Authors: Mia Kay
Shiro Matsume, the owner, bowed low and then stood upright, his smile twinkling in his weathered face. “My friend, it’s nice to see you again.”
“Thank you.” Jeff bowed in return. “May I sit?”
Shiro followed him to table. “Would you like sake?”
“Tea?” Jeff suggested.
Shiro nodded. “You look hungry. I’ll bring soba noodles.”
He returned minutes later with two bowls of soup, two cups and a pot of tea. He took the opposite seat and picked up his chopsticks. “Where have you been?”
“Idaho,” Jeff said as he poured their tea.
“You visit Idaho a lot. Do you have family there?”
Yes
. “No, not really.”
Shiro arched an eyebrow.
“I have friends there who are like family,” Jeff admitted, suddenly wishing he’d agreed to sake. “But it doesn’t matter. I don’t think I’ll be going back.”
Shiro looked up from his bowl as he spun a noodle around his chopstick.
“There’s a little boy, but he’s not related. Not really.” It felt wrong to even say that. He fell into silence.
“Little boys generally have mothers,” Shiro hinted.
“He does—” Jeff stopped the contradiction. “He does. They live—lived—next door.”
“And you miss her?”
Miss her. People
missed
buses, but they just waited for the next one. There was always another bus. There wasn’t another Abby. Her absence left a hole where all his internal organs were supposed to be. He nodded. “But she doesn’t trust me.”
“And running away helps build this trust?”
“I didn’t run away,” Jeff objected, ignoring his headfirst rush to the state border. “She kept telling me to go away—running away from
me
. So I just—Look. She’s the one who confronted a murderer rather than asking me to help her.”
“And she was hurt?”
Every time he closed his eyes he saw her blue and still on a gurney racing toward the operating room. “Yes. And it wasn’t the first time.”
A family came into the restaurant, and Shiro excused himself to wait on his new customers. Jeff finished his meal alone, and went to the register to pay.
Shiro handed him his change and a small bowl, blue as the night sky with gold seamed through it in irregular patterns.
“It’s called
kintsugi,
” he said as he traced a golden line. “Google it.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“And that brings us to today.”
Having finished her tale, Abby sat back in the Adirondack chair on the porch, wincing as her bruises and scars came into contact with the wood. Her friends sat across from her, and past them she could see into the valley where Cass and Evan were doing all the chores. The foundation pilings were the only reminders of the house that had been her home.
For the past month, she’d spent hours talking. To Tom Beckett from the VA, whom she’d selected as her therapist; to Celia about Evan’s progress; and to Revered Ferguson about forgiveness. No matter how many times she’d talked about her past, this last confession, to her friends and their husbands, was the one she’d been dreading. She’d be strong enough to live without them, but she didn’t want to. She was already living without too much.
“You’re expecting us to just get up and walk away, aren’t you?” Charlene asked. “I can tell.”
It wouldn’t have surprised her. She’d spent her life planning for it. “I lied to you.” She looked at the semi-circle of weepy wives and shell-shocked husbands. “I lied to all of you, and I put you in danger because of it. I can’t expect you—”
“How could you think we wouldn’t love you?” Tiffany scolded.
“I had a body in my backyard.” Abby looked at each one of them—sitting still, talking like it was a normal Sunday afternoon—sure they were losing their minds. “I lived my life in casinos and racetracks, dodging the police. My mother was a murderer.”
“And you lived in fear, alone down there, putting yourself through hell to keep us safe,” Faith said. “You damn near died stopping her. So I think you deserve a little love and forgiveness.”
She stared at Nate, waiting for him to be the voice of reason. She should have known better. His grin widened. “I’m still getting used to hearing you talk.”
Everyone was getting used to it, even her. Wallis’s death, telling the stories, and Buck’s funeral had all freed her. She still locked the doors, but she no longer locked up her words. She didn’t have to keep Wallis’s secrets anymore.
Because Wallis was gone. Dead and buried in Kentucky, her bones charred and a crack in her skull the width of an axe blade. Killed by her only child, who’d spent the last nineteen years wishing she was dead. Out of all the wishes to come true...
Abby struggled to her feet, anxious to walk away from the memories that haunted her whenever she was still.
“Do you need help?” Maggie asked, already halfway out of her chair.
“No, just—”
It was no use. Gray was holding the door so Maggie could follow her into the house. The simple act, the reminder of Jeff, broke Abby’s heart just a little bit more. And that pain made her angry.
“You don’t have to help me,” she said once she and Maggie were alone.
“You’re welcome,” Maggie quipped. “What’s going on?”
“I just need a pain pill. I can do that myself.”
“Beyond that.”
Abby hobbled deeper into the house, out of the crowd’s earshot. “I killed someone, and you guys want to act like it’s a party.”
“You saved a whole bunch of people, and you got justice for several others,” Maggie said. “We thought you were going to die. So, yeah. We’re a little glad you didn’t.”
She hadn’t died, but she wasn’t living either. Everything was foggy and cold while she was haunted by the dead and the living. She slept in Jeff’s bed, she lived in his house, she sat in his chairs.
“Have you talked to him?”
She didn’t need to ask which
him
. No one mentioned him by name, but everyone asked in some way or the other.
“He Skypes with Evan every night.”
“But you don’t—”
She never talked to him, but God how she wanted to. It was torture to hear his voice and not see his smile. But he never asked for her, and she was afraid to come into view—worried she’d see pity, or worse, in his eyes. “He chases monsters for a living. He doesn’t want to be dragged into my freak show in his spare time. He left. I expected him to do it.”
“Ask him to come back.”
“People leave, Maggie. You know that. They take your heart, and your faith, and your trust, and they leave. You get used to being happy and safe, and then you aren’t anymore, and you have to start over and be—” Abby shoved the words back down her throat. It was traitorous to even think these things, much less say them out loud.
“Alone in a closet?” Maggie pressed. “Stuck by yourself? Afraid?”
“Yes,” Abby snarled. “They all promised to stay. They told me they loved me, and they left me alone with her. They weren’t strong enough to stand up to her. They made me do it, and
he
sees that ugliness every time he looks at me. And I won’t...” she sobbed. “I can’t...”
Maggie cradled her against her shoulder. “You need to be brave, Ab. He’s worth the risk.
You’re
worth it.”
* * *
“Are you going to spend the night here again?”
Jeff looked up from the file he was reviewing to see Trish Phillips, his assistant director, lounging in the doorway. Past her the lab was empty, and past those lights the hallway was dark. “I haven’t spent the night here in years. Why are you still here?”
“Because I didn’t know if you’d need me while you ran tests to confirm results that have already been confirmed twice.”
“I’m not doing that,” Jeff lied, hoping she didn’t hear the centrifuge whirring in the far corner of the lab.
“Uh-huh.”
Damn. The woman had ears like a bat.
Trish sat in the chair opposite him and craned her neck for a view of his laptop. “Are you watching that video again?”
He minimized the email, stopping Evan’s last baseball game mid-inning. It didn’t matter. After a week of rerunning it, he knew every RBI, every whooping cheer. “Go home. Harry will kick my ass if you’re late for dinner.”
Instead of leaving, she settled in. “Not until you admit that you don’t want to go home.”
“I’m busy reviewing reports.” He swept his hand at the stack on his desk. “What did you do while I was gone?”
“You can rubber-stamp those and you know it,” Trish scolded. “You miss her, Jeff. You watch those videos for Evan the first time and for Abby the other fifty.” When he didn’t rise to the bait, she sighed. “Why don’t you come for dinner with me and Harry?”
“Thanks, but no. I’ll go home as soon as these tests are finished. I promise.” It was a lie. He knew it and so did she. Truthfully, he couldn’t stand to see Trish and Harry together, or Bob and Amanda. He’d quit calling his sisters because the domestic din in the background made him yearn for something he couldn’t have.
He got part of it with Evan and Cass on Skype calls, but it wasn’t enough. No matter when he called, no matter how often, no matter how badly Evan wobbled his tablet, Abby was a phantom.
The videos were worse. He knew she shot them. She wouldn’t have left that to someone else, and Evan lit up only like he did around her. It was like watching them be a family without him.
But she never spoke. He’d caught himself turning up the volume on his laptop just to hear her breathe. It was a sickness.
He walked Trish to the elevator and then returned to his silent, empty lab. He’d always enjoyed being alone here at night, and the pleasure had doubled now that his team walked on eggshells for fear he’d collapse into a brokenhearted mess.
His cell phone rang, and he checked the number. An Idaho area code glared back at him in clear, well-lit numbers. With shaking fingers, he connected the call.
“Hello?”
“Jeff?” The booming, deep voice dashed his hopes. “Eric Freeman. Are you still working?”
“Yep. How’s it going, Eric?”
“I just got out of another meeting where my techs did nothing but argue about their lab. I’m going to take your advice and start looking for a new director.”
“Best thing,” Jeff said as he juggled evidence bags and check-in sheets. It was still early. He could clear one more report off his list. “If your current guy can’t manage the team now, it won’t get better with the new facility.”
“Would you like the job?”
Jeff dropped the bag he was holding. “I didn’t recommend you fire him so you’d hire
me
.”
“You’re the perfect fit for this, and you already like Idaho. Do I have any shot of getting you away from the Feds?”
Great. The only person who wanted him back in Idaho was a six-foot-six, balding highway patrolman.
Jeff looked around the dark, empty lab. It was church-quiet and full of all his favorite toys. Full of people he enjoyed working with.
He ought to just say no and get it over with. It was an easy word.
No
. And with it, every door he’d left propped open would slam closed. Maybe he should let them do that.
“Let me think about it.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
The video chat icon flashed, and Jeff maximized the window. He expected Evan’s wide grin and sunburned nose, instead Abby was fidgeting in the chair. Her brief smile lifted only one corner of her mouth. “Hi.”
She was too thin, too pale. No makeup, thick braid, sweatshirt. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “Hi.”
Scents flooded over him—gardenias, fresh hay, peppermint. Tastes followed—sour apple, sweet tea, butter, caramel, sriracha. His tongue twitched in vain, and his fingers danced in a frustrated search for her skin. “Is everything all right?”
“Umm, no.” She gulped. “Yes.” She sighed and shook her head while she rubbed her neck. “Maybe.”
“What’s he done?”
“Not him,” she sighed. “Me. His birthday is in a few weeks. Remember?”
“He’s told me every time we talk. He even sent me a Google reminder for my calendar.”
She missed the humor. “He asked me if he could have something special, and I told him yes without hearing what it was.” She glanced at the screen. “I should have known better, but it’s been a rough year and I wanted him to have a special day.”
“What’s he want?”
If she rubbed her neck any harder, she’d rip open her scar. “He wants to come to Chicago and see you.”
The back of his throat itched. “Really?”
“He’s going to ask you, and I didn’t want it to be a surprise. I’ve tried to explain that you might be busy. So you can always tell him—”
“Is he there?” Evan asked as he ran around the corner of the table. The video feed shook. Abby stood, her nervous smile flitted across her lips, and she disappeared.
“Hi!” Evan’s greeting was drowned out by crashes and thumps. The dogs snarled and snapped offscreen.
“No need to rush, Ev. Be careful.”
Go away. Let me talk to Abby.
“I wanted to show you this.” His wide smile was obscured by a piece of paper. A bright red A-was written within a circle at the top of the page. “Look at my math test. Isn’t that great? I did what you told me, I took my time and counted on my fingers if I had to.”
“I’m proud of you, buddy. How’s everything else?”
“We’re starting soccer. Mr. Harper’s our coach because he used to play a lot in school. Did you know that?”
Jeff nodded. “I—”
“And Mr. Anderson is going to teach us basketball. He told us yesterday at baseball practice. It’s not going to be hard like on TV. The basket is lower to the ground. And it’s not even cheating to play that way.”
“Evan, don’t interrupt,” Abby chided. “Manners, remember?”
Jeff soaked in every syllable as he imagined being there, helping Evan with homework, going to soccer games, fishing on Sunday afternoon.
The little boy rolled his eyes. “Yeah.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jeff scolded. “And don’t roll your eyes.”
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, Mom. That was rude.”
Mom.
Every time Jeff heard the word, his chest hurt. They’d done something good. If nothing else, Evan had people who loved him.
“Thank you.” Her smile was audible, and Jeff’s ache doubled. Abby had someone who loved her. Someone she
let
love her. She wasn’t alone.
He was the only one who was exiled.
“Have you been fishing?” Evan asked.
Jeff shook his head. “Not since I’ve been back.”
“Don’t you live by a great big lake? Doesn’t it have fish in it?”
Jeff held his breath. She’d lose her shit over this. “I don’t have anyone to fish with. Why don’t you come visit?”
“Really? Could I? It’s my birthday, remember? Could I come then? I don’t have school yet.”
“Perfect. Abby and I will work it out. I’ll see you in a few weeks.”
“Wait ’til I tell Kyle. He didn’t think I’d get to do it. His dad moved away too, but he never wants Kyle to come see him.”
Dad.
Jeff cleared his throat. “Yeah, well. You’re coming to see me, and we’re going to have a great time for your birthday. I hear Abby tapping her foot, so go on to bed before she gets mad at me.”
“G’night,” Evan said as he waved with both hands. “I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”
Now he couldn’t breathe. “Love you too, squirt.”
Evan slid from the chair, and Jeff stared at the vacant spot as he strained to hear the murmurs in the background. Steps thudded up the stairs, then Abby appeared on camera. If possible, she looked more nervous than before.
He couldn’t do a damn thing about it from here. He never should have left her. He should have fought for her, even if it would’ve meant fighting her.
“You didn’t have to—”
“I want to. Please?”
Her lips were thin and tight, but she nodded. “I’ll send you the details.”
* * *
“Abby!”
Jeff sat up in bed, gasping for breath and drenched in sweat. He kicked the sheets, then resorted to tearing them away when they became more tangled. When he could stand, he walked to the kitchen on shaking legs and got a glass of water. It took five minutes for his hands to quit shaking as he talked himself out of the nightmare.
She was well and whole and safe. He’d just talked to her. The gravestone wasn’t hers, not anymore. They hadn’t reused it to bury her adult body in Kentucky where he couldn’t reach her. She hadn’t died alone in a cold rain.
But she had died, and every night those memories haunted him. Every night it was a different type of loss, but it didn’t make it less real. She’d left him alone, and she’d done it on purpose.
He was tired of being alone. He was tired of being afraid.
He sat on the edge of the bed and dialed the one person he knew who could help him.
“Hello?”
“Ruthie?”
“Jeff? Is something wrong? Is Mama okay?”
He checked the time. “Damn. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize the time.”
She cleared her throat and juggled the phone. He could mark her path through the house by listening to the closing doors and her shuffling steps. “It’s not like I’ve never woke you. What’s up?”
“How do you do it?” he asked as he fell across the bed and stared at the ceiling.
“I do everything well,” she snorted. “What are we talking about?”
“Clayton. Jason.”
“Oh
that
. Is this about Dad?”
“He left us alone.” He would have never admitted that if he was fully rested and in the light of day, but here—tired in the dark—it was easy. “He died because he rushed in without backup to be a hero.”
“He did.”
They’d hashed this out for years, always on opposite sides. This time it was his turn to be angry and hurt. “So how do you not worry every day?”
“I had to accept that anything could happen,” she yawned. “Clay could get hit by a bus or get sick. It’s out of my control.”
“But he’s not pushing firemen out of the way so he can run into burning buildings. He wouldn’t leave you.”
“Not on purpose, no. But he would save me. Since he’s not trained to do it, he’d probably get hurt. But...he loves me, Jeff. How am I going to stop him?” The squeaky rocker she’d inherited from their grandmother screeched in the background. “Could
she
have stopped you?”
“No. But I’m trained—”
“So was Dad,” Ruthie stated.
“You’re supposed to tell me I’m right, you know?”
“Then you should’ve called Jan.”
He lay on his bed and listened to her rocker squeak. “I ran away.”
“Then run back, moron. Can I go back to sleep now?”