I pray the tears you shed are for me and now know they need not fall at all. You gave me your trust, now I give you mine. We are bound by our secrets.
Were it another place and time, I would have you by my side. My work takes me far from you now, and that is my only regret. You are free. Live well, my darling. I will never forget you.
Thierry
Kathryn sat in Colonel Holmes’s office and watched him place the note she’d received at Forrester’s funeral on his desk before sitting back in his chair. The SOE colonel glared at her, obviously annoyed at her indifference.
“You didn’t get a license plate.” It was an accusation.
“No, sir.”
He turned to Smitty. “And you were fooled by a man pretending to be a priest.”
Smitty shifted in his chair and swallowed his embarrassment in silence.
Holmes stared at him expectantly, but then pushed his irritation aside. He opened a classified blue folder and addressed Kathryn again.
“When he comes ’round again, see that you—”
“He’s done with me, Colonel.”
He looked at her, still in her mourning attire, and eyed her up and down, as if he agreed with Bouchaule that she looked stunning in black. He raised his brow and promptly disagreed with her.
“He’s not going to leave without you.”
“He already has.”
“How do you know that?”
Kathryn exhaled a disbelieving chuckle. “Read the note, Colonel. He’s gone. This man is obsessed with his work. He killed seven people to get out of this country unnoticed. I was an attractive means to an end—nothing more. He can service his libido anywhere, believe me. It’s over.”
The colonel burst from his chair and slammed his fist on the oak desktop before her. “The devil it’s over!” he shouted. “A year of work! We had it in our grasp!”
Kathryn calmly absorbed the officer’s frustration, a frustration she secretly shared, but there was nothing to be done about Bouchaule now.
The door to the office suddenly flew open, and Colonel Forsythe rushed in with a handful of wire telegrams.
“Sorry I’m late.” He sifted through the communiqués, pulling one out. “The plane went down just outside of Chicago. Eyewitnesses say it was struck by lightning. Bouchaule was ID’d by luggage found in the wreckage—obviously a plant. We’ve since confirmed that man’s identity—one of the Chicago syndicate. The woman was his wife.”
“An act of God, Hammond,” Holmes said. “Bouchaule will be back, and when he contacts you—”
“You’ll be the first to know, Colonel Holmes.”
Her sarcasm wasn’t lost on anyone but her intended target, as Holmes merely nodded absentmindedly, as if she actually meant it. The Englishman packed up his briefcase, conferred with Colonel Forsythe on the side for a moment, and thanks to Kathryn’s news, left a little worse for wear.
Colonel Forsythe pulled up a chair and exhaled a heavy sigh. Smitty took no time in offering his apology.
“I’m sorry, sir. The guy was dressed as a priest, for crying out loud.”
“I know, John. There was nothing you could have done anyway. Thank you for coming in. You may go. New assignments have come down, so Janie has some papers for you on the way out.” Smitty nodded and left the room.
Kathryn leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs, relaxing, now that it was just the two of them.
“Holmes is coming a bit undone, sir,” she commented dryly, arranging her gloves across her knee.
“We’ve all worked very hard, Kathryn, for a very long time,” Forsythe said sternly.
Kathryn regretted her tone. “I know. I’m sorry things worked out this way.”
Forsythe nodded and pulled out Kathryn’s file.
“We’ve closed the Forrester case. We’ll leave Bouchaule’s open for now, but as far as you’re concerned, I feel it’s safe to say that you’ve completed your assignment.”
Kathryn nodded.
Forsythe was about to go on when he looked up in admiration. “Thank you, Kathryn. You went above and beyond what was expected. Bouchaule may be a dead end, but we have more information than we could have hoped for, and a lot of it is thanks to you.”
Kathryn all but shrugged off the compliment. “We all worked very hard, sir, as you said.”
He smiled at her typical answer and moved on, taking out a request form. “You asked for an assignment in the field overseas some time ago …”
Kathryn froze at the mention of her long forgotten application. Forsythe’s face came into sharp focus as her heartbeat quickened and a myriad of things rushed through her mind. She was being sent overseas. She should have seen it coming. If they were shipping out green recruits, things had to be desperate. It only made sense that she would go.
She knew it was her obligation and duty to go, but she couldn’t help the rising panic when she thought of what it meant to her relationship with Jenny. They had just found each other again. Jenny had made a commitment to her. It couldn’t be over so soon.
She paused, mid-panic, shocked by her selfish hesitation. She couldn’t refuse. Winning the war was more important than her wants and needs, and, as for Jenny, she would be the first to agree. Kathryn swallowed hard and braced herself for the blow. If she was needed over there, they need only ask, and she would comply. As it should be.
“While I feel you’ve proved yourself more than ready,” the colonel went on, “I feel you are more valuable to us here at the training center.”
Kathryn blinked in disbelief, reflexively offended.
“Sir, you can’t, in good conscience, send partially-trained kids over there and leave someone with experience behind.”
“I can, and I will. Your experience is needed here, Kathryn. Someone has to train these recruits.”
“You’ve got a whole center full of instructors, sir.”
“They haven’t field experience, and that’s what we need right now. Those recruits are better off half trained by someone with experience than fully trained by someone who has no earthly idea what it’s like out there.”
He smiled gently, recognizing the hurt in her protest. “It’s a compliment, Kathryn, not a slight.”
Conflict played across Kathryn’s face and held her mute in the face of his logic. He was right, but it felt so wrong. The young recruits had so much to live for, and she had so much to make up for—her self-flagellation was interrupted by thoughts of Jenny: the best thing that had ever happened to her.
Kathryn exhaled and closed her eyes against the selfish relief of being left at home to continue with her relatively comfortable life.
“I know how you feel, Kathryn,” the colonel assured her. “Do you think I want to be stuck here behind a desk pushing papers while my friends are overseas in the thick of it?”
She opened her eyes. He didn’t understand. A few months ago that may have been the reason, but now he didn’t understand at all, and she was too ashamed of her relief to explain it to him.
“You do more than push papers, sir.”
“And you do more than just train new recruits. You’re an inspiration to us here, Kathryn. Ask anyone.”
Kathryn shifted uncomfortably, trying to escape the undeserved flattery.
“You’ve been in the den of the devil, and you’re still here fighting.”
She had no choice but to fight. Without it, her life was merely stolen moments of undeserved breaths. The colonel’s accolades were wholly misplaced, and Kathryn suddenly felt the walls closing in. Guilt, and the weight of her accountability, crawled under her skin like restless vipers, until she couldn’t stand it. She abruptly got up and paced the room.
“Stop it. There’s a trail of death and destruction in my wake that negates anything positive I’ve ever done or ever will do.”
The colonel leaned back in his chair and regarded her skeptically.
“If you really believe that, then what’s the point?”
“Sometimes I don’t know.”
He hid a smile under his bowed head and leaned forward, crossing his arms on his desk.
“I think you do,” he replied calmly.
She rubbed her forehead and then threw her hand up at her lame excuse. “I’m sorry, sir. It’s been a long day.”
“Yes, it has.”
Kathryn sat, resigned to her conflicting emotions.
“We take our victories where we can find them, Kathryn. Day by day. That’s our motto.”
Kathryn agreed, but one day at a time wasn’t enough to satisfy her unsated remorse. She had to be sure every option was open. “If you need me over there, don’t hesitate to assign me, sir. I mean it.”
“I know you do.”
Confident she wasn’t shirking her duty, she nodded.
The colonel put away his papers and clasped his hands across her folder.
“Enjoy the next few days off, and we’ll see you at the center on Monday, Kathryn.”
Kathryn joined Smitty in the outer office, and together they walked down the hallway to the elevators.
“Too bad we have to wait so long to leave, eh?” he commented cheerfully.
Kathryn turned. “Leave?”
“Overseas. The training camps.” He held up his papers.
Kathryn slowed her pace and eventually stopped, realizing her silence about Jenny had brought about an unexpected consequence. “I don’t have an assignment overseas.”
Smitty’s commitment to the contrary was evident in his deflated posture.
A few more quiet moments went by before Kathryn finally spoke. “I’m sorry if you took that because you thought I was going.”
“No, I—” He cut himself off, obviously thinking better of lying to her. “I thought you wanted to get out of here. You know, to forget about … things.”
“Yeah,” she drew out, “about that …” She started walking again, hoping to soften the blow of her reasoning. She hadn’t told him about Jenny yet. She was just getting used to the idea herself, and she didn’t want to face her partner’s misgivings about the possible conflict of interests.
Her admission went over as expected. Smitty didn’t understand how she could have spent all day traveling with him and not told him about Jenny, but she pointed to his disgruntled attitude as the prime reason for her reticence.
He apologized, realizing how his desire to protect her had pushed her away, and he acknowledged how hard the loss of her relationship with Jenny had been. By the time they got to the car, he managed to wish her well, albeit reservedly.
“You know I want you to be happy, Kathryn. You deserve it.”
She held up her hand before he could utter the obligatory but—
Smitty swallowed the word and the warning to follow. Kathryn was glad he could see that her relationship with Jenny had moved far beyond the reach of protestations from him.
The rest of the ride to her apartment was spent in introverted contemplation. They would have two months before they would part—two months to get used to being without each other for the first time since they were children.
Kathryn’s mood was solemn as the car turned down her street. Smitty was leaving, her assignment to Forrester had been a failure in her eyes, and Bouchaule had gotten away. She couldn’t even tell her superiors what he had gotten away with, but, clearly, he had gotten what he came for.
She didn’t buy the “act of God” theory about the plane crash. She almost laughed out loud when Forsythe said there were eyewitnesses—eyewitnesses to a lightning strike on an aircraft—what were the odds? Apparently pretty high in a world where payoffs defined the truth.
Kathryn debated whether to tell Jenny about her relationship with Bouchaule. He was alive out there somewhere, and even though she knew the chances of him showing up again were slim to none, her promise that he would be of no consequence to them seemed almost like an untruth. She tried to ignore the feeling. After all, if he did show up, Jenny would just say You do what you have to do. What else was there to say?
Kathryn always did what she needed to do, and she’d brooded long enough about her history to know that looking back never changed the past. It only made the future more difficult to embrace. She certainly didn’t need any help making things difficult, and she wasn’t going to muck up what she had now by dwelling on Bouchaule.
Her disposition changed immediately when she looked up and saw the living room light on in her apartment. Jenny was there. So many days in the last month she’d wished for such a sight, and faced with it now, she couldn’t suppress a grin.
Her expression wasn’t lost on Smitty, who brought the car to a halt at the curb and forced a grin of his own. “Say hi to the kid for me.”
Kathryn took in the sight of him before getting out of the car. His arm was casually thrown over the back of the seat, his hat pushed back off his forehead, and his expressive brown eyes said more than his words dared.
She loved him too and understood everything he wasn’t saying. She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, lingering before his face as she smoothed the lipstick away with her thumb.
His jaw tensed under her hand, and he couldn’t meet her eyes.
Kathryn wasn’t sure if he found her actions cruel or simply overwhelming. Either way, it had been a long day for them both, and too much to say resulted in nothing to say. Kathryn offered her regrets in her pursed lips and tendered her love through the hand still cupping his face.
He took her hand and kissed it and then quickly faced forward, putting both hands on the steering wheel in a symbolic effort to control his fragile emotions. “Go on, get out of here.”
She squeezed his thick shoulder and ducked out of the car without another word.
Kathryn blew out the tension of her day as she climbed the steps to her apartment. It could only get better now—Jenny was waiting for her. It would be their first time together since their day at the beach.
She reached for the door, only to have it opened for her.
“Hi, baby,” Jenny beamed.
A broad grin split Kathryn’s lips. “I’ve missed that.”
Jenny put a hand behind Kathryn’s neck and pulled her into the apartment, where she greeted her with a proper kiss.
“Mm,” Kathryn hummed, as she kicked the door closed behind her. “I’ve missed that too.”
Jenny backed down off her tiptoes, smiling as she took the black clutch and gloves from Kathryn’s hands.
“Thanks for leaving the key,” she called over her shoulder as she crossed the living room.
“You’re welcome.” Kathryn smiled as she slipped out of her shoes. “Keep it this time. I don’t want to find it in my mailbox again.”
Jenny stopped and turned. “Sorry.”
Kathryn caught up with her and kissed her on the head before moving on to the bedroom. “Don’t be.”
Jenny followed and leaned on the doorjamb, realizing it was probably the first of many sensitive reminders of their past life that would sporadically rise to the surface.
“How’d it go today?”
“Ugh, exhausting.” Kathryn shed her black fitted jacket and stepped out of her matching skirt.
Jenny folded the gloves in her hand and put them and the purse on the nightstand at her hip. She crossed her arms, enjoying the view, as Kathryn’s black slip fell to the floor.
“Bath?”
“Mm. Please. I’m dying to get off my feet.”
“Coming right up.”
Jenny drew a hot bath and took great pleasure in slowly washing every inch of Kathryn’s body. She wasn’t surprised or disappointed when she found herself pulled playfully into the tub, clothes and all. It seemed like forever since either of them had laughed, and their squeals echoing off the porcelain caused them both to pause and stare at each other, as the water sloshed over the sides of the tub and onto the floor.
They dissolved into a fit of giggles as they accidentally splashed some more water onto the floor and realized they really didn’t care.
They eventually wound up in robes on the couch. Kathryn rested her head in Jenny’s lap and stretched out her legs, crossing her feet on the far arm of the sofa. They shared a bottle of wine and listened to swing music playing softly on the radio in the background as they relished the simple pleasure of being in each other’s company again. Soon, their easy conversation faded into contented silence.
Jenny looked down and saw that Kathryn had fallen asleep. She smiled, glad that she was getting some rest. She looked tired when she came home, and Jenny knew it was more than just physical. She also knew Kathryn wouldn’t talk about it, either because she couldn’t, or she wouldn’t, trying to preserve the illusion of a carefree evening.
Neither was carefree, of course, Jenny least of all. So many changes—personally and professionally—but she had one constant back in her life, and she was grateful for that. She took in Kathryn’s face, so relaxed in sleep, and she hoped her mind was free of the troubles of the waking world, if only for these few peaceful moments.
Jenny was not so lucky. Her mind was filled with turmoil. Since discovering the storage unit, her superiors had all but ignored her, virtually cutting her out of the Ryan case loop. Holmes had done away with their weekly update meetings—her part in them, anyway—and had done everything except pat her on the head when he thanked her for her service and sent her on her way. She knew it was irrational. She had done her duty for the good of her country, not personal accolades, but she couldn’t help feeling used. She had more right than anyone to know what was going on.
Every day that she went to work at the Daily Chronicle, she could see her uncle paying the price for her actions. He was in a constant state of upset, downing antacid tablets and headache powders with alarming frequency.
The triumph of her discovery had turned to guilt when she heard her aunt tell of the decline of their marriage, “due to the stresses of his job,” as she put it. She’d had enough of Paul’s erratic behavior and was on the verge of divorce.
Jenny closed her eyes, fighting against the remorse she felt. This isn’t what she wanted. She just wanted to get to the bottom of her family’s secrets and get access to what belonged to her—the box of her mother’s personal effects.
Kathryn’s breathing became slow and steady as she drifted deeper into her slumber, and Jenny marveled at her ability to keep everything inside.
She would love nothing more than to seek Kathryn’s counsel on her troubles, but it was all assignment-related, and she felt she had to bite her tongue to keep from breaking protocol.
She wondered if Kathryn struggled so, or had she gotten so used to the self-imposed silence and the isolation it wrought that she’d forgotten what it was like to be at liberty to share her thoughts and fears?
Jenny reached out to touch Kathryn’s face, admiring her strength, but drew back, not wanting to wake her. Jenny thought back on the woman’s tragic childhood and her life until now, and her heart overflowed with love for her. She wished she could take it all away and give her peace. Empathy overwhelmed her, and tears filled her eyes. She quickly wiped them away before she ruined their evening.
Kathryn stirred, and with a quick intake of breath, she opened her eyes.
Jenny knew she was caught, but she smiled bravely and chirped “Hi” anyway, hoping against hope that, in her sleep-induced stupor, Kathryn wouldn’t notice she was crying.
“Hey …” Kathryn craned her head up. She wasn’t fooled, and she swung her long legs to the floor and had Jenny’s hands in hers in an instant.
“What is it?”
Jenny tried to dismiss her tears by blaming the wine and a long day, but Kathryn wasn’t buying it. Jenny finally had to admit that the past few weeks were taking their toll on her, and once the tears started, she couldn’t stop them. The truth about her family, their breakup, and all that spiraled after, rushed to get out all at once.
Kathryn held her while she cried it out. It didn’t take long. Her emotions escaped like a held breath, and the release left her relieved. As the last tear fell, Jenny sat up straight and wiped her face with the sleeve of her robe.
“I’m sorry I’m such a baby,” she sniffed.
Kathryn lifted Jenny’s chin. “This is tough stuff, Jenny. You’ve handled yourself so well. If you need to cry, I’m here. If you need to talk—” She paused, realizing that for some issues, she was not an option. There were vague sympathetic answers to the vague problems her work presented, but none that would ease the burden. Still—
“Your superiors are there to help you,” she went on. “You can tell them your concerns. If you don’t feel comfortable with them, there are professionals in the organization that are there for that purpose … to listen and help you through this.”
Jenny waited a moment, and then a slow grin formed on her lips. “Did that work for you?”
“We’re not talking about me.”
Kathryn tried to remain serious, but Jenny’s widening grin forced a chagrined chuckle.
Jenny playfully leaned into Kathryn’s shoulder. “You’re full of it, but thank you for the pep talk.”
They both leaned back, side by side, and rested their heads on the back of the couch. Kathryn took Jenny’s hand.
“I’m sorry it’s so hard, honey.”
Jenny shrugged and squeezed her hand. “I don’t know how you do it, Kat. You’re so strong all the time.”
“Tst. Hardly.” She leaned forward and retrieved her glass of wine from the coffee table. The uncomfortable feeling from Forsythe’s office was returning, and she took a drink, hoping the subject would change by the time she leaned back.
“Seriously,” Jenny went on predictably. “I mean, tonight, for instance, you had an upsetting day.”
Kathryn looked at her as if she were clairvoyant.
Jenny smiled as she placed a comforting hand on her knee. “I can tell, yet you don’t say anything about it, and you find someplace to put it all.”
“Not well enough, apparently,” Kathryn half-joked as she took another sip of wine.
“Where do you put it?”
Kathryn stared at her distorted reflection in the wine. At that moment, she wanted to put it all at the bottom of her glass. She would drown her guilt, escape the memories and the pain, and with it her responsibilities and obligations. It would be so easy—a few glasses, a bottle perhaps—but easy wasn’t allowed. She forfeited easy when her cowardice cost the lives of the six men overseas.
“Sometimes I don’t put it anywhere,” she said with a shrug. “I cried like a baby at the funeral today. I couldn’t help it. It was like I was fourteen all over again and it was my mother they were putting into the ground.”
“Oh, Kat.”
“And sometimes I just push it out of my mind and tell myself I’ll think about it later.”
That was all she planned to say about the matter, but Jenny stared at her with expectant eyes, and Kathryn knew she would wait as long as it took for her to reveal what was on her mind.
“Smitty has been assigned overseas.”
Jenny’s eyes widened and she slowly sat up. “Kat … are you …?”
“No, honey. I’m staying on at the training center.”
Jenny physically slumped in relief. “I’m sorry about Smitty.”
Kathryn tried to hide her trepidation over Smitty’s departure, but Jenny saw right through her.
“How are you with that?”
Kathryn took another sip of wine and let it settle in her stomach before she answered. “He’ll be fine. He’s good at what he does, and I know he’ll be careful.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Kathryn looked at her, wishing for the moment that she were a little less tenacious.
“I’ll miss him.”
It was a simple statement, filled with love and adoration, and purposely absent any hint of sadness. She stared into her glass, imagining the hazards of the European theater reflected in the deep burgundy of the merlot, and she closed her eyes briefly to shut out her memories and her fears about it.
“I don’t want to think about it,” she said quietly before taking another drink.
Jenny knitted her brow. “Are you sorry you’re not going?”
Kathryn saw apprehension in her eyes and knew she had to admit the truth. “No. I’m not sorry.”
Jenny breathed a sigh of relief. “Me either.”
“But I’m not glad,” Kathryn quickly added defensively.
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
Kathryn didn’t know how she possibly could. She didn’t know what she’d done—the debt she owed. She only knew of the repercussions, and even then, it was from Smitty’s stilted point of view.
Jenny was looking at her with renewed concern, and Kathryn knew her reaction had been a little strong.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay, baby,” Jenny assured her. “If I had been ordered overseas, I would have gone, but I don’t think I would have said I was glad about it. It’s terrifying, exciting … it’s what we were trained for. But I’d also be leaving you, and that’s never a happy occasion,” she said with a smile. “In the same vein, I know you must be torn about staying home when the action’s over there.”
Close enough, Kathryn relented. “Well, plenty of action around here lately, hm?”
Jenny took her hand with a squeeze of support, and she returned the squeeze with an appreciative smile.
“Thanks. Tough day.”
“Are you all right about the funeral this morning?”
Kathryn nodded, happy to leave the guilt over her home front assignment behind. “It took me by surprise. So raw, like it was yesterday.” She rubbed her forehead. “Not that you’d ever forget.”
But she had forgotten. Especially the part about her overwrought father. How could she have forgotten that? Seeing the scene through adult eyes, she realized his pain was as great and as real as hers. He’d lost the woman he adored, but he also had to live with the horrible truth that it was his fault.
After all their years estranged, they finally had something in common. The circumstances were different, but the results were the same. They both had blood on their hands and guilt as their constant companion. Like father, like daughter. The epiphany was disturbing for a moment, but it soon twisted into a comforting irony.
She stared quizzically into her glass. The wine was starting to go to her head. It must be. She was starting to feel sympathy toward her father.
Jenny must have seen the bewilderment in her eyes and knew the wine had overstayed its welcome. “I’m going to wash my face. Do you want some water?”
Kathryn pushed the glass away. “Please.”
Jenny collected the glasses and left the room.
Kathryn stood and rubbed her temples, begging her mind to clear. Memories so long hidden and a future she chose to ignore wrestled for the upper hand in her head.
The future lost out to the physical reminders of the past, as she lovingly caressed her mother’s piano and followed the case’s swooping curve to its end. She stood face to face with the small painting of her mother’s hand, passing a seashell to her very young, innocent self. Memories washed over her and brought a bittersweet smile to her face.
“Always tell the truth, Kathy,” her mother was fond of saying. “You may have to suffer the consequences, but you’ll be thankful in the end.”
“And why is that again, Mom?” she would ask.
“Because your soul will be free,” was always the cryptic response.
The answer made no sense to the young girl who thought she was smart enough to get away with anything, but the woman she had become understood perfectly.
It was advice she couldn’t follow, and before she knew it, the path behind her was littered with lies, death, and deception. Her soul was anything but free, and the young girl they called Kathy had been lost forever.
Kathryn closed her eyes and reached for the painting. What ifs taunted her. Who would she be had her mother lived? Where would she be? Would she have found Jenny? The last question gave her pause, but then she smiled. Jenny would have found her. She was sure of it.
“Beautiful hands,” Jenny commented as she returned, holding out a glass of water.
Kathryn took it and smiled, as she stopped absentmindedly tracing the outline of the hands in the painting. “Yes, they were.”
Jenny raised her glass in a toast. “Hers too.”
Kathryn laughed and accepted the compliment on her mother’s behalf. Her demeanor changed from one of introspection to relieved distraction.
Not surprisingly, Jenny noticed.
“Are you okay?”
Kathryn smiled. “Mm.”
She was indeed okay. She had once told Smitty that Jenny soothed her soul. It was never truer than when she was in her presence, and one look or kind word made her feel alive and worthy of grace. She knew her soul would never be free, but she’d found the closest thing to it in the woman by her side.
“I love you, you know.”
Jenny smiled. “I know.”
Kathryn laughed at the self-assured reply and glanced back to the painting, certain her mother would have liked this girl.
Jenny pointed at the small signature in the corner of the canvas.
“Who’s E.K. Hammond?”
“That’s me.”
Jenny almost choked on her water. “You painted that?”
“Mm-hm.”
“You’re an artist too?”
Kathryn laughed at Jenny’s surprised expression. “Used to be.”
“You never stop being an artist,” Jenny stated with some authority. “You merely misplace your muse.”
“Oh, is that what happens?”
“Yes, it is. Don’t you think?”
Kathryn looked at the painting, feeling the guilt of wasted talent. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right.” She put a hand on her hip and sized up the painting like a promoter planning a campaign. “We need to find you a muse, because you are too gifted not to be doing this every day.”
While Jenny focused on the painting, Kathryn tried hard not to cast her eyes toward the closed door in the hallway, next to her bedroom. She had a muse. It just wasn’t very pretty, and the resulting art wasn’t much to look at. She’d given up painting entirely and turned her back on her studio and a talent that perpetuated more pain than pleasure.
Jenny was oblivious to her reaction, mesmerized instead by the depth of the meticulous layers of colored glazing.
“Kathryn, this is so beautiful.”
Kathryn uttered a quiet “Thanks” as her eyes drifted self-consciously to the floor.
Jenny peered closer at the signature. “What does the E stand for?”
“Ethelyn”
Jenny looked her up and down, trying the name on for size. “Oh, my.”
Kathryn laughed. “Yes, well. Mother had a curious sense of humor and a very dear aunt to appease. My father didn’t feel it his place to argue after twenty-two hours of labor, so they compromised and, mercifully, addressed me by my middle name.”
Jenny raised her brow and glass in thanks. “Here’s to compromise.”
“I agree.”
“An artist.” Jenny shook her head. “What else haven’t you told me about yourself?”
Kathryn stared at Jenny’s smiling face. The lighthearted question was a sober reminder of her complicated life and the secrets she tended.
She’d told Jenny many things—more than anyone else—but not everything. Some things she couldn’t tell her, other things she just wouldn’t, but some things were so integral to who she’d become that she felt compelled to reveal her darkest truths. You’ll be thankful in the end echoed through her mind. She set her water glass down on the coffee table and took Jenny’s hand.
“Come with me.”