“Pop sent me out in the old canoe to fix the floating dock, and I was out there, on the water, when I saw Alex on the dock.”
She points with emphasis to the ground under our feet. “This morning?”
“Yes.” I stare at her. “You didn’t tell him he could go?”
She shakes her head. “No. I went to the store for food and left Gabby in charge. The little ones were still sleeping.”
“He tossed this into the lake.” I hold out the note to her. “It was inside a plastic bottle.”
“Oh,” she breathes out. She sinks down on the bottom step. “I didn’t know he was still doing this.”
I sit down next to her. “You know what it is?”
She scrubs a hand down her face. “It’s probably a plea to God to bring Jeff home.” Her gaze finds mine. “Am I right?”
“Yes.”
“I thought he was done with that.”
“What’s that all about?” I ask. I watch her face. You can tell a lot about people by watching their faces.
But with Katie, it’s like someone has drawn the shutters. You can’t see in the windows. You can’t get a hint of what’s going on inside.
“The last time his dad left for a deployment, he told Alex that he could write a note, fold it into a paper airplane, and send it over the back fence. That way whatever he wanted to say to his father would get to him.” She heaves a sigh. “He’s still doing it, apparently.”
I stay quiet. For some reason, I don’t think my words are needed here.
“I used to go and collect the notes every day, and then I would take pictures of them and send them to Jeff by email. Then the next time he got to talk to the kids, he would mention them, so Alex would know that his thoughts and ramblings actually made it to his dad.”
“So, are you going to take a picture of this one?”
She groans. “What good would that do me? Or Alex for that matter?” She lumbers to her feet, pressing her belly forward. “Thanks for letting me know he’s doing it here. I wasn’t aware.”
“He asked for help, Katie.”
“I know that, Jake.” She stares into my eyes. And her blue ones are full of something I can’t quite pinpoint.
“What can I do to help you, Katie?” I ask, my heart in my throat.
“We don’t need for you to take care of us, Jake,” she says on a heavy breath. “I just need to be here. I need to stay here and not feel like someone is trying to jerk my soul out of me every time I take a breath.” She presses her fist against her chest. “I just need to breathe, Jake. That’s all I need. If you can’t let me breathe, then get the fuck off me and stay the hell away. I’m not leaving. Please don’t make me miserable.”
Then she stomps up the steps.
I sit there, absolutely stunned. And hurt. And angry.
My gut wants me to follow her, to find out what’s really going on. But my head…my head is telling me to take it slow, to let it unravel. My heart… That bastard is telling me that this is exactly how I messed everything up back home.
“Get a dog,” I mutter to myself. Because that worked out for me.
“Get yourself together, Jake,” I mutter again.
“Jake!” a voice yells from inside the cabin. The door flies open and Katie’s kids run out.
One of them screams. I step inside to find Katie standing on the center couch cushion. She has a frying pan clutched in her hand.
“What the hell?” I say. There’s no one in here but her. “What are we trying to kill?”
She points with a frantically shaking finger to the edge of the kitchen counter. “That! Get that. That.”
I look over and find a tiny little mouse nibbling on the corner of a piece of cheese. “That?”
“Yes! That!” she shrieks.
“I can get it!” Alex yells through the door.
“No!” Katie yells back. “Stay outside.”
“It’s just a mouse,” I say. I walk toward it, and take a bowl off the counter very slowly.
“It’s a rodent!” Katie shrieks, making my ears ring.
“It’s just a tiny little mouse. All he wants is a piece of cheese.”
“Get it out of here, Jake!” she screams.
“Okay, okay,” I say calmly. I slowly lower the bowl on top of the unsuspecting mouse until I have it safe within the tiny dome. The mouse doesn’t seem to care. He nibbles his piece of cheese.
“Now what are you going to do with it?” she asks. She steps warily down from the couch cushion.
Hell, I have no idea. “I’m going to…take it outside.”
Katie has a wide envelope lying on the counter. I pick it up and slide it under the edge of the bowl, slowly inching beneath the tiny little beast until I have him carefully trapped.
“He’s actually kind of cute,” I tell her.
She leans close to me, and the scent of her shampoo tickles my nose. She used to smell like Love’s Baby Soft. Now she smells like Love’s Baby Soft and comfort. She’s really, really pregnant, I have to remind myself. Because being this close is like shooting a lightning bolt straight to my middle. And lower. And that’s just wrong. Katie’s not available. Not by a long shot.