Shameless(87)

Don’t open it. Don’t do it.

I open it. The handwriting is messy. She must have scrawled it out just before she left.



Dear Brady,

I can’t pretend I’m not heartbroken because I am, but please know that I understand why you’re leaving. I think you’re an amazing man. Your family is so lucky to have you.

I wanted to give you something to keep you and Izzy warm back in Boston. Something to remind you of your time here. I hope you’ll remember me. You’ll always own a piece of my heart.

Love,

Kat



I don’t think there’s a part of this note that doesn’t completely depress me. I give in and pour myself a shot before I continue, but I tuck away the bottle. I figure I can still change a baby on one shot.

The box is heavy on my lap, and my fingers sink into the sides as I grip it.

A minute later, I’m staring at a large quilt, the kind you inherit from a relative. With rich fabrics and tiny stitching. All in dark blues and burgundies. This must have cost a small fortune.

If I was depressed before, it’s nothing compared to seeing the words sewed on the front. Above the image of a small farm house surrounded by wildflowers, it says, Texas: Home is Where The Heart Is.

Is that what I’m doing? Leaving my heart behind? Because it sure f*cking feels like it.

If I ever wondered what it was like to get my heart jacked with a rusty crowbar, I now have the answer.



I’ve tried calling her a million times over the last week, but it goes straight to voicemail. At the very least, I want to know she made it home safely. I assume that’s where she went, back to Corpus.

My cell buzzes in my pocket.

“Hey, Mom.”

I slump into a chair, exhausted from feeding all the animals, feeding the baby and making ten thousand phone calls. How women everywhere do this, day in and day out, I’ll never know. Men have it easy.

“Your father and I have talked. We think this is the right decision.”

Emotion clogs my throat. “Mom, I’m not sure what to say.”

“There’s nothing to say. At the end of the day, you don’t have a choice. This window of opportunity won’t last forever.” She gave me her whole spiel last night. I had no idea she felt this way. “Did you call Mrs. MacIntyre? Can she and her husband help?”

Groaning, I mumble, “She had some choice words for me, but yeah, they’ll help.”

My mom chuckles. I really don’t know what about this situation is funny, but I table my complaint.

Sighing, I tell her I’ll call and let her know how it went. She thinks this is a foregone conclusion, but really, this could all blow up in my face.

“Love you, son. Happy New Year! And please drive carefully. You know how everyone gets tonight.”

“I will, Mom. Don’t worry.”

“And bundle up that baby! I don’t want her catching a cold. Is she over that bout of constipation? You know, baby poops—”

“She’s fine. Her poops are fine. Everything’s fine. And yes, I’ll drive safely.”

At least I’m laughing when I get off the phone. And really, it’s nice to know she’s in my corner.

I hang up and get Izzy bundled up. Because we have an appointment. And it’s something that will probably change our lives forever.



Izzy has been quiet the entire drive. Which freaks me out a little. I even stop to check on her. To make sure she didn’t sneak a Cheerio and accidentally choke on it. Finally, I stop at Target and buy three baby mirrors so I can see her in my rear view mirror from every angle.

Not gonna lie. This whole thing makes me a little nauseous. The longer I drive, the more time I have to think about my plan. And all of the ways it could go wrong.

When I get out of the truck and poke my head in the back of the cab, Izzy grins. I smile back as I fix her little barrette, which is hanging off her forehead.

“Can’t have you going in there looking like your uncle doesn’t know how to dress you.” I pull up both of her socks and fix her pants. “Iz, I know this has been a rough week, but do you think you could be extra good for me today?”

She nods solemnly. It probably helps that she has no clue what the hell I’m talking about.

Reaching down to her feet, I grab my duffle bag and make sure I brought everything. I mean, if I forgot something, I’m shit out of luck at this point, but looking through it calms my mind.

Before I get the baby out of her car seat, I pat my coat pocket to make sure I brought the most important item of all. And then it’s time.





58





Katherine





Voices ebb and flow down the hall. The cheer in everyone’s muffled voices makes me a little stabby.

I suspect my parents know I’m in a foul mood because they’ve left me alone. Either that or they’ve had their hands full with every relative in South Texas who has undoubtedly decided to visit. The front lawn is probably overflowing with cars.

But that’s a nice distraction from the conversations I’ve been having with my parents. No wonder they want me to stay here “to get my bearings.”

At least they seem to understand what I’m saying about my old job and why I don’t want to go back to politics.