Free Remember the Time by Annette Reynolds Page B

everything that is Paul’s. When the box is filled, she carries it to the tower room, unpacks it, and starts all over again. Sometime around midnight, she finishes
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    Kate is standing in the center of the room. All his clothing has been carefully folded and placed in a small trunk. His uniforms take up the five drawers in the chest. His equipment is organized on a metal shelf unit. Shoes sit in a row along one wall. All the little things—jewelry, shaving items, cologne, soap—have been arranged in a carved walnut box that rests atop the chest of drawers. His awards are hung on the wall, in any empty space she can find
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    Turning off the light, she closes the door and locks it. She hangs the key in the pantry before going into the den. Not bothering to turn on the light, Kate lowers herself onto the couch, fully exhausted. She falls asleep seconds later and doesn’t wake up till the phone rings at eleven o’clock the next morning. Rain drums against the house, and as she gets up to answer the call, her legs nearly fly out from under her. Her thighs ache. Her back and arms are stiff and painful
.
    The caller is a teary Sheryl, apologizing for not being at the funeral. It had been impossible for her to come. Kate listens to Mike’s sister ramble on about the divorce, and how she was just finishing up massage school, and Matt’s SAT’s were yesterday, and they just couldn’t get away, and she was so sorry
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    Kate is tired and in pain, and she simply says, “It’s all right, Sheryl. I know you cared.”
    “I just wish I had been there for you,” the other woman says, a fresh spate of tears audible over the wire
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    Kate hangs up and wearily makes the climb to the second floor and the bathroom. The hot shower takes away some of the pain in her muscles, but not the ache in her heart
.
    Mike stood outside the guest room door, unsure of what to do. She’d been in there for nearly two hours. He’d finished the downstairs a few minutes ago and just as he was about to knock he’d heard her sniffling. He continued to stand there, his arms raised, and a small grimace crossed his face when he heard her blow her nose. Deciding that disturbing her was the best thing to do, he finally rapped on the door. “Kate? Just wanted to let you know I’m done.” He put his car to the door, waiting for a response. He heard her walk to the door, but she didn’t open it.
    “Okay. Thanks, Mike. See you at six.”
    He hesitated, wanting—no, needing—to comfort her. Instead, he drew in his breath, and said, “Yeah. Six. I’ll be the guy with the two bottles of wine in his hands and the smile on his face.”

C HAPTER
ELEVEN
    T hey had eaten in the kitchen and had consumed most of the first bottle of Chianti. Mike, wary of Kate’s mood, kept the conversation centered on the house and the work to be done. She didn’t hide her consternation well when he told her they could start on Monday, just two days away.
    As Kate rinsed off the plates and put them in the dishwasher, Mike wondered if he was supposed to get up and leave. It was early, but he still had that second bottle of wine and he desperately missed the long talks he and Kate used to have. When Paul was still alive, Mike would drive up for a weekend visit during the winter months. Paul took full advantage of the fact that he didn’t have to work the night shift, and would go to bed early, leaving Kate and Mike chatting till the wee hours. A few times Mike had even brought his girlfriend of the moment. She invariably got bored with the subjects of antiques and old houses and wouldn’t bother to hide a yawn once either Kate or Mike would say, “Hey, remember the time …?” Annoyed, the woman would eventually find her way to the guest bedroom, while Kate and Mike sipped wine and reminisced.
    Now, remembering was too hard for Kate, but Mike’s need for her was even more excruciating. For too manyyears Paul rightfully stood between Mike and his love for Kate. And Mike