Free Catching Caitlin by Amy Isan Page A

down on the bed, and looked at
me.
    “This is my wife.”

Chapter 4
    “Y our wife,” I repeated.
“Not your mistress?”
    “No, not my mistress.
That’s my wife,” he said. His voice was firm.
    “Then why was it hidden
in your desk at work?” I tried to keep my voice civil, but I was kind of
rushing through a bunch of emotions at once. It was hard to keep calm. “Why are
you still wearing your wedding ring if you’re married? I need the truth, Hugh.”
I pointed to his finger.
    “She’s dead.”
    I fell silent.
    He sighed, running his
hand through his hair. It was only slightly damp. His posture slackened, and he
collapsed on the bed. Our heads were adjacent but not facing at each other.
    “She died three years
ago, in a car crash.”
    I was struck. My chest
tightened and I inhaled sharply. “I’m— I’m sorry.”
    “Don’t be, it’s not your
fault. It’s mine. I was driving at least. We were heading back from her parents
house, and it was late in the night. We came across a deer in a mountain pass,
and I swerved to dodge it, but like all deer accidents, it isn’t the one you
miss.”
    I wanted to comfort him
but I felt paralyzed. I couldn’t move.
    “The deer rolled up onto
the windshield, crashing through it. I was fine, but only because all of its
weight landed on her.”
    “God that’s horrible.” My
hand went to my forehead. I turned over to face him, giving myself the courage
to caress his chest. “What was her name?”
    “Her name is Marcia,” his
voice cracked, but he maintained his composure. “The damnedest thing is, her
parents offered for us to stay there for the night. We wanted to get home
though, we were trying to have a family...”
    He went silent. “I had no
idea, Hugh.” I wanted to say something more, something that might help.
Something that would make him feel better.
    “You couldn’t have.
That’s why I didn’t want to talk about it — it still takes a lot out of me.”
    He squeezed his left
hand, curling his fingers around his gold band. I touched him, holding my hand
against his back. What could I possibly do to ease him?
    I climbed up out of bed,
and went into the kitchen. Maybe water would help, it usually helped me.
    I filled a glass with
cold water from the tap, and went back into his room.
    He was curled up on the
bed, having barely moved. I handed him the water.
    “Here, drink this.” I put
the glass in his hand, and he took it. He lifted the glass and drank it all in
one go. “Do you want to talk about her...? Will it help?” I wanted to help, but
at the same time, I felt sick. I felt like I didn’t belong here with him, that
I might just be some kind of replacement to him. Was I? Was that the only
reason he picked me up in Maine?
    “I don’t know. I felt
like I haven’t talked about her in ages.”
    I curled up on his chest
and listened to his heartbeat. The rush of blood made it all so much more real.
    “We met in college,” he
began, uneasiness in his voice. “We both had this filler history class
together... Medieval history.” He smirked a little, which made me feel better.
“I actually thought the class was really neat though.”
    I breathed, my own heart
rate starting to match his.
    “I sat across the room
from her and the first thing I noticed were her dimples. They showed every time
she talked, smiled, or laughed. By this point, I’d had a couple of flings, but
I could tell this was different.”
    He leaned down and
breathed into my hair. He planted a kiss on my head. “It was like when I met
you.”
    I was surprised to hear
that, but I didn’t want to interrupt him. Besides, at this point, I was so
confused by my feelings, I felt a mixture of anxiety and helplessness filling
my chest. My fingers tightened into fists, shaking slightly.
    “I asked her out, and
found out she was a year older than me. She never thought she’d be with a
younger man.” I clenched my eyes shut. “...And the next thing I knew, we were
engaged. It was