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  Dianna let them know that the clean up of the bathroom had been handled for them. Katheryn was glad to hear it. The thought of cleaning the mess that must have been left made her slightly ill, though more because she knew Ty was involved than because she knew Peter died there.

  Dianna was there to welcome Kyle home with a hot meal. As always, her mother’s cooking was fantastic, but Katheryn didn’t eat much. She was too busy heading off the older woman’s schemes to set her up on yet another date.

  “I was talking to Trey Parker the other day. His son Corey is back in town, and I was wondering if you could take him to the department dance next weekend. He doesn’t know anyone, and it would be a great help.”

  “Sorry, Mother. I don’t think I’ll be in town, and I can’t promise that.”

  Dianna looked at her in shock. “Where will you be?”

  “I’m not needed here. I’m going home for awhile.” She looked at Carol. “You don’t need me, do you?”

  Her sister shook her head. “Peter’s being laid out tomorrow and Friday. He’ll be buried Saturday, but I’ll be fine.”

  “You’ll come back, right?” Kyle asked.

  “I’m thinking about coming back for a little while,” Katheryn admitted.

  “To stay with me?” he persisted.

  “No, Kyle. I don’t think so, but I’ll be right across town.”

  “With me, then?” Dianna asked brightly.

  Katheryn laughed. She tried to keep it light, but she was sure some of the raw nervousness seeped in. “I think I’m a little old to live at home, Mom. Besides, the hours I keep would drive you nuts. The stereo or TV going at two in the morning and my grumpy butt dragging downstairs when you accidentally wake me up at eight? No, I think my own place would be best.”

  “But where will you live?”

  “I’ll find an apartment somewhere—Monroeville or maybe College Park.”

  “But that’s too far away,” Kyle argued.

  “Not so far, buddy. It’s just outside the city. I live much further away now, and I’ll have my car to drive in, so I’ll see you every few days.”

  Kyle crossed his arms over his chest and set his jaw in fury. “Well, I don’t like it.”

  The force of his next thought struck Katheryn like a physical blow.

  “Ty doesn’t like it either,” he warned.

  Carol was scolding him in the background. “Kyle! Never speak to your aunt that way.”

  Katheryn sighed. “It’s the best I can do, buddy. You’ll get to see me three or four times a week once I’m settled in. You’ll see.”

  “But Ty wants you close and so do I.”

  “Kyle, apologize, now,” Carol barked.

  Katheryn looked up abruptly as Dianna choked. Her mother’s eyes had gone wide and had a panicked glaze to them. Carol was red-faced and locked on her son, waiting for the ordered apology that Katheryn knew wasn’t coming.

  Katheryn rubbed her head roughly and set her jaw to avoid snapping at Kyle. “It’s the best I can do,” she repeated evenly as she left the table and wandered to the living room.

  The furniture had changed since Grandmother’s death, but little else had. It was the same beige and navy blue it had always been. The wallpaper had seen better days, and the trim needed a touchup, but it was the same old familiar place. This room, of all the rooms, held the least menace for her.

  Katheryn rubbed her tired eyes and glanced around again. She shot up from the couch, now a heavy rose print. The wallpaper was in done in golds and greens and looked practically new. Gold and rose cushions were settled on the couch. The trim was a 1970s color that was halfway between harvest orange and rust. The chair that matched the couch was occupied.

  Ty looked more natural this time. His face was ruddy, and his eyes were determined but not cold. “Come home, Katie-girl,” he reasoned with a smile that didn’t quite reach those eyes.

  Katheryn ground her teeth and shook her head in annoyance. “You don’t give me orders.”

  “I just want you home,” he said with sincerity that she didn’t buy for a moment.

  “Don’t lie to me, old man. You wouldn’t want me here unless you want to use me, but I have news for you. I’m not yours to use.” Katheryn turned and walked away from the scene, shielding herself from any attack he might make. At the doorway, she glanced back. The beige and blue was restored, and the old man was gone.

  As an afterthought, she climbed on the couch and grabbed Carol’s nail file off the top of the bookcase next to it. Katheryn scraped several layers of navy blue paint from the top of the window frame and stopped when the red-orange appeared. Dammit! It was real. She wasn’t crazy. Katheryn sank into the couch with her knees folded up to her chest and stared at the single streak of red she uncovered in the blue.

  “Katheryn, are you all right?” Her mother’s voice was a mere buzzing in her jumbled mind.

  “When did Grandmother change this room from that garish seventies style with all the gold, green, and reds to the blue and beige?”

  Dianna didn’t answer, but Katheryn could see the shock written on her face.

  “It was after that night, wasn’t it?”

  Her mother nodded. “Yes, it was.” She raised her eyes to Katheryn’s. “You remember something?”

  Katheryn stood and returned the nail file to the bookcase on her way to the front door. “Not nearly enough, Mother. Until I have it all, it will never be enough. I have to go pack. I’ll be on the morning flight out, but I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  She didn’t wait for an answer. Katheryn went out into the chill of the evening, knowing that Carol would understand. She cursed the topography again. Crossing the Mission Street Bridge and catching the 54C would be the easiest route, but crossing a bridge on foot was out of the question—especially one with a grating for a walkway like Mission Street had that gave a clear view of the landscape below and made Katheryn feel like she was hung out on a flimsy wire above the drop. Even taking the city steps at the base of Sterling Street down to the flats would be better than what she was doing.

  Katheryn headed down Sterling and took the hairpin turn past St. Josephat’s onto Greeley Street. As she continued down to Carson Street in the almost non-existent light, she sighed. Without a car, there were only two ways off that section of the slopes for her. Either she took the route she was taking or she went up and over the other side to Arlington. Going up meant she would have to switch busses instead of having a straight shot to her destination.

  She shifted uncomfortably outside of the Stutz Pharmacy. It was cold. The library was closed, and a handful of teens played basketball under the lights from the Birmingham Bridge in the city playground next to it. Strange, she thought, how easily she fell back into the sense of belonging here.

  “Come home, Katie-girl.”

  “I’m not crazy,” she ground out between her clenched teeth. Even if she wasn’t seeing his ghost, she was recovering memories. Katheryn had to come back if she ever wanted a whole life.

  She startled as the bus pulled up next to her and bolted up the stairs, shivering.

  “Cold?” the driver asked as she dropped her money in the tower.

  “Freezing.”

  “You should have dressed for it,” the young man noted in a wry sort of amusement.

  “I just flew in—West coast.” She grinned. “Couldn’t stay away from all that chipped ham.” Katheryn dropped into a seat.

  “Ahh, coming home.” He smiled warmly.

  “Yeah.” For as little time as I can manage.

  * * *

  Katheryn made her life a little easier by leaving her suitcase with her mother. She carried only her backpack for the flight to Logan. The driver she arranged met her at the gate, and she fell asleep on the way home. Sleep was something that seemed suddenly in short supply. Her dreams were tormenting her with new kernels of information and shattering what little rest she managed. She couldn’t seem to decide if the new images trickling in were a relie
f or disturbing.

  It started in the living room. Katheryn ran and Ty followed her. He caught her, and there was pain. There was safety in the darkness and pain in the light. There were two voices in the dream, now. Ty’s voice was linked to the pain, predictably. Then, there was the other voice—a voice of comfort that existed only in the dark. She couldn’t understand the words, but it was like a soothing melody calling her to healing sleep.

  Katheryn fell into bed as soon as she reached her apartment. Her wandering lifestyle had one advantage. She indulged in few possessions. The bulk of what she needed to pack consisted of her clothing; books and office supplies; computer, CDs and disks; her bed and linens; a work table and desk chair; bookshelves, her Papua chair and a handful of large cushions for lounging on. She had a lot of practice packing everything into a small Ryder truck and her SUV, which she towed behind the truck on a flatbed. Katheryn knew from experience that she could move in less than a week, but she wasn’t in that much of a hurry this time. In all honesty, she wasn’t in a hurry at all this time. This wasn’t a move or a confrontation she was looking forward to.

  Katheryn should be in a hurry and she knew it. If what she believed was true, she shouldn’t be wasting time, but she was tired. She was just too damn tired for her own good. Unfortunately, if Katheryn didn’t succeed in getting sleep soon, she wouldn’t even be capable of the ten-hour drive required to make it there, but how do you stop dreaming?

  Even if she knew how to accomplish it, dreaming was essential to life and sanity. What a laugh that was. The one thing that was supposed to aid in sanity was driving her crazy. Worse, it was giving Ty a foothold. Her shield was vulnerable when she was tired.

  Katheryn rubbed her temples and eyes with her fingertips, then groaned and rolled to her feet. She dug the ibuprofen and Fioricet out of her backpack and downed them with a can of Coke. Milk would be better, but she had no perishables on hand yet. Stress-induced migraines had plagued Katheryn for years, and her stress levels the last few days had kicked them into high gear.

  She turned out the last of the lights and curled into the Papua chair with a blanket. Sleep would cure all her problems. All but one—Ty. What am I going to do about Ty?

  Chapter Three

  “In each human heart are a tiger, a pig, an ass, and a nightingale. Diversity of character is due to their unequal activity.” Ambrose Bierce

  “Hope is a walking dream.” Aristotle

  Keith regarded Evan Carter skeptically. “I don’t understand what you want from me,” he repeated. “I can’t take this case for obvious reasons.”

  “I know that,” the older doctor replied in irritation. “I don’t want you to take over. I want information. You know this kid.”

  “No, I don’t. Not really. I know the family. Kyle has only seen me a dozen—dozen and a half times in his life. Maybe three or four since he’s actively recognized me on sight.”

  “That’s still four more than me. He’s impossible, Keith. He’s impossible to talk to. He won’t even give me a chance.”

  “I think that runs in the family.”

  “I don’t agree. Mrs. Thompson seems very easy to talk to. She’s probably the most level-headed women I’ve ever encountered,” he noted ruefully, probably another veiled reference to his second wife—and his first.

  “Carol is. Katie isn’t.” He smiled at the thought then sobered. “Kyle is very much like her. In fact, she’s his favorite person. If you want to get to know Kyle, talk to Katie.”

  “The aunt?”

  Keith nodded in response.

  “I would, but she’s out of town.”

  He started. “Out of town? She was here two days ago.”

  “Then, she left. I take it from her sister’s reaction that this isn’t unusual for her.”

  Keith felt his heart sinking. She was gone again, and he hadn’t even seen her. Of course, he had only himself to blame for that. He could have seen her if he had stuck around the hospital.

  “So, what is the aunt like?” Evan asked, breaking his train of thought.

  “Katie’s—” What could he say? She’s perfect? She’s beautiful? All of that was subjective and useless to Evan. He sighed. “She’s intelligent, talented, stubborn, quick to anger, impatient, and she holds a mean grudge. She’s a basic creative personality with lots of brains. If you get on her bad side, you’re there for eternity.”

  “Are you on her bad side?”

  “Unfortunately, I am,” Keith admitted with a rueful smile.

  “What did you do to end up there?”

  “Damned if I know. I just ended up there.”

  Evan rolled his eyes and nodded in something resembling long-suffering agreement. “How intelligent?”

  “Very. Top three in a small private school, Who’s Who in both high school and college, National Science Olympiad, fourteen hundred on the SATs, top one percent on ACTs, academic and creative scholarships for college, awards in most major areas of study, advanced placements, writing externships—You name it, she’s probably done it.”

  “Socially?”

  “Few friends, but fiercely loyal to those she does have. She gets along well with most people, but clear the blast zone when she doesn’t. She doesn’t start fights, but she doesn’t typically lose them either. She did a lot of extra-curricular activities.” He shrugged.

  “Boyfriends?”

  Keith blushed slightly. Evan was leading him now, and he knew it. “She’s dated a few guys. No one serious that I know of.”

  The older man smiled knowingly. “You one of them?”

  He shook his head. “Almost, but that’s ancient history.”

  “Kyle’s like his aunt?”

  “He’s a cross-sex clone. He sounds like her, reacts like her—”

  “Looks like her?” Evan suggested.

  “Only in expressions and body language. Physically, he doesn’t resemble her at all.”

  “Okay, so Kyle is smart and a tough little cookie with a hard head who typically gets his own way. What else can you tell me about him?”

  “He likes stuffed tigers. He likes swinging on your arm. He likes playgrounds.”

  “Thanks for the last two.”

  “The tigers are giving you problems?”

  “They’re sort of a roadblock. How do you get past them?”

  “I don’t. I see him so seldom that it’s not an issue. Besides, I’m Uncle Keith not Doctor Randall to him.”

  “Lucky you. Well, I better go get ready for next week. By Monday, I have to figure out how to get through to that kid.” He got up to leave. “Too bad I can’t be Uncle Evan.” He closed the door behind him.

  Keith sighed and studied his pen in his empty office. “What I wouldn’t have given to really be Uncle Keith,” he muttered.

  Still, Katie’s abrupt departure bothered him. Checking with Dianna, he headed off to the O’Connor Funeral Home in Hazelwood after work.

  Finding Carol wasn’t difficult. She was sitting in the viewing room with Kyle at her side and a ring of people he assumed were Peter’s relatives making a point of ignoring her. Keith sighed and made his way toward her.

  Kyle spotted him first and launched into his arms. “Uncle Keith,” he shouted, breaking the near silence.

  One of Peter’s female relatives shot him a disapproving look and headed his way.

  Keith shifted the little boy onto his hip and started toward the chair he had just vacated.

  The woman intercepted him halfway there and reached out to take Kyle from him. “Now, Kyle,” she chided him, “I told you that this is a quiet place.”

  Kyle wrapped his arms around Keith’s neck and buried his face in the man’s shoulder. “I want Uncle Keith,” he insisted in a muffled voice.

  The woman screwed up her face to voice an objection, but Keith headed her off at the pass. He patted the little boy’s back as he stepped around her and started walking again. “It’s okay, buddy. I’ve got you,” he soothed him. Keith knew nothing about the wo
man except that she was rude and disapproving. And Kyle hated her. That told him a lot.

  As he sat next to Carol, the other woman glared at him then looked to her relatives for assistance. They either favored him with their own dirty looks or nodded to her in understanding—except one who looked away in embarrassment. Keith decided he liked that one.

  He furrowed his brow and looked at Carol. Keith could tell that she was teetering between furious and mortally embarrassed. “Who’s Ms. Congeniality?” he asked quietly, hoping to lighten the mood.

  “Her name is Monica Taylor. She’s Peter’s older sister. The man beside her is her husband, Bill. The older woman is Peter’s mother, Janice. The man to her right is her oldest, Neal, and the redhead is his second wife, Ellen. That’s the Thompson role call.”

  “No kids? No wonder they have no idea how to treat Kyle.”

  She set her jaw. “Oh, they have kids. They won’t bring them here. After all, I’m a bad influence on their pure little souls.”

  Keith looked at her in surprise. “You?”

  Carol nodded sadly.

  “Why? What do they think you did?”

  She sighed. “Tell you what. Meet me at the playground on Sunday. I’ll tell you the whole sad, sorry tale while Kyle blows off some steam.”

  “Okay,” he answered cautiously. “What time?”

  “Twelve. I’ll feed Kyle an early lunch and meet you there.”

  “Does Katie know about this?” he asked, eyeing Peter’s family.

  She nodded.

  “And she left you to deal with it?” He raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

  Carol blushed. “Okay. Maybe I didn’t tell her all of it.”

  Keith nodded. “Thought so.” Katie always protected Carol. She wouldn’t have left if she knew this was going on. “So, where is your big sister?”

  She smiled a mischievous smile that earned her a suspicious look from Monica and Janice. He noted that Ellen seemed more and more embarrassed to be in their company. That spoke highly of the young woman as far as Keith was concerned.

  Carol’s words obliterated the rational evaluation he was conducting on Peter’s family. “She’s packing. She’s moving home, Keith.”