Her mother walked into the bedroom and Katherine felt tension crackle in the air like lightening in a thunderstorm.
Late last night, she'd tried to get her mother to talk about what had happened between her and Thomas, but it turned into a disaster. Her mother had changed the subject to Katherine's problem with Jared. The discussion ended in a stalemate, with neither willing to talk.
“You always look good in a French braid. More sophisticated,” her mother said. “Look what I found in the attic.'
She handed Katherine a worn box that had belonged to her father. Inside was his coin collection. “I don't know what it's worth, probably not much, but you and he used to play with it for hours. He would have wanted you to have it.'
Katherine chewed her lip and placed the gift on the dresser.
“Thanks. I'm glad you found it. I'll have it appraised after Christmas and keep it for Matt one day.'
“Your father would have liked that,” her mother said.
Katherine swallowed hard. “That another new dress?” she asked, glancing at her mother's cordovan jersey.
“Yes, it is,” her mother said, straightening her back. “Jared called and asked if he could drive Matt to the service. Since you wouldn't come to the phone, I gave my approval. I'm sure you don't want to deprive Matt of seeing Jared just because you and he quarreled.'
Her mother's image blurred as she nodded.
“Good,” her mother continued, picking up the perfume bottle from the dresser and spritzing her wrists with cologne. “Jared's also taking me and Mrs. Taylor.” She set the bottle down. “I don't suppose you could bury the hatchet long enough to go along with us?'
Katherine shook her head, grabbed an emery board and pretended to file a rough edge on her nail. “I'll drive myself.'
Her mother hugged her. “I'm sorry we quarreled last night, but I really don't want to talk about Thomas Hughes again-ever.'
She patted her mother's hand, determined to get to the bottom of it herself.
Jared's car pulled up at the curb. Her mother and Matt dashed out to meet him coming up the walk. Katherine shoved her arms in her coat and headed for the detached garage. Her heels clicked on the concrete as she proceeded up the breezeway to her car. She twisted the key and tried to start the engine. Nothing happened.
“Great,” she muttered at the silence.
Snatching up her purse, she flung herself out of the car, slammed the door shut, and stomped toward the front porch.
“Something wrong?” Paul asked.
Katherine turned toward him. He stood in front of the house. Reaching up, he removed the tarp covering his car, folded it and stored it in the trunk. The streetlights beamed down on his hand-waxed Porsche, which shimmered and sparkled like red fire next to the curb.
She shoved her keys in her purse and glared at him. “My car won't start. I'll take a cab to church and worry about the car tomorrow.'
He smiled like a Cheshire cat. “You'll be late if you call a cab. I'll take you and sit with Matt during the service. I can bring you home afterwards.'
She chewed the inside of her cheek and hesitated. The smile he thought so charming was looking distinctly dangerous, like it had the night he accosted her in her bedroom.
Paul must have seen her nervousness. He reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out his cell phone. “I'll call you a cab.'
Mr. Hobbs, the neighborhood pharmacist, drove by with his family on the way to the church and tooted his horn. Katherine thought about hailing him down for a ride, but his car was packed solid with kids. She waved.
Her uneasy feeling was silly. “You can take me to the church.” She hopped into Paul's baby and closed the door.
He strode to his side and got behind the wheel. She hugged the door. The motor of the Porsche started right up, humming softly. Classical music played in the background as they drove. She peered at him anxiously out of the corner of her eye.
Paul finally sighed and turned the radio off. “Katherine, I keep messing things up. I used to know how to reach you. And I really do want to please you.” He glanced at her. “I hope you didn't mean what you said last night about not wanting to see me after Christmas. I wanted us to at least be friends.'
The way he said ‘friends’ made her skin crawl. “I don't think that's possible, but I hope you'll continue to see Matt regularly. He needs his father.'
“All you ever think about is Matt,” he grumbled.
“Maybe you can take some lessons from me,” she snapped back, folding her arms.
They drove in silence.
She stared blankly out the windshield. Streetlights and Christmas decorations whizzed by in a blur as they sped through the neighborhoods. He braked, and the car slowed.
“What are you doing?” She pointed straight ahead. “It's not far from here.'
He cut the headlights. Her throat went dry as he turned onto a dark, deserted side road and sped into the night.
Jared sat in a church pew with Matt on one side of him and Grace on the other. Hundreds of tapered candles flickered in brass candelabras around them, giving the chapel a soft, golden iridescent glow. All around him, the voices of the congregation-the community that had become home to him in the past year-rose in joyous Christmas carols. Normally, Jared felt peace during the service, but not now. Katherine was twenty minutes late.
Women are always late, he reminded himself.
Grace elbowed his ribs and leaned toward him. “Katherine should have been here by now. She's like you, always punctual.'
His heart rate sped up, an increase in tension that made the hair on the back of his neck prickle. Matt looked up at Jared. “Where's my mom?” he asked, the apprehension in his eyes fueling Jared's.
“There's nothing to worry about,” a voice whispered near his ear. He turned sideways, staring into the cheerful face of Mr. Hobbs. “I saw her get into a brand new Porsche.'
Jared stared at Mr. Hobbs in disbelief. Why would she do that? Turning he looked straight ahead at the cross above the altar. He clamped down on the fear racing through his head.
Maybe she changed her mind about taking her car, wanted to talk to Paul. Jared didn't even want to think about the implications of that conversation. Particularly after last night.
Maybe Paul decided to give her a ride so he could tell her about the other woman. Paul did say he'd tell Katherine today. Jared shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. If he believed that, why did he have the photos Carl took in his car right now?
Jared pictured Paul's bloodshot eyes and the hatred that had poured out of them. Would he hurt Katherine? She had said Paul wasn't that type, but he'd crushed her emotionally and thought nothing about it. Lied. What else might he be capable of?
He ignored the images that stabbed at his sanity. Katherine was in trouble. Deep down inside, Jared knew it.
Pushing his shaking hand into his trouser pocket, he found his keys. He leaned and whispered to Grace, “I'll see if I can locate Katherine. I'll be back.'
Grace glanced at him. The same worry showed in her eyes. She nodded. “We'll find a ride. Go get my daughter.'
Jared walked calmly up the aisle so Matt would not be alarmed. He spotted Thomas along the way. His problem would have to wait until another day. Once the doors closed behind him, he sped to his Lexus, and left the parking lot, his tires squealing, as he traced the most likely path from Grace's house to Second Baptist.
