Page 13 of What Doesn't Kill Her
Just like that, everything got complicated. “You did? Of course you would. That’s fair.”
“Your cousin was Cecilia, married to Gregory Lykke, and they were involved in an infamous murder/suicide.”
Kellen breathed slowly, trying to slow the spinning of her head. “That’s right.”
“You’re Kellen, Cecilia’s cousin, and you witnessed the deaths. The police wanted you for questioning.” Max spoke slowly, as if trying to find the right path through a minefield of personal information.
“That’s right, too.”
“When I met you, you told me your name was Ceecee.”
She wet her lips. Ceecee, her childhood name, short for Cecilia.
He tapped his blunt fingers on the blankets and watched them. “I suppose you didn’t want to talk to the police? You were keeping a low profile?”
“Yes.” That made sense. It was even true.
He nodded, but he stared up at her as if he didn’t believe or didn’t understand or something equally uncomfortable. “You look very much like your cousin Cecilia.”
“We were like sisters. When we were kids, sometimes people couldn’t tell Kellen and Cecilia apart.” There! That was completely true.
“Okay. Thanks for clearing that up.” Still, he tapped his fingers. “You were telling me why you didn’t think you were fit to have a child.”
“All those things I said!” This felt like an interrogation with too many questions and not enough answers. “And, and, I wasn’t ready to have a child.”
“My mother says no one’s ever ready to have a child.” He stopped tapping. “I can’t argue with that.”
“Maybe not, but you’re an awfully good father.” Kellen meant it, too. He was so giving of his time, so patient, so openly affectionate.
“Thank you. I make terrible mistakes all the time. If you could love Rae, you’d understand what real guilt is. Children make you guilty for every mistake, every cross word—and they don’t even try. Rae loves me no matter what.” He leaned back, shoved his hands through his hair. “She loves you, too.”
“Even though I don’t deserve it.”
He sighed. “Deserveis not in her vocabulary. You’re her mother. Her whole life, I’ve told her about you, and to find you at last! She’s thrilled. Yes, she loves you.”
“But I haven’t bonded with her.”
“No.” He sounded sad. “It’s not your fault.”
“What’s the solution?” she asked.
“When...if we’re convinced this isn’t going to work, we can do things differently. She can live with me. You can visit.”
Kellen wanted to whimper so badly it almost seemed as if she heard a whimper.
Max continued, “She knows, of course, most mommies and daddies don’t live this way, but the divorced ones do, and it’s not until she’s older that she will realize that you, perhaps, are not ThunderBoomer.” He walked toward the door.
Tears leaked from beneath Kellen’s closed lids. She turned on her side, pressed her face into the pillow and thought out loud. “It’s not so much that I’m stifled by Rae, or by domesticity. I need a task, a focus, to help me sort out my new role.” She took a quivering breath. “I need a job.”
Behind her, she heard the door open. A pause. Then it shut.
He was gone, along with any hope she had of ever having a family. She wanted to cry, she wanted to be awash in tears, but she couldn’t keep awake. She slept.
And came awake on the sound of her door closing again. Her eyes were wide, her ears strained to hear. But there was no further sound, and as she drifted to sleep once more, she decided she must have been mistaken before.
That second time must have been Max leaving the room.
When Kellen woke the next morning, on the foot of her bed she found a drawing of Daddy, ThunderBoomer and LightningBlast. It was signed by Rae. Kellen held it and smiled. Max really had raised a cute, kind kid. Good for him.
