“Josh will be happy about this,” he said. “I just wish I could find one of Kristen’s dolls.”
Katie crossed her arms over her stomach, feeling tears in her eyes. “I’ll buy her a new one.”
“You don’t have to. I’m insured.”
“But I want to. None of this would have happened if it hadn’t been for me.”
He looked at her. “I knew what I was getting into when I first asked you out.”
“But you couldn’t have expected this.”
“No,” he admitted. “Not this. But it’s going to be okay.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because it’s true. We survived and that’s all that matters.” He reached for her hand and she felt his fingers intertwine with hers. “I haven’t had a chance to say that I’m sorry.”
“Why would you be sorry?”
“For your loss.”
She knew he was talking about Kevin and she wasn’t sure what to say. He seemed to understand that she’d both loved and hated her husband. “I never wanted him to die,” she began. “I just wanted to be left alone.”
“I know.”
She turned tentatively toward him. “Are we going to be okay? I mean, after all this?”
“I suppose that depends on you.”
“Me?”
“My feelings haven’t changed. I still love you, but you need to figure out whether your feelings have changed.”
“They haven’t.”
“Then we’ll find a way to work through all this together because I know I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
Before she could respond, one of the firemen called out to them and they turned in his direction. He was working to free something, and when he stood he was holding a small safe.
“Do you think it was damaged?” Katie said.
“It shouldn’t be,” Alex answered. “It’s fireproof. That’s why I bought it.”
“What’s in it?”
“Mainly records, but I’m going to need them. Some photo disks and negatives. Things I wanted to protect.”
“I’m glad they found it.”
“So am I,” he said. He paused. “Because there’s something in there for you, too.”
42
After dropping Alex off at Joyce’s, Katie finally drove back home, not wanting to return but knowing she couldn’t put off the inevitable forever. Even if she didn’t intend to stay there, she needed to pack up some of her belongings.
Dust rose from the gravel and she bounced through the potholes before pulling to a stop out front. She sat in the jeep—dented and scraped, but still running fine—and stared at the door, remembering how Kevin had bled to death on her porch, his gaze fixed on her face.
She didn’t want to see the bloodstains. She was afraid that opening the door would remind her of the way Alex had looked after Kevin struck him. She could practically hear the sounds of Kristen and Josh crying hysterically as they clung to their father. She wasn’t prepared to relive all of that.
Instead, she started toward Jo’s. In her hand was the letter that Alex had given her. When she’d asked him why he’d written to her, he’d shaken his head. “It’s not from me,” he’d said. She’d stared at him, confused. “You’ll understand once you read it,” he’d told her.
As she approached Jo’s, she felt the trace of a memory stir to life. Something that happened on the night of the fire. Something she’d seen but she couldn’t quite place. Just as she felt her mind closing in on it, the memory slipped away. She slowed as she drew nearer to Jo’s house, a frown of confusion creasing her face.
There were cobwebs on the window, and a shutter had fallen to the ground where it lay shattered in the grass. The porch railing was broken and she could see weeds sprouting between the planks. Her eyes took in everything, but she was unable to process the scene before her: a rusted doorknob, half dangling from the door, grime on the windows as if they hadn’t been cleaned in years.
No curtains…
No entry mat…
No wind chime…
She hesitated, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. She felt odd and curiously weightless, as if she were in a waking dream. The closer she got, the more the house seemed to decay before her.
She blinked and noticed that the door was cracked down the middle with a two-by-four hammered across it, bracing it to the crumbling casing.
She blinked again and saw that part of the wall, up in the corner, had rotted away, leaving a jagged hole.
She blinked a third time and realized that the lower half of the window was cracked and broken; pieces of glass littered the porch.