Steve Gannon - Kane

“But-”

“Not now; not ever,” Catheryn said firmly. She hesitated, then went on. “Dan, I’m sorry about some of the things I’ve said to you recently. You were right when you told me I didn’t understand your world. Even after all the years we were together, I never really understood. Maybe I didn’t want to. Now I do, and I’m sorry about that, too. As for what I did last night… I want to forget it.”

I nodded. “I understand.” I poked the ashes with one of my crutches. “We can rebuild,” I said, changing the subject.

Catheryn didn’t respond.

“The place was insured. It’ll be tough, but we can do it. It’ll be better than before.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“It isn’t as easy as that,” Catheryn replied. “You know, I’ve always thought that a family whose members loved one another could weather anything. But now…”

With a heavy heart, I realized she was speaking of more than wood and shingles. “Whatever we’ve lost, we can replace,” I said.

“Not this time.” Catheryn turned toward me with an expression of profound sadness. “That was a brave thing you did last night.”

I shook my head. “No. If anything, it was selfish. When I got here and saw what was happening, I realized something. I realized that if I lost you, I didn’t want to go on living.”

“Dan, I don’t-”

“Kate, let me say this. It’s something I’ve had inside me for a long time. I want to get it off my chest.”

Catheryn gazed out over the angry Pacific without replying.

“It’s no secret I’ve never been much good at expressing how I feel,” I pressed on. “I’ve been so wrong about so many things, I don’t know where to begin. I’ll probably get this all jumbled up, but here goes. Kate, when Tommy-”

“Don’t, Dan. I was at fault too, but nothing you can say now will make any difference.”

“I know. But I need to say it anyway. Will you listen?”

“Dan…”

“Please,” I begged. I took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “When Tom died, a hole opened inside me that I couldn’t fill. Not with you, or with the kids, or with work-no matter how hard I tried. And I made a terrible mistake. I know that now. I shut you out. I shut out everyone and everything and let the ache grow until nothing could ease it. Then, when I thought I was losing you to Arthur, it seemed as though my whole world had come apart.”

“There was never anyone but you,” said Catheryn, still staring out over the roiling waters.

“I know. I should never have doubted you,” I said miserably. “I also know that there are things for which saying I’m sorry will never make right. I am so deeply ashamed and disappointed in myself for what happened between Lauren and me, and I don’t expect your forgiveness. But Kate, I would give anything to go back and do things over. Every day I don’t see you, I feel so empty I don’t want to go on. Last night when I thought I was going to die, the one regret that kept coming back to me was that I hadn’t told you how I feel about you in such a long time. You’re the only real thing in my life, Kate. You, and our children. Without you, nothing else means anything. On Christmas day when I said I didn’t know the meaning of the word love, I was wrong. I knew it the first time I saw you, and I’ve known it every day since.”

Catheryn turned, tears gathering in her eyes.

“I also know how deeply I’ve hurt you,” I continued. “I’m sorry, Kate. I’m so sorry. I know things can never be the same between us, but I’m hoping that-”

Shaking her head, Catheryn raised her fingers to my lips.

Before she could speak, I took her hand. “Please don’t give up on us. Don’t answer now. Just think about it.” I reached into my jacket. “I’ve been carrying this around for the past couple of days, hoping I would have the chance to give it to you.”

Catheryn looked down at the object in my hand. It was my Christmas present to her, the one she had refused-the ribbon coming unraveled now, the wrapping wrinkled and torn.

“Take it,” I said, offering her the crumpled package. “I got this before… before everything happened, so I’ll understand if you don’t want it. But Kate, I’m hoping you’ll keep it. Whatever you decide.” I took the umbrella and held it over her, then placed the present in her hands. “Open it. Please.”

Slowly, Catheryn untied the ribbon and removed the paper, revealing a small ebony box. Inside, on a cushion of velvet, lay an antique emerald pendant. Though the green stone was modest and the setting unassuming, I could tell from Catheryn’s expression that she understood the meaning of my gift. I handed back her umbrella, then withdrew the pendant from its box and fastened the delicate silver chain around Catheryn’s neck.

A gust howled off the water, carrying a spray of stinging rain and the musty smells of the sea. Like an angry demon, the wind tore at the umbrella in Catheryn’s hands, ripping the canopy. Within seconds lashing rain soaked through her clothes, plastering them to her body. Letting the tattered umbrella drop to her feet, Catheryn raised a hand to touch the pendant. Then she lifted her eyes to mine. In a voice filled with heartache, she asked, “A new beginning? Do you mean it?”

I held her gaze, not looking away, even for an instant. “With all my heart,” I answered. “I want our family to be whole again, and I’ll do anything for that to happen. If you’ll have me, I want to come home.”

I watched her, awaiting her response.

For a long moment Catheryn regarded me with an expression I was unable to fathom. Then, with a sad smile, she moved closer and placed her head against my shoulder. I could feel her body trembling from the cold. Standing in the charred ruin of our home, I enfolded her in my arms and held her as if my life depended on it. For a dozen heartbeats we stood as one, our figures joined in the steadily falling rain.

“Can I take that as a yes?” I asked at last.

And at last Catheryn responded.

“Tomorrow, Dan,” she said softly. “We’ll talk about it… tomorrow.”