In a near panic, Kate tucked the picture away and tried to think about something else. Anything. She sat on the sofa surveying the beautiful condo. How lucky they were. She was tempted to call James just to hear his voice, but the locked unit was always so busy, and she didn’t want to disturb him. Besides, he couldn’t be her rock every single second of every day. She had to handle some of this on her own.
She remembered the nightmares piling up after Savannah’s murder. She remembered waking up screaming, “Mommy!” But their mother was gone. She never screamed, “Daddy!” When the nightmares got really bad, she would get up in the middle of the night and wander around the house, searching for her father. More often than not, he wouldn’t be there. His car would be gone from the driveway, and she’d have to face the horror of her sister’s murder alone. Kate used to whisper to the empty house, “I’m sorry, Savannah, do you forgive me?” And when she fell asleep, she would have the terrible cabin dream all over again.
It took her years to overcome her fears and eventually stop tormenting herself. One night, in a radically different dream, her sister appeared out of mist, and Kate could feel Savannah’s thin, graceful fingers lacing through her hair. In this rare peaceful dream, Savannah sat next to her and carefully braided Kate’s long auburn hair. “Perfect,” she said when she was done. Kate woke up sobbing.
Ira interpreted the dream as a crystallization of her own self-forgiveness. He said it had nothing to do with spirits or ghosts, except as a metaphor for healing. But Kate couldn’t help feeling that her sister had actually visited her that night in some form or another. An irrational belief—but one she clung to. Because Savannah’s forgiveness meant everything in the world to her.
Kate poured herself another glass of wine. Then another. Soon she’d polished off the bottle, and the world became soft-focus—a rubbery, cushiony world. Nice and bouncy. She got off the sofa and stood in front of the panoramic windows, swaying slightly with each intake of breath.
*
Late that evening, James came home thoroughly drained. Kate had never seen him so burnt out before. He collapsed on their queen-sized bed without bothering to get undressed. “Hey, you,” he muttered into his pillow, already half asleep. “Whazzup?”
“Hey, beautiful.” She tugged off his boots and climbed into bed with him.
He gathered her in his arms. “How ya doing, sweetness?”
“Fine. I was shitty before. Many, many glasses of wine ago.”
“Hey. Whatever does the job.”
“Are you encouraging me to become an alcoholic?”
“No. I’m encouraging you not to care so much.”
“Ha, that’ll be the day.”
“Look at me. I had a shitty day, ten-hour shift, I haven’t had an ounce of alcohol, and I don’t care. See?”
“I guess you’re just more tougher than me.”
“More tougher? I am?”
“Mm.” She kissed him.
A few minutes later he found his second wind, got out of bed, and retrieved his messenger bag. “Hey, I picked these up on the way home.” He rummaged through the inner pockets and produced a handful of glossy travel brochures. He dropped them on the bed and sat down beside her. “What d’you think? Cancun or the Caymans? Or maybe Hawaii? I dunno. I was leaning toward Cancun.”
“Wow,” Kate said, picking up a brochure. “We don’t have to decide right this second, do we?”
“April’s not that far away, dude. Look at this. Pristine beaches, kayaking, margaritas, the Mayan ruins in Coba. Snorkeling, sunsets… did I mention margaritas? Just what the doctor ordered.”
Kate frowned. “Yeah…”
“What?”
“Sorry, I can’t think straight. I wasn’t prepared to plan our whole future tonight.”
“Our whole future? It’s just a vacation.”
She dropped the brochure on the bed. “I’ve got a lot on my mind lately.”
“Okay. But look at this…”
“Not until after the funeral and the Risk Management interview, we said. Right?”
“I know. But there’s always going to be another crisis, Kate. There’s always going to be another patient. Come on, we deserve this. Sunny skies, blue ocean…?”
“Do I have to decide right this second?” she asked defensively.
His face fell. He scooped up the brochures and shoved them back in his bag. “I understand you’re under a lot of stress right now. I didn’t mean to come across as an asshole, Kate. But I’m worried about you. I don’t like what this is doing to you… how it’s affecting you.”
She drew back. “Are you talking about the hallucination?”
“Sort of,” he admitted. “That was pretty upsetting.”
“But I thought we agreed it was a symptom of the migraine?”
“It could be a symptom of a lot of things.”
She stared at him.
“Listen, I love you. I’m not the enemy here. What about my idea of driving down to the Cape next week? Just for a couple of days.”
Her finger began to itch. She glanced at her ring. “Maddie needs me,” she said. “She’ll only be under my supervision for seven days…”
He heaved a frustrated sigh. “You’re right. Sorry, babe. I understand how hard this must be for you, because I’ve been through it myself… Remember Desiree? She swallowed drain cleaner, for chrissakes. What a horrible way to go. But you’ve got to believe me when I say I want to help. I want to protect you from your awful childhood, Kate. Do you realize how scary this is for me? I mean, the execution is next week. We weren’t supposed to be here when it happened, remember? We were supposed to be in a hot tub in Sedona, drinking margaritas, no TV, no Internet… just you, me, and the stars.”
“I know,” she said sadly. “But it’s unavoidable now.”
He wrapped his arms around her and drew her close. She rested her head against his chest and listened to his heartbeat, which was slower than hers. He took her hands and turned them over. He traced the old scars with his fingers. She had tried to kill herself on her eighteenth birthday, but she’d done it all wrong and missed the vein.
“Look,” he said, “I can’t imagine what kind of hell you’ve been through… how difficult your life must’ve been… and now, to have to relive it all over again. But my instinct is to protect you. I’m a guy. It’s a guy thing. You get that, right?”
She nodded solemnly. “Maybe we shouldn’t have moved in together?”
He drew back. “What?”
“Maybe it’s too soon for this?”
“Is that your takeaway from our conversation? That we should call it quits?”
She shrugged, tears welling. “It’s never too late.”
Instead of getting angry or offended, he laughed. “Those are bad, bad words.” He folded her in his arms. “I’m sorry, but it’s way too late. You’re stuck with me.”
She sighed, deeply relieved.
13
ON FRIDAY MORNING AT 8:50 AM, Kate parked in the six-story hospital garage and went over her prepared statement in her mind, reluctant to leave the warmth of her car for the interview with Risk Management at nine o’clock. After all, the risk was mostly hers.
She loosened her grip on the wheel, switched off the ignition, and stepped out of the car, then stood for a moment inside the vast cave-like structure. It was a cold and echoey kind of place. A nowhere kind of place. You could hear the steady whoosh of cars circling the levels, a high-tide sound. A person could drown in those circlings.
On an impulse, instead of taking the pedestrian walkway directly into the west wing, she headed down the stairwell and crossed the courtyard, past the frozen fountain and weathered benches. It had been a long time since she’d entered the hospital through the main doors.
The beautiful old building had an aura of sleepy dignity about it. The walls were composed of thick granite blocks, and the arched windows reminded her of heavily lidded eyes, as if the hospital was always on the verge of nodding off. In front of the main entranceway, a little boy stepped on the automated rubber mat over and over, making the glass doors slide open and shut, enthralled by his newfound superpower. She watched with genuine amusement, her winter coat flapping around her knees, until his mother came along and whisked him away.