Writing the Wrong
Author's Note: Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy. I own my imagination and the laptop on which I write, but nothing else involving the world of Castle.
From last time…
"Richard, her mother was killed and this letter was sent long before you met her."
"I know." Castle stared at the letter, "What do I do?"
"Go talk to her."
"And say what?"
"You're the wordsmith of the family, I'm sure you'll come up with just the right thing."
Now on with the story…
Chapter 2
Kate Beckett rarely enjoyed a quiet Saturday afternoon, normally due to a case she was working. Even if there was no police business to handle, she usually ran errands, paid bills, or cleaned her apartment. This week however, she was taking the afternoon off, to read.
Coffee steaming at her side, she burrowed under the blanket, pulled her legs up under her and opened the latest James Patterson mystery, and after a relaxing sigh, began to read.
At page eight, her bliss was interrupted by a knock at the door.
"Castle?"
"Hey Beckett, do you mind if I come in for a minute?" He walked past her wearing typical weekend wear, jeans and a sweater, but carried a large binder under his arm.
"There's no need to be jealous, Castle."
The question interrupted his contemplative state, "What?"
Beckett smiled and motioned to the book she'd been reading, which was splayed so the picture of his author friend was hard to miss.
"You're reading! I should have called first, I'm sorry Kate."
"I'm just teasing, are you okay? You seem upset."
Castle followed her toward the seating area, "I need you to sit down."
Kate sat back where she had been reading and watched as he sat across from her on the other sofa. "What's wrong? You're making me nervous. Is it Alexis? Martha?"
"No, but I need to show you something."
"Okay."
He laid the large book on the coffee table facing her and flipped the pages to the one he wanted to show her.
Kate recognized the letter and leaned closer to read it.
"Kate, I didn't know I had this. I saved my favorite letters in the binder and it's been up on the shelf. I just pulled it down today."
"Wow, I barely remember writing this." Kate said softly, brushing her fingers against the protective plastic sleeve.
"If I had known that I had it—" He tried to explain, rationalize, something, anything.
"What? What could you have done, Rick?" she asked gently.
"I don't know, but I should have done something!" The frustration was evident from his voice.
Kate pulled the letter out of the sleeve and showed him the envelope that had been attached to the back. "Look, there was no return address. Even if you had wanted to do something then, you couldn't have. That's not what I needed anyway. Writing this was just a healthy first step in dealing with my mother's death."
"What was it like after she died?"
She took a deep breath. A simple question but not such an easy answer. "It was like Dad and I had died too, but we were still there. We still had to eat, pay bills, work, study. Burying myself in the books helped me. I could pretend I was another person in another time."
Castle got up from the sofa across from her and came to sit next to her, and put his hand over one of hers.
"Dad didn't get out of bed for several days. I tried to be mom. I cooked and cleaned, I tried to make it all seem normal, but then I'd go in my room and cry. I cried for hours, day after day. But, after a while the emotions became less raw. But I remember the house was so quiet."
"Is that when your Dad started drinking?"
Beckett pulled her hand away from Castle's, stood up and started pacing her small apartment.
"Kate, I'm sorry, I just want to help. I want to understand."
"He started drinking the afternoon we returned from the funeral. We had some family in, but no one knew what to say. He went back to their bedroom with a bottle and didn't come out until the next morning. After a week, I went back to school and we talked from time to time, and I thought he was doing okay, but he wasn't. He was going to work, and on the outside, doing fine, but every night, he'd take a bottle to bed and drown out the silence," she paused and gave a half smile. "That's what he would say. Katie, I'm fine, I just need to drown out the silence. It's so damn loud."
Kate smiled sadly and sat back down on the couch next to Castle. "But, as you've seen, he's doing much better now. Though I do still worry about him."
"He's not drinking again, is he?"
"No, but he still seems kind of sad sometimes, or maybe it's loneliness. I think maybe he needs to go out with friends or join a bowling league or something."
"I don't really see your dad as the bowling type."
She laughed, "No, me neither."
"So," Castle motioned to the letter, "we're okay then?"
"Of course! Actually, more than anything, I'm impressed you still have it. The Richard Castle I met three years ago wouldn't have taken valuable time from signing autographs on women's chests to have saved this letter."
"But I did, you just didn't know that side of me," Rick said as he walked to her front door.
"I wonder what other sides of you I have left to learn." She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "Bye, Castle. See you Monday."
To be continued….
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