"Like with my manipulative friend?"
"Do you really think I'm manipulative?"
Katie thought about it. "Maybe a little."
Jo smiled. "So what's your schedule like this week? Are you working a lot?"
Katie nodded. "Six nights and three days."
Jo made a face. "Yuck."
"It's okay. I need the money and I'm used to it."
"And, of course, you had a great weekend."
Katie paused. "Yeah," she said. "I did."
13
The next few days passed uneventfully, which only made them feel longer to Alex. He hadn't spoken to Katie since he'd dropped her off on Sunday evening. It wasn't completely unexpected, since he knew she was working a lot this week, but more than once he found himself wandering out of the store and staring up the road, feeling vaguely disappointed when he didn't see her.
It was enough to squash the illusion that he'd dazzled her to the point that she couldn't resist stopping by. He was surprised, though, by the almost teenage-like enthusiasm he felt at the prospect of seeing her again, even if she didn't feel the same way. He pictured her on the beach, her chestnut hair fluttering in the breeze, her delicately boned features, and eyes that seemed to change color every time he saw them. Little by little, she'd relaxed as the day had worn on, and he had the sense that going to the beach had softened her resistance somehow.
He wondered not only about her past, but about all the other things he still didn't know about her. He tried to imagine what kind of music she liked, or what she thought about first thing in the morning, or whether or not she'd ever attended a baseball game. He wondered whether she slept on her back or on her side and, if given the choice, whether she preferred a shower to a bath. The more he wondered, the more curious he became.
He wished she would trust him with the details of her past, not because he was under the illusion that he could somehow rescue her or felt that she even needed to be rescued, but because giving voice to the truth of her past meant opening the door to the future. It meant they would be able to have a real conversation.
By Thursday, he was debating whether to drop by her cottage. He wanted to and had once even reached for his keys, but in the end he'd stopped because he had no idea what to say once he got there. Nor could he predict how she might respond. Would she smile? Or be nervous? Would she invite him inside or ask him to leave? As much as he tried to imagine what might happen, he couldn't, and he'd ended up putting the keys aside.
It was complicated. But then again, he reminded himself, she was a mysterious woman.
It didn't take long before Katie admitted that the bicycle was a godsend. Not only was she able to come home between her shifts on the days she pulled doubles, but for the first time, she felt as though she could really begin to explore the town, which was exactly what she did. On Tuesday, she visited a couple of antique stores, enjoyed the watercolor seascapes at a local art gallery, and rode through neighborhoods, marveling at the broad sweeping porches and porticos adorning the historic homes near the waterfront. On Wednesday, she visited the library and spent a couple of hours browsing the shelves and reading the flaps of books, loading the bicycle baskets with novels that interested her.
In the evenings, though, as she lay in bed reading the books she'd checked out, she sometimes found her thoughts drifting to Alex. Sifting through her memories, those from Altoona, she realized he reminded her of her friend Callie's father. In her sophomore year in high school, Callie had lived down the street from her and though they didn't know each other that well-Callie was a couple of years younger-Katie could remember sitting on her porch steps every Saturday morning. Like clockwork, Callie's dad would open the garage, whistling as he rolled the lawn mower into place. He was proud of his yard-it was easily the most manicured in the neighborhood-and she'd watch as he pushed the mower back and forth with military precision. He stopped every so often to move a fallen branch out of the way, and in those moments, he would wipe his face with a handkerchief he kept in his back pocket. When he was finished, he would lean against the hood of the Ford in his driveway, sipping a glass of lemonade that his wife always brought to him. Sometimes, she would lean on the car alongside him, and Katie would smile as she saw him pat his wife's hip whenever he wanted to get her attention.
There was something contented in the way he sipped his drink and touched his wife that made her think he was satisfied with the life he was leading and that all his dreams had somehow been fulfilled. Often, as Katie studied him, she wondered how her life would have been had she been born into that family.
Alex had the same air of contentment about him when his kids were around. Somehow he not only had been able to move past the tragedy of losing his wife but had done so with enough strength to help his kids move past the loss as well. When he'd spoken about his wife, Katie had listened for bitterness or self-pity, but there hadn't been any. There'd been sorrow, of course, and a loneliness in his expression as he spoke of her, but at the same time, he'd told Katie about his wife without making her feel like he'd been comparing the two of them. He seemed to accept her, and though she wasn't sure exactly when it had happened, she realized that she was attracted to him.
Beyond that, her feelings were complicated. Not since Atlantic City had she lowered her guard enough to let someone else get so close, and that ended up being a nightmare. But as hard as she'd tried to remain aloof, it seemed that every time she saw Alex, something happened to draw them together. Sometimes by accident, like when Josh fell in the river and she'd stayed with Kristen, but sometimes it seemed almost preordained. Like the storm rolling in. Or Kristen wandering out and pleading with her to come to the beach. To this point, she'd had enough sense to volunteer little about herself, but that was the thing. The more time she spent with Alex, the more she had the sense that he knew far more than he was letting on, and it frightened her. It made her feel naked and vulnerable and it was part of the reason she'd avoided going to the store at all this week. She needed time to think, time to decide what, if anything, she was going to do about it.
Unfortunately, she'd spent too much time dwelling on the way the fine lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled when he grinned or the graceful way he'd emerged from the surf. She thought about how Kristen would reach for his hand and the absolute trust Katie saw in that simple gesture. Early on, Jo had said something along the lines that Alex was a good man, the kind of man who would do the right thing, and though Katie couldn't claim to know him well, her instincts told her he was a man she could trust. That no matter what she told him, he would support her. That he would guard her secrets and never use what he knew to hurt her.
It was irrational and illogical and it went against everything she'd promised herself when she'd moved here, but she realized that she wanted him to know her. She wanted him to understand her, if only because she had the strange sense that he was the kind of man she could fall in love with, even if she didn't want to.
14
Butterfly hunting.
The notion had popped into his head soon after waking on Saturday morning, even before he'd gone downstairs to open the store. Strangely, as he'd been pondering the possibilities of what to do with the kids that day, he'd remembered a project he'd done in the sixth grade. The teacher had asked the students to make an insect collection. He flashed to a memory of running through a grassy field at recess, chasing after everything from bumblebees to katydids. He was certain that Josh and Kristen would enjoy it, and feeling proud of himself for coming up with something exciting and original to occupy a weekend afternoon, he sifted through the fishing nets he had in the store, choosing three that were about the right size.
When he told them at lunch, Josh and Kristen were less than enthusiastic about the idea.
"I don't want to hurt any butterflies," Kristen protested. "I like butterflies."
"We don't have to hurt them. We can let them go."
"Then why catch them in the first place?"
"Because it's fun."
"It doesn't sound fun. It sounds mean."
Alex opened his mouth to respond, but he wasn't sure what to say. Josh took another bite of his grilled cheese sandwich.
"It's pretty hot already, Dad," Josh pointed out, talking as he chewed.
"That's okay. Afterward, we can swim in the creek. And chew with your mouth closed."
Josh swallowed. "Why don't we just swim in the creek now?"
"Because we're going butterfly hunting."