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“It’s already a done deal. All recorded.”
“Really?” Montoya said.
“Uh-huh. It starts airing in the first week of November.”
CHAPTER 7
“It’s only been a little while,” Bella said from across the café table at the small bistro where Kristi had agreed to meet her for coffee or, in Kristi’s case, sweet tea. “You’ll be fine.” But the expression on her pixie-like features didn’t convey the same rosy outlook as her words. “You’ve been through worse.... Well, not worse maybe, but a lot.” She flashed a smile as she reached to the top of her head and adjusted the band securing the ponytail that held her black, springing curls away from her face.
“This is different.” Kristi dunked her straw in her tea and looked through the window to the street where people were bustling past an area of outdoor tables with umbrellas. She thought about being a widow, she thought about being pregnant, and she thought about the disturbing card she’d received.
“I know it’s different. Of course it is.” Bella was nodding, trying to cheer her up, but Kristi wasn’t in the mood. Maybe it was just too soon. All she knew was that Bella’s usually infectious rosy attitude was failing to scale the wall of Kristi’s unhappiness. “But come on.” She reached a hand over Kristi’s wrist. “What do you say we go for a mani-pedi,” she suggested, and seeing that Kristi wasn’t responding, added, “Or a long bike ride or hike, maybe? Whatever you want.”
“Don’t think so.”
“Not today, but hey, what about next week? Jay, he wouldn’t have wanted you to grieve like this.”
Kristi’s head snapped up. She caught Bella’s gaze in her own. “How do you know that?” she demanded. “You don’t. No one does.”
“Ouch.” Bella recoiled. “Hey, I’m your friend. Just trying to help, and yeah, no one knows what Jay would have wanted for sure, but I’ll bet he would have wanted you to move on. To find happiness.” She managed a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. “Hey, Kristi. Remember, Jay was your McKnight in shining armor.”
The joke fell flat.
As many times as Kristi had said the very same thing, now, after he’d given his life saving her, it stung. “Listen, Bella, I know you think you’re helping, but I’m struggling, okay?”
“Of course you’re—”
“No, no. Just hear me out. You don’t understand. Jay and I? We were having . . . problems. I didn’t think they were that serious at the time, but . . . we’d had a huge fight that night and I said some things, some awful things that I can’t take back.” Her heart ached deep in her chest. “And now I never can.”
“Oh, Kristi, all marriages are difficult, have their ups and downs and—”
“Did you hear me?” Kristi cut in sharply. “I said I can never take back those hateful, spiteful words.” And in that instant they came back to haunt her:“I don’t know why I ever married you.”She pushed aside her glass. “I’ve got to go.”
“No. No, you don’t.” All the pseudo joy Bella had exuded left her face and her eyes turned serious. “Everyone has fights. Every marriage is a constant workout. If you care about someone, if you’re passionate for them, if you truly love them, you’re honest with them and . . . and you disagree. Sometimes it gets pretty awful, but it’s honest and it’s raw. It hurts. But that’s life.”
“And in this case, it’s death,” Kristi said. “There’s no making up, Bella. What I said, what we fought about, it’s out there and it . . . it can never be called back.”
“Okay, fine, but you don’t have to punish yourself.”
“Don’t I?” she threw back, aching inside. God, she hated this!
“Maybe you should join a grief support group.”
“Not yet,” she said. She knew all about them from doing research on the 21 Killer, a heinous murderer who had recently stalked the streets of New Orleans.
However, Bella was on a roll. “Listen, I have the name of a counselor. Dawn Aguillard, and she’s great. I went to her when Sean and I were having trouble. You remember?”
Bella and Sean had nearly broken up because of financial issues that resulted in his affair with a co-worker, but somehow they pieced their marriage back together. Bella swore that her counselor helped her get over her anger, find a way to forgive her husband, and take him back.
Kristi said, “That’s different.”
“Is it? Grief is grief. And I was grieving for my marriage, but she, Dr. Aguillard—Dawn, she had me call her Dawn—she helped me through it. God, she’s just the best. The best! I’ll text you her contact information.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know, Kristi. But I want to. You know I do.” She pulled her phone from her back pocket, pressed several keys, and looked up. A fresh smile was pinned to her face. “Okay. You call her. There’s no reason you have to go through this alone, and if you don’t feel comfortable talking with me or other friends or even your dad, you can talk to her.”
Kristi’s cell phone dinged, indicating a message had been received.
