The glass was empty. Leaving the balcony, she walked back to the kitchen and set it next to the sink. The loan application lay on the counter where she’d left it. For now she would put it away in the desk. But she hadn’t given up on finding a way to help her proud, stubborn husband. She could only hope that, with time and healing, he might allow her to be a true partner to him.
What would Kate have done? But she wasn’t Kate. She wasn’t tough or wise. She didn’t know how to bond with her stepdaughter or understand the man she loved—or even throw a proper party. She had never felt more inadequate in her life.
With the documents in hand, she walked down the hall to Burke’s study. Even before she opened the door, she knew what would happen. Brianna wouldn’t be home for hours, and the contents of the desk were drawing her like a magnet. If she opened the drawer to put the application away, she’d be helpless to turn aside. There would be no way she could leave the room without reading one more heart-crushing letter.
But first she would look at the loan application. If she was to deal intelligently with this crisis, she would need to know how much Burke hoped to borrow and on what terms.
She sank into the chair, switched on the lamp, and spread the papers on the desk.
Allison had taken out a small business loan to upgrade her gallery—a loan that had to be paid off when she sold the gallery to marry Burke. The experience helped her understand the complex document she was looking at now.
Burke had been very thorough. He’d listed all the improvements he wanted to make on the American Heartland. There would be a new, revolving stage with multiple levels, along with sound and lighting to support spectacular productions. Additional seating would accommodate more customers, and luxurious dressing rooms would bring in more demanding talent. A new flashing marquee would be visible even from a distance, and there would also be money set aside for publicity.
Knowing Burke, he would have researched every item and even gotten some bids. Still, the amount of money needed to make the old theater a showplace was staggering. No wonder Garrett was pushing to sell out to the Mob.
The next few pages contained a breakdown of projected revenue, expenses, and proposed loan repayment schedules. The bottom line: the theater would have to run at near capacity to make the monthly payments, which would start in three months, hopefully after the remodeling was done and the American Heartland was open for the spring season.
The final pages of the document listed Burke’s assets that could be put up as collateral against the loan. There was the theater itself, and the real estate—mostly condos and apartments. Burke had even listed the house. Only the talent agency—which didn’t qualify as property—had been spared. He was risking everything he had to get this loan.
Was that why he’d asked her to divorce him—so she could salvage some of his assets before they became collateral that would be lost in the event of foreclosure or bankruptcy? Or did he simply want to spare her the humiliation of watching him go down if his gamble didn’t pay off?
Given what she knew about Burke, his reasons were bound to be complicated. But he was her husband, and she loved him. Any choice she made would be made with her heart. And her heart was telling her to stand by her man and do everything in her power to help him win.
The only question was how.
What would Kate have done? And what would Burke have done if he’d still been married to her?
With the file drawer open, she slipped the loan papers into the front. Then, braced for an emotional battering, she opened the file drawer, lifted the packet of letters out of the back and opened the next envelope.
Dearest Burke,
I’d almost forgotten what pregnancy is like—the morning sickness, the cravings, the mood swings, and the magic of that first little flutter kick, the sudden awareness that there’s somebody home down there—a sweet little somebody who is growing into a real live person.
This morning as I was loading the dishwasher, I felt our baby move. Instinctively, I looked around for you to share the news and invite you to feel with your hand on my belly. But of course you were five hundred miles away, Brianna was in preschool, and I was alone in the house. Only Captain was here to gaze up at me and wonder, in his doggy way, why I was bawling like an emotional fool. It was as if all the joy, the worry, and the loneliness had hit me at once, like a doubled-up fist.
It will pass, of course. I’ll be fine. I’m always fine. You know that all too well. I just wish I wasn’t so blasted easy for you to leave . . .
Kate’s schoolgirl script stopped in midsentence, halfway down the page, leaving a blank space at the bottom. But the letter wasn’t finished. Two more pages followed, as if she’d left off writing, then continued some time later.
Burke,
I wrote the first part of this letter five days ago. I was going to throw it away, but changed my mind and decided to share it. How else can I help you understand how swiftly things can change, and how easily a heart can be torn to pieces?
Our baby is gone. While I was writing to you, I felt the pains start, hard and sharp. I knew what was happening and that it was far too soon. My only faint hope was that the labor could be stopped.
Brianna was asleep. I called my cousin, Tricia, to come and take her. Then I called the paramedics, unlocked the front door, and shut myself in the bathroom with my phone.
I won’t go into details, but by the time everyone got to the house, it was over. I had lost the baby alone in the bathroom. Brianna was still asleep. Tricia stayed with her while the paramedics cleaned up and took me to the hospital.
Again, I’ll spare you the details, which you can learn when you get home. In the hospital, there were complications. To save my life, the doctors had to perform an emergency hysterectomy. That’s right, my love, no more babies ever. We will have to settle for our beautiful, perfect Brianna.
Allison laid the pages on the desk, her tears blurring the lamplight into rainbows. Oh, Kate, Kate . . . How did you survive this terrible loss alone? How could you be so strong?
Wiping her eyes, she picked up the pages and read the rest of Kate’s letter.
I am at home now, recovering as well as could be expected, so there’s no need for you to rush back from your trip to take care of me. Brianna knows about the baby, but she doesn’t really understand what happened, which is just as well. I am doing my best to be “normal” for her sake. I don’t want you to feel guilty about not being here. There was no way you could have known, and nothing you could have done.
So we will move on, my love. We will enjoy our daughter and each other and try to focus on the good things life has given us—and not to wish for what can no longer be.