Safe Haven

questioning.

“That’s how every relationship starts. He likes you, you like him. Then you both go from there.”

“Is this why you came down?” Katie tried not to sound exasperated. “To hear all the details?”

“Not all of them. Just the juicy ones.”

Katie rolled her eyes. “How about we talk about your love life instead?”

“Why? Are you in the mood to be depressed?”

“When was the last time you went on a date?”

“A good date? Or just a date-date?”

“A good date.”

Jo hesitated. “I’d have to say that it’s been at least a couple of years.”

“What happened?”

Jo dipped a finger in her wine, then ran it around the rim of her glass, making it hum. Finally, she looked up. “A good man is hard to find,” she said wistfully. “Not everyone is as lucky as you are.”

Katie didn’t know quite how to respond to that, so instead she touched Jo’s hand. “What’s really going on?” she asked gently. “Why did you want to talk to me?”

Jo looked around the empty bar as if trying to draw inspiration from her surroundings. “Do you ever sit back and wonder what it all means? Whether this is it or if there’s something greater out there? Or if you were meant for something better?”

“I think everyone does,” Katie answered, her curiosity growing.

“When I was a girl, I used to make believe that I was a princess. One of the good ones, I mean. Someone who always does the right thing and has the power to make people’s lives better so that, in the end, they live happily ever after.”

Katie nodded. She could remember doing the same thing, but she still wasn’t sure where Jo was going so she stayed quiet.

“I think that’s why I do what I do now. When I started, I just wanted to help. I’d see people who were struggling with the loss of someone they loved — a parent, a child, a friend — and my heart just overflowed with sympathy. I tried to do everything in my power to make things better for them. But as time passed, I came to realize that there was only so much I could do myself. That in the end, people who are grieving have to want to move on — that first step, that motivating spark, has to come from within them. And when it does, it opens the door to the unexpected.”

Katie took a deep breath, trying to make sense of Jo’s rambling. “I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me.”

Jo swirled her wine, studying the little whirlpool in her glass. For the first time, her tone became utterly serious. “I’m talking about you and Alex.”

Katie couldn’t hide her surprise. “Me and Alex?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “He’s told you about losing his wife, right? About how hard it was for him — for the whole family — to get past it?”

Katie stared across the table, suddenly uncomfortable. “Yes…” she began.

“Then be careful with them,” Jo said, her tone serious. “All of them. Don’t break their hearts.”

In the awkward silence that followed, Katie found herself recalling their first conversation about Alex.

Did you two ever see each other? she remembered asking Jo.

Yes, but maybe not in the way you’re thinking, Jo had answered. And just so we’re clear: it was a long time ago and everyone has moved on.

At the time, she’d assumed that it meant that Jo and Alex had dated in the past, but now…

She was struck by the obviousness of the conclusion. The counselor Alex had mentioned, who had seen the kids and consulted with him in the aftermath of Carly’s death — it must have been Jo. Katie sat up straight. “You worked with Alex and the kids, didn’t you? After Carly died, I mean.”

“I’d rather not say,” Jo answered. Her tone was measured and calm. Just like a counselor’s. “I can say that all of them… mean a lot to me. And if you’re not serious about a possible future with them, I think you should end it now. Before it’s too late.”

Katie felt her cheeks flush; it seemed inappropriate — presumptuous, even — for Jo to be talking to her like this. “I’m not sure any of this is really your concern,” she said, her voice tight.

Jo acknowledged her point with a reluctant nod. “You’re right. It’s not my concern — and I’m crossing some important boundaries here. But I really do think they’ve been through enough. And the last thing I want for them is to become attached to someone who has no intention of staying in Southport. Maybe I’m worried that the past is never really in the past and that you might decide to leave, no matter how much sadness you leave in your wake.”

Katie was speechless. This conversation was so unexpected, so uncomfortable, and Jo’s words had definitely thrown her emotions into turmoil.

If Jo sensed Katie’s discomfort, she pressed on anyway.

“Love doesn’t mean anything if you’re not willing to make a commitment,” she said, “and you have to think not only about what you want, but about what he wants. Not just now, but in the future.” She continued to stare at Katie across the table, her brown eyes unwavering. “Are you ready to be a wife to Alex and a mother to his kids? Because that’s what Alex wants. Maybe not right now, but he will in the future. And if you’re not willing to make a commitment, if you’re only going to toy with his feelings and those of his children, then you’re not the person he needs in his life.”

Before Katie could say anything, Jo got up from the table as she went on. “It might have been wrong of me to say all this, and maybe we won’t be friends any longer, but I wouldn’t feel right about myself if I didn’t speak plainly. As I’ve said from the very beginning, he’s a good man — a rare man. He loves deeply and never stops loving.” She let those words sink in before her expression suddenly softened. “I think you’re the same way, but I wanted to remind you that if you care about him, then you have to be willing to commit to him. No matter what the future might bring. No matter how scared you might be.”

With that, she turned and left the bar, leaving Katie sitting at the table in stunned silence. It was only as she got up to leave that she noticed that Jo hadn’t touched her wine.

24

Kevin Tierney didn’t go to Provincetown on the weekend he’d told Coffey and Ramirez that he would. Instead, he stayed home with the curtains closed, brooding over how close he’d come to finding her in Philadelphia.

He wouldn’t have succeeded in tracking her that far, except that she’d made a mistake in going to the bus station. He knew it was the only transportation choice she could have made. Tickets were cheap and identification wasn’t necessary, and though he wasn’t sure how much she’d stolen from him, he knew it couldn’t have been much. From the first day they were married, he’d controlled the money. He always made her keep receipts and give him any change, but after she’d run away the second time, he’d also started locking his wallet in the gun box with his guns when he went to sleep. Sometimes, though, he fell asleep on the couch and he imagined her slipping the wallet from his pocket and stealing his money. He imagined the way she silently laughed at him as she did it, and how, in the morning, she would make him breakfast and pretend that she’d done nothing wrong. She would smile and kiss him, but inside she was laughing. Laughing at him. She’d stolen from him and he knew that was wrong because the Bible says Thou shalt not steal.

In the darkness, he chewed his lips, remembering his initial hope that she might come back. It was snowing and she couldn’t get far; the first time she’d run away it had also been on a bitter cold night, and she’d called him within a few hours and asked him to pick her up because she had nowhere else to go. When she got home, she apologized for what she’d done and he made her a cup of hot cocoa as she sat shivering on the couch. He brought her a blanket and watched as she covered herself, trying to get warm. She smiled at him and he smiled at her, but once she stopped shivering, he crossed the room and slapped her until she cried. By the time he rose for work in