Read Online Lifelines: Kate's Story by Vanessa Grant - Free Book Online Page B

Bay and hit the pub, he’d find someone he knew.
Small town, Saturday evening, but anyone he ran into would ask about Rachel. So
he would head for the construction shed instead, stop at a grocery store en
route, buy a microwave dinner and a paperback book to read.
    He
dropped his tool belt into the box of his pickup bed, locked the box, climbed
into the truck and sat on the cell phone he’d thrown on the bench seat earlier.
He pulled it out from under himself and realized from the darkened display that
it had been off all day. His thumb hovered over the switch.
    If
Rachel called, he wasn’t ready to talk yet.
    He
sure the hell didn’t want another scene with Rachel. He couldn’t forget the
feel of her arms under his hands as he shook her, the fury in his veins. His
anger against Rachel seemed to grow ever-stronger, as if each thought of the
dead baby lit another flame in fury’s fire. When a man felt the way Mac did
right now, going home to his wife fell into the category of a stupid risk.
    He
shoved the truck into gear and cut it in a tight circle, then drove onto Taylor
Road. He looked up the hill when he passed the house and saw light streaming
from downstairs windows to bathe the winter lawn. He’d been inside Kate’s
house, and now he pictured her in the kitchen with her white cupboards, white
appliances, white oak trim. Kate and Mac, both alone. The difference was, he
would shiver his way through the night in the damned construction shed, while
she slept in comfort in her own home.
    No,
the real difference was that, unlike Kate, he could go home to Rachel if he
chose.
    He’d
better find a sleeping bag or he’d freeze his ass off again tonight.

Chapter Seven
    K ate stood
on her mother’s porch on Bellingham’s Kleanza Crescent, waiting for her mother
to answer the doorbell. If she rang a second time, Evelyn would arrive at the
door with harried irritation pursing her mouth. The rail behind Kate’s hips
felt insecure. She turned and gripped it, felt the wood move. Evelyn needed to
get someone in to repair the rail. The house needed paint, too; the
fifteen-year-old white paint had grown dirty beige with rain, dust, and wind.
    Kate
flashed on a vivid memory of painting Evelyn’s house while four-year-old
Jennifer played Barbie on the grass. When David drove up, Jennifer scrambled to
the sound of the car. Kate was three steps from the top of the ladder when
Jennifer dashed into her father’s arms. He swung her up and around, his face
creased in a smile that disappeared when he looked up.
    “Careful,
Kate. Don’t fall.”
    Despite
his worry, it was David who died too soon, on the floor of his study.
    As
Kate reached for Evelyn’s doorbell again, she heard shuffling sounds, then the
lock. She filled her lungs carefully as the door opened six inches and Evelyn
peered out. She’d survived last night’s play, had even laughed with Sarah at a
couple of the funny parts. She was determined to do as good a job surviving
this visit to her mother.
    Talk
about the money first, then Dad.
    “Kate?
What are you doing here?”
    “Hi,
Mom. I was out driving. I thought I’d drop by.” At least it wasn’t a lie,
unless you counted deceit by omission.
    “You
said Monday.” The crack narrowed. “Today’s Sunday.”
    “I
thought I’d surprise you.”
    “You’d
better come in.”
    Kate
stepped forward and found herself crowded between her mother and the door. Her
throat contracted at the familiar smell of stale cigarette smoke. Evelyn turned
and reached for the back of the easy chair nearest the door.
    “You’re
not using your cane.”
    “I
hang onto things.” Evelyn shot Kate a resentful glare. “I know exactly where
everything is in this house.”
    “You
fell twice last September.”
    “That’s
beside the point.”
    Jesus,
mother. That’s exactly the point.
    “Why
not hang onto me, mom?”
    Evelyn
expelled a burst of air Kate interpreted as irritation before she accepted her
daughter’s outstretched