Authors: Melanie Moreland
My throat tightened. I could hear the finality of his words.
Were. Was
. My career at The Gavin Group was over. Even though I knew it would happen, hearing it was still a blow—a small flicker of hope had burned, and now, it was gone.
“Your company, Graham. My time there has been, without a doubt, the most positive, creative environment I have ever been part of in my career. The way you allow your people to work, the cohesive energy that permeates the environment you created. It was an honor to work for you. I can’t even begin to express my apologies for deceiving you. I won’t ask for your forgiveness, since I know I don’t deserve it. All I ask is that you forgive Katharine. I made her do it. I backed her into a corner until she had no choice.” I paused, unsure what else to say. “She’s so fond of Jenna and Laura. Once she comes back, it would give me great comfort knowing she had a friend she could rely on.”
“Where will you be?”
I shrugged. “Toronto, maybe? I don’t know. I won’t leave town until she returns and we settle everything.”
He raised his eyebrows. “This is your idea of fighting? It sounds as if you’ve already given up.”
“I can’t work for some obscure online advertising company, Graham. I’ll never go back to Anderson Inc., so I have no other choice really, except to move to another city and start again.”
“Have I fired you?”
“I assume it’s coming any minute.”
“And when it does?”
“I’ll shake your hand, thank you for being someone I’ll respect the rest of my life—someone who believed enough in me to take a chance. Very few people have ever believed in me.” I swallowed the thick emotion in my throat—Katharine had been one of those people.
“Why are you telling me all this, Richard?” he asked, confused as to my motives. “You could have stayed silent and ridden this out. Katy may come back and all this will have been for nothing. My suspicions would have remained simply that—suspicions.”
I met his stare. “Katharine isn’t the only one tired of living a lie. I want to move forward on a clean slate, whether it’s here with you or elsewhere. I didn’t expect this plan to deviate. I hadn’t planned to fall in love with my wife, and I never expected your opinion of me would mean as much as it does. I didn’t”—I cleared my throat—“expect to feel this close to your family. I’ve never experienced anything like it—I never had a family, not a real one like yours. It was as if I had come to my own crossroad, and I had no choice
except
to tell you the truth. I’m sorry I let you down, Graham. I regret that more than I can express.”
He stepped forward and I held out my hand, surprised to see it was shaking. He looked down, ignoring my outstretched palm. His hand was heavy as he clapped my shoulder and met my gaze. “I’m not firing you, Richard.”
“You . . . you’re not?”
“No. Not now. You have work to do. You need to find your wife and get her back. Then we’ll discuss your future with the company and in general.”
“I don’t understand.”
“There is more to all of this than meets the eye. Your past has dictated the person you became as an adult—which frankly wasn’t the nicest of people, until Katy.”
“What do you want, Graham?”
“I want you to find your wife. Find out what she’s thinking—how she’s feeling. Be honest—lay your cards on the table.”
“Then?”
“Bring her home or finish it. One way or another, get your life on track. You and I are going to sit down and talk—really talk. I think you have a lot to offer my company.” He stopped and gave a nod as if he had reached a decision in his head. “I think my family and I have something to offer you.”
“And what do I have to do to get it?”
“Be honest. Real. I want to know about your life. The Richard you were and the Richard you are now. As well, I will expect apologies to my family. If you stay on board, you are going to have to earn our trust all over again.”
“Back to square one?”
“I’d say right now you’re a negative five.”
“I understand.” I really did. His offer surprised me—it also terrified me. The thought of telling him my past life—the person I was growing up and before working for him—was daunting. However, I had something else I needed to do first.
“I don’t know how to find Katy.”
“I suggest you do the same thing as you did with me today. Start at the beginning.”
“What?”
“She and I talked a lot the day of Penny’s memorial. I think I know where she may be. If you look hard enough, you’ll find the answer in your home.”
“Tell me,” I urged. “Please.”
“No. You need to figure this out. Get to know your wife without help. If you
try
, if you think, you can do this, Richard.” He squeezed my shoulder. “I have confidence.”
“What if I can’t?”
“Then you don’t want it badly enough. If you love her, if you
really
love her, you’ll figure it out.” He paused and regarded me thoughtfully. “I’m going to ask you a question. I want you to answer me without thinking. I want your first thought.”
I straightened my shoulders. I was good at that. “Shoot.”
“Why do you love Katy?”
“Because she makes me look at the world in a different way. She grounds me.” I lifted a shoulder in frustration of how to explain. “She makes life brighter. She showed me what real love meant.”
He nodded. “I’ll drive you home now.”
RICHARD
IN THE HALLWAY, LAURA STOPPED
us. She looked up at me, a frown on her face.
“I was listening by the door, Richard.”
“Okay.”
“I heard almost everything.”
I dropped my gaze, hers too intense to meet any longer.
“You lied to me. To my family.”
“Yes.”
“So did Katy.”
My head shot up. “Because I made her, Laura. She hated it. She hated the fact she had to lie in the first place, but once she got to know you, she loathed it.” I stepped forward. “She did this to make sure Penny was looked after and had a safe home. She . . . she became so fond of you, of all of you, this ruse ate her up inside.” I gripped the back of my neck, wrenching on the tense muscles. “I think it was the main reason she left. She couldn’t take the lies anymore.”
She stretched up, tugging on my arm. I released the grip on my neck and allowed her to clasp my hand.
“Was it still a lie when she left?”
“No,” I admitted. “I love her. I’m lost without Katy.” I swung my gaze to Graham and back to her. “That’s why I had to tell you. I needed a clean slate, no matter what else happens. I needed you to understand this was all on me. Not her. If I leave town, and she comes back, I hope you’ll forgive her. She’s going to be all alone.”
Laura smiled. “You’ve grown, Richard. Your first thought now is Katy and her well-being.”
“It should have always been.”
She squeezed my hand. “Find your wife. Tell her the truth. I think you’ll find you aren’t the only one who’s lost.”
My chest constricted. I wanted to believe—to believe she loved me, too. That she ran because she needed to figure out her next step. I needed to find her so she understood she didn’t have to make it alone.
“I want that.”
Graham spoke up. “Then work for it. Earn it. Figure out your personal life. Once you do, we’ll discuss your professional one. As of this moment, you’re on leave until we talk again. You aren’t fired, but your future isn’t set in stone, either.”
“I understand.”
I had expected to be fired instantly. Thrown out of his house. No matter the outcome, or how difficult it would be, a future discussion was more than I deserved.
“Thank you,” I stated sincerely.
“I’ll take you home now.”
I followed him to the car reflecting that without Katy there, it wasn’t my home. It was the place where I lived. Wherever she was right now,
that
was my home. Beside her. I had to find her and bring her back. Then I could call it home again.
After Graham dropped me off, I wandered the condo, unsure where to start. On the coffee table was the file holding all Katy’s color swatches and ideas for the place. She had added to the list for my bedroom, her little sketches included rearrangement of the furniture and color on the walls. She was talented. I had noticed but had never told her that, though I should have. There were many thoughts I should have shared.
I tossed the file back onto the coffee table. When I got her back, we could discuss whatever changes she wanted to make to
our
room. She could do whatever she pleased to the entire place, as long as she was there, it was fine.
First, I had to find my wife.
I went to her room, dragging a small file box off her closet shelf. I knew it contained legal documents for her and Penny. I sat down on the chaise and opened the lid, ignoring the sense of guilt. These were her personal things and I felt as if I shouldn’t be looking through them without her permission.
However, I had no choice.
An hour later, I put everything back in the box, my head reeling a little. Katharine was very good at keeping records. For the first time, I understood how close to the edge of poverty she’d been living. How every cent she made went toward Penny and her care. I was able to see how the expenses became greater while her income only increased marginally. She had cut back further and further on her own expenditures—moving to cheaper accommodations, spending as little as she could on everyday necessities. Thinking back to how I treated her at the office, the things she put up with on a daily basis, how I mocked her menial lunches—it all made me squirm. Shame, hot and deep, ran through me as I thought of the things I’d done, the way I’d spoken. How she ever moved past it, and had forgiven me, was a miracle.
I shut the lid. Although I gleaned a bit more insight into her life and her unconditional love of Penny, this box held no clue as to where she might be.
I hauled out the two unopened boxes from the floor of her closet and scoured them for clues. Yet, hours later, I sat back in defeat. They contained various personal items: school projects, report cards, pieces of bric-a-brac, a few family pictures, and mementos from her teenage years. They were memories that would mean a great deal to her but meant nothing to me, nothing to guide me to her whereabouts.
I repacked the boxes and stood up, weary, but determined. I glanced around the room, then did a sweep of the drawers, shelves, bookcase, and bathroom. I pored over the pictures on the shelves, looked over the small knickknacks, and ran my finger over the book spines. I doubted her choice of literature would give me any clues.
I flicked off the light and went downstairs. I poured a scotch, surprised to see how late it was. I looked around the kitchen but had no appetite to eat. I grabbed an apple, chewing it while sitting at the counter. Thoughts of her in the kitchen, cooking a great meal, floated through my head. I remembered her laughter and how she teased me when I growled about dinner taking too long.
“Patience, Richard. All good things come to those who wait,” she said with a chuckle.
I shut my eyes. I couldn’t be patient when it came to finding Katharine.
I tossed away the half-eaten apple. In the den, I fired up the computer to check for an email from her, not surprised when there wasn’t one. I sipped my scotch, staring around the room. I always liked it when she would come in and sit across from me. I would show her what I was working on, and her comments were always positive and helpful.
How had I not noticed how deeply she’d become embedded into my life? When our arrangement first started, the lines were clearly drawn. Bit by bit, they disappeared until they were non-existent. It all became as natural as breathing—me watching her cook, her chatting with me over the desk, sitting beside her while she watched TV, or even the quick kiss she would drop on my head on her way up to bed. It was simply a part of my daily life, just as making sure my door was open so she could hear me snore was something I did without thinking.
I had fallen in love with her by building one small, new positive habit at a time. She had slowly replaced the bad ones, until they were gone, by simply being her.
With a groan, I let my head hit the back of my chair.