When she had put the clothes out that morning, the sun was bright and it was strangely warm for December. Now the sun hid behind the storm clouds, gray and ominous, leaving her fresh laundry cold and stiff. With a start, Catherine hurried into the the den. She grabbed her pink bathrobe and satin bedroom slippers, put both on, and hurried to the front door. She unlocked the deadbolt, and gave the door a pull. Stuck. She braced her foot firmly on the hardwood floor and pulled again. The massive door opened loudly, the hinges in desperate need of some oil. Catherine stepped out into the frigid December air with a shiver. She jogged as fast as a pregnant woman can possibly jog around to the back of the house where the laundry was hanging on the line. Jack would be furious if he knew she was outside. If she hurried, she could finish before he returned.
The flurries danced around Catherine, landing in her long mane of thick hair. She couldn't help but smile. Not even snow could ruin her mood. She began haphazardly pulling clothes off of the line, letting clothes pins fall to the ground.
I'll find them in the spring when this mess thaws.
Catherine grabbed as much as she could carry. When her arms were filled with clothing, she brought them in the house, and came back out for more. In the distance, a blue pickup truck could be seen coming up the long road, winding its way up towards the house. At the sight of the truck, Catherine rushed inside with the rest of the laundry, slamming the heavy oak door behind her.
She rushed upstairs to the second floor and discarded the laundry onto the bed she occasionally shared with Jack. She turned around and peered in horror at her reflection in the long mirror on the bedroom door. Catherine yelled in frustration; no shoes, no makeup, hair unkempt. Catherine was not a sneakers and sweats kind of girl. She refused to let anyone see her in a state of disarray, even her own husband.
She kicked off her slippers and the old pink bathrobe as she began searching the room for a pair of flat dress shoes. Even though she looked perfectly acceptable to an outsider's eye, her fervent pride took over. Catherine began rummaging through her over-crowded closet for an acceptable pair of shoes to put on. She decided on a pair of black mules, attempted to put them on, but was met with resistance. Her foot was too swollen to fit into the shoe.
I'll just go barefoot. That’s better than these hideous slippers!
Catherine looked at the mirror again, and focused on her face. No makeup, dark curls hanging past her shoulders; Catherine now entered panic mode. Quite the natural beauty, she needed no additional assistance from the large makeup case that sat on the shelf inside the medicine cabinet. Stubbornness being one of Catherine's downfalls, you could not dissuade her once she put her mind to something.
Catherine rushed to the bathroom and attempted to open the medicine cabinet, where her makeup bag was stored. Locked. Stubbornly, she tried to open it again. Definitely locked. Frustrated that Jack still didn't trust her enough to leave the medicine cabinet unlocked when he left the house, Catherine squeezed her tiny hands into fists, and pounded them on the white pedestal sink; her thoughts aflame, her rage obvious.
"Damn it, Jack! I'm fine! Really, I am!" Catherine insisted as she glared at herself in the mirror.
Scrutinizing her angry reflection in the mirror, Catherine became even more frustrated and stormed out into the hallway. A failing muffler sounded just outside the house and Catherine was reminded that she was supposed to be getting ready. Anger washed away from Catherine's face as quickly as it came. She pulled a hair brush through her thick curls, and pulled them into a sleek twist on the back of her head. She then secured her hair with seven bobby pins.
Catherine was tempted to pick the lock with one of her bobby pins, but decided against it.
No need to get him upset.
On Jack's bureau was a small tube of cherry lip balm. She smeared some across her lips, and tossed the tube back on the bureau. Just as she was finishing up, there was a loud series of knocks at the front door. Catherine gave the mirror one last glance, smiled at her reflection, and hurried down the stairs. Before opening the door, Catherine took a deep sigh, winded from rushing around. She smoothed her dress down, and double checked her hair in the hall mirror. As she opened the heavy oak door, disappointment washed over her pretty features.
What the hell are you doing here?
Chapter Three
Elkhart, PA
October 7, 1997
Dawn
"Everybody come on! Let's go!" Jack yelled up the staircase to his kids and nephew. Today it was Jack's duty to get the kids off to school and run errands in town with Adam. Bridgette had already left for her shift at Grier Mountain Medical Center where she was a nurse in the emergency room, and Frank had not returned from his night shift yet. The house was quiet. Too quiet. A suspicious look came across Jack's face. By now, he should have heard trampling feet, arguing amongst siblings, or at the very least, someone pretending to be sick so that they could escape the long school day.