Page 121 of Running Home to You
“We should get married,” he said over dinner.
Kate’s eyes widened as she slowed her chewing. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. We can go pick out a ring next week. It’ll be fun.” He smirked as he pointed his chopsticks at her left hand. “It’ll be sized in time for opening statements.”
It was so nonchalant and unromantic, the two of them discussing it over takeout during the rare hour she broke away from case prep, that Kate wasn’t sure he really meant it until they were hovering over glass jewelry cases downtown. In his defense, she had always said she didn’t want an over-the-top proposal. Blake unsuccessfully popping the question on New Year’s Eve in front of her entire family still haunted her. This reverse approach, while passionless, suited her. No fuss or overthinking. She didn’t know when she’d have time to plan a wedding, but at least it gave her an excuse. An excuse for what was difficult to pinpoint. An excuse to drag it out, to avoid it, to stall long enough for her to figure out what was going on inside or ignore it long enough that it might go away.
But it never went away.
It surged after Abby’s voicemail from jail. It left her sheet-white and trembling, heart contracting like she too might die from years of unaddressed pain. She called the precinct back to no avail, then Isla, who brought her up to speed. She found comfort in her clipped tone, despite the circumstances. It’d been years since Kate talked to her.
“She’s fine. I mean, whatever that is right now, but she’s with Audie. I’m driving up for her arraignment. It’s drunk and disorderly, destruction of property, and resisting arrest. Honestly, I don’t think she would’ve gotten the last one if she hadn’t called the officer a fuckwit.”
Kate pressed her forehead to the wall, the only thing keeping her standing. “Oh, Abby…”
“She’s not going to get hard time. I’ll make sure of it. At least she was smart enough to not hurt anyone,” Isla said above the hum of the road.
“Just herself,” Kate muttered through tears.
“I knew she was drinking a lot, but I didn’t realize it was this bad.” Isla paused. “You saw her at the wedding. How did she seem?”
Kate released a jagged breath. “She’s still taking whatever pills they gave her after her knee surgery. I don’t know for how long.” She broke on the last word and sniveled into her hand. “I’m really scared for her.”
“She’s going to be fine. We’re going to take care of it, okay?”
“Okay. Okay, I think I need to go.”
Kate hung up, tripped to the bathroom, and heaved into the toilet. She felt as sick as she did five years ago when Abby had left. Sicker now, knowing exactly where she was, and unable to go to her. Sicker because Abby had broken her heart twice, leaving her with nothing to do but pray beneath the shiny, soulless church lights for the hollow place in her chest to stop growing. To pray that she might learn to live without part of herself.
She dried the tears, firmed her chin, and put on a starchy dress with a decades-old cardigan. Marcus Watterson was in the conference room when she got to the office. “I’m so sorry to keep you waiting,” she said.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Kate nodded as she pulled out her work, unable to meet his face, which would reveal just how incredibly far from okay she was.
She didn’t have an office, so the conference room had served as her headquarters for the last few months. Out of place at the table covered in boxes and case files was a bright yellow softball, smudged and worn from hits and dirt. The ball from her last home game at Insley.
These days it served as a fix for fidgeting hands, the frayed red laces soothing frustrations or prompting inspiration. She grabbed it to hide her trembling fingers from Marcus. And maybe, to feel closer to those days at Insley. Closer to Abby.
“Let’s pick up where we left off a few days ago,” Kate said. “Isn’t it true that the school’s policies are rooted in its religious beliefs, which were clearly communicated when you were hired?”
Marcus didn’t answer. He was her star witness. In his mid-thirties, well-spoken, with a solid teaching reputation. He was easy on the eyes, but in an unassuming, genial way that people expected from educators—bald and mustached with round wire-frame glasses, friendship bracelets from former students on his wrist, a collar always beneath his chunky sweaters.
The silence continued as he stared at her with big, concerned eyes that made her squirm. Kate furrowed her brow. “And then, as we discussed, you’ll explain that it wasn’t considered part of a religious doctrine when you started—”
“My husband and I are praying for you,” he said.
Kate’s mouth fell. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I didn’t mean to offend if you’re not…” Marcus’s voice trailed, and he squinted at her. “Oh, or you mean me?” He twisted his face and drew back. “It’s the twenty-first century. You can be gay and Christian too. I assumed since you took on this case that you were—”
“No! I didn’t think that you couldn’t be both.” Kate stopped as she replayed his last sentence. Heat flooded her cheeks. “What did you assume about me? That I’m…”
“That you’re open-minded about sexuality and religion,” he said.
“I am!” Kate blurted, almost too loud to be convincing. She was just relieved he didn’t assume what she kept suppressing. Granted, it shouldn’t have mattered based on her desperate proclamation. “Of course I am.”
“I suppose it would be interesting to take this on if you weren’t,” Marcus said with a half smile. “You know, I think that’s one of the reasons First Foundations hired me. Not being gay, but that I’m a Christian.”
