The Passing Storm by Christine Nolfi
Chapter 33
Katherine cut the engine and got out. Rae wondered at Sally’s stern gaze, still trained on her best friend as Katherine wavered beside the BMW in her elegant coat. She clutched a Kate Spade bag. The breeze fluttered a tendril of her brown coif.
Sally’s eyes continued to throw darts.
With an air of disbelief, Rae watched the interplay between the two women. Then with anger, rippling through her so quickly she feared she couldn’t contain it.
The impulse to slam the door shut nearly took hold. I can’t deal with Katherine. For a terrible instant, her thoughts wheeled back to the night of Lark’s death. Nothing good will come from talking to her. Then Rae’s attention returned to young Jackie, shivering on the front stoop beside her mother; biting the side of her lip, Jackie rocked from foot to foot. Her eyes leaped from the driveway to the house and then back again.
Jackie was also watching the three women, sensing every current snapping and sparking between them.
Something other than sorrow carried Rae outside. She wasn’t sure how to define the emotion as she swept past Sally and her daughter and started across the icy, snow-crusted lawn. A beeline toward Katherine, forgoing the front walk or the pretense of congeniality—or shoes, for that matter. She’d left them beneath the kitchen table while enjoying Griffin’s superb meal.
Smart, Rae. Stalking outside in your bare feet. It’ll be just your luck if you lose your balance and—
Ten paces from the driveway, the treacherous ice took hold. Rae fell hard on her side.
Beside the car, Katherine dropped her purse. At an impressive speed for a woman in three-inch heels, she raced across the grass.
“Rae! Are you hurt?” Falling to her knees, she helped Rae into a sitting position.
“Don’t touch me!”
Rae shoved her back. Shoved her hard enough, in fact, to push her onto her bottom. Mud rained down on them both. For painful seconds, they sat staring at each other. Rae felt sick, and embarrassed, and still angry as Katherine heaved in a breath.
On the exhale, Katherine began to sob.
“It’s the migraines,” she blurted, clutching the sodden grass. “They started again, right after my divorce. They’re blinding. I’ve tried everything from yoga to meditation, but they still come. Unpredictably. I knew it was foolish not to fill the scrip earlier in the week, but Stella kept insisting we needed Halloween decorations for the slumber party. I forgot to fill the scrip. After the girls arrived, I shouldn’t have left . . . I was only gone for thirty minutes, but that’s no excuse. It’s my fault you lost your daughter.”
A buzzing started in Rae’s ears. “Yes, it is.”
“I know. I’d give anything to bring her back.”
Another sob broke from her throat, stirring Rae’s pity. Katherine appeared broken, her fingers lifting from the grass to swipe the tears away, unaware that she was leaving dabs of mud on her cheeks. She was more distraught over Rae’s unbearable loss than would’ve been imaginable a scant five minutes ago.
Quickly she took hold of Rae’s hand.
“I can’t begin to guess what you’re going through, Rae. None of us will ever truly understand. I’m not asking for your forgiveness—I don’t deserve it—but I am grateful you’re allowing Sally to bring Jackie to talk it out. She’s begun seeing a child psychologist. It’s helping, reliving that night. I want my daughter to begin therapy too. She needs the help . . . all the girls do. Losing your daughter has taken them out of childhood too soon.”
Abruptly, Katherine halted the monologue. Covered her face as her shoulders quaked.
Rae struggled to her feet. The cold wind batted her hair in every direction. For a long moment, she stood there feeling nothing at all. As if Katherine’s surprising disclosures had hollowed her out.
Aren’t you worried what Jackie will tell me about Stella?With the thought came a jolt of pain, burning in Rae’s chest. She reminded herself that a parent couldn’t control her child. Not at the age of fourteen. If Stella had done something unthinkable, Katherine wasn’t responsible. A minor point: broken, distraught, she’d carry her daughter’s burdens like any good mother.
“Katherine.”
The quaking of her shoulders bent her forward. It was terrible to witness.
“Katherine, let me help you up.”
Which Rae did, gingerly. Holding on until Katherine’s feet were steady and she’d stopped crying. Taking Katherine by the elbow, Rae steered her to her car.
“Can you drive? If you can’t, let me call for a ride.”
“No, I’m fine. Thanks for hearing me out.”
“Of course.”
A tiny thread of civility, enough to stop Katherine in her tracks. “Truly. I’m grateful you listened. I’m so very sorry.”
“Thank you,” Rae heard herself say. “The apology means a lot.” Emotion clogged her throat.
And then, without thinking it through, she hugged Katherine. Without reservation—with only the need to impart comfort. To heal some small portion of the pain they were both feeling. Just as swiftly, she let Katherine go.
Eyes blurring, Rae walked away.