Chapter 3
A Specter from the Past
Katelyn
“So, pink then?”
Katelyn had years of dealing with clients who had no imagination. She wasn’t surprised that Jill, a thirty year old mother to be, insisted on making her nursery pink.
“We can do the walls pink,” Katelyn agreed, turning slowly. She recognized the determined look in Jill’s light green eyes and knew it was a battle she wasn’t going to win. “What do you think about doing something a little non-traditional and pairing it with a gray and white area rug? I think it would really tie your crib together with the room since it’s white and it’s a good neutral color. We could set up the shelving over there,” she pointed to the far wall. “The rocker could go there in that corner by the window and we could put up some unique art on the wall by the crib. I know of some great, cute lighting we could replace the fixture with or I could find some pretty sweet lamps.”
“And the closet?” Jill’s eyes glowed with eagerness. She stepped closer to Katelyn, as though standing near could transfer Katelyn’s vision into her head by osmosis.
“The closet we could paint white and the window trim as well. I was thinking about installing a whole storage system in there so that you would have space for clothing and diapers and everything else that you need.”
Jill’s smile was so wide and bright it nearly lit up the room. She was tall, taller than Katelyn by a few inches which put her near six feet. She was slim with honey colored hair, a different blonde than Katelyn’s completely. Her eyes were her best feature though. The green was light, so light it was almost otherworldly.
One hand moved to the slight bump of her stomach. To look at Jill, it was hard to believe she was already eight months pregnant. She hardly looked it, but it was probably her height that did it.
“Great. I like all your ideas. Everything you’ve said sounds wonderful. Are you sure that you can have it all done in a month?”
“I can have it done in a week.” Katelyn grinned at Jill’s surprised look. “Believe me, I know that babies take their own time about coming. Just because you have four weeks left doesn’t mean it will actually be four weeks. I want you to have the room done and the peace of mind that you need.”
“Thank you. You’re so great. Of all the designers I talked to, I knew right away it was you that I wanted to meet with and now that you’re here, I can’t wait to do this project.”
“If you want to follow me into your kitchen we can finalize the design. I’ll do up a few sketches and jot down the ideas and get you to sign off on them and we can discuss budget and then you’re good to go. You can pick out cribs and bedding and art until your heart is content.”
“Hmmm. Budget…” Jill trailed off as they walked down the hall. “I was thinking fifteen thousand. Do you think that would cover it?”
Katelyn did her best to hide her shock. She basically charged an initial consultation fee and then charged by the hour for her work. Her rates were cheaper that most designers, but she wasn’t cheap by any stretch of the imagination. It was shocking how much money people had to just throw around. If she had fifteen grand, she’d invest in something and it sure as hell wouldn’t be a nursery.
At the rate I’m going I’ll never even have kids. The thought was a depressing one. Katelyn swallowed hard and followed Jill downstairs into her massive kitchen. The house was a new construction and the nursery room was at least five hundred square feet though she had yet to measure it. She tried to tell herself there was still time. Everyone said forty was the new twenty and she was thirteen years away from that.
Katelyn finalized the designs and plans with Jill over the next few hours. By the time she left, battled traffic and picked up a few groceries, it was well past seven. She was starving and couldn’t wait to get into the condo, feed Missy and get her own dinner. She’d picked up a bag of salad and figured that was as good as anything. Maybe she’d split the can of tuna with Missy.
It was well past Missy’s dinnertime and the Siamese let her know. She meowed loudly and incessantly until her dinner plate was set down in front of her.
“You still have a dish full of crunchies you could have eaten,” Katelyn scolded, staring hard at the overflowing bowl of hard foot Missy always refused to eat.
Missy was too busy chowing down tuna to give Katelyn a response let alone a second glance. She rolled her eyes.
She unpacked her groceries, put the food in the fridge and pantry and filled up a bowl out of the bag of salad. She was just adding dressing when her phone went off in her purse.
Because she was a workaholic and pretty much always had been, but also because she didn’t exactly keep regular hours, she fished her phone out and stared at the text across the screen.
Her stomach churned when she recognized the number. The text was even more sinister.
GUESS WHAT SWEETHEART? I’M IN MIAMI. WE NEED TO TALK.
Is it never going to end? Will I ever be free from him?
She pretty much already had an answer to that. John Robertson would always be her lifelong regret. The man that turned her head when she was too young and inexperienced to know better. He’d been in London on business. Some jewelry show. The guy actually had his own jewelry store. He’d been there looking at stones and gold and whatever else he did. She’d bumped into him on a café on her way home from work. He’d thought it was charming that she’d come from nothing and studied hard, worked even harder. He’d been enchanted that at seventeen she’d made her own way in the world, by nineteen she had a Certificate in Interior Design and that by twenty-three she was already making a name for herself. He’d been utterly charming, the sweetest man in the world. He was interesting too, foreign, exotic. Most of all, he was handsome.
She’d been astounded that of all the women in the world, he wanted to take her out. They’d gone to a club, had a few drinks and danced. She’d slept with him that night. From that night on, she was lost. She’d followed him over to Chicago a few months later where they were married.
It didn’t take long for her to figure out that the charming man she’d met in that café wasn’t the one she married. No, John had a much deeper darkness hidden away inside of himself. A darkness that wasn’t visible from the outside looking in. It was only once he had her, trapped, his ring on her finger, dependent on him for everything until she could work, until she got her Green Card, that his real character came out.
“Abusive mother fucker,” Katelyn swore under her breath. Her hand shook so badly she had to set the phone down. Shivers started at the back of her neck and traced their way down her spine, hard and bracing. A cold sweat broke out over her skin, chilling her in the air conditioned condo. It stuck her sheer red blouse and black lace camisole to her damp skin.
Her knuckles whitened on her phone and she relaxed her grip. Slowly, so very slowly, she inhaled a deep, cleansing breath. Her eyes closed. Behind them, cutting through the darkness, was John’s handsome face. He was blonde haired and blue eyed. The kind of All American dream boat, football team captain, that women swooned for. He seemed like the perfect husband. If only people knew about the manipulation, the insults, the horrible things he whispered in her ear, the mental abuse that was far worse than the bruises she got so good at covering over with makeup.
He’d cut her down, face twisted, sneering, until she had almost nothing left of herself at all. She’d been smart enough to get out when she could. She’d packed her bags and left. For everything that he was, John didn’t want to lose his livelihood. They had no prenup and he was the one with all the money. He signed the divorce papers in exchange for a zero dollar settlement and her silence about what had happened. His reputation was just like his jewelry, gold, and he couldn’t risk her tarnishing it.
Katelyn opened her eyes. She knew it would only be a matter of time before John found her. Before he showed up on her doorstep, begging her to take him back. This wasn’t the first text she’d received.
She finally texted back, just to test him. I DON’T HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY.
Not even half a minute later, her phone dinged. She stared at the screen, stomach sinking. Yes, she knew John well. Far too well.
I’M NOT LEAVING UNTIL WE TALK. I CAN GET YOUR ADDRESS THE HARD WAY OR YOU CAN GET IT OVER WITH AND SEND IT TO ME.
Katelyn thought briefly about driving right down to the police station and filing a restraining order. She only hesitated because she didn’t want to set John off. Maybe if she just agreed to meet with him and get it over and done with, he’d leave. She could set up her phone and tell him she was filming it all, so that he wouldn’t do anything. She could leave the front door open or meet him on the sidewalk. Anything to keep herself safe.
John was nothing if not resourceful. Her address was public knowledge. Chances were he already knew it though he asked her for it. All he’d have to do was type her name into a search and her business would come up. She had no office so she’d had to register her condo address.
A fresh set of tremors started up. Her hands shook so hard that she nearly dropped her phone. Missy meowed softly, sensing the strain in the kitchen.
Katelyn smiled and the act of it served to calm her. “It’s okay, honey. I won’t let anything happen to us. I’ll get it done and it will be over with. I’ll warn him that I’ll put a restraining order in place. He never got his parting shot. He just has to let me hear it. This is probably all this is. One more hour and hopefully he’ll be out of our lives forever.”
Finally she texted her address. She had a sinking feeling as soon as she did it, that it wouldn’t be over at all. John wasn’t the kind of person who liked losing. She’d left him and he’d never been able to input his cherished last word. She knew, all year, that this was coming. This final meeting. She just wanted to get it over with so he couldn’t hold it over her head any longer.
“Yup, after this I’m definitely getting the restraining order.” She’d meant to do it sooner, but she was actually afraid of how John would react once he found out. It wasn’t like she could just phone him up and tell him. Using it as a bargaining tool would be the perfect way to stay strong, to let him know that he couldn’t bully or intimidate her any longer. It would ensure he was no longer a part of her life.
Despite her resolve, Katelyn left the kitchen, salad forgotten. She couldn’t have forced down a single bite to save her life.
There was a large, upholstered chair in the corner of the living room. She dragged it over to the window and sat down. The blinds were drawn and she left them that way. She’d be ready when John pulled up. She’d film the whole damn thing.
Plans flowed through her head, wringing her out, draining her. She rehearsed their conversation, hashing it out over and over until she finally fell into an exhausted sleep.