Welcome Home, Katie Gallagher

CHAPTER SIX

Aiden

GETTING POPS IN the car proved more difficult than I’d expected. And not because he was ill. He kept trying to get me to go back, finish splitting the wood. Instead, I drove us down the narrow, graveled road. “Leave it. I’m taking you home.”

There was a disgruntled tsk, and then Pops smacked his fist against his thigh. “I’m done pussyfooting around this. Every time I try to bring it up, you change the subject or leave the room. No more, Aiden.” He paused to gather his thoughts, and I wished I hadn’t offered to drive him home. “You’ve changed. You’re harder, meaner. You told a tiny woman, Nellie’s granddaughter, to chop her own wood. It’s not you, and I don’t like it. Son, I know Alice’s leaving was difficult, but isn’t it better that she did it before you were married?”

“Yeah, Pops. She was nothing if not kind and considerate. I’ll be paying off that not-a-wedding for many years to come. I’m reminded every month as I transfer funds for the altered designer dress, the out-of-season flowers that needed to be flown in, the gourmet food, the banquet room at the Bar Harbor Inn... At least I got to keep the cases of wine. Too bad I don’t particularly like wine. I think she vetoed beer at the reception, so I wouldn’t be left with anything I actually liked.”

Pops tsk-tsked again.

“And, yes, I will return the ring soon.” I squirmed at the thought of everyone in the jewelry store carefully not looking at me as I return a $10,000 ring for the woman who took off a year ago, the day before our wedding. She left me an empty apartment and a note.

“Sorry, Aiden. I just can’t” was all the explanation I’d been given. Sorry, I just can’t marry you? Sorry, I just can’t love you? Sorry, I just can’t stand the sound of your breathing? What the fuck was it that she just couldn’t?

“You’ve been saying that for almost a year, but I can still see that damn box in your pocket.” His fingers tapped on his thigh. “I told you I’d help you pay off that debt—”

“Stop. You’re not paying my damn bills. I was the idiot who thought Alice loved me. The bills are a monthly reminder of why I shouldn’t trust women.” My hands tightened on the wheel.

“You don’t really think that, do you?” Pops actually sounded concerned about my sanity.

“I don’t know. I guess some of them are okay. Mrs. MacPherson, the old librarian, seems pleasant enough.”

Pops tsk-tsked in annoyance again, prodding a grin out of me.

“Well, you know that Katie—”

“Ran out on her husband? Yeah, I’d heard that. Apparently, she wasn’t considerate enough to realize that she just couldn’t before they got married.”

Pops gave me a disgusted look. “That was not what I was going to say. Nellie doted on her—”

“Yeah, and how often did she visit Nellie? I haven’t seen her since she was fifteen. You said she visited, but she was clearly never in town long enough for anyone else to notice. Hell, she didn’t even come to Nellie’s funeral.”

When I pulled up to his front steps, I turned off the engine, rolling my shoulders, to relieve the tightness. “Listen, Pops, I know you mean well, but, no. Stop, okay? I’m not interested in that one.”

“I’m not saying you should be. I’m angry with her for not being with Nellie more, especially at the end, but if what she said was true... Nellie loved that girl to the moon, and I think she’d be mad as hell at me if I didn’t try to help her.” He touched the door handle, but then turned back to me. “You used to be so sweet on her, you couldn’t take your eyes off her.”

“That was a long time ago. People change.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Kate

I WANDERED THROUGH Gran’s house. It was exactly as I remembered, but with a new horror-movie feel. Heart pine floors, tall windows overlooking the ocean and town, walls the color of butterscotch, furniture in blues and whites, but all of it was covered in a combination of dust, dirt, feathers and droppings. What the hell?

I walked through the tiny house, terrified of what was living in it. Chaucer sniffed everything. Although he wasn’t barking, he raced from room to room, ears twitching at every skitter and squeak. I prayed I wasn’t in immediate mortal danger. I found three windows that had been left wide-open, their screens chewed and ripped. I guess that accounted for the apparent influx of woodland creatures taking up residence. I closed the windows, but then worried that I’d probably just trapped them in with me.

When I made it back to the living room, I surveyed the mess there. “This is going to take forever.” I just wanted to lie down and sleep for a week. Judging by the beds upstairs, some of my forest neighbors had felt the same way. Looking warily at the couch, I approached it slowly, reaching out and carefully lifting a cushion. Something small and furry with a long tail raced across my foot and down the hall. Chaucer barked and bounded after it. I may or may not have shrieked. I found myself with my back against the front door, watching the room, terrified.

“We’re sleeping in the car!”

I eventually pried myself from the door and went in search of cleaning supplies. I swept and mopped, washed down walls, dragged chewed and soiled mattresses down the stairs and out the front door. The only bright part of my day was finding love letters Gran had exchanged with Mr. Cavanaugh. I had a flash of worry that they’d contain passages more graphic than I could deal with in relation to Gran. Luckily, they were charming and considerate, loving and funny. I sat in the middle of her bedroom, tears streaming down my face, so happy that Gran had had this man in her life, but hollowed out by my own inability to inspire that kind of devotion in another person.

By nightfall, I was sweaty, depressed and covered in substances best not to consider. My last task of the day was to clean the bathroom, and then take a long, scalding shower. I stood under the water, tension leaving my muscles, and I finally let go of what I’d been holding tightly in check. My Gran was dead. She’d called for me on her deathbed, and I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there to pray over her grave and say goodbye. I wasn’t there. Instead, I was feeling sorry for myself a country away because I’d chosen to marry a faithless bastard. I was a fuckup, plain and simple. I sobbed against the now-white tiles, drowning in self-loathing.

Cleaned, dried and wearing sweats, I walked back downstairs, Chaucer at my heels. I’d put out his food and water bowls as soon as I’d started cleaning, so at least he’d been fed. My stomach growled. I hadn’t eaten anything all day. I found a plastic container of granola. It had been gnawed upon, but the rodent hadn’t made it through. I’d already thrown out all the boxes of foodstuffs. They hadn’t survived the critter-pocalypse.

I stuffed a few handfuls of cereal in my mouth and choked. I washed it down with tepid tap water, while dreaming of mashed potatoes. Maybe some baked mac and cheese. I needed comfort food, stat! Instead I ate another handful of granola and called it good. My stomach hurt. Apparently, it was disgusted with me, too.

I’d found some blankets in the upstairs linen closet. Gran’s water and electricity were still working, so I’d been able to wash them. I knew I’d freeze, sleeping in the car, without something to keep me warm. I considered sleeping on the living room floor, with Chaucer curled up next to me, but then I thought about all the creatures still hiding somewhere in the house, and me sleeping down where they’d have easy access to my face. Just nope.

Chaucer followed me outside. I moved the front seats as far forward as they would go. Chaucer took the back seat, as he had every time he got in. I felt bad making him sleep on the floor of the car, but I did put a blanket down first to cushion it. I lay across the back seat, one blanket cocooning me, while another served as my pillow. I fell asleep with a hand on Chaucer’s head.

Sometime later, I was jolted out of sleep by a bark and a bang. Again, I might have shrieked. A flashlight beam cut through the pitch-black. I sat up, plastered against the far door, the blanket pulled up to my nose. Chaucer’s deep bark boomed in the too-small car. The light spun and illuminated a hideous face. That time I knew I’d shrieked—I was aware of it at the time in a huh-I-didn’t-realize-that-I-actually-made-that-sound kind of way.

He put his fingers over the top of the flashlight and then pointed it at himself again. Without the under glare, he wasn’t hideous, just really freaking annoying.

“What the hell, dude? Is this your thing? Do you sneak up on people in the middle of the night, peeking in windows, trying to scare the crap out of them?”

“Why are you sleeping in your car? It’s thirty degrees, and this back window has holes in it.” His voice was a rumble in the dark, clearly audible through the cracked and broken windows.

“It’s brisk. Chaucer and I sleep better with an open window.”

He grumbled something I didn’t hear. “Katie, why aren’t you sleeping in the house?”

“It’s infested. Rodents, bats, who knows what else. I cleaned all day, and I’m not even close to done.” Wait a minute. “Why do you care? I’m on my own property.” I checked my watch. “And it’s four in the morning. Why are you even here, freaky stalker cop?”

More grumbling. I’m pretty sure I heard some cussing, too. “I’m not stalking you. I got into the habit of driving by Nellie’s house to keep an eye on it over the last few months. I forgot about you until I saw the car. Then I saw the mattresses and junk on the porch. I got out to investigate and saw you, sleeping in your beat-to-shit car.”

Humph. “A likely story.”

I think he was grinding his teeth now. Weird sound. “One more time. Why are you sleeping in your car? If the house isn’t habitable, why didn’t you go to a hotel?”

“Hotels are expensive, genius. I’m just going to go back to cleaning when I wake up, which is apparently now, fricking Nosy Parker.” I pulled the blanket tighter around myself.

He turned, and his flashlight beam lit up the porch and house. “How did animals get in?”

I blew out a breath. “Three windows were left open, the screens chewed through. From the looks of it, they had quite the kegger.”

“I didn’t think to check all the windows. When Nellie got sick, Pops moved her into his house so she wouldn’t have to climb stairs, and so he’d be there when she needed him. Her house has been empty for months.”

The night was becoming more gray than black, allowing me to see the annoyance written all over his face. “Do you want me to go in? Try to get rid of whatever’s taken roost?”

“No, thanks. Bye now!” My stomach chose that moment to rumble. Chaucer shifted, putting his head in my lap to investigate the sound.

More swearing. “Have you eaten?”

“You bet. See ya!” The damn cop would not take a hint.

He started to back away, thank goodness, but then stopped. “I can come back with my pickup. Take all that stuff to the dump for you.”

I leaned forward again, trying to get a better look at his expression. “Why would you do that? You don’t like me, remember?”

“I don’t care enough to not like you. Anyway it’s Nellie I’m thinking about.” He exhaled sharply. “I should have checked the windows. I’ve been driving by every day to check on her house and never once thought about the inside.”

He turned back to me. “Listen, don’t let Pops know, okay? He’s been killing himself tending the garden for her. Just...don’t tell him. Okay?”

“I won’t.”

“I’ll go get my pickup now. Can you pull out anything else that’s been destroyed? And I’ll haul it all away. He may stop by to check on the plants. I don’t want him seeing any of this.”

“Okay.”

He jogged back to his cruiser and left without another word.

“I guess we’re getting started early this morning,” I said to Chaucer.

I fed him with what was left in the bag of dog food. “We need to go shopping today, buddy.”

I cleaned out the rest of the pantry and then the closet under the stairs. Most of the jackets and things that were hanging had been shredded, as though something was searching for food. One looked in decent shape, so I put it aside to wash.

There was a box on the floor that squeaked. I dragged it out of the closet and quickly stuffed a stray scarf into the hole that had been chewed in the side. If there was a nest of rats in the box, I didn’t want to know anything about it. Ever. I hauled it out to the porch, and then pushed it to the extreme end, wanting it as far away as possible. I pretended not to hear the scratching coming from inside. Nope. I didn’t hear a thing.

I stuffed all the sheets and towels that had been used as varmint beds into a large garbage bag, and threw it down the stairs. After I’d gone through the closets and tossed everything that had been gnawed or defecated on, I went back downstairs and stared at my nemesis, the couch. That rat had probably come back during the night, burrowing into the soft, warm couch, laughing its little rat ass off at my sleeping in the car. I wasn’t letting that asshole win. That couch was out of here. I didn’t care if I lived on lawn furniture for the next year, I wasn’t settling for a rat’s sloppy seconds.

I glared at the piece of furniture another minute, and then started pushing it toward the door. Chaucer hopped up on the couch, because rides are fun, and let me struggle to get the damn thing across the room.

“Not helping, buddy,” I gasped. He grinned at me and rolled over.

“Need some help?”

My heart seized. For one terrifying moment, I thought the rat was taunting me. Aiden stood in the doorway, watching me. I looked down at Chaucer who was still pretending to sleep. “Some guard dog you are.” His rear paws kicked into the air.

Aiden didn’t wait for an answer. He walked in, nudged me out of the way and pushed the couch across the floor, Chaucer and all. At the doorway, he tipped my dog out and looked at me. “Can you get the other end, help me get it out?”

As long as he was going to do all the heavy lifting, fine by me. I climbed over the end, leaned down to grab the couch arm and yelled, “Pivot!”

Staring at me a beat, he shook his head. “I can’t decide if you’re insane or...”

I raised my hand in the air. “Oh. Oh. I know!”

Rolling his eyes, he shoved the couch out the door. He pushed it all the way down the porch steps, dragging it up into the bed of his truck. When he was done, he jogged back up the steps and picked up a mattress, shouldered it back to the truck and tossed it in.

I watched as he did the same with the other mattress and the bags of chewed-up linens. When he went for the rat box, I felt the need to advise caution. “You’ll want to be very careful with that box. You may hear squeaking and scratching. Ignore it. And for goodness’ sake, do not open the lid!”

When he studied the box warily, I knew we were on the same page. He glanced at me and then at his truck bed. “Is this all of it?”

“Nope.”

“Then why are you just standing there watching me?” He placed the rat box securely in a corner, where it wouldn’t be jostled. Smart man.

“It’s fun to watch other people work. Duh.” I walked back in the house to see what I had missed.

“Insane!” he shouted from the front yard.

“Pfft. As if.” I walked through the living room, dining room, kitchen and bath on the first floor. I would need to mop the floors again, but just about everything seemed to be cleared out.

“Are we done?” Aiden was back in the doorway, looking at the empty rooms.

Pointing at the squashy chair, I said, “I haven’t had the nerve to check that yet.”

He strode over to the chair and cautiously lifted the cushion, looking underneath. When he jumped and threw the cushion, I screamed and ran for the porch. I was hiding around the corner when I heard his booming laugh. Bastard.

Strolling back in, my arms crossed, I said, “Hilarious.”

Chuckling, he put the cushion back. “Good news. You have somewhere to sit.”

“Yay, me.” I looked around the empty rooms, wondering if I’d be able to sleep in that chair. “I couldn’t lift the box springs upstairs. Getting the mattresses down just about killed me.”

He looked me up and down. “How did you get the mattresses down the stairs and out the door?”

“Terror is a great motivator.”

He jogged up the stairs. “Okay. Two box springs coming down.” When he returned a few minutes later, he said, “You’re going to want to pick up some traps. Oh, and don’t go in the bedrooms for a few minutes.”

“What? Why?” It’d probably be easier to just sell the house and start again.

“No reason.” He tossed a box spring onto the tower of crap in his truck. When he came back in, he detoured by the dining table, picked up two empty garbage bags and checked the gun in his holster.

“What the hell is up there?” That settled it. I was living in my car.

He trotted down a few minutes later, two big bags held tightly in his hands. I swear I saw one of them move.

“What is it?” I backed away as he went out the door, placing them gently in the back of his truck, before holding them down with a box of shredded books. “Seriously, Aiden. You have to tell me. I’ll never sleep again. And how do you know there aren’t babies or eggs or some other smaller version of those things that are going to grow up and bite my head off?”

He watched me panic, backing farther away from the house. His lips twitched, and I stopped. What. The. Hell. He turned his back on me, shoulders shaking.

“You’re screwing with me?” I screeched. I stalked across the yard and proceeded to smack every inch of him that I could reach. “You ass! I was planning to spend the next few years living in my car because of you!”

The bastard was laughing so hard, he had a difficult time fighting off my slaps. Finally, he grabbed both wrists and held them together in front of me. “This position probably feels pretty familiar, huh?”

I glared. I couldn’t move my arms, so I kicked him.

“No kicking. Or slapping. You already have a record of accosting police officers. I’d hate to have to lock you up again.”

As a child, he’d been a hero, facing down bullies. As an adult, it looked like he’d become one. “That hurts,” I said, voice low and expressionless.

He loosened his grip immediately and began rubbing my wrists with his thumbs. I could feel tears gathering. I wouldn’t look at him. I pulled my arms away and strode back into the house, slamming the door after me. I realized too late that Chaucer was still sitting on the porch. My dramatic exit lost a few points when I had to open the door and call him in.

Aiden

I KEPT CHECKING my rearview mirrors to make sure nothing was slipping off the truck. I couldn’t believe it had never occurred to me to check inside Nellie’s house. Pops hadn’t stepped foot inside since she got sick. I doubt he’d change that status today, but I didn’t want him to know what we let happen.