Welcome Home, Katie Gallagher

CHAPTER EIGHT

Kate

SITTING AT THE freshly washed worktable with a notepad and pen, I wrote a list of what I needed for my new life.

1) NO MEN! My life will be greatly improved by their absence.

2) A clean, animal-free (except for Chaucer) house.

3) Food.

4) Money to buy aforementioned food.

Sighing, I considered my needs. I needed Gran to forgive me for not being here when I should have been. One week a year hadn’t been enough. I hadn’t fought Justin the way I should have, the way Gran would have for me. I needed...

5) Forgiveness. Someday.

6) Better decision-making skills!

Seriously, was I absent from school when they taught that unit?

6b) Stop making fear-based decisions!

After Dad died and Mom fell apart, fear had consumed me. I no longer ran toward what I wanted. I ran away from what I feared. Dad was gone. There one minute and gone the next. Stroke. Anyone at any time could disappear, and I’d be left alone. I’d trailed after Mom, doing everything I could think of to keep her afloat. I couldn’t lose her, too. I think that was how Justin wormed his way into my life. He seemed solid and dependable, protective. It took me too long to realize that controlling and protective were two very different things. And solid? Dependable? Not so much.

7) A job. To get money. To buy food.

Doing what, though? I’d only ever done research work for Mom. Cleaning out her office, grading undergrad tests, returning books to the library. Hmm, I did pretty much the same for Justin, minus the research, tests and library. I ran errands, cooked, cleaned, paid bills. Did anyone in town need a personal assistant?

8) Cleaning gloves.

The mold in Gran’s fridge had been epic.

9) Traps, big and small.

Crap, I was going to have to throw out critters stuck in traps, wasn’t I? I thought longingly of the car. Maybe I really should live in the car.

10) Dog food.

11) Every cleaning and disinfecting product they sell.

12) A sleeping bag.

13) A dog bed.

14) A pillow.

15) Chocolate, lots of chocolate.

16) Toilet paper.

17) Shampoo and conditioner.

18) Razor blades.

19) Chips, every kind of chip.

As the list got longer, one thing became very clear. Starting completely from scratch was impossible. Oh, and ten years of having my every move and meal monitored had turned me into an irresponsible teenager given a hundred bucks for food on a weekend her parents were away. Ice cream was a perfectly acceptable dinner, right?

Once I’d completed my list, I collected my dog and headed for town. “Listen, buddy, you have to stay in the car while I shop. Don’t try to hot-wire it and leave me stranded, okay? That is not good puppy behavior.” I left Chaucer with a large rawhide stick and went in.

The pile in my cart grew quickly, becoming precarious. The contents of said cart also put me on the receiving end of some strange looks, but if they thought I was an exterminator with an eating disorder, then who was really hurt? Ten years of low-fat, high-protein, low-carb organic with a side of steamed vegetables may have made me healthy, but it definitely hadn’t made me happy. I figured it was time to give high-fat a try. One hundred million obese Americans couldn’t be wrong.

Third in line at the checkout stand meant I could do a little people watching, all in the name of acclimatizing to my new environs, of course.

20) Wear more plaid.

21) Get good, warm boots.

Shit, I needed clothing for snow. I’d never lived where it snowed. My cold-weather gear was already at its warmth limits, and it was only October.

The cashier was working a sister-wife vibe, but if she liked long-sleeve, high-neck chambray dresses with World War II hair, who was I to comment?

Three-hundred sixty-two dollars and fifty-nine cents of traps, poisons, bleach and junk food sat on the counter, waiting to be bagged. I felt a strange mixture of horror, embarrassment and pure pleasure. Until sister-wife swiped my card and it was declined.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, the card isn’t going through. It says I should confiscate it.” She was gleefully apologetic.

He’d canceled my credit card, the Nutsack. Sure, why not? It wasn’t like I was the one who had cheated. Fidelity should be punished.

I handed her my debit card. There was roughly eight hundred dollars in my checking account. She swiped it, and I waited to see if he was angry or if he truly hated me. Her computer buzzed. I recognized the schadenfreude making sister-wife’s eyes bright while the enormity of what was happening rolled over me. My husband of ten years wanted me broke, unable to care for myself or for the dog he hated. He wanted me... What, on the streets? No, he wanted me to come crawling back to him, to apologize, to suffer for having embarrassed him. Forget about love. Would he treat me this way if he even liked me? I was having a humiliating revelation while sister-wife looked on, taking notes for the retelling.

“I see,” I said, and I guess I did. I saw exactly what I meant to him. I checked my wallet. I had eighty-seven dollars in cash, but I still needed to pick up Chaucer’s food. That meant I had about forty-five dollars I could spend here. Apparently I was also going to need to start selling blood.

I looked up at the annoyed cashier, and then back at the four people waiting in line. Sweat broke out on my forehead.

22) Find a hole. Jump in.

The woman second in line checked her watch. I wanted to run to my car and hide, but I needed traps and food. I stood up straighter and powered through.

“Sorry, everyone. I’ll just be a few more minutes.” My heart raced, pounding in my ears as everyone watched me figure out how to pay for three hundred dollars’ worth of groceries with forty dollars.

Sister-wife watched, but didn’t offer any help. I kind of hated her. “I’m sorry. I’ll need to put a lot of this back.” I pulled out the traps, the big bottle of discount spray cleaner—I could probably cut it with water to make it last longer—the jar of peanut butter and a loaf of bread. I pushed the bags of chips and cartons of ice cream, the pasta and vegetables, all down to the end of her counter.

“I’m sorry. I can’t get those things today.” I gestured to my much smaller pile. “Could you ring me up for just these items?”

She sighed heavily and turned back to the computer. “I need to void out your original order first.” She hit a few buttons and a long tape spit out. She paused and looked at me before she started scanning. “Can you keep an eye on the total as I go? Let me know if I need to stop?”

My eye twitched. A bead of sweat ran down my spine. I nodded.

After another sigh, she began scanning. She did it slowly, checking after each item to see if she should keep going. The people in line shifted, looking around as though trying to will another checker to appear.

My revised total was forty-one dollars. I paid and left as quickly as possible without actually running.

I put the grocery bag in the trunk and then sat in the car for a while, breathing deeply and wishing I could take back the last twenty minutes of my life. If I’d checked my accounts this morning, I would have known what he’d done. I leaned back and let the tears go. Thirty years old and I couldn’t pay for my own damn groceries.

Chaucer leaned over the seat, resting his head on my shoulder again. After a minute, he licked my face. “You’re right. Humiliating, but in the grand scheme of things, not important. I’ll call my lawyer. Let her deal with it.” I glanced at the front windows of the stores around me, looking for a help-wanted sign. “In the meantime, I need to find a job. Kibble doesn’t grow on trees, you know.” I wiped my face and sat up straight. “Enough of that.” I had responsibilities, and feeling sorry for myself wasn’t one of them. “Let’s go see if that feed store is still across town.”

Once we were back on the road again, I looked in the rearview mirror at my poor boy, falling off the seat, trying to figure out how to turn around in a space that would have been difficult for a dog half his size. From California to Maine, he’d been uncomfortably squished in the back seat with nary a whimper or whine. I needed to do a better job of taking care of my family. “Someday, I’ll get us a big rig, one with snow tires, four-wheel drive and a roomy back seat. Okay?” He sniffed my ear in agreement.

The feed store was right where they’d left it, so once I’d wedged a forty-pound bag of kibble into the passenger seat, I pulled out my phone to call my lawyer. No service. It went right to an emergency screen, allowing for a 911 call. That Shithead had turned off my phone, as well.

I dropped it back in my purse and started the car. “Let’s go for a walk, okay? I think we can both use one.”

This was good. It was. He was forcing me to start over fresh.

I parked on Main. I figured we could window-shop on our way down to the harbor. We’d just started walking when Chaucer pulled on his leash, which was very unlike him. I looked across the street and saw Aiden. He was talking to the tall, cool brunette who liked to rub his arm. See? She was doing it again. Chaucer wanted to go to him, but I held him firm.

Turning away from Aiden, I pretended to look in the store window; Chaucer sighed and flopped down at my feet to wait. The butthead probably thought I was an idiot, crying over ouchy wrists. I looked past his reflection into the store and saw it was empty, and not a store at all but a little restaurant.

I may not be able to do much, but I could cook. I may never have finished college, and I may have few marketable skills. I may not have held a job since before I was married, but—wait, what was my point? Oh, right, I’m an unemployable loser. Good pep talk. Maybe I’ll go into motivational speaking.

I stared in the window, dreaming of opening my own breakfast diner—the colors I would paint, the items on the menu, the name. It was all so much stuff and nonsense, but it felt wonderful and I was reluctant to walk away. The placard in the corner of the window said the location was to lease, and it gave an agent’s name and number. Although I recognized it as foolishness, I copied the number on an envelope in my bag before tugging on the leash, letting Chaucer know our walk was continuing.

“Look at the big, lit-up elk. Moose? Deer... What the hell is that on the roof? Moose, definitely a moose. Think they let doggies in their shop? Probably not. Too bad. I could really use a shot glass with a cartoon lobster on it. Come on, baby, we’re almost to the water.”

The ocean was only a block away. The air was ripe with the tang of the sea. Chaucer shook himself and began to pull again. Newfoundlands were water dogs. If I let him, he’d run to the water’s edge and jump without a second thought. It was one of the reasons I’d decided to come to Gran’s house. I knew Chaucer would love living by the sea.

Main Street gave way to an expansive view of the Atlantic, blue gray as far as the eye could see. Fishing boats dotted the water along the horizon, their labor and strain taking on a romance with the distance. A masted schooner sat close to shore. Chaucer yearned for the water and gave a little whine.

“Oh, all right. But don’t you dare shake all over me,” I said, as I leaned over to detach the leash. When he looked up at me, I gave him the go-ahead sign. He barreled over the brick walkway and went flying into the ocean. I followed at a much slower pace, bursting out laughing when he belly flopped. I made my way to the dock and sat to watch my baby frolic in the waves.

The wind was icy off the water, but I was hard-pressed to call Chaucer back to me. The punishing winds cleansed as they tore through my clothes and hair. I closed my eyes, felt the cold of the frigid rocks below me seep into my bones and let the ocean winds blow away the uncertainty and humiliation that filled me.

A furry lick on my cheek made me open my eyes. I grinned up at him and then shot to my feet, backing up quickly. “No. Wait. You promised!” He started to shake, sending water flying. Within seconds I was drenched and sputtering, water dripping off my face. Chaucer laughed at me, as only dogs can when they know they’ve gotten you good.

“All right, funny boy.” I attached his leash. “There’s a sunny park across the street. After we dry, we’ll go eat. Okay?”

Agamont Park was alive, tall trees showing their fall colors, a bright white gazebo overlooking the harbor, an ornate fountain surrounded by benches. I looked with longing at the mothers and small children playing near the fountain. I wanted children. I wanted them so badly it was an ache that seemed to crush me some days. Justin had refused, had been refusing for years. After one particularly ugly confrontation on the topic, I’d been informed that he had no desire to watch me get fat and that I hadn’t convinced him that I could be entrusted with the care of a child. Perhaps with a nanny...

I’d adopted Chaucer the following week. Justin was angry and indignant that I would do something so ill conceived and irresponsible. Poor Chaucer had had to deal with my babying while Justin had wavered between pretending Chaucer didn’t exist and railing against the dog hair on his slacks.

I lay down in the soft grass, Chaucer reclining next to me. I secured his leash under my butt and then around my arm so if he got any ideas about chasing squirrels, he’d have to drag me with him. I watched a red dragon kite trace a figure eight in the sky before multiple sleepless nights finally caught up with me, and I dozed off.

A throat clearing woke me a little while later. When I opened my eyes, a large black shape loomed, silhouetted against the sun. I flinched and shaded my eyes, squinting against the glare. I felt a tug on my arm. I looked up and found Chaucer standing behind me.

“Ma’am, we received a report of a vagrant with a large bear frightening small children.”

I knew that deep rumble. “Seriously? You’re rousting me again?”

He squatted down so I could see the glint in his eye. “Did you shower in your clothes?”

Chaucer responded by sniffing Aiden’s ear, and I’ll admit it—if you’re not prepared for it—it can be an odd experience. Let’s just say that Aiden wasn’t prepared. He flinched, losing his balance and ended up dumped on his ass. It made me smile. “Good boy,” I said, ruffling the fur behind my baby’s ear.

Aiden pulled his sunglasses down his nose, his narrowed gaze studying me over the rims. “You make a habit of napping in public parks, ma’am?”

Today was just getting better and better. “Have we not discussed my feelings about being addressed as ma’am? I’m pretty sure we have. And does your doctor know you’ve gone off your lithium? Regular use of the proper medication can make these mood swings a thing of the past.” I stood and adjusted Chaucer’s leash. “Officer, you have a good day now.”

Something inside me rebelled against the idea of turning tail and running. No more fear-based decisions. I was divorcing constant disapproval. I didn’t need to invite more in.

He stood, still staring at me over his dark lenses, a strange expression on his face.

“Let me ask you something,” I said. “Was this necessary? I’m pretty sure I wasn’t breaking any laws here. Couldn’t you have just said, ‘Hi, Katie, how’s it going today?’ Are you under the impression that I miss the disdain, the mocking?”

Hurt flashed through his eyes before he pushed the glasses back up his nose into place.

“You’re wrong.” I turned around and made my way across the park and up Main Street. I chanced a look back as I crossed the road. He still stood in the park, his hands at his hips and head bowed.

It’s number one on the list for a reason—no men. They’re nothing but trouble.

As I continued back through town, I knew it was still a jewel—sidewalks bustling, people browsing and sightseeing—but it had lost some of its luster. We walked toward the car and the vacant restaurant. What was I thinking? I didn’t know the first thing about opening a diner or running a business. Stupid.

We’d almost passed it when I noticed the front door was ajar. I pushed it, and it swung open freely. I’d planned to close the door, make sure it locked, but I was drawn in. Instead of doing a good deed, I decided to trespass. Just more of my good decision-making skills at work.

“Hello?” I waited a moment. “Is anyone in here?” I stepped forward, Chaucer at my heels. “You left the door open. Hello?” Chaucer didn’t see the need to stand by the door, so when he tugged at the end of his leash, I dropped it, letting it slide along the floor behind him.

I followed my pup’s lead and wandered in. The space was empty but completely realized in my mind. I stood in the middle of the room, looking out the big, front windows, imagining that this would be my view every day. I’d cook back there, bring plates of food to people seated around this room and occasionally I’d pause, right here, to gaze out the window and watch the world of Bar Harbor stroll by.

Looking up, I imagined adding tin ceiling tiles, painting them a soft white, with a large, crystal-laden chandelier hanging in the center of the room. Black wrought iron tables and chairs, reminiscent of a Parisian café, and dark, red leather high-backed benches lining the walls completed the picture.

I was just settling into the daydream when I heard a shout from the back. Chaucer trotted toward me from the kitchen area, looking innocent and just as confused as I was by the shout. “Yeah, not buying it for a minute, buddy.”

I took a tentative step forward, unsure if I should apologize for trespassing with my big, scary dog or run like hell before anyone saw me. I heard heavy footsteps and a deep voice grumbling. Chaucer didn’t seem at all concerned, so I stayed where I was.

A huge mountain of a man walked out of the kitchen, stopping short when he saw us. He appeared to be close to my age, with short brown hair and golden brown eyes. “Oh.” He scratched his head. “I thought I saw a bear cub.” He leaned down, extending a hand for Chaucer to sniff. “This makes more sense.” He looked over at me and stared. “Well, hello.” He grinned and his face lit up. Dimples. My kryptonite.

23) If at all possible, find a hunky guy with dimples for making out.

“Sorry. I saw the door open, and I intended to close it, but then, well, it just looked so cute in here. I wanted a closer look. I’m really sorry we barged in and that Chaucer startled you.”

He crouched down, giving Chaucer a good strong rub. “Is that your name, buddy? Chaucer? Now, this is a good-sized dog—my size.” He whispered, “Those little, yappy ones make me nervous.” Standing, he extended his hand to me. “Bear.”

I shook it. “Bear?”

He shrugged broad shoulders, and a faint red tinge colored his cheeks. “Levi Berenson. My friends just call me Bear, for obvious reasons.”

“Kate Gallagher.” I was getting a crick in my neck from looking up at him. He had to be at least six and a half feet tall and was built like a linebacker.

“It’s nice to meet you and Chaucer.” He studied me. “So, what brings you in? Were you looking for someone?” He stepped away from me so I didn’t have to strain to look up.

“Nope. Just being nosy and daydreaming.”

He tipped back on his heels, nodding. “I have a healthy respect for daydreaming. I’m a contractor, and without daydreams, I’d be bored stiff most of the day.” He turned toward the kitchen. “Come on, then. You should see it all.”

I followed him back. Oddly enough, it never occurred to me to be nervous around a man who could break me in two without even trying.

Walking through the open doorway, he said, “This is the kitchen. It was remodeled a few years ago.” He tilted his head. “By me. It’s a good setup, and all the appliances still work great. I wanted to open up that wall there. Make it a half wall between the kitchen and the wait station and lunch counter. The previous tenants didn’t like the idea, and the owner was fine with whatever they wanted.”

He gestured to his left. “This is the walk-in cold box and the reason I’m here today. The previous tenants complained about spots getting warm in here. I’d just started checking it out when this guy wandered in and sniffed my leg.” His hand dropped to Chaucer’s head and began petting.

Leaning forward, I peeked around the corner into the cold room.

He laughed. “I promise not to lock the door on you. Go on in, if you want.”

I stepped back, looking at him warily. “Yeah, I’m good right here.”

He chuckled again and shook his head. “Okay, let’s continue our tour. Pantry’s over there.” He pointed to the right. “Storage closet over here.” He motioned again. “Dumpster and additional parking through the back door.” He opened the back door and stepped out. “I always thought this would make a great patio dining area.”

“Yeah, I can see why. The Dumpster is lovely. If they painted some flower vines around the graffitied profanity, it would really romance up the place. Good call.” I kept a straight face as I nodded, studying the area.

“A smart-ass, eh? Good to know.” Grinning, he stepped back inside. “Come on, funny girl. Tour’s over. I need to get back to work.”

As we walked through the kitchen, I detoured by the stove. It was a gorgeous Viking industrial-grade range. “Ooh, so pretty,” I whispered. I ran my fingers lightly over the knobs, wishing I could cook on a range like this.

“Should I leave you two alone?”

I turned, finding Bear watching me, his eyes bright with humor. “Um, yeah, if you could, that would be great. I have knobs to turn, buttons to push, maybe even some cavities to explore.”

Bear choked out a laugh. “I like you, Kate, and your little dog, too.” He paused, looking at me thoughtfully. “Gallagher? As in Nellie Gallagher?”