The Sins That Bind Us Page 15

  “Wait, wasn't that the fortune I got on our first date?" I ask as it dawns on me.

  He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet to retrieve a crinkled slip of paper. When he passes it to me, tears well in my eyes.

  "You kept it." "I keep the good ones," he says in a low voice. I raise my eyes to find his. "Are we talking about fortunes, or ..."

  "It's a blanket policy," he assures me. I hand it back to him, along with my heart. I want him to keep them both safe. “Do you have a bunch of those in there?"

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He winks.

  We descend into lighthearted banter. Jude feeds me from the various curries and noodles he ordered, and we decide that he likes Thai food as much as Chinese. This is how it’s supposed to be: easy. Perhaps we’ve suffered enough to earn happiness now.

  “We should come back here. Maybe we can alternate between this and Lucky Dragon on Sundays,” I suggest.

  "It will be nice to do something different," he says as he holds open the door to the restaurant. "Do you think little man will like it?"

  I purse my lips and consider this. "It might be a bit spicy for him, but we can try."

  Talking about Max and making plans with him in our future comes so effortlessly for us both. Jude might be right. Perhaps all I can do is focus on finding a happy ending for the three of us.

  "Want to take a walk?" I proposition.

  He gives me a once-over, clearing his throat a little as his eyes linger on my curves. "Won't you be cold in that dress?”

  "I like the wind, remember? Especially coming off the sea." A huskiness filters into my tone and his face grows distant with the memory of our first morning after.

  Unfortunately, we won't be able to reenact that moment on the public access beach that runs along the length of downtown Port Townsend. Instead I slip off my flats and we walk hand-in-hand along the rocky shoreline.

  The days are growing longer and there's still a rosy sliver of sunshine on the horizon. Every few steps a jagged rock jabs against the sole of my foot, but I don't mind. I breathe in the salty air, Jude, and the magical possibility of twilight. But as the strip of daylight thins, the air whipping off the water grows cooler.

  "You're trembling," Jude notes. Stopping, he wraps his arms around me and rubs his palms along my bare skin to warm me. "We should call it a night."

  I tip my head up so that I'm facing him. "What if I don't want to?"

  Jude licks his lower lip, and I know he caught the implication in my words.

  "Your house or mine?" I ask.

  “Sometimes I wish that wasn't a question.” He draws me close, leaving his last statement hanging between us. I sense that's not the question he's preoccupied with. My breathing speeds up. I'm not ready for him to ask anything else of me. I need more time.

  Pulling back, he brushes his thumb over my lower lip, his eyes burning as intensely as the blue tip of a flame. "My house is empty," he says at last.

  It’s an answer I want rather than the question I dread. I relax into his solid body.

  "Amie insists you don't come home until morning," he continues.

  "She does, huh?" I ask. "Are you colluding with my best friend?"

  "Will I earn or lose points if I say yes?" There's a smile in his voice.

  I swallow and make a decision. If I am writing my own story, then how do I want this chapter to end tonight?

  "Your house," I whisper.

  "Would I look impatient if I threw you over my shoulder and ran to the car?" He’s so close to me now that I feel the heat of his breath.

  "Not at all," I reassure him. Part of me hopes he will.

  We're grinning like fools by the time we reach the street, but he's just started up the Jeep when my phone begins to ring.

  "Sorry!” But he waves off my apology. I dig it out and answer in a rush when I see the number flashing on the screen. "What's wrong?"

  "Oh sugar, it's your grandmother." Maggie's friendly voice is heavy with worry. "I hate to call, but she is having a fit and nothing will calm her down. Some of the things she's saying…well, they're crazy child. I think it would do her good to see you."

  I close my eyes and lean back in the seat. Now isn't really a good time, but Maggie has never called me in like this before. “I can try.”

  "Well, she's been throwing stuff around her room all evening, talking about you and your sister."

  I grip the phone tightly as if it might spin out of my control. Nana never talks about both of us.

  "I'll be there as quickly as I can." I hang up the phone and give Jude an apologetic smile.

  "Is she okay?" he asks. No doubt he overheard most of our conversation.

  "I honestly don't know. Maggie has never asked me to come up there before, and—”

  "You go be with your grandmother," Jude interrupts. "I can handle a rain check."

  "Are you sure?" I bite my lip, wondering if Amie will extend her offer to let me stay out all night tomorrow.

  Jude flips on his turn signal and reverses his course, heading to my house instead. "Of course I'm certain. We might not have much family, Sunshine, but we'll stand by the ones we do."

  He pulls into the driveway, then turns off the car. "Do you want me to come with you?"

  I shake my head no. If Nana is talking about both of us, then I want to do this alone. After the things she said the first time I took him to see her, I'm more than a little apprehensive about what she'll reveal regarding my past.

  He nods in understanding. "I'll check on little man. Will you call me when you get home?"

  "Yes," I promise him, entertaining the possibility that I might be back before it's too late to go to his house.

  Jude grips my hip and draws me close to him. "Tomorrow night?"

  “Absolutely,” I breathe. He kisses me senseless, leaving me with a reminder that no matter what tonight holds, he'll be there in the morning.

  The few earthly possessions that Nana has held onto over the years are scattered on the floor. A photo album. A lump of clay one of us painted for her birthday. Clothes are strewn across her bed. In the corner a picture of my grandfather lies in shattered ruins. Maggie wasn’t exaggerating when she called me.

  “I’m sorry, sugar,” Maggie says as we stand in the doorway and survey the destruction. “The doctors thought about giving her something to calm her down, but I thought we should try having you come up here first.”

  At least she’s no longer throwing things around. Instead, she sits in her rocking chair staring out the window, crying softly to herself.

  I cross to her, careful not to step on any of her possessions. Kneeling in front of her I take her hand. “Nana,” I call to her in a soft voice.

  “Oh, she’s dead. She’s dead,” she murmurs tearfully.

  I swallow hard and force myself to ask, “Who’s dead?”

  “She’s dead, she’s dead,” she repeats. “I couldn’t help her.”

  She turns her tearful face to mine. Reaching out she strokes her brittle hand down my cheek. “I’m so sorry about your sister.”

  I take a deep breath and place my hand over hers. Pressing it to my cheek, I close my eyes. “I’m right here, and she’s in Los Angeles.”

  It’s a lie. I have no idea where my sister is. The last time I saw her she mentioned California, so it’s as good a guess as any. There are plenty of drugs for a pretty girl in the Golden State.

  “No, she’s dead.”

  The firm determination in her words paralyzes me. Sitting back on my heels I search her face and find recognition. This isn’t her trapped in the past. She’s here with me now. “Nana, what are you talking about?”

  She turns and points to her dresser. It takes all the strength in me to stand up and walk to the open drawer. Most of its contents are hanging out or dumped on the ground, but there’s one folded piece of paper waiting ominously inside. I fumble as I open it and read. My world spins around me, and I catch myself against the chest of drawers.
<
br />   I don’t need to make out much past the first line.

  Rushing back to my grandmother, I hold it out as my hand shakes. “When did you get this? How long have you had this?”

  “I’m sorry. What is it?” she asks. Calm absence has settled over her features.

  I won’t get any answers from her tonight, but the paper I’m holding is answer enough. I fold it back into thirds and then once more for good measure. Tucking it into a pocket in my purse where no one will find it.

  If Maggie hadn’t called this evening ...

  But I can’t let myself think about that. I go through the motions of straightening her room. By the time, I’m done she’s asking who I am. I’m just another nameless face to her.

  Maggie stops me at the front door and gives me a big hug, but I can’t feel it. I’m too numb.

  “Thank you for coming. I’m sorry I’ve ruined your weekend,” she apologizes.

  “It’s no big deal.” I force a smile but I can’t look her in the face.

  “It’s hard when she gets like that,” she says, misreading why I’m upset. “Her doctor wants to see her in the morning.”

  “I’ll try to stop by tomorrow. Sunday at the latest,” I promise. This time I’ll keep that vow. I’ll come every day until I can catch her on a good one. She may not have any answers, but the piece of paper weighing down my purse says otherwise.

  I’m nearly out the door when Maggie calls out. “By the way, it was nice to meet your man!”

  The giddy feeling that usually accompanies talk of Jude is absent. Tonight has stolen it from me.

  “Thank you,” I say simply, moving to leave.

  “I was wondering if he would find you.”

  I shut the door and turn back to her.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, already dreading the answer.

  “Well, he came here looking for you. Old friends, he said. Met in California, wasn’t it?” She studies my face not able to hide her curiosity at my reaction.

  I swallow and nod, realizing why Jude didn’t want to revisit his story over dinner. He’d been leaving parts out as well.

  “He didn’t mention he came here,” I say finally.

  “Yes, and he visited your grandmother too. She was having a good day,” Maggie continues, completely oblivious. “I can’t believe I forgot to mention it. A man like that comes here looking for Faith Kane, and I forget to tell you.”

  “He found her,” I say in a quiet voice.

  “Yes, he did, didn’t he? Fate works in mysterious ways.”

  “You didn’t tell him I was in Port Townsend?” The question cracks in my throat.

  “I would never do that, even though he’s awfully handsome. Privacy policy, remember? I just had to hope he’d track you down on his own.”

  “Of course,” I say, my mouth going dry. “I guess I’m lucky he found me.”

  Chapter 21

  I drive home at a speed that far exceeds reckless. The trees are an inky blur outside the car window just like my life. I have a million questions that I need answered, but demanding them means opening the part of me I’ve locked away.

  Jude hadn’t happened into my life, he’d breached it. Discovering why might destroy me and the hope for us completely.

  As the sign for Port Townsend comes into view, I know there’s a choice coming. I can take the road to my house or his. I choose the well-traveled one, but as soon as I turn onto my street I spot his Jeep: a splash of yellow in the dark night. My decision’s been made for me. He’s made it for me again. When I reach the front door, I pause on the threshold. I can’t even enter my own home. He’s infected it, too. Just like he’s tainted me.

  He’s inside the house. He’s inside my life. I want him out of both.

  “Why are you here?” Anger trembles in my voice as I call from the doorway.

  Jude tosses a few stray toys into a basket before he makes his way to me. I step onto the porch so we won’t wake Amie.

  “I wanted to check in on you. Amie said you weren’t home yet, so I stuck around to put little man to bed.”

  “You should go,” I look past him, trying to see a future without him.

  “What’s going on, Sunshine?” he asks. When I don’t answer, he reaches out and tilts my chin until our eyes meet.

  “You know.” Two simple words that say everything. The simplicity doesn’t diminish the weight of the accusation. If anything, I feel it more acutely now. Betrayal. Fear. Underneath the paralyzing numbness of these emotions, grief waits for me.

  Jude doesn’t press me to continue. He doesn’t pepper me with questions. Because he’s always known this moment would come.

  “I wasn’t sure what to expect,” I admit, pulling away from him. “The whole drive home I imagined what you were going to say—how you were going to explain this.”

  “I’ve been asking myself the same question for months.” He doesn’t make an excuse or insult me by feigning ignorance. But he doesn’t try to reach for me again. His shoulders draw up and a muscle twitches in his jaw. He’s going on the defensive. I can’t blame him. I feel every bit as alert as he does.

  “When were you going to tell me?” I demand.

  “When were you going to tell me?” he repeats, but I ignore him.

  “You’ve known everything the whole time.” I search his face for a clue that I’m wrong but the truth of it is in his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me she was dead?”

  His eyes clench shut as he sucks in a deep breath. Jude opens his mouth and closes it again.

  “You didn’t know?” The realization falls softly from my lips.

  “No,” he murmurs. “I didn’t. I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “But that doesn’t excuse what you’ve done. You came here looking for her. Why?” I’m not giving him any more time to process her death than I’ve been given. I want him to feel it. I don’t want to be alone with this raw, vulnerable knowledge.

  “I came looking for her,” he confesses in a slow voice. He pauses to process his thoughts and I want to scream at him to continue.

  I need answers, I need them now.

  “I found you instead,” he says at last.

  “And you knew.” My voice cracks on the question, tears leaking through the thin veneer of self-control I’ve been clinging to since I got here. “The whole time. You came into my home. You went to bed with me. You called me her name.”

  Now that I’m facing this, my stomach twists, churning the information violently until I feel ill.

  “You called yourself her name.” There’s no admonishment as he speaks. No condemnation. Only sadness. He didn’t buy my lies. He saw through them.

  I dig the folded paper out of my purse and then throw the bag inside the entryway. Shoving it against his chest, I start to sob. “Here are the answers you’ve been looking for.”

  His eyes stay on mine as he opens the paper. He has to squint to read it under the dim porch light. He skims it over, and I know what he’s reading.

  My name.

  No, her name.

  Time and manner of death.

  Date.

  “A year,” he says as the information settles over him.

  “Faith Kane has been dead a year and the proof of it was tucked away in my grandmother’s sock drawer.”

  “I didn’t know.” Jude folds it back up and hands it to me. His tongue flickers over his lips.

  I hate him, because those lips will never touch mine again. I hate him, because he’s never been mine. I hate him, because I thought I’d finally found something true. But he’s only an illusion. I’ve always suspected he was too good to be true. I can’t imagine what he actually thinks of me.

  “I wasn’t certain what to think when I met you.” His mouth steals my thoughts.

  I recall how his eyes flashed at that first meeting. Kind Jude. Savior Jude. Yet, he’d been slow to warm to me. Then he’d been curious. I’d misinterpreted every moment we’d shared. He never wanted me. He’s been analyzing me and God k
nows what else. “I thought you were apprehensive. I thought maybe you realized it was a bad idea to get involved with someone you met at an NA meeting. We built a whole relationship on a lie.”

  “No.” His voice is firm as he stops me. Jude grabs my shoulder and I can tell that he wants to shake me but instead he grips my upper arm protectively as if he’s keeping me safe from myself. “Our relationship started as a lie, but it is not a lie. I love you. Everything else is unimportant.”

  “How can you say that?” I thunder. I’ve torn myself up wondering if he’d ever say those words. Now it’s too late. Without thinking I shove him. “Why are you here? Why are you here?”

  I keep shoving him. He takes it, stumbling back step by step. He doesn’t try to stop me. When his back hits the front door, he grabs my wrists and pins them to his chest.

  “She sent me a postcard. It didn’t say anything, but Port Townsend.”

  “How did you know it was from her?” I ask in a low voice.

  “She signed it. I didn’t know what it meant.”

  “But you came here. You bought a house here.” It meant something. He can’t deny that.

  “I didn’t do that because of her,” he clarifies. “I figured she must be in trouble, so yes, I came looking for her. I found you instead.”

  But I can’t see past what’s brought us together. “She must have meant a lot to you.”

  “I thought she did,” he admits. “But now I think she was just leading me to you.”

  I struggle against his grasp, because I can’t think clearly with Jude touching me and I need to keep my head right now. I finally give up when he doesn’t let go and glare at him. “You came for her. You settled for me. I’ve been my sister’s shadow most of my life, I won’t be her replacement anymore.”

  “I tried to stay away from you. I didn’t understand why Faith brought me here, but I couldn’t not come. I owed her that much.” Jude releases his hold on my arm, and I rub my wrists. He reaches out to do it for me, but I move away.

  “Why?” But I’m not asking him, I’m asking myself. Why do I owe so much to Faith? What mysterious influence has she had over me—over him, over all of us—for all these years? Why can’t we break free?