Kat buried her face in the heat and safety of Riley's body and cried.
After what felt like hours, she willed herself to take slow, deep breaths and pay attention to the voices floating around her. Riley's soft baritone promised she was safe and lovedover and over he promised her that. Nola was right in the middle of a long list of Balmerese obscenities when Riley asked her to chill out. Then Matt walked in and added his own words of comfort.
Kat eventually sat up, her insides feeling scraped out like a jack-o'-lantern's. Nola handed her some tissues. Everyone stared at her, worried.
I'm going to be fine, she said, knowing it was true. Virgil couldn't hurt her anymore. Neither could Rita or anyone else. Kat was a grown-up now, and had control of her own life. She had her own place. Kat turned to Riley and gave him a shaky smile, aware that the biggest difference of all was that now she wasn't alone.
Big Daddy pulled Virgil off of you, Riley added as an afterthought, his hands rhythmically stroking Kat's hair as he talked. Then he escorted your dad by the shirt collar and put him in the car. The two of them drove off and never made it back to the party. I always wondered what happened.
Matt laughed. Doesn't take a hell of a lot of wonderin' if you ask me.
Hey, Kat? Nola's voice sounded small.
Yeah?
Nola looked like she was going to cry, so Kat rubbed her knee. I really am OK, Nola.
Hell yes, you are, she said. I just need to apologize for ever questioning why you ran away. Nola shook her head. That guy was bad news. You probably saved your life and your baby's life by leaving this town, plain and simple. And do you know what that makes you?
Kat shook her head.
A freakin' /hero/, hon.
Kat allowed the warmth of that word to spread through her. Maybe Nola was right.
Without warning, Matt squatted, pulled out a penknife, and sliced open one of the boxes. I'll unpack these last few for you, he said.
Virgil felt energized and brave. The buzz of power raced through his body, down his arms, and into his hands, where he would use it to give form to the raw beauty of the stone. Virgil had long understood that working with marble was the opposite of dealing with women. Marble was at its best when the artist respected its essence and found a way to coax its inner beauty out into the open. Women, Virgil knew from personal experience, must be molded to fit an outer structure.
Marble needed to be set free. Women needed to be managed. And any man who didn't understand that was a fool.
Even through Virgil's earplugs, the tapping of his heavy chisel against the rock sounded like an elaborate orchestral movement to him, the music of making art. He was working free-form today, not sure what had possessed him to risk it, without even a rough pencil sketch on the stone to guide his way. He knew instinctively what lay at the core of this solid, creamy pink block of Italian Carrara he'd been saving for over a decadefor what, he'd never known. Not until today. And his hands were flying and his mind was spinning and he was releasing, releasing, releasing the feminine from this rock, more than one face, more than one mouth, more than one set of eyes. He was releasing all that had been haunting him. All those women. Those breasts. Those buttocks. Those thighs.
Virgil suddenly stepped back, ripped off his goggles and paper mask, and walked back toward the door to get a better look. The dust was flying.
His chest was tight.
He couldn't die nownot fucking now!
He replaced the goggles and mask and went back to work. He picked up a point chiseler, a riffler, and saw them all coming at himweak BettyAnn, lusty Eleanor, know-it-all Katharine, and so many other faces. Then there was the doctor lady. He'd dreamed of her again last night, naked and willing and silent. And all these women blurred together into one vision, and it flew out of the stone and into his brain, through his fingers, back into the stone, and back into his brain again. He was easing the beauty out of the big chunk of marble while still managing to keep all those women in line. It was a delicate balance, but he could do it. He was the only sculptor who could.
Virgil stopped again, the old craving running so hard through his body that he felt faint. He wanted the doctor lady. Right here. Her smooth skin and dark hair. He needed to see the tops of her breasts, her clavicle, the slope of her thin shoulders. He needed to have her sit for him. He wanted to get his hands on her, choke the haughtiness right out of her.
Because he wasn't allowed to touch Kat.
His chest tightened again.
He refused to die before he'd brought his exquisite vision to life.
Matt pulled the flaps of the cardboard box apart, and a fold of red fabric poked through the opening. Kat gasped. Riley looked at her face and knew that whatever was in that box, she wanted nothing to do with it.
Stop right now, she said sharply.
Matt glanced up with surprised eyes, his knife poised over another box.
You don't want me to unpack these? He sounded hurt.
I'll take care of it later. Kat tried to sound casual. I'm just pretty tired right now is all.
Matt shrugged. You kick back and relax then, and I'll just No. Leave it.
Riley watched Kat smooth over her abruptness with Matt, and soon she had Matt and Nola talking excitedly about Nola's new job at Richard Keefauver's legal office in town. Riley wasn't sure how he felt about the two of them moving at the speed of light like thisNola had already given her notice at her job in Baltimorebut he gave her a big hug of congratulations as she and Matt headed out the door. Matt and Nola were adults. Just because Matt put the wild in Wild, Wonderful West Virginia and Nola had collected one husband per decade of her life didn't mean the two of them couldn't discover something that could last. One thing was for damn sureRiley had no place judging anyone else's love life.
I need a distraction, Kat said. She paced in the foyer, running her hands through her hair in exasperation. I need to get my mind off all this crap for a little while. In fact, I think I might need to hit something. She looked up at Riley. Got any ideas?
I certainly do, he said, with the wag of an eyebrow.
Kat exhaled in disbelief. Sex? How could you want to have sex with me?
I'm haunted by my childhood. I'm a nut job. I have visions. Pretty soon the voices will be telling me to do things. I'm an emotional slop heap.
I'm crazy. And this turns you on?
Riley moved closer to Kat and put his arms around her, laughing. He planted a sweet kiss on her mouth. I wasn't even thinking about sex, but obviously, you were, and here's a little secret we doctors usually don't share with the civilian population: If a person says they may be going crazy, they're normal. The ones who believe that all is well are the ones you've got to watch.
Hmph.
But I do think I've got something for you, he said, kissing her again.
You're gonna sweat a little, learn a few new tricks, and you'll be exhausted when you're done. How does that sound?
It sounds like what we did at Cherry Hill.
Well, it's not.
Kat looked down at herself. I bet I need to change, don't I?
Riley surveyed her outfita pair of gray dress slacks, high-heeled boots, and a sweater set in a nice soft pink. She looked sexy as hell, but it wasn't suitable for what he had in mind. Remember how you used to dress in eighth grade? he asked.
Kat looked at him with suspicion. That wasn't my best year.
Riley laughed. It's nobody's best year, Scout. Just put on some jeans and a sweatshirt, OK? Then you won't have to worry about your clothes.