Deep in the Heart. Jane Perrine Myers
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Coco smiled up at Lora, who fell to her knees and began to scratch the dog behind the ears.
“Daddy, I want a puppy.”
Rob shook his head in frustration. “Kitten, we’ve talked about this before. When you’re older and can help take care of a pet, we’ll find you one.”
“Daddy, puppy likes me.”
“Her name is Coco,” Kate said.
“I like Coco.” Lora smiled and her blue eyes danced with excitement.
“Don’t let my daughter take you in. She can charm anyone to get exactly what she wants.” But Rob’s gaze at his daughter was soft and filled with love. “Obviously she wants a puppy now.”
“You can visit Coco whenever you want, Lora.”
But the child was busy scratching Coco’s fluffy tummy. Rob and Kate watched the scene until a knock sounded on the screen door.
“Rob, I’m sorry.” An older woman with gray hair and Rob’s smile stood outside. “She got away from me.”
“Come on in, Mrs. Chambers.” Kate welcomed her as she opened the door. “How nice to see you.”
“Hello.” Rob’s mother nodded without making eye contact.
As had been her habit when she and Rob were dating, Kate reached out to hug Mrs. Chambers. When the older woman stiffened, Kate dropped her arms to her sides.
“Heard you were back in town.” Mrs. Chambers stared icily at Kate, then stepped away from her to talk to her son. “Rob, your daughter and I started toward the park, but Lora knew you were in here and took off.”
“She has a mind of her own,” Rob said.
“And you spoil her terribly.” Mrs. Chambers shook her head before she smiled. “It’s hard not to.”
“Kitten, I came here to help Miss Abby.” He bent his knees to speak to the child at eye level. “Why don’t you stay on the porch with Grandma. When I finish, we’ll get some ice cream.”
“Promise, Daddy?” She patted his cheek.
“I promise.” Rob kissed the small hand and stood, watching his daughter skip out to the porch holding his mother’s hand. “And mind your grandmother,” he called after them. “As if that’s going to make any difference,” he mumbled.
“Rob, go ahead.” Kate glanced at him, but his eyes followed his daughter. “We’re done. Thanks for the help.”
She put her hand on his arm, casually, like a friend. In an instant, Kate remembered how she’d felt for Rob years earlier. Odd that sensation remained after so long. Or maybe it was a reaction to this new and very attractive Rob.
“Do you want to join us for ice cream?” Rob’s face showed not one bit of enthusiasm for her presence.
As she studied his square jaw and broad shoulders, she realized this wasn’t the Rob who’d taken her to the prom. This was the young man she’d left behind. No matter what he said, his expression told her that he didn’t want her to join them. Not at all.
“Thanks. I’m tired. Long drive.” She yawned. “Maybe another time.”
He turned toward the door.
“Your daughter is a doll.”
“Yes, she is.” He looked back at Kate, his eyes gentle with a father’s love. “She’s the joy of my life.”
That night Kate tossed and turned for hours. The mattress had a slightly musty smell and several odd lumps. As soon as she thought she’d found a comfortable position, she’d move a fraction of an inch and hit another bump.
At the end of the bed, Coco snored, the soft snuffles of an elderly dog. In the city, covered by the noise of traffic, the snores had never bothered her. Here in the quiet of the country, even the tiniest sound kept her awake.
But it wasn’t the mattress or Coco’s snores or the sound of the wind and the drone of insects outside her window that wouldn’t let Kate sleep. What ate at her and kept her awake was being home and not knowing how and where she fit or even if she did belong, here or anywhere else.
The problem was wondering what the future held for a woman who’d lost any hope of a reference for a new job in her field when she’d testified against her boss.
What kept her awake was the awareness that back when she grew up in Silver Lake, she’d known exactly what she wanted and had the confidence to go after it. Now she no longer possessed either that knowledge or assurance.
All of that kept her awake.
Kate woke up at seven-thirty the next morning. Sunday morning. The house was quiet. The silence shouldn’t have surprised her. The commotion she remembered from years earlier existed only in her memory and in Abby’s.
When Dad was alive, by this time on a Sunday morning, he’d been up for an hour fixing breakfast. The aroma of hickory-smoked bacon and coffee would have wafted from the kitchen while Mom dashed around waking her daughters and trying to keep them alert long enough to get out of bed and come down for breakfast.
If nothing else reminded her that her parents were no longer alive, the quiet house and the complete lack of tantalizing scents coming from the kitchen would have convinced her. The sense of loss hit her hard. For a moment, she felt the absence of her mother and father so strongly she had to hold back the tears.
How she wished she could go back all those years and wake up to see them smiling at each other and working together. Mom would be listening as Dad explained for the thousandth time how to cook bacon so it was crisp and the advantages of using newspaper to scour out the old black iron skillet.
She should have come home years ago.
Tossing the covers back and wondering why she was so wide-awake after tossing and turning half the night, Kate stood, slipped on her slippers and shrugged into a robe.
With Coco behind her, she wandered into the kitchen.
“What are you doing up so early?”
She jumped when she heard Brooke’s voice. Her niece had sneaked up on her again. “I thought I’d go to church with you this morning,” Kate said.
Why had she said that? She hadn’t been to church for years and hadn’t even considered it until the words emerged from her mouth. Maybe the fact was that she didn’t go to church in New York or Houston or Miami but she did in Silver Lake. Well, attending the service probably wouldn’t hurt her. Besides, it would be nice to see the people who’d been so nice, who’d brought food, and to accept Mrs. Oglesby’s invitation.
“We don’t go to church,” Brooke said, her voice muffled as she stuck her head in the refrigerator.
When Brooke straightened and pulled out a jar of jelly, Kate asked, “You don’t go to church? We always went to church when I lived here.”
Brooke could have said, “You haven’t lived here for a long time,” but she didn’t. Instead she twisted the tie off a loaf of bread, took out a slice, put it in the toaster and pushed the lever down. Any observer would’ve thought the silver surface covered the most fascinating invention in the universe from the way the child contemplated it.
“Well,” Kate asked the back of Brooke’s head, “do you want to come with me?”
Brooke turned and stared at her aunt with those somber eyes, looking older and sadder than any nine-year-old should be. Of course, Kate hadn’t been acquainted with many nine-year-olds since she helped with the junior fellowship at church when she was in high school. None of those kids had ever gazed at her like this, their expression full of sorrow.
“Okay,” Brooke mumbled before the toast popped up and she grabbed it.
Still