“It doesn’t matter now,” she said again before turning around and disappearing down the street.
Jason wanted to stop her and to tell her how much she still mattered. How much every single letter, every word had mattered and still mattered to him. But he remembered his nightmares. He remembered his bloodsoaked hands. And he wouldn’t dare sully her like that.
Chapter Six
Kat took a deep breath as she stepped towards her front door. She held her keys tightly in one hand so they wouldn’t jingle, alerting the boys she was home. She needed a moment to compose herself.
Steeling herself, she opened the door. Immediately, her brothers’ loud and eager voices assaulted her.
“Well? Well?” Malcolm asked, rushing into the entryway, all arms and legs. “Did you meet him? Did you get to speak to him?”
Dillon, a few steps slower, looked towards his sister with reserved hope. “Was he there?” he asked, his voice breathless.
Kat first put her purse and keys down on the entry table and quickly ushered Dillon back into the living room and onto the couch. “First, you need to sit down,” she said with as much authority as she could muster. He looked too pale for comfort.
But then again, he was constantly pale now. Having had a relapse, he was going in regularly as an outpatient for chemo treatments. The scant amount of weight she had managed to force onto his body had melted away, leaving him nearly skeletal.
Dillon sighed as he sat. He rolled his eyes at her mothering but she could see the lines of his face ease as he leaned back onto the cushions.
“Well?” Malcolm persisted. “Did you meet Reggie? What was he like?”
Dillon’s eyes perked up, clearly dying of curiosity as much as his brother.
Kat sighed as she ran a hand through her hair. “I didn’t get to meet him,” she said finally, unable to hide the disappointment in her voice.
Malcolm frowned. “Was he not working that night?” he asked. “Are you going back tomorrow? If you go back, can I—”
“He’s dead,” Kat interrupted, wanting to cut Malcolm off before he got too carried away.
There was a moment of frozen silence between the three of them.
“He’s dead?” Malcolm said, echoing the same words Kat had whispered just a few hours ago.
Kat nodded, feeling a sudden overwhelming wave of nauseating panic take hold. She took in a deep breath to calm herself.
“He died about a year ago,” she said. She purposely left out the other surprise of the night.
Jason’s dark green eyes flashed across her mind.
Malcolm shook his head. “He can’t be,” he murmured as if to himself. “He can’t be dead.”
Dillon stared off as he slumped against the couch cushions. “So what does that mean?” he asked. “What are we going to do now?”
Kat sighed. She looked towards the fireplace where on the mantle stood several photographs. She looked at the center one. It was the three of them, the Ryans siblings, all crowded around Uncle Doughy. Uncle Do is crossing his arms, looking a little annoyed by the antics of his grown nephews and niece but anyone could clearly see the glimmer of amusement and quiet love in his hooded and rough eyes.
Oh Uncle Do, Kat thought with a longing sigh.
He had died nearly two years ago. A sudden and powerful heart attack had stolen him right from their grasps. He had died almost instantaneously on the kitchen floor of Doughy Pop’s.
It had devastated Kat and her brothers. Uncle Doughy had been everything to them. Having lost both parents at such a young age, they had looked to Uncle Do as their parent, their guardian, their teacher, their protector.
And now he was gone.
The town had mourned with the Ryans siblings. After all, Doughy had been a local character for decades in Peytonville. People had at first been scared by his rough demeanor and gravelly voice but over the years, they had learned to love him as their own gruff uncle.
“The bank’ll be calling again tomorrow,” Malcolm said quietly, sitting on the edge of the couch, his shoulders slumped forward in defeat.
Uncle Do had been a shrewd businessman and had saved up quite a bit of money that he had willed to his niece and nephews, who had become the children he had never had.
The money was to cover Malcolm and Dillon’s college expenses and to give Kat a cushion as she ran the diner. It had always been understood Kat would be taking over for Uncle Do when he retired.
But then a horrible surprise had greeted them a month after Uncle Do’s passing.
A letter had been sent to the house from a New York law firm offering the Ryans $40,000 to buy Doughy Pop’s.