This morning, she'd lain alongside him, watching him as he slept. The hard angles and planes of his face seemed softened in sleep. His hair, tousled on his forehead, gave him a look of vulnerability that tugged at her heart.
"I love you," she'd whispered softly, and then she'd kissed him, not enough to waken him but just enough to bring a soft curve to his mouth. Then, moving quietly and carefully, she'd risen from the bed, gathered her clothes and slipped from the room.
Once downstairs, she had dressed quickly, set up the coffee pot and left a note on the kitchen table, telling Matthew she'd had to run into town for groceries. It was true, in a way; they'd run out of everything over the last couple of days and both the pantry and the refrigerator needed replenishing. But there were other things she wanted to pick up in Hawkins Bay, gifts for Matthew that would surely please him.
Kathryn smiled and tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. The Beatles were giving their all to "Hey, Jude" and they needed all the help they could get.
"...take an old song, and make it be-heh-heh-terrr," she sang, and she stepped harder on the gas pedal because the sooner she got to town, the sooner she could get home again, to Matthew.
* * *
The storm had done more damage in town than it had at Charon's Crossing.
A small sailboat with a gaping hole near the bow was beached near the quay. Two or three others were heeled over and listing alarmingly at their moorings. Several palm trees had lost their leafy heads and stood like blinded sentinels just where the road turned into Front Street.
Nothing else seemed to have been damaged. The narrow sidewalks and the street itself were crowded with cars, mini-vans and pedestrians. The shops were open and doing their usual brisk business.
Kathryn made a slow circuit of both main streets. Finally, she gave up. The only clothing store in town, unless she'd missed something, was the one right next to Amos Carter's law office.
Not that it mattered where she made her purchases. It was nobody's affair what she did. With a shrug of her shoulders, she headed for Front Street again, drove slowly up and down its length twice, and got lucky. A red minivan left the curb just as she came by the third time. She pulled into the space, got out of the VW and made her way past Amos's darkened office to Ada's Ladies and Gents Fine Apparel shop.
A bell jangled above the door as Kathryn opened it. The shop was long, narrow, and jammed with racks and shelves of clothing. A young salesclerk was unpacking some boxes and she looked up and smiled, but before either she or Kathryn could say anything, Ada yoo-hooed from behind the counter where she was waiting on a couple of teenaged boys.
"Kathryn! How nice to see you again. Remember me? We met your first time in town."
"Of course." Kathryn smiled. "How are you?"
"Fine, thank you. Are you in a hurry?"
"Well..."
"Good, good." Ada beamed. "You just look around, then, while I finish up here and then I'll wait on you myself."
Kathryn sighed as Ada turned her attention to the boys. Given a choice, she'd have preferred to deal with the young clerk who was doing all that unpacking.
"Don't rush on my account," she called. Maybe, if she were lucky, she could select the things she wanted before Ada finished with the boys.
The shop was cool after the midday heat of the street, and pleasant. The ceiling was old-fashioned, made of stamped tin, and the floors were wide-planked and dark with age, but the clothing jammed on the racks nearest the door was up-to-date and trendy. Bikinis fought for space with cropped tops and hot pants; wildly patterned men's shorts competed with Spandex swimsuits in shades of neon pink, hot orange and a chartreuse bright enough to make you blink.
Kathryn paused and fingered a bikini that was little more than three triangles of black and white leaves. It was beautiful and sexy—and she'd never worn anything like it in her life.
"See the matchin' sarong?"
She jumped. Ada had come up just behind her and was leaning over her shoulder.
"Right there, you see? You can wear it as a skirt or tied over one shoulder like those old-timey Roman ladies used to do. Pretty outfit, isn't it?"
Kathryn tucked the bikini back into the rack. "Very. But I don't need a swim suit today."
"No woman ever needs a suit like that, unless she's determined to make a man find her sweeter than a stalk of sugar cane." Ada chuckled. "It's good to see you, Kathryn. How did you weather the storm?"
"Oh, no problems. It looks as if the town bore the brunt of it."
"Yes. It wasn't bad at all, though, considerin' how these things sometimes go. Can I offer you some tea?"
Kathryn shook her head. "No thanks."
"Coffee? A soft drink, maybe?"