Hello, Again (Book 2)

Runaway Part 1

VICTORIA

Having finished the last order of the lunch rush, I took my first break and almost ran to the most secluded booth in the coffee shop. I still couldn't believe it from when I opened it this morning, but here it was, the invitation in hand.

Mr. Nicholas Masiello and Mrs. Victoria Pitchner

Save the Date: June 15th.

What in the world would inspire Katherine to send this after the fiasco of our dinner three weeks ago? Maybe the same impulse that inspired her to invite me and Nick to her house that night for dinner. If it hadn't been awkward enough already... though strangely freeing at the same time.

It was awful to come face-to-face with the person I'd wronged so terribly not so many years ago. Almost eight now, by my estimation. And though Nick and I had paid it back in finances with a fifty thousand dollar check to Katherine, it didn't seem to unravel the tangle of emotions in both of us.

My own words echoed back to me from that dinner: You've treated me like a person when I didn't deserve it.... I believe God has given me a second chance to rebuild my life, and part of that hope is from what you have shown me.

Nick hadn't liked what I said when we left. All the way to the hospital, he hardly spoke except to soothe Margaret, but it looked more like he needed soothing. I could see it in the lines of his face, the regret and torment that still plagued him.

We'd gotten saved around the same time, trusting in God when our lives were at rock-bottom. Me, in a jail cell down at the sheriff's office. I had felt almost weightless then, though the consequences of my actions came crashing back down on me.

I guess that's life.

Maybe even Jesus couldn't free us from this awful prison of our own making.

The gold lettering backed by jet-black card stock glimmered in the afternoon sunlight streaming in from the windows. I could almost see it now, the happy wedding festivities, the chattering guests, the cheerful smiles of all the attendees—polar opposite to the courthouse wedding we had. And worst of all, we deserved it. I couldn't imagine me or Nick among the wedding guests. No doubt Katherine's family would be there, her friends—what things did they have to say to us? Nothing that wouldn't be true....

The bell jingled at the door, and my gaze shot up to see Katherine and her mom enter the cafe. Katherine looked around, squinting as if searching, then grinned when she spotted me in the corner. I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.

"Hey, Victoria." Katherine approached the side of the table, her mom lagging a few feet behind. She sported a cane and seemed to be very tired, her back stooped as if burdened.

"Hi," I nodded to Katherine and then her mother. My hand went absently to the invitation in my apron pocket. At least they hadn't spotted it. But would Katherine ask about it?

"Mind if we sit with you?" Katherine asked.

"Go ahead." I gestured to the empty bench on the other side. Camille slipped into the seat across from me, her gaze fixed to the grain of the wood.

How familiar and yet unrecognizable she looked. It wasn't just the pink scars that wrapped around her head and neck like octopus tentacles, but the exhausted slope of her shoulders and the subtle downturn of her lips. The last time I'd spoken to her had been at Thanksgiving dinner at Betsy's apartment in Philadelphia, at least two years ago now. She'd been fresh out of a walker then, her memory like that of a baby, but I'd heard from Abigail, sister to Katherine's fiancé, that she had gotten better. What had changed that now?

"I hear your triplets are growing mighty fast," Camille's voice was quiet but firm. She met my gaze, and there was no trace of hatred there, only fatigue and curiosity.

"They are. Nick's dealing with the handful of them right now." At least he'd had the day off already so I could take my shift. I made a note to try and contact Grace. It was weird of her to not call or give a reason for not showing.

Camille's eyebrows came together as if in thought. "Are you happy?"

The question struck me like a bucket of icy water. "I-yes," I answered almost reflexively. "Why do you ask?"

Her lips curled up in a gentle smile. "Good," she said. "I've been praying for you."

"Praying for..." My voice trailed off. The ice that doused my body was offset by the sudden warmth of her voice. Would she really take the time to think about me, talk to God about me? "Why?" The question was out of my mouth before I could think it through. "I mean—it's not that I'm not thankful—but what made you—"

"We all make mistakes," she said gravely, "and we only have so much time to make up for those mistakes." Her eyes shot over to Katherine, who was ordering at the cashier just then. "I hope that you and Nicolas have moved on from the past that plagues you. There's nothing worse than having it come back to haunt you."

Realization struck me. "So it was you that sent the invitation?" I reached into my apron pocket to pull it out.

Confusion came down like a fog over Camille's features. "Invitation?"

My hand froze. I stuffed the card back in the pocket. "Never mind." I could feel my cheeks burning. No, it was crazy of me to think so.

Katherine came up with the coffees just then, her lips twisted in an apologetic frown. "Hey, Victoria, sorry but we gotta go. The library is going to close in an hour."

Camille stood shakily with her cane and grasped her coffee in her free hand. We shared our goodbyes, and Katherine declared that we would definitely really be sitting down to have a cup of coffee soon enough, and then they were gone and I was back on my shift.

Not even five minutes later, a flash of pink darted down the sidewalk. I caught a glimpse of it before it darted into the coffee shop.

"Grace!" I exclaimed in surprise, almost dropping the foamed milk. "What in the world are you doing here? Is everything all right?"

Her cheeks were pink, her eyes wild, and—was she crying?

"I need your help." I excused myself from behind the counter and rushed her a little out of earshot.

"What's going on?" I pressed both hands to her shoulders as if she were about to run away. "Are you in trouble?" My thoughts jumped to her father in Ohio. Could he somehow have done something to her? Could that be the mystery of why she was here?

Grace was shaking her head forcefully, sobs wracking her small frame. "I need—I need to find Katherine. Where is Katherine?"

I straightened in shock. "She's just down the street, I imagine," I said. "She and Camille were going to the library this afternoon, but if you wait a minute, I can call her back—hey, wait!"

I called after her, but she had squirmed out from under my grip and launched herself out the door. My hand tightened around my cellphone.

"What's going on?' My manager chided, eyes wide.

"I—I don't know." I started towards the door. "I'll be right back."

I stepped outside, only to be almost run down by a man bolting down the street, shouting Grace's name.