Authors: Karen Rose
„Max…“ Her voice broke.
„And then,“ he continued, now unable to stop. „David was going to drive me to your place when Tom called and said you were missing. I thought my heart was going to stop right there. I thought I’d never see you again.“ He clenched his eyes closed, opening them when Caroline leaned forward and wiped the tears from his cheeks with trembling hands. He found her eyes inches away and stared hard, telling himself she was alive, that it was over. „I was so scared, Caroline,“ he whispered, his voice shaking. He had to look away. „I was so scared of what he was doing to you. That you’d die thinking I was still angry. That I didn’t love you enough.“
„I didn’t,“ she whispered back fiercely. „I’m alive. And I never thought once – “ She took his face between her hands and tugged until he looked her in the eye again. „Not even once that you didn’t love me. I knew I couldn’t have hurt you if you hadn’t loved me so much.“
He shuddered at the feel of her hands on his face and turned enough to kiss the palm of one of her hands, then the other. „What do we do now?“ he asked, his voice husky.
She smiled, her dimple appearing, and his heart did a slow turn in his chest. „Well, now,“ she said, her drawl exaggerated. „Your mamma said I was welcome to her son?“
He nodded, feeling his own lips turn up.
Caroline’s eyes danced. „Did she say which one?“
His bark of surprised laughter filled the quiet hospital room. „Excuse me?“
„Well,“ Caroline reasoned, her hands still on his face. „Peter’s taken. That leaves sons number two and three.“ She tilted her head slightly, feigning a frown of concentration. „Which one to choose? Both are handsome – “ She broke off when he covered her mouth lightly with his, her giggle escaping from beneath his lips.
He lifted his head to find her eyes laughing even as the tip of her tongue touched a sore spot on her lip. „I guess I deserved that,“ she said with a chuckle.
„You did,“ he answered with mock severity even as he grinned at her smiling face. Then he watched her eyes grow serious as his own mirth subsided. „Marry me, Caroline.“
„Yes.“ Her smile bloomed again, her eyes radiant despite the bruises on her face. She pulled his face down and lightly touched her lips to his. „I love you.“
He touched his forehead to hers, his heart truly at peace. „Let’s go home, Caroline.“
Chapter Twenty-six
Chicago
Sunday, April 22
3 P.M.
„Made it!“
Tom’s mouth distorted into a disgusted grimace as Peter and one of his sons gave each other high-fives for a two-pointer Peter had slipped past Tom.
Max reached out and squeezed Tom’s shoulder, understanding. They’d been playing for an hour on the basketball court he’d had restored at the end of his driveway a few weeks before, but Tom’s mind wasn’t on his game. Neither of them had been able to focus. Max wondered if he’d ever draw an easy breath again without Caroline being in the same room, within touching distance. For days after their return from Asheville he never left her side, never moved more than an arm’s reach away. He found himself waking in the middle of the night, nightmares filling his mind. If she was asleep, he’d listen to her breathe, gently stroke a lock of her hair between his fingers, anything to prove to himself she was all right. But more often than not he found her awake already, her sleep disturbed by nightmares of her own. More often than not he found her staring out the window of their bedroom, her mind far away.
Days were significantly better than nights.
Max’s family had descended on his house this sunny Sunday afternoon for a „picnic lunch.“ He knew better. It was his family’s way of supporting him and Caroline and Tom. The days when at least one of them hadn’t „been in the neighborhood“ had been too few to bother counting. They brought food, magazines, little sundries they just happened to have bought one too many of.
He and Caroline didn’t lift a finger in the weeks that followed their return from Asheville. Ma and the girls had done everything for them. Cooking, cleaning. Cathy even ironed his boxer shorts.
It might have become annoying had there not been so much love in every gesture. Everyone wanted to help. No one knew what to say. So they said nothing. They just rallied around his new little family and refused to let them falter or fall. His new little family. The very thought took some of the edge off the tension that hadn’t yet ebbed.
The psychologist promised it would. In good time. Max had stopped wondering when that would be. It would come when it came and not before. There were lessons in patience that came out of futility. There were truly things that were beyond his control.
How quickly his little family became normal was one of those tilings.
Things started to pick up a few weeks after their return. They moved all of Caroline and Tom’s things from their old apartment to Max’s house four weeks after, leaving nothing behind except a bloodstain on the dining room carpet. Dana showed up the next night with a box of haircolor and an hour and a half later Caroline was a blonde. It suited her, he thought, studying her across the back yard. She sat at the old picnic table with his sisters and Peter’s wife, poring over old issues of Bride magazine Cathy had bought at a yard sale. Amidst teasing and laughter, his mother and sisters were effectively planning their wedding. Caroline just sat back and let them, content to be swept along.
She looked up in that moment, as if feeling his eyes on her, and smiled. It was a smile of encouragement, of sharing. Of gratitude. He’d been put off by her gratitude at first, not wanting to accept it, feeling whatever he’d done for her hadn’t been nearly enough. But he’d come to understand that her gratitude was for so many things he himself didn’t directly impact – being part of a family, being free, waking up every morning and finally knowing she was safe.
Cathy jabbed Caroline’s shoulder to direct her attention to something in one of the magazines and Caroline laughed out loud, the joyful sound carrying the short distance to where he stood. She shook her head vehemently, her new blond hair swinging around her face.
The golden hair did suit her. It framed her face, set off the fine porcelain of her skin, made her eyes seem an even more intense blue. Made Tom look even more like her son.
„I think they’re trying to break our momentum, Phil,“ Peter commented dryly from behind him. „We’ve threatened them with our skill and prowess.“
Max turned to his brother, one brow lifted in as sarcastic an expression as he could muster. He’d learned even sarcasm required energy. „It’s twenty to two, ours. Last week we beat you forty to nothing. I hardly think you need our help to threaten your skill and prowess.“ He looked over at Tom, whose eyes still hadn’t left his mother. „You ready for more?“
Tom sighed. „I don’t feel much like playing today.“ He turned to Peter’s son. „I’m sorry, Phil. I just can’t seem to concentrate.“
Phil tossed the ball in the air and caught it in one hand. „No problem. You hungry?“
Tom forced a grin. „I can always eat.“
Together the boys started back toward the house and Max waited until they were out of earshot before he let his own sigh escape. „Tom’s upset because Evie was supposed to come today,“ he said quietly, „but she changed her mind at the last minute. She couldn’t face us, she said.“
Peter stared at the women gathered around the table and shook his head. „She has nothing to be ashamed of, but I guess I can understand how she’d feel like she would.“
Max pursed his lips, watching Caroline point to a page in one of the magazines. „She finally let Caroline come see her last week.“ Max swallowed. „Caroline went straight to bed when she came back home. She cried for two hours.“
„It was worse than she thought, then?“
Max nodded, his throat tight. „Evie will never have children. Her face is disfigured. He broke all the little bones in her right hand, and she probably will never regain full use of it. But worst of all, she blames herself.“
Peter was silent for a moment. „Why?“
Max sighed again. „Right before Winters attacked her he asked if her parents hadn’t taught her better than to get into cars with strange men.“
Peter’s face twisted. „Bastard.“
„Who?“ David walked up the driveway from the street where he’d parked his car, a bag of charcoal over his shoulder.
Max just lifted his brows and David added his sigh to the mix. „My favorite homicidal maniac,“ David said and lowered the bag of charcoal to the blacktop. He looked around. „Evie didn’t come, huh?“
Max shook his head. „No.“
David continued looking around, searching for something. Or someone. „Dana didn’t think she would.“
Peter looked surprised. „You’ve been talking to Dana? Caroline’s friend Dana?“ His brows furrowed. „Don’t tell me. Don’t even tell me,“ he added darkly. „I don’t want to know.“
David’s lips quirked up. „It’s not what you think. We’re friends and that’s the God’s truth.“
Max nodded. „He’s giving it to you straight for once. He helped us move Dana’s shelter a few weeks ago. He is now persona most definitely grata.“
„I fixed her car, too.“ David’s tone was smug.
Peter groaned, his bass rumble filling the air. „Friends, but you’re getting prepared, just in case.“
David grinned. „I’m a careful man. My big brother taught me to plan.“
Max chuckled. „Shut up and help me get the fire started. Ma’s been wondering where you’ve been with that charcoal.“
As if on cue, Ma appeared at the back door, the cordless phone in her hand.
„Here’s your charcoal, Ma,“ David called.
Phoebe looked over at them, her normally happy face sober. „Just put it over by the grill, Davy. The phone’s for Caroline, Max. She’ll want to take it in here. You’ll want to be with her.“
The light atmosphere of a few moments before dissipated and Max felt his heart begin to pound heavily. „Who is it, Ma?“
„It’s Special Agent Thatcher.“
Caroline leaned her head back against the sofa cushions, stunned. Numb. Sick to her stomach. Feelings she never dreamed she’d feel upon hearing the news that Rob Winters was dead. Agent Thatcher had insisted on telling her himself, not allowing the prison administration to call her after Winters was found dead in the lavatory that morning. Apparently Tom’s wish had come true. The other prisoners hadn’t welcomed Rob with open arms after finding out he’d beaten that young black man in Asheville to death. Her stomach roiled, wondering how many other lives Rob had stolen, lives no one would ever know about. Murders no one would ever suspect.
He’d paid the ultimate price for his sins. Caroline numbly wondered if it was enough. No, she thought, thinking about the unspeakable damage done to Evie. The loss of Rob’s miserable life wasn’t nearly enough.
„I can’t believe it,“ she whispered. „I just can’t believe it.“
Max took her hand in his, gently squeezing once, then holding on tight. „It’s over, Caroline. He can never hurt you again.“
„He’s dead?“ Tom asked from the archway separating the living room from the kitchen. He stood tall, feet spread wide, his arms crossed over his chest. He filled the space, seeming broader, bigger somehow.
Caroline twisted around to meet his eyes. His cold, hard eyes. His mourn was pressed into a firm line. „Tom.“
„I asked a question, Mom. Is he dead?“ Each word was spaced deliberately.
Caroline felt her insides tense, fearing his response. Fearing it would be one of celebration, elation, a triumphant fist in the air. She didn’t want him to cry, not even to grieve. But she didn’t want him to celebrate the taking of yet another life. „Yes,“ she answered quietly.
His shoulders sagged, even as his feet remained firmly planted in place. His hands clenched his upper arms and the previously defiant stance became more of a protective cocoon. His head dropped forward until his chin touched his chest.
Max struggled to his feet, his expression rife with concern. „Tom?“
Caroline glanced up and felt the sting of tears. Max was as burdened for the emotional health of her son as she was. She reached up for his hand and he grasped it blindly, not taking his eyes off of Tom’s dejected form.
„Tom, say something,“ Caroline said, trying to keep her voice even. Failing.
Without lifting his head, Tom spoke. „I want to be happy, Mom.“ He hunched his shoulders forward, keeping his head down. „Dammit.“ His voice broke. „I knew he’d die. I knew it. I dreamed of saluting the lucky guy that carved him down to bone. But now I can’t. I want to be happy he’s dead. But I can’t.“
Caroline blinked and her vision cleared. Tom’s shoulders shook now, but he remained where he stood. Isolated and so very alone. Squeezing Max’s hand, she crossed the distance and put her arms around her son, pulling his head down to her shoulder.
„Then how do you feel?“ she whispered. „Tell me how you feel.“
Tom’s body shuddered as he exhaled on a sob. „I’m so… mad“
Caroline ran her hand over his hair, soothing. „Mad?“
Tom nodded, his face buried against her bare neck. „I’m so… mad… that he was… who he was.“
Caroline understood this emotion. „That he never was who you wanted him to be?“
Another nod. „And I’m mad at myself.“
Caroline heard Max come up behind her. He put his arms around them both.
„Mad because you can’t find it in you to be happy he’s dead?“ Max asked gently. „Because right now you’re feeling less than a man because of how you feel?“
Tom lifted his head from Caroline’s shoulder and stared at Max, surprise and gratitude blended in his expression. „How…?“
„Because you’re your mother’s son,“ Max answered simply. „Feeling happy right now would be the easy thing, but not necessarily the right thing. You’ve insisted he was not your father. He wasn’t. It takes more to be a father than the donation of DNA. And it takes more to be a man than brute strength and Hollywood courage. But I’m not sure you know what it does take. It takes love and compassion and sacrifice and patience and integrity. My father had all those things.“ He paused and Caroline felt him draw a shaky breath. „Do you want to know what I’m feeling right now?“