Heroes In Uniform (256 page)

“Sorry. I couldn’t resist. You looked like you might try to find an open window any minute there,” he said.

Katelyn felt her cheeks flame. She
had
been thinking about looking for an open window.

“Don’t worry, Katelyn. Your Uncle Charlie owns the building,” John said.

Katelyn hoped he didn’t see her flinch at the mention of her ‘uncle.’ Charlie Hanford was not only the area’s biggest commercial property developer, he was also her father’s best friend and had, at one time, been her mother’s boss. While he seemed like a very nice man, it always felt weird when people referred to him as her uncle. She’d only seen the man on an annual basis, if even that, when she was young. Lately, she hadn’t even seen him annually. It had probably been five years since she’d last run into him.

But, before she could object, John was on the phone with Charlie, telling him to come on over and show her the building. She sighed on the inside. This was one of the things that drove her nuts about John. He always acted like she needed his help, like she needed someone to take care of her. She was perfectly capable of calling Charlie and asking him about the building when
she
was ready to see it.

John disconnected the call and grinned at her.

Has he always had dimples?

John was tall, and had a ruggedness to him that was attractive. Oh, let’s face it, it was beyond attractive. The man most likely had women swooning over him left and right. Tanned skin and dark eyes, with a smile that would make her want to throw herself at him if he were anyone other than who he was.
Grown men shouldn’t be allowed to have dimples.

And his body. Well, of course, that was honed to perfection with arms that just made a girl want to scream “hold me!” If she were so inclined. Which Katelyn wasn’t. Not in the least.

“He and Sam are coming over. I’ll wait with you,” John said cheerfully as he leaned against the railing and stuck one booted foot on an empty barrel that sat in the corner of the porch.

“Great,” Katelyn said, not trying to hide her sarcasm. The man apparently didn’t hear it. Either that or he chose to completely ignore it.

“You know Sam Denton, right? He’s been your uncle’s foreman for years.” John took out a stick of chewing gum, popped it in his mouth, pocketing the wrapper. He tilted the pack toward Katelyn in implied offer and she took a piece.

Watermelon. Weird.

“Yeah, I’ve met Sam,” Katelyn said. She started to turn back to peer through the window, but then spun to face John. “Charlie’s not my uncle. You know that, right?”

“Sure. Everyone knows that, but everyone still calls him your uncle, so I guess I never thought anything of it. Does it bother you when people call him that?”

She shrugged. “I just don’t know him. It’s strange to hear people refer to him as my uncle when I don’t really have a relationship with him at all.”

John studied her for a second, making Katelyn want to squirm. “Is that why you don’t like me? Because you don’t know me?”

Geez. Be direct, why don’t you?

Katelyn figured it wouldn’t hurt to be direct right back.

“Maybe it’s because you’re controlling, you’re bossy, and you’re a complete pain in my—”

“Now, now, Katelyn, no need to talk dirty to me,” he said with a wink and that damn grin.

Katelyn whirled back toward the window so he wouldn’t see the red crawling up her cheeks. His laughter continued to taunt her from behind as she studied what she could see of the inside of the building through the glass.

John didn’t say anything for a long time, and when he did speak, Katelyn jumped at the sound. His question was just as out-of-the-blue as his voice had been.

“Kate, don’t you think it’s possible your dad sent you away because you witnessed your mother’s murder?” His voice was quiet, but no less cutting, given the topic.

She didn’t answer him. What could she say to a question like that?

“I know you don’t want to talk about this, but if we can find out who killed your mother before your dad...well, before he goes, I think we should try. Don’t you?”

She turned and looked at John for a full minute before answering. She hoped he wouldn’t see that she was trying to compose herself enough to respond. She knew if she opened her mouth to speak just then, she’d probably choke on the sob that seemed to be lodged in her throat at the moment.

“Katelyn?” John prompted again. She shook her head at him and blinked to shove back tears she wouldn’t allow to fall in front of him.

“John, I’ve looked my whole life for a reason for what my father did, but I don’t think it exists. You’re just grasping at straws. My mom was killed by some petty burglar passing through town, or that construction guy who took off right after she died. Whoever it was is long gone and may very well be dead or in jail now. You need to accept that fact and move on,” Katelyn said.

“But, Katelyn—”

“No, John, stop it! I know you want to think otherwise, but I didn’t see anything. I wasn’t there.” She pressed her lips together, hoping John couldn’t see she was close to tears. Mrs. J. was probably right. Maybe she should forget finding a studio here. Maybe going home to Austin was the right thing to do. In Austin, she didn’t have to look at any skeletons in the closet or dig up memories that were better left dead and buried. Except in Austin, she was now known as a family-wrecking tramp.
Right. Almost forgot that.

“Look, John. I don’t mean to be rude, but you don’t know me at all. You don’t know—” She’d been about to say he didn’t know her father, but that wasn’t right. He did know her father. He just couldn’t possibly understand
her
relationship with her father. She didn’t understand it herself. “Just drop it, John, please?”

She heard the quiet plea in her own voice and hated how weak it made her sound.

John stood up, coming close to her, stepping in until his body was only an inch from hers, until she could feel the heat coming off him as they stood toe-to-toe. His face was so close, his eyes looked into hers as if he saw right through her.

She was shocked to find her heart beating rapidly as her breath caught in her throat. Her eyes dropped to John’s mouth, which was most definitely not smiling now. Stunned, Katelyn pulled her eyes back up to meet John’s gaze and forced herself to breathe.

His voice was soft and low when he finally spoke. “There’s that same phrase again. You’ve been taught to say it, and you don’t even know you do it now. ‘I didn’t see anything. I wasn’t there.’ You don’t even realize you’re doing it, do you, Katelyn?”

She opened her mouth but before she could say anything, John stepped back, breaking the hold he’d had over her. They stood watching one another warily, the tension thick and heavy between them. She wanted to deny it, but he was right. She knew if she opened her mouth to deny that she’d seen her mother’s murder, the words that came out would be the same words John had just repeated back to her.

How is that possible?

Katelyn looked down at the worn wood of the porch under their feet, forced to wonder if her father had a very good reason for sending her away so many years ago. A reason that had to do with something she saw.

Before she could formulate any response, Charlie and Sam came around the building. The pair looked back and forth between Katelyn and John as though they, too, could feel the weight of the topic that swirled heavily in the air. John was faster than she was. He pasted a smile on his face, offered his hand to first Charlie and then Sam, breaking the spell that surrounded them. With one last strange look in her direction, Charlie unlocked the front door and herded the group into the empty building.

“I was surprised when John called me, Katelyn,” Charlie said. “I didn’t realize you planned to stay in town.”

Katelyn nodded as she looked around at the large interior of the building. She understood why no one expected her to stay. She simply wasn’t eager to have the conversation again.

The old house had already been opened up on the inside, and the space was one long room with a few smaller rooms toward the back. She poked her head into a bathroom, closet, and what looked like it was once an office. She couldn’t help the flutter of excitement at the idea of opening her own gallery and studio space.

“So, you’re moving back permanently then?” Charlie tried again when Katelyn had returned to the group.

“Yes. I’ve given up my studio in Austin,” Katelyn answered, not offering more and hoping he wouldn’t push for it.

“Can I see the upstairs?” She needed light for her workspace, and the top floor of the building looked like it would give her just that with all the windows she’d seen from the outside.

“Sure, sure,” Charlie said and gestured toward the staircase. “You just, uh, you just take a look and then let me know what you need done to the space. Sam’ll get it all fixed up for you.”

Katelyn glanced at Sam, but he didn’t say anything or indicate he’d heard anything Charlie had said.

She felt John follow her as she started up the stairs.

The top floor had exactly what she needed. Light and space. It would be perfect for her studio, and she wouldn’t need to have anything done to it other than a good cleaning and installing some vents. The downstairs would need some remodeling, though.

“Close to Two Sisters,” John said, nodding out the front window at the diner that sat catty-corner to the old house. “Good coffee and lots of snacks when you need a break,” he said.

Katelyn smiled and nodded, but in reality, she tended to get lost for long periods of time when she was working. She’d forget to eat for hours, if not days, and then need to crash and recuperate. They walked down the stairs quietly, Katelyn’s mind whirling with the possibilities of the space.

“How much is the rent, Charlie?”

“‘Uncle’ Charlie, Katelyn,” Charlie said with a smile and a sideways glance at Sam, who still stood mute next to him. “I’ve got it listed at eight dollars per square foot per year, but if that’s too much we can work out a family deal,” he said and winked at her.

“Oh, um, great. Thank you. Can I give you a call after I’ve had a chance to think about it?” Katelyn hadn’t been prepared to talk about her studio and what she wanted and negotiate lease terms or anything, particularly in front of a group.

Who am I kidding?

It was John who was making her nervous. She needed to go home and sketch out the space and plot display walls and shipping sections. She wanted time to picture the gallery and the workspace and feel her way around the space in her head. But, more than anything, she wanted to get away from John and have time to think. Katelyn followed the men out of the building with a last long look over her shoulder. A small seed of hope that she’d really found a place to build her future settled into her stomach as they said their goodbyes.

Everlasting: Chapter Four

At the very last minute, Katelyn chickened out. Never mind all her bluffing about John not being a member of her family. Never mind not wanting him to be part of the conversation she needed to have with her father’s doctor. When the time came, Katelyn practically dragged John into the doctor’s office alongside her, suddenly terrified at the thought of hearing the doctor’s prognosis alone, of facing overwhelming decisions that had to be made with no one by her side to talk them over with.

As the doctor discussed underlying issues that may have sped up her father’s liver deterioration and outlined options for making him more comfortable, Katelyn’s head spun.

Make him more comfortable?

“You’re not doing any treatment?” she asked, feeling like a small child again instead of a grown woman.

John squeezed her hand. “Your father’s wishes, Kate. He signed orders refusing treatment of any kind other than measures to ease his pain and suffering.” His tone was gentle and kind, but the words made Katelyn crumble.

“But he’s not in his right mind, you know that!” Katelyn looked from John to the doctor and back, willing her chin to stop trembling as the words tumbled out. “He’s suffering from dementia. How can he make a decision like that?”

John’s arms came around her as the doctor explained and Katelyn sank into him. So much for not leaning on John.

“Your father made that decision several years ago,” the doctor said, his tone patient. “His lawyer had his Living Will on file and brought it to us when he was checked in. There’s no evidence that he was suffering from dementia when he had those papers drawn up, Katelyn. I’m sorry.”

When they walked out of the doctor’s office half an hour later, Katelyn felt completely wrung out. John took her hand and led her to the hospital cafeteria without a word. And, she followed just as silently. She was numb at the news of her father’s condition. John had told her it was bad, but Katelyn felt a little like she’d been hit by a train as John led her to a table and pushed her down into a chair.

He knelt in front of her, those eyes of his on her again, so strong, as if he could will her to be strong with him.

“I’m going to get you something to eat. Stay right here for me, okay?” He said it as though she was a child who might get up and wander away if not supervised, but she just nodded mutely. Information about her father’s prognosis and the care he’d need to be comfortable in the coming weeks swam in her head.

“Sweetheart, can you try to eat something?” John asked, putting a bowl of soup and a corn muffin in front of Katelyn. When she just looked at him, he pulled a chair over and hugged her tight. They stayed like that for a long time, Katelyn soaking in the warmth and strength of his arms, and the feel of his steady breathing as he let her lean on him. He did feel as though he might be strong enough for both of them.

Eventually, Katelyn took a deep breath and pulled back, wiping at tears that had started to fall at some point. She wasn’t sure when.

“I don’t know whether to do hospice at home or keep him here,” she said, referring to the in-hospital hospice program the doctor had talked about. John put a cup of coffee in her hands and wrapped her fingers around the mug.

“You won’t be alone if you bring him home—we’ll all be there to help you. And we can always bring him back to the hospital if he has symptoms that need to be treated,” John said, echoing what the doctor had explained about Alan’s care.