Chapter 3
"So, what should we talk about? Want to tell me about your family?"
Castle looked over at his companion as they stood side-by-side in the L-shaped cabin kitchen. Kate had kept mostly to herself that day, insisting on taking a nap instead of eating lunch with him, but just after four p.m. she tentatively interrupted him and asked if she could make him dinner as a thank you for everything he'd done so far. He was surprised at her offer and presented a counter one: they would make the meal together. Granted, "meal" was a bit of a stretch of the term. All he had in the fridge were some chicken tenders he intended to grill and eat with salad, but with the weather grilling seemed an unlikely option so he'd cook them in a pan instead. Since she had skipped lunch Castle suspected she might have been rather hungry, so he suggested they begin meal prep just after five in hopes they'd be eating by six.
Kate glanced over at him briefly from where she stood by the sink cutting up a cucumber. "Oh, um, not much to tell there—why don't you tell me about your daughter?"
The writer beamed; as a proud father, he never wanted to turn down the opportunity to gush about how wonderful his child was. "Alexis is amazing, though my opinion is rather bias."
She offered him a soft smile. "She's in…third grade?"
"Just finishing second, actually. She's smart enough that she could probably skip a grade in elementary school, but I don't know…I'm concerned about what she'd miss out on socially. She's kind of an old soul—practically anyone who talks to her thinks she's much older than she really is—and because of that I sometimes think she feels she needs to be more of a grown up than a kid. I worry skipping a grade might encourage that. Instead I'm just going to have her transfer schools to one that'll be more academically challenging—sorry." He shook his head as he used a spatula to flip over the chicken pieces in the fry pan. "That was probably more detail than you were expecting."
She brushed off his concern with. "It's fine. It's nice to see you're such an involved father."
A wry smile crossed his face. "Have to be; I'm her only parent." Kate's eyes flared wide and she apologized quickly, seeming embarrassed. Only then did Castle realize his comment made it seem as though he were widower and he didn't want to mislead his new acquaintance. "Sorry—I mean her mother and I divorced about two years ago and she moved out to California. Alexis doesn't see her mother and Meredith was never…let's say: overly involved in parental details."
That descriptor felt like the understatement of the century. Whenever it came to important decisions like which private school to send their child to, Meredith continually shied away from the conversation saying it was too confusing or it bored her. If she ever did have a suggestion, it was to send their daughter to an arts school that would focus on music and theater. While Castle never wanted to remove the arts from his child's education, it was clear that Alexis enjoyed plays and musicals as an observer only and would never have enjoyed participating in one. Then again, Meredith could not see beyond her own nose enough to understand such things, which was one of the many reasons he had custody of their child.
Kate nodded. "That must be difficult."
The writer nodded and then shrugged. "It can be, but I've always been her primary care giver—and we're not completely alone. Alexis is very close to my mother…and I imagine I'll be leaning on her more and more the closer we get to puberty."
She let out a light laugh. "Yeah, I would think so. I can't even imagine how my dad would have handled that."
"Well that's the thing about parenting—some of the situations you come across you never anticipate handling and then somehow when you're in them instinct takes over and you muddle your way through…or you make a complete mess and traumatize them for life—but that's what therapy is for, right?"
Kate laughed again, a little harder. "Well at least you're prepared for a less-than-positive outcome."
He shrugged. "Every outcome can be a positive one—it all just depends on how you look at it. Take you for example."
"Me?!"
"Yes, you. If you hadn't been out in that storm you wouldn't have hit your head or hurt your ankle…but you also wouldn't have met me, your favorite author."
As he grinned at her, he watched her expression turn incredulous. Setting the knife she held down on the cutting board, she turned to him and folded her arms over her chest. "I don't recall saying you were my favorite author."
"Well favorite…one of your favorites—I'm not picky as long as I'm in the top three somewhere."
"Wow. You sure are confident."
Thoroughly enjoying their banter, he flipped the chicken pieces once more and turned to face her. "Yes, I can be, but in this case I'm just observant. You recognized me here, in this cabin where I'm not exactly looking like my usual self—or how I would be at a public appearance," he said in reference to his week-old stubble and hair, which was not perfectly parted and moussed. "I only provided you with my first name and it was a nickname at that; not the exact one I write under. On top of all that you were disoriented and injured when you awoke this morning. Now I'm not sure exactly how long it took for you to figure out who I was, but it was less than a few hours. If you were only a casual reader I would find that highly unlikely therefore it can only be concluded that you, Kate, are a fan."
For the better part of thirty seconds they locked gazes until, finally, the woman gave up with a shrug and confessed, "I own all your books; I've read them each at least twice. Happy?"
If Castle had been any more pleased with himself in that moment, he might have floated out of his shoes. "Ecstatic. Now, this chicken is ready so how about we sit down and eat?"
"Please forgive my curiosity, but I really can't help myself—might you indulge me by telling me a bit about yourself. Perhaps, what it is that you do? Or, forgive me if I'm way off base here, are you still in school?" Castle just couldn't help himself. From her body language alone he could tell Kate still wasn't interested in being as open with him as he was with her, but he was hoping she'd say something. The percentage of the conversation he was taking up with tales about himself and his family was getting downright ridiculous. He feared he would soon begin annoying her, which was why he made another effort to find out what was hidden behind her lovely hazel eyes.
"Kind of. I recently graduated from Columbia and I'm going to start the NYPD Academy in June."
Castle's jaw dropped an inch as he processed her statement enough to respond. Rarely was he stunned to the point of speechlessness, but he was in that moment. Never would he have guessed the lovely woman in front of him wanted to be a police officer—not that he had a solid enough perspective of her to guess another profession. A career in law enforcement just seemed so…unexpected.
"Wow, ah, wow! That's really impressive—I bet your parents are very proud."
Her gaze dropped towards her plate and she casually flipped over a lettuce leaf with her fork. "It's, ah, actually just my dad and I now."
Ah, there it was—a small, but he imagined not insignificant missing piece in her puzzle. From just her tone he was able to deduce that her mother's passing had been recent—not too recent, but certainly less than a decade, possibly even less than half of one. The absence weighed on her, as it would anyone, but perhaps more so than average. It probably was not the reason she was roaming about on a dark stormy night, but he couldn't help but wonder if it was somehow related. "I'm sorry to hear that, but I'm sure your father is very proud."
She lifted her head and gave him a nod. "Proud…and unbelievably worried."
He bobbed his head. "Yes, well as the father of a little girl I can appreciate that thought especially since you're all he has—right? You're an only child?" After she nodded in confirmation he said, "Me too."
Kate said nothing else, instead returning her attention to the food plated before her. Though he took a few bites himself, Castle once again found himself distracted by his unexpected house guest, but for an entirely new set of reasons. She was intriguing and had what he assumed to be a tragic back story. He wanted to know all of it—what drove her, what inspired her. He also feared he'd never be able to uncover those details, but he tried not to think about how disappointing that would be.
Ten minutes later, Castle placed their used plates into the sink and glanced out the nearby window to observe a few slivers of light peeking through the cloud-covered sky. "Hey, it finally stopped drizzling I think. I'm going to walk out and check the road to see how flooded it looks. Want to walk with me?"
"Sure."
He quickly dumped the rest of their used dishes and flatware into the sink, squirted some dish soap over the pile, and then turned on the faucet so their items could soak during their short walk. When he turned around, he found Kate seated at the kitchen table lacing up her boots. He retrieved his own shoes and opened the door, but jumped back almost immediately at the nearly freezing air outside. The heavy downpours had stopped right around lunch time, but drizzle along with wind had persisted that afternoon. Evidently, the wind brought with it temperatures far below average. Gazing back to the woman wearing only his shirt and jeans, he realized it would not be warm enough outdoors for her. Stepping away from the door, he unzipped his hooded sweatshirt, the only item of outerwear he had with him, and handed it over to her saying, "Here; it's cold out there."
"Oh…are you sure?"
"Yeah it's chilly out there, but I have more padding than you." He teased as he patted his belly. Once she'd pulled on the sweatshirt, Castle led the way down the path, explaining that the placed covered over in water was about a quarter mile down the drive, close to the main road. As anticipated, water still covered the driveway and surrounding yard, but it was not as deep as he anticipated it being. "I should be able to drive you back to your place tomorrow morning."
"That's good," she said, though her tone was distant. Castle turned around to see that she was facing back towards the cabin and the wooden area that surrounded it.
"Do you know where you are now? I mean, do you recognize this cabin or the lake?"
She hummed. "Kind of. I knew of a lake nearby our cabin, but I never went to it, so it's hard to say for sure."
"Well, if you got here from your cabin on foot, the two can't be that far apart, right?" Castle rationalized. He started walking back towards the cabin gazing at the woods, trying to figure out from where she had come. He, too, was unfamiliar with the area, but he doubted her cabin was more than a mile or two from his; she wouldn't have been able to travel much further on foot, particularly in that storm.
"Yeah, I suppose."
As the chill in the air began to penetrate his flannel shirt, Castle shivered and sped his pace while returning to the house. "You know actually I have to thank you for showing up on my doorstep the way you did—it's given me a good idea for a future book: a rustic cabin, a gruesome murder, and a storm that traps everyone inside. Well, maybe not the storm—that feels a bit too Craven or King for me and I…" His voice drifted off when he realized she was no longer immediately behind him, but had drifted off through the grass to gaze out at the lake.
"Kate?" he inquired as he stepped up just a few feet behind her. When she didn't respond after a few seconds he continued with, "Are you okay?"
She shook her head immediately but it took her almost another thirty seconds to confess, "A gruesome murder—that's what happened to my mother."
The writer sucked in a deep breath. Oh—oh shit. What a fool he was to talk so casually about such an event! True, it was his profession; he lived and breathed murder every day, but those murders weren't real. He could never have known what happened to Kate's mother, so her distress was in no way his fault, but he still felt guilty.
Before he could respond, she turned towards him and he could see tear tracks staining her face. "That's why I read your books again and again, because they make sense; they have endings, explanations."
His eyes darted back and forth as he looked at her, processing her words, until his face contorted with horror when he realized. "Unsolved...they never found her killer?"
"No."
His shoulders rounded and his chin dropped as he gazed down at her. Yes, that was the huge missing puzzle piece in her back story, but now he was ashamed he'd been curious about it, for it was much worse than he anticipated. "Oh, Kate; I'm so sorry."
As though he'd prodded her with an electric shock, she nearly jumped forward and began walking back towards the house. "I—I'm sorry; I shouldn't have."
"There's no reason to apologize. I already told you—I'm a good listener." He tried to keep the mood light as he trailed after her, but it was clear that was no longer possible.
Just inside the cabin door she shrugged off his sweatshirt and thrust it back at him saying, "I'm going to bed."
"Kate-"
"Goodnight, Mr. Castle," she said tersely and then scurried down the hall without ever looking back.
A/N: I'm so glad everyone is enjoying this unusual caskett meeting :) thanks for your reviews!