I think about it all the time.
Then do it, Scout. Riley put a finger under her chin and raised her eyes to meet his. I'll cheer you on in whatever you decide to do.
A loud crash came from the back of the house, followed by Loretta's howl. We're good! Matt called out, as if to prevent any sudden inspections of the kitchen. Within seconds, Loretta was using her snout to push at the front door, ready to retreat to a calmer location.
Riley got up to let her out. As he returned to his perch, he said, You'll never guess who I ran into at the diner.
Carrie?
Riley shot Kat a sideways glance as he rooted around inside the bag for his fritter. Don't even joke. Nobody's heard a peep from her since the protective order was issued, and I'm praying it'll stay that way.
Who then?
You dad's sister, Rita.
Kat put the pastry down. Oh yeahI was going to go rip her a new asshole when Nola and I were here last month, but I just didn't get around to it.
Riley's eyebrows arched in surprise.
She was the first person I told about being pregnant that day. I went to her house right after I got the test results, and do you know what that woman told me? Kat shook her head, remembering how it had stung. She said I'd have to drop out of school the minute I started to show. Then, as my aunt and not my principal, she told me that whatever I did, I should not tell my father anything about my situation.
Riley shook his head. Jesus, that's brutal. He tossed the half-eaten dessert back into the bag and sighed. At least there are agencies working to keep girls in school nowadays, unlike your experience, but the pregnancy rate here is still a huge problem. In fact… Riley looked at Kat without finishing his thought.
What?
Well, I wanted to start a reproductive health outreach center as part of the clinic. It's kind of pie in the sky at the moment, but I'm hoping we can find a way to make it happen. Riley scooted closer so that his long, lean thigh pressed up against hers. Hey, Kat?
She nodded.
Whenever you're ready to talk to Virgil, I'll go with you. Promise me you won't go alone.
Kat looked up at those bottomless blue eyes and was caressed by the earnestness and love that lived in them. Suddenly, hope filled her up, and it was the kind of hope that was big enough to spread wide and wrap its arms around both of them. No wonder she'd never found a man like Riley in Baltimore or anywhere elsethere was just one of him, and he'd always been right here, waiting for her to come home.
The door opened behind them.
Got a possible drive-away at the Sunoco, Matt announced, weary with the burden of authority.
A what? Kat asked.
That's when a motorist fills the tank and drives off without paying, Matt explained. Been happening a lot more lately with gas prices the way they are.
Kat was appalled. You mean you don't have pre-pay in this town? You still actually trust people?
Matt laughed. Maybe not for much longer. He clomped down the porch steps. See y'all tonight! Bring your appetites!
Nola appeared a moment later, the part in her thick brunette hair askew and one earring missing. I'm moving to Persuasion, she mumbled.
Because you don't have to pre-pay? Riley asked with mock innocence.
Nola stared out toward the street, her eyes unfocused. No, because your brother is ass-kickingly hot.
Kat winced, knowing it was her duty to remind Nola of her convictions, since she seemed incapacitated at the moment. Kat turned to Riley and asked in a loud, clear voice, Does Matt have a beer can collection by any chance?
Riley looked nonplussed. It's bottles. Why?
Virgil hadn't come up with a decent piece in more than twenty years and he knew it. Sure, the lamebrains down at the gallery took whatever he gave them, and they'd sell something every once in a blue moon, so they were happy enough. But he knew he'd been producing nothing but trash for decades, resting on whatever renown he once had. There was no longer any flow in his work, no essence, no energy, and it didn't matter if it was marble, wood, or even that fiberglass-reinforced fake cement shit that he could usually pawn off to the gallerynothing had been good in his art, or his life, since January 1988.
His last truly beautiful creation, his only near masterpiece, was the clay model and rough-cut marble bust of Eleanor Erskine. She was the D-cupped wife of West Virginia's goofy governor, who happened to be the brother of Mountain Laurel's chancellor. That's how Virgil had gotten what was to be the biggest commission of his lifethe twists and turns of coincidence. When the state wanted a bust of the big-busted first lady and was willing to pay $250,000 for it, the Mountain Laurel art professor got thrown a bone. He took it happily, and got to bone the governor's wife as a bonus. Unfortunately, Kat saw him do it.
Virgil fidgeted with the business card in his hand, staring at the name of that dipshit doctor who'd bulldozed her way onto his property a few weeks back. He should call her. Get her to come out here and sit for him right this minute. He wanted to see a beautiful woman completely naked one last time before he died, and she'd reminded him a bit of Eleanor, anyway. If she was anything like the governor's wife, the doctor was haughty because deep down she was naughty. Virgil smiled at his clever turn of phrase and sighed with pleasure. Eleanor Erskine had been a good lay; maybe the doctor would be, too.
He put down the business card and looked around him at the debris, the graveyard of his career. He didn't even know why he bothered coming out to the studio anymore. Nothing more than habit, probably, and the need to get away from the TV for a while. Too much violence. Virgil rose from the stool and wandered toward the back of the garage, looking for something in particular. He knew he'd put it on a cart back there somewhere, back when BettyAnn had first gotten sick. He never wanted her to see it.
His hands encountered the cool, smooth surface of the form of his daughter. He wheeled the cart to the worktable, and sat back on the stool. It was always better to work from a live model, of course, because there were nuances in the personality and expressions that a sculptor could get only from life itself. But he'd remembered so much of Katharine. With the old photos BettyAnn thought she'd hidden away, and his many detailed memories, he hadn't done a half-bad job.
Katharine had been a beautiful baby, and he remembered being deeply relieved by that. She'd been born with blond curls and flawless pink skin and those strange citrine-colored eyes. He'd always thought they looked feline, and they made him vaguely uncomfortable. BettyAnn had reassured him that Katharine would grow out of the unusual eye color.
She didn't. Luckily, people accepted them and even thought they were lovely, and didn't question who among the Cavanaughs had such coloring.
From what he could tell from her short visit in the ER, Katharine had grown into a stunning woman. What was she nowthirty-seven? She still had a sexy shape for a woman her age. She'd always had a nice curvy and petite shape.
Virgil shook his head, as if to knock some sense into himself. He stared at the unfinished bust and decided he would complete it. He'd make her all grown-up. He'd give her that smirk of disdain he'd seen on her face in the studio window twenty years ago, the same one she'd shown in the hospital room just last month. Next, he'd flesh out her cheeks and thicken the fall of her hair. But he'd leave her throat just the way it was, dainty and vulnerable.
God, he hadn't meant to, but he'd beaten the shit out of BettyAnn that night. It was like he couldn't stop himself. He'd come home to find her trying to scrape up his $250,000 commission from this very floor. Then she lied to him, saying she'd accidentally knocked it over. He knew better. He'd seen the betrayal in Katharine's eyes as she peeked in the window, and he knew she'd ruined the clay model to get her revenge.