Safe Haven(39)
Author: Nicholas Sparks

“Katie?”

She looked up and saw the doctor who was now treating Alex.

“I can bring you back now,” he said. “He woke up about ten minutes ago. He’s still in ICU, so you can’t staylong, but he wants to see you.”

“Is he okay?”

“Right now, he’s about as good as can be expected. He took a nasty blow.”

Limping slightly, she followed the doctor as they made their way to Alex’s room. She took a deep breath andstraightened her posture before she entered, telling herself that she wasn’t going to cry.

The ICU was filled with machines and blinking lights. Alex was in a bed in the corner, a bandage wrappedaround his head. He turned toward her, his eyes only half open. A monitor beeped steadily beside him. She movedto his bedside and reached for his hand.

“How are the kids?” he whispered. The words came out slowly. Labored.

“They’re fine. They’re with Joyce. She took them home.”

A faint, almost imperceptible smile crossed his lips.

“You?”

“I’m okay.” She nodded.

“Love you,” he said.

It was all she could do not to break down again. “I love you, too, Alex.”

His eyelids drooped, his gaze unfocused. “What happened?”

She gave him an abbreviated account of the past twelve hours, but midstory she saw his eyes close. When hewoke again later that morning, he’d forgotten parts of what she had recounted, so she told him again, trying tosound calm and matter-of-fact.

Joyce brought Josh and Kristen by, and though children weren’t ordinarily allowed in the ICU, the doctor letthem visit with their dad for a couple of minutes. Kristen had drawn him a picture of a man lying in a hospital bed,complete with a crayon-scrawled GET WELL, DADDY; Josh gave him a fishing magazine.

As the day wore on, Alex became more coherent. By the afternoon, he was no longer nodding in and out, andalthough he complained of a monstrous headache, his memory had more or less returned. His voice was strongerand when he told the nurse he was hungry, Katie gave a smile of relief, finally sure that he was going to be okay.

Alex was released the next day, and the sheriff visited them at Joyce’s to get their formal statements. He told themthat the alcohol content in Kevin’s blood was so high that he’d effectively poisoned himself. Combined with theblood loss he’d suffered, it was a wonder he had been conscious, much less coherent to any degree. Katie saidnothing, but all she could think was that they didn’t know Kevin or understand the demons that drove him.

After the sheriff left, Katie went outside and stood in the sunlight, trying to make sense of her feelings. Thoughshe’d told the sheriff about the events of that night, she hadn’t told him everything. Nor had she told Alexeverything—how could she, when it barely made sense to her? She didn’t tell them that in the moments afterKevin had died and she’d rushed to Alex’s side, she’d wept for them both. It seemed impossible that even as sherelived the terror of those last hours with Kevin, she also remembered their rare happy moments together—howthey’d laughed at private jokes or lounged peacefully on the couch together.

She didn’t know how to reconcile these conflicting pieces of her past and the horror of what she’d just livedthrough. But there was something more, too, something else she didn’t understand: she’d stayed at Joyce’sbecause she was afraid to go back home.

Later that day, Alex and Katie stood in the parking lot, staring at the charred remains of what had once been thestore. Here and there she could see items she recognized: the couch, half burned, tilted on the rubble; a shelf thatonce housed groceries; a bathtub scorched black.

A couple of firemen were rooting through the remains. Alex had asked them to look for the safe he’d kept in hiscloset. He’d removed the bandage and Katie could see the spot where they’d shaved his head to apply stitches,the area black and blue and swollen.

“I’m sorry,” Katie murmured. “For everything.”

Alex shook his head. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t do it.”

“But Kevin came for me…”

“I know,” he said. He was quiet for a moment. “Kristen and Josh told me how you helped them get out of thehouse. Josh said that after you grabbed Kevin, you told them to run. He said you distracted him. I just wanted tosay thank you.”

Katie closed her eyes. “You can’t thank me for that. If anything had happened to them, I don’t know that I couldhave lived with myself.”

He nodded but couldn’t seem to look at her. Katie kicked at a small pile of ash that had blown into the parkinglot. “What are you going to do? About the store?”

“Rebuild, I guess.”

“Where will you live?”

“I don’t know yet. We’ll stay at Joyce’s for a bit, but I’ll try to find someplace quiet, someplace with a view. SinceI can’t work, I might as well try to enjoy the free time.”

She felt sick to her stomach. “I can’t even imagine how you feel right now.”

“Numb. Sad for the kids. Shocked.”

“And angry?”

“No,” he said. “I’m not angry.”

“But you lost everything.”

“Not everything,” he said. “Not the important things. My kids are safe. You’re safe. That’s all I really care about.

This”—he said motioning—“is just stuff. Most of it can be replaced. It just takes time.” When he finished, hesquinted at something in the rubble. “Hold on for a second,” he said.

He walked toward a pile of charred debris and pulled out a fishing pole that had been wedged betweenblackened planks of wood. It was grimy, but otherwise looked undamaged. For the first time since they’d arrived,he smiled.

“Josh will be happy about this,” he said. “I just wish I could find one of Kristen’s dolls.”

Katie crossed her arms over her stomach, feeling tears in her eyes. “I’ll buy her a new one.”

“You don’t have to. I’m insured.”

“But I want to. None of this would have happened if it hadn’t been for me.”

He looked at her. “I knew what I was getting into when I first asked you out.”

“But you couldn’t have expected this.”

“No,” he admitted. “Not this. But it’s going to be okay.”

“How can you say that?”

“Because it’s true. We survived and that’s all that matters.” He reached for her hand and she felt his fingersintertwine with hers. “I haven’t had a chance to say that I’m sorry.”

“Why would you be sorry?”

“For your loss.”

She knew he was talking about Kevin and she wasn’t sure what to say. He seemed to understand that she’dboth loved and hated her husband. “I never wanted him to die,” she began. “I just wanted to be left alone.”

“I know.”

She turned tentatively toward him. “Are we going to be okay? I mean, after all this?”

“I suppose that depends on you.”

“Me?”

“My feelings haven’t changed. I still love you, but you need to figure out whether your feelings have changed.”

“They haven’t.”

“Then we’ll find a way to work through all this together because I know I want to spend the rest of my life withyou.”

Before she could respond, one of the firemen called out to them and they turned in his direction. He wasworking to free something, and when he stood he was holding a small safe.

“Do you think it was damaged?” Katie said.

“It shouldn’t be,” Alex answered. “It’s fireproof. That’s why I bought it.”

“What’s in it?”

“Mainly records, but I’m going to need them. Some photo disks and negatives. Things I wanted to protect.”

“I’m glad they found it.”

“So am I,” he said. He paused. “Because there’s something in there for you, too.”

42

After dropping Alex off at Joyce’s, Katie finally drove back home, not wanting to return but knowing she couldn’tput off the inevitable forever. Even if she didn’t intend to stay there, she needed to pack up some of herbelongings.

Dust rose from the gravel and she bounced through the potholes before pulling to a stop out front. She sat inthe jeep—dented and scraped, but still running fine—and stared at the door, remembering how Kevin had bled todeath on her porch, his gaze fixed on her face.

She didn’t want to see the bloodstains. She was afraid that opening the door would remind her of the way Alexhad looked after Kevin struck him. She could practically hear the sounds of Kristen and Josh crying hystericallyas they clung to their father. She wasn’t prepared to relive all of that.

Instead, she started toward Jo’s. In her hand was the letter that Alex had given her. When she’d asked him whyhe’d written to her, he’d shaken his head. “It’s not from me,” he’d said. She’d stared at him, confused. “You’llunderstand once you read it,” he’d told her.

As she approached Jo’s, she felt the trace of a memory stir to life. Something that happened on the night of thefire. Something she’d seen but she couldn’t quite place. Just as she felt her mind closing in on it, the memoryslipped away. She slowed as she drew nearer to Jo’s house, a frown of confusion creasing her face.

There were cobwebs on the window, and a shutter had fallen to the ground where it lay shattered in the grass.

The porch railing was broken and she could see weeds sprouting between the planks. Her eyes took ineverything, but she was unable to process the scene before her: a rusted doorknob, half dangling from the door,grime on the windows as if they hadn’t been cleaned in years.

No curtains…

No entry mat…

No wind chime…

She hesitated, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. She felt odd and curiously weightless, as if shewere in a waking dream. The closer she got, the more the house seemed to decay before her.

She blinked and noticed that the door was cracked down the middle with a two-by-four hammered across it,bracing it to the crumbling casing.

She blinked again and saw that part of the wall, up in the corner, had rotted away, leaving a jagged hole.

She blinked a third time and realized that the lower half of the window was cracked and broken; pieces of glasslittered the porch.

Katie climbed onto the porch, unable to stop herself. Leaning in, she peered through the windows into thedarkened cottage.

Dust and dirt, broken furniture, piles of garbage. Nothing painted, nothing cleaned. All at once, Katie steppedback on the porch, almost stumbling off the broken step. No. It wasn’t possible, it just wasn’t. What had happenedto Jo, and what about all the improvements she’d made on the small cottage? Katie had seen Jo hang the windchime. Jo had been over to her house, complaining about having to paint and clean. They’d had coffee and wineand cheese and Jo had teased Katie about the bicycle. Jo had met her after work and they’d gone to a bar. Thewaitress had seen them both. Katie had ordered both of them wine…

But Jo’s glass had been untouched , she recalled.

Katie massaged her temples, her mind racing, searching for answers. She remembered that Jo had beensitting on the steps when Alex dropped her off. Even Alex had seen her…

Or had he?

Katie backed away from the decaying home. Jo was real. There was no way she’d been a figment of herimagination. She hadn’t made her up.

But Jo liked everything you did: she drank her coffee the same way, she liked the clothes you bought, her

thoughts about the employees at Ivan’s mirrored your own.

A dozen random details suddenly began crowding her mind and voices dueled in her head…

She lived here!

But why is it such a dump?

We looked at the stars together!

You looked at the stars alone, which is why you still don’t know their names.

We drank wine at my house!

You drank the bottle by yourself, which was why you were so dizzy.

She told me about Alex! She wanted us to be together!

She never mentioned his name until you already knew it, and you were interested in him all along.

She was the kids’ counselor!

Which was the excuse you used as a reason to never tell Alex about her.

But…

But…

But…

One by one, the answers came as quickly as she could think of them: the reason she’d never learned Jo’s lastname or saw her drive a car… the reason Jo never invited her over or accepted her offer to help her paint… howJo had been able to magically appear at Katie’s side in jogging clothes…

Katie felt something give way inside her as everything clicked into place.

Jo, she suddenly realized, had never been there at all.

43

Still feeling as if she were in a dream, Katie stumbled back to her house. She took a seat in the rocker and staredat Jo’s house, wondering if she’d gone utterly mad.

She knew that the creation of imaginary friends was common among children, but she wasn’t a child. And yes,she’d been under a great deal of stress when she arrived in Southport. Alone and friendless, on the run andlooking over her shoulder, terrified that Kevin was closing in—who wouldn’t be anxious? But was that enough tohave prompted the creation of an alter ego? Maybe some psychiatrists would say yes, but she wasn’t so sure.

The problem was that she didn’t want to believe it. She couldn’t believe it because it had felt so… real. Sheremembered those conversations, could still see Jo’s expressions, still hear the sound of her laughter. Hermemories of Jo felt as real as her memories of Alex did. Of course, he probably wasn’t real, either. Probably madehim up, too. And Kristen and Josh. She was probably strapped to a bed in an asylum somewhere, lost in an entireworld of her own creation. She shook her head, frustrated and confused and yet…