31
“No one ever got bit by a dog’s shadow,” I said to Jeff as we headed to Galveston. “But that doesn’t mean I want to visit that house again. Ever. Can’t we just stop at Landry’s and eat crab and shrimp until we pop?”
“Nope. Not yet.” And that was all Jeff said until we pulled up in front of the Victorian.
He started to get out of the car, but I didn’t move. “I see no reason to revisit this crime, literally or figuratively. I’d rather have a realtor assess what the place needs, and hire someone to fix the damage. I want this house out of my life.”
“That’s why I brought you here. Don’t you see that Steven has control, even from his jail cell? This place is worth saving, Abby, and you had plans to make it something special.”
“Every time I come here I’ll remember tumbling from the second floor, sharing space with a wrapped-up corpse in a closet, and—”
“We’re going in.”
He got out of the car and was up on the porch before I could argue further, so I followed.
Crime-scene tape tied to the doorknob fluttered in the breeze.
I unlocked the door and stepped back, still reluctant. Jeff, however, had no qualms, and disappeared inside.
“Come on in here and tell me about this room,” he called from the parlor. “How would you fix it up?”
I trudged in after him, knowing he was right. This was nothing more than an old house. Feldman’s corpse was long gone. And Steven’s betrayal wasn’t written on the wall. Daddy’s deceit wasn’t hiding in the corner, either. Willis’s and Aunt Caroline’s lies weren’t lurking behind a closed door. Those painful reminders were still inside my head, where they would always be. Maybe someday they could be filtered by a more reasonable voice, but for now the pain was as fresh as it needed to be. Running from the truth, avoiding this house because I didn’t want to deal with the pain, wouldn’t change anything.
So after I showed Jeff around downstairs, I said, “Want to see the upstairs mess?”
“Sure,” he said.
His hand rested protectively on my back as we climbed, and his touch felt strong and right. Once on the landing, he pulled back the plastic sheet covering the destroyed bathroom.
Nothing had changed. Nothing except my whole life. “I’m still selling the place,” I said, “but I’m glad you made me come here. I need to stop feeling sorry for myself. I’ve been roaming through life without knowing what trail to follow. But I have a good idea the direction I should take now.”
“Am I supposed to guess?”
“You may think this sounds stupid, but I want to help people find their pasts. Adopted people like Kate and me, people who have twists and turns in their childhoods they may know little about.”
“An adoption detective?”
“Yeah,” I said, smiling. “And I’ve got relatives I know nothing about. My inquiry to the adoption registry came back today, and no one ever registered looking for Kate and me. But we may have a father who’s still alive and one day I plan to find him.”
“Good. Investigating is well suited to your whirling-dervish personality,” he said.
“Whirling dervish?” I replied. “Is that sort of like a tropical storm?”
“You could say that.”
I peered past the plastic covering the door and saw pecan trees in the backyard, their lush green leaves bright against an unclouded azure sky.
“Let’s talk about other things now,” I said. “For instance, how much I like you, Sergeant Kline. I even liked you before you saved my life.” I smiled and outlined his lips with the tip of my finger, then traced the angle of his jaw.
“You know damn well I didn’t save your life.” He pulled me to him. “You had things under control before I arrived in that boat.”
I grinned up at him. “Remember how you promised we could get to the personal stuff?” I leaned into him, draping my arms over his shoulders.
“You’re a piece of work, you know that?” he said softly. He took a wrapper from his pocket and emptied his gum into it, then took my face in his strong hands.
His mouth met mine, and I remember thinking how I had always favored cinnamon, but never more than at that moment.