe to say that my difficulties in love might just stem from watching them?” Kate mused, studying her thumbnail before nibbling thoughtfully on it.

“From a psychologist’s perspective, yes,” Audra began. She took a deep breath and Kate could tell she was about to launch into an in-depth analysis. She wasn’t done with the psychology program at school yet, but Audra already fancied herself qualified for administering treatments. Especially when it involved her friends. “And I’d have to agree with it, however—”

A loud banging on the front door interrupted her. Kate rolled onto her side and gave Audra a puzzled look. “You expecting someone?”

“Hardly. You?”

They raced through the hallway and living room to the front door, cracking it open together, laughing uproariously, without undoing the chain-deadbolt. Kate peered out as she flipped on the porch light. Her heart thundered.

It was Tom.

***

“Oh, it’s you,” Audra said bitterly, moving in front of Kate protectively.

“Yeah, can I come in for a second?” Tom asked. He looked good. Somehow he had managed to disappear even though at one time they’d moved in the same circles. His blond hair was cut shorter than it’d been when they were together. His dark jeans were new and his tight-fitting earth-toned T-shirt brought out the soft brown of his eyes.

“What for?” Audra asked. Kate still couldn’t find her voice. She closed and opened her mouth again, but no sound came out. What was he doing here? And really, where had he been? No one had heard from him in weeks—at least none of her friends so much as mentioned him. She’d stopped asking about him a few weeks after he broke off their relationship.

“Come on, Audra. I’m not going to do anything weird, I promise. I left some of my stuff here. I want to pick it up. That’s it,” he said, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

Audra glanced over her shoulder at Kate. Kate nodded, and her roommate stepped aside to let him in.

The three of them stood quietly in the living room beside the dark, un-curtained enormous picture window next to the door. Kate backed up to the couch against the far wall and sat down, never taking her eyes from Tom. She’d lost her voice for a second, yes, but she’d recovered now and pinned him down with her gaze like he was the insect and she, the scientist. A roach. That’s what he was. Or a dung beetle. Something awful like that. Useful, but unashamed. Too dumb to know it was a bottom-feeder. He looked good. If a—a—a maggot was a handsome part of a fly’s life cycle.

All right, all right. Enough with the insect metaphors,
Kate thought.
You’re over him. You’ve been over him for a long time.
She felt a surge of bitterness, knowing she was lying to herself. She’d never gotten over him. Looking at him, she knew it.

“Can I talk to Kate alone?” Tom said to Audra, raising an eyebrow and shoving one hand into a pocket. He glanced at Kate, and for the first time since he’d shown up, she saw the anxiety in his face.

“Maybe you should ask Kate,” Audra said. She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a level stare.

“Kate,” he said, clearing his throat. “Is that OK with you?”

“Fine,” Kate said.

“I’ll be in my room, if you need anything,” Audra said, turning on her heel and striding across the scuffed hardwood floor where she disappeared in the dark hallway. Kate never heard the bedroom door close and she doubted very much that her friend actually went into her room and shut the door.

“What’s the deal, Tom?” Kate said boldly. Somewhere within, she found the tiny piece of herself that didn’t run from confrontation and she channeled it. “Showing up at my house at what, ten-thirty? That’s weird. I don’t do booty-calls, so, you know. This better be important.”

“Calm down, Kate,” he said, gesturing with his hands and beginning to pace in front of the couch where she sat, leaning forward nervously. Part of the floor was covered with a rug, but where he stepped off it, his flip-flops slapped against the blond wood. “I’m not here for a booty call. I just came by for conversation.”

“Ha. That’s—that’s hilarious. What about ‘some of your stuff’? Just so you know, I really don’t think you left anything here. You were, let’s say, thorough, when you left.” Kate shook her head in disdain. She felt her eyes narrow when she caught the earnest light in his brown eyes. “Oh wait. You lied? Typical. So, what, you really are here for conversation? Why? What’s going on? Your other friends not much for chatting?”

“Other friends? Now
that’s
hilarious, Kate. You know my friends were your friends. When we broke up—” he drew up short at the look in Kate’s eyes. “Fine. When
I
broke it off, I went into a kind of hibernation. I didn’t want to make it harder for you. If it was hard at all, that is. I have my doubts. I ditched our haunts. I found new places to go. I made new friends. And—and now—” he hesitated, his brow furrowed in concentration, his eyes focused on the empty armchair at the corner of the sofa. His gaze flicked to Kate’s face.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Kate felt her stomach dropping into her toes with dread. What had happened? Had cancer finally taken his mother? Had his dog died? What? What could be so horrible that he’d come to her in the middle of the night?

“I met someone, Kate. Man, this is so hard to tell you.” He stopped pacing and closed his eyes. He opened them, “I want to ask her to marry me. I’m going to, that is. She’ll say yes.”

What the hell?
“Great, fantastic! Congratulations, I guess. I mean, I mean—” she sputtered, feeling rather out of control. So this was what it meant to see red. Blood thundered in her ears. Her face burned with the fury of a billion suns. “Why are you here telling me, Tom? What does this have to do with me? Do you think I care? No. I don’t. Good. Great. Get married. Have fun with that. I hope you guys have a hundred babies with perfect curly hair and cherub-like cheeks and names like Violet and Jonah and Ryder and Emma that you can enter in cutest baby contests and win. Thanks for coming by to rub it in. I’m so glad that our breakup made way for you to find your soul mate. That’s just awesome.”

His pitiable stare finally stopped her. She would have gone on forever, probably. Kate hated confrontation and this was one reason why. When she lost control, she turned into a freak, but worse was the pity in his face. For her. She didn’t want his pity. 

Tom crossed his arms and shifted his weight as though he was uncomfortable. Hell. He was the one who found the situation awkward. That was so unfair. “Thanks, uh, for that. Kate. You must think the worst of me. I get it. But I came here to tell you because I wanted . . . I wanted to make sure there was nothing left between us. This sounds so crazy, but I can’t get married to someone else thinking there might be something left undone or unsaid between us. Is there?”

She blinked. Who did he think he was?
He
broke up with her. And then to come here . . . the gall. The audacity. “Wait, so you’re saying you won’t get married if you think there’s a chance with me?”

He cocked his head to one side, thinking. “I guess that
is
what I’m saying.” He looked confused.

Kate watched his expression changing and she felt herself go back to the morning he left her. They’d had something. It had been good, for Kate. He made her feel wanted. He broke through her layers of protection. He’d
fought
for her. But by his own confession, he’d needed more. She felt an emotion move like a whip through her, flicking out and back with a snap. This was power. Kate could prevent his marriage, maybe get him back, and have her safety net, even if she eventually moved on.

But no. That was unfair. It was wrong. By his own admission, he needed more. There was something in her that was flawed, that couldn’t give him what he longed for and she had no right to do that to a man.

“Kate, you know how I felt about you. I’ve moved on, in a way. I really love Heidi. But I guess I’m hesitating because it’s happened so quickly.” He stepped forward and knelt down in front of her. He put his hands on her bare knees. A shiver passed through her.

“Don’t,” she said, flinching and shrinking back into the sofa cushions. It was a reaction that went directly against what she wanted. She wanted his touch. Wanted to feel something. Something more than just the dream of touch.

But Tom was with someone else now. And like hell Kate would be the
other
woman.

He pulled his hands away. “I’m sorry,” he said, averting his eyes. His olive complexioned cheeks flushed red. “I just had to see. To see if there was anything there.” He whispered it.

“There’s not. You should go. Get married. Have a good life. We have nothing and Heidi will make you happy, I’m sure.” Kate couldn’t help the disdain in her voice when she said the other girl’s name.

Tom nodded without looking at her. He rose in one motion. His hands were clenched into fists. He gave her one smoldering look—a fire of frustration, not lust—and then stalked toward the door. Before heading out into the night, he glanced back at her. “I should never have come here. I’m sorry I did.”

Was Audra listening? Kate hoped so. This was too much and Kate didn’t want to have to recount it. It would be too painful.

4: Confessions

“Hello again,” he said, sitting down beside her. He wore a pair of flat-front corduroys and a blue button down shirt. It was an outfit Kate would never pick out for a man. Never. Not that she didn’t like it. It fit him, whoever he was, and was rather appealing in a vintage way.

They sat on a red velour bedspread. The king size bed was a somewhat gaudy four-poster thing with ornately carved heavy posts. The color, size, and decor screamed
I’m not just for sleeping.
A black vaulted ceiling stretched overhead, covered with encrusted gems like stars in a night sky. There was a wooden window seat in a large bay window with tall windows. The curtains were thrown back revealing a serene blue sky—the brilliance outside contrasted starkly with the dark wallpaper covering the rest of the walls and the enormous, museum-quality paintings adorning them.

“Again?” she asked, confused, turning to the stranger.
Who is this guy?
He was handsome. And he seemed to think they knew each other.

He took her hand and smiled, a dimple appearing in his right cheek. His blue eyes glowed brilliantly in the dim light. “You don’t remember me?”

She shook her head. Her brain felt like it was made of cotton batting. She touched her brow and blinked several times. She knew that she should know him. “Who are you?”

He continued to hold her hand as he sat forward on the edge of the bed. His face was near hers. She should pull away, but his breath on her cheek was hot and it made her stomach spin into a knot of anticipation and desire.

“Maybe this will refresh your memory.” His kiss was slow and deliberate as one hand moved to her jaw, which he caressed with soft familiar fingers. She sank away from him, some part of her sensing that they shouldn’t be doing that, but his lips followed her.

His lips were all she could think about. As he flowed along beside her like a burning wave of flame, never ceasing the kiss, memories of encounters like that came flooding back. Once she recalled them, a bonfire of desire flared up like a gas fireplace igniting with a roar. Her stomach burned for him—her legs felt paralyzed with the anguish of longing to possess him.

Who was he? Some awake part of her conscience grappled with the familiarity of the man, struggling to name him.
What is his name?