Ginny
2001, Fort Lauderdale
Surprisingly, I enjoyed myself the night Alec took me to a club. He’d found the perfect venue with a band that played nothing but seventies music. The place had a retro-hippie feel to it, and I absolutely loved it. I even agreed to go again the following Saturday night.
Alec was a perfect gentleman, and I hadn’t expected anything different. I remembered feeling a slight high from his compliment the day I’d gone to the office to surprise Tommy, but there was nothing in his actions during our night out that indicated he was interested in anything other than an evening without the kids. During the band’s breaks, he filled me in on his time away from civilization. How he and the boys had bonded while living in North Carolina, away from the noise and busyness of city living.
“Being away from technology for those few months was the best decision I ever made,” he said. “I felt closer to my boys, and I got them to open up about their feelings of abandonment by Paulina. It wasn’t easy, but I had to explain some things to them.”
**********
A week later, I was slicing carrots at the kitchen counter when Jason came in and was digging through the refrigerator.
With his back to me, he blurted, “Caleb wants you to marry his dad.”
I stopped slicing and turned to look at Jason, who was drinking milk from the carton. I was too stunned to reprimand him. Caleb was Alec’s youngest. I just stared.
“He wondered if you were doing kissing things. That’s what he called it.” He rolled his eyes.
“Well, if it ever comes up again, you can make sure he knows that I’m not doing kissing things with his father. We’re just friends.”
“I know. I told him that. I guess he thinks because he doesn’t have a mother and I don’t have a father, we would make a good family.”
“He’s young, and I can understand why he would think that, but I think you should continue to discourage him, honey. It’s not going to happen.”
“Good, Mom. I’m glad you said that. I don’t want another father. Not even Alec.”
He tossed the empty carton of milk in the garbage and, swiping his arm across his mouth, he left the kitchen.
“Good,” I whispered to myself. Because I don’t want another husband.
I made sure Mimi would be home so I could sneak over to the church and work on my Sunday school lesson. Even though I’d prepared the actual lesson, I wanted to update the bulletin boards to coincide with the new unit I’d be introducing. I sat in one of the tiny chairs with my knees higher than the table.
Somehow, I was immediately reminded of being in the exact same position last year, when I’d made the right decision to go back to Tommy. I remembered the call I’d received from him, telling me Jan had been murdered. I shook off the sad memories and went back to cutting out letters from bright red construction paper.
I was wondering if I should cancel seeing Alec later that evening. Jason would be staying overnight with his friend, Max, and Mimi was going to be babysitting for Daisy, Anthony and Christy’s little girl. I knew she genuinely loved little Daisy, but there had to be a part of her hoping she’d somehow run into Slade.
But now, after Jason’s comment in the kitchen, I was seriously reconsidering my friendship with Alec. Not because I was having any feelings toward him or sensing he had feelings toward me, but because I was concerned about how our friendship might seem to the children. Our friend date the weekend before went smoothly, but I didn’t want to give our kids the wrong impression. Maybe I’d talk to Alec about it tonight.
I was in my church classroom and standing on my tiptoes, trying to get a stubborn tack in the wall, when I sensed a shift in my surroundings. I couldn’t place where the feeling was coming from; I just knew something had changed. I listened carefully. It wouldn’t have been unusual for someone else to be in the building with me. I wasn’t the only person with a key, nor was I the only teacher to work on my lessons the day before class. But what did seem unusual was that they hadn’t made themselves known. I swallowed.
I’d used my key to come in the side entrance and up the back staircase, but that didn’t mean someone couldn’t have come in through the church, which was kept unlocked on weekends, and found their way up through the front stairs.
I stepped to the small CD player on the windowsill and turned down the volume. With my back to the classroom door, I slowly scanned the side parking lot, leaning up and over to peek at the other parking lots. Mine was the only car.
I turned around and stopped myself from gasping.
My right hand flew to my heart.
Grizz.
Oh, dear God in heaven.
He stood in the doorway of my classroom. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I willed myself to be calm, to not think, as I slowly scanned him, starting at his feet and finally coming to rest on his eyes.
Those eyes.
He looked like an older version of the Grizz I’d been married to. His hair had grown in and showed what I thought were slight streaks of gray, barely noticeable against his dark blond locks. The long scruffy beard I’d remembered from his execution was gone, replaced with a neatly trimmed one. He looked more muscular, if that was even possible. I also realized his arms sported different tattoos. I could recognize Grizz’s ink in my sleep, knew every detail of every tattoo, and these were different. He’d had them worked on.
You’d think I’d have a million things to say to him. A million things to ask. But instead, I blurted out the first asinine thought that came to me.
“So. You’re not naturally bald. I guess you’d been shaving your head all those years. Lucky for you it grew back.” Of all the things I could have said, I picked that? I forced myself to breathe, to act natural.
If I’d have been watching a movie, this would be the part where the heroine ran to the hero, threw herself into his arms, and thanked God he was still alive. But not me. I was standing in front of a man who was supposed to be dead, discussing male pattern baldness.
His expression was casual, unreadable. A beat passed.
He raised a brow. “I read somewhere that we inherit our tendency to be bald, or not, from our maternal grandfathers. I guess I had a grandpa with a decent head of hair.”
I nodded like we had this conversation every day, like my heart wasn’t beating straight out of my chest. I couldn’t think of a reply, so I said nothing. I clenched my fists and stood straighter, waiting for him to say something else.
“When did you stop wearing your bangs, Kitten? You know how much I love them,” he said in a quiet voice. His eyes were pleading with me. For what, I didn’t know.
“I stopped caring about what you love a long time ago,” I snapped. “Remember? I was following your orders.”
He stood there and just nodded.
A full minute must have passed, and finally he muttered, “You must be wondering how this is possible—”
But I’d heard enough.
“I already know how this is possible. Tommy and I didn’t keep secrets.” Of course Tommy did, they both had, but I felt the need to go for the throat.
All he did was raise a questioning eyebrow and waited for me to say something else.
I huffed out a breath. “Fine. So you’re alive. Well, I’m happy for you, Grizz. I hope you can carve out a nice life for yourself somewhere. Just do me a favor.” I narrowed my eyes. “Make sure it’s as far away from me and my children as possible.”
My heart thudded as I scooped up my purse and keys. I had to get out of here. Now. Had to distance myself before I lost control of everything, even the places in my brain.
“I guess you didn’t get Carter’s message that you’re no longer needed.” My words came out in a high-pitched squeak. My body was betraying my actions. I looked at the keys in my hand, saw it was starting to shake.
He stepped fully into the room now. “You’re shaking, Kit. Are you afraid of me?”
I heaved my purse onto my shoulder. “I’ve never been afraid of you, and I don’t go by Kit anymore. Never call me that again. Oh, wait.” I lifted my chin. “That won’t be a problem. Because we’ll never be speaking again.”
“Don’t leave. Please. Let me talk to you. Let me explain some things.”
“Oh, twenty-five years later and now you want to ‘explain some things’? You know what, Grizz? You could’ve done that in 1975, but you didn’t. And now it doesn’t matter. None of it.” I stood up straight. “It’s over. Done. You’ve accomplished whatever it was you set out to do. The almighty Grizz has somehow beaten the system.”
He didn’t address my sarcasm, but asked a question instead.
“Why did you wear the bandana?”
A million possible answers flashed through my mind. I could’ve made something up. Tortured him with some ridiculous story. But I decided the truth would hurt the most. And right now I wanted him to hurt.
“It definitely wasn’t my idea. Tommy asked me to wear it. After I told him you were still alive and left a way for me to signal you if I ever needed you, he asked me to wear it so I could make a decision. But I told him it wasn’t necessary. I was with him, and seeing you wouldn’t change that. But he insisted and so I wore it, and Carter sent the signal.” I let out a harsh laugh. “And as you can see, it no longer matters.”
He stared back at me, the hurt in his eyes suddenly replaced with something else, something I couldn’t read.
I stared at him hard. “I’ll ask this only once, and if you have a decent bone left in your body, you’ll tell me the truth. I will absolve you of every lie and half-truth you’ve ever told me or allowed me to believe for twenty-five years. And keep in mind—I’m not the naïve teenager you married in 1975. I’ll know if you’re telling me the truth.”
He never broke eye contact.
“The police caught Tommy’s murderer, and they believe it was random. Did you or they have anything to do with his murder?”
“No.” His voice was even, quiet.
I nodded slowly, believing and accepting his answer. I let out the breath I’d been holding and started to walk past him. I stopped when my shoulder brushed his bicep. I could feel his head turn toward me, although I stared straight ahead at the open doorway.
His arm came up then, and he softly caressed my cheek with the back of his hand. I froze, but his touch sent a jolt I hadn’t expected.
I shook him off and kept walking, calling out over my shoulder, “If you’ll excuse me now, I don’t want to be late for my nail appointment.”
I knew he’d turned to watch me leave, and I stopped in the doorway, turned around to look at him.
“I have to get ready for my date tonight.”