(This is the second chapter I'm posting in this update, so don't forget to read Chapter 32 first! ;)
Chapter Thirty-Three
As Sawyer had expected, Kate was somewhat distant for a few days after Jack left. She tried hard not to be - he had to give her credit for that, at least. But it wasn't possible for her to completely hide her emotions, especially now that he knew her so well. Compared to the train wreck Jack had left in his wake the last time he'd been here, of course, this was mild by comparison. It wasn't even constant, really. Most of the time she was fine. But there were moments when he'd glance at her, when she didn't know he was looking, that he could detect a faint, poignant sadness in her expression. It made him anxious, although he knew, rationally, that there was no reason for him to feel that way. Still, he wished she'd hurry up and get the hell over it, once and for all.
Her arm continued to improve. Two days after Jack left, she was able to remove the bandage and leave it off for good. Following Jack's instructions to the letter, they left the stitches in place, even though the incisions appeared to have healed up completely. It looked as if there would be no scarring, something that Sawyer was probably more grateful for than she was. After all, he'd been the one wielding the knife.
On the third day after Jack left, Sawyer was sprawled lazily on the couch, watching a tawdry daytime talk show. Although he was vaguely ashamed of himself, and although he kept wondering how the hell anybody could watch this shit, he didn't change the channel. Two scantily dressed fat women were screaming at each other, and it looked like the encounter would turn violent any second now. He sat up a little straighter, fascinated in spite of himself.
Just then, the television set went black, the picture fading to a tiny dot in the middle of the screen and then blinking out. He looked around, bewildered. Kate stood behind him with the remote.
"Hey! I was watchin' that!"
"I know," she said dryly. "Why do you think I turned it off?"
"It was just gettin' to the good part," he muttered, annoyed.
She stared at him for a second, amused. He noticed an excited gleam in her eyes, a hint of mischief, like she was up to something. She hadn't looked like that for a few days. Did she want to have sex? he wondered hopefully.
"Do you even know what today is?" she asked in a teasing way.
He thought for a second. "It ain't your birthday again, is it?"
She rolled her eyes. "It's Halloween."
"And?" He waited.
"Do you even realize what that means?" she said, looking at him like he was an idiot.
"It means... that a bunch of sugar-crazed little brats are gonna come knockin at the door demandin' candy. Which I'm not gonna give 'em," he finished with a satisfied look.
Kate sighed. "It means," she corrected him, "that we can leave the house." She emphasized the last few words pointedly, and he saw that excited look in her eyes again.
"What?" he asked, truly confused.
"It's Halloween, Sawyer! It's the one night of the year when nobody looks like they're supposed to.. Everybody's pretending to be someone else, wearing a disguise. We can go somewhere, and no one will recognize us."
"Forget it," he said quickly, turning back toward the TV, even though it wasn't on.
"Why?" she demanded.
"What do you mean, why? Who's the one who gets paranoid and practically has a heart attack whenever there's a helicopter flyin' over, or a UPS guy at the door? You really want to risk everything just for one night on the town? Because I gotta say, darlin', I thought you were smarter than that."
"Nobody's going to be looking for me tonight. The cops'll have enough to worry about just trying to keep up with out-of-control teenagers... and I won't be recognizable, anyway." She paused, then went on more quietly. "If I didn't think it was safe, I wouldn't even consider it. You know that."
"You're outta your mind," he said, shaking his head.
"Sawyer," she said seriously. He turned to look at her. "I have to get out of here. Even if it's just for one night."
"Thought you liked it here," he said bitterly, looking hurt.
"I do," she replied, kneeling down beside him. "But no matter how much you like any place, you can't stay there twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, without losing your mind at some point. I'm not used to this," she said, looking away. "I mean, I've had to hide out before, but never for this long at a time. And it was different then... I had cops after me, but I wasn't national news. I could go out, if I was careful. Now I can't even risk that anymore. This could be my only chance. Please." She looked at him imploringly.
He sighed, on the verge of giving in. He couldn't stand it when she looked at him like that.
"Besides," she continued with irony, glancing over toward the television. "Judging from your choice of programming, I think it would be a good idea for you to get out of here for a while too."
"You're crazy if you think any store's gonna have costumes left on Halloween," he said, still irritated.
"We'll come up with something," she said, looking thrilled that she'd talked him into it. "In fact, I'll bet there're things we could use up in the attic. There've got to be at least ten trunks up there filled with clothes, all pre-fifties. You live in a time capsule, Sawyer."
He rolled his eyes, not answering.
"Come on," she said, grabbing his arm and trying to pull him up. "You have any better plans for today? It'll be fun!"
Although he seriously doubted the truth of that statement, he allowed her to drag him from the room. "Think there's any chance of findin' a porn star costume up there?"
"Don't count on it," she told him.
"Never hurts to try," he said wearily.
Once they reached the attic, it took a few minutes to remove the piles of things stacked on various trunks and then drag them out so that they could be opened. They spent the time sneezing, brushing away cobwebs, and uttering variations on the phrase "Gus, no! Don't eat that!" Sawyer started out by poking through an old wardrobe near the window, while Kate pried open a steamer trunk over in a corner by the door.
After a few minutes of silence, he heard her give a funny-sounding sigh.
"What'd you find?" he asked curiously.
"Baby clothes," she answered, lifting up what looked like a tiny white dress embroidered with beads.
He grinned. "No offense, sweetheart, but I don't think those are gonna fit."
She gave him a contemptuous look and closed the trunk.
"So.. you think Jack was right?" she asked casually.
"Probably not," he said with a smile. "But you're gonna have to give me a little more information than that."
"About me gaining weight." She looked up at him accusingly. "I notice you didn't contradict him."
"Please..." he said with scorn. "You got the figure of a twelve-year-old boy."
She gave an incredulous scoff, putting her hands on her hips.
"What?" he asked defensively, trying to rectify the situation. "A hot twelve-year-old boy!"
Kate raised her eyebrows and waited, trying not to laugh.
"That didn't come out right," he said, looking extremely uncomfortable. "Look, can we just change the subject!"
"Gladly," she said, moving over to another trunk.
But Sawyer wasn't good at dropping things, even when he'd been the one to suggest dropping them. After a few seconds of silence, he started again.
"You think 'cause he's a doctor he can tell whether you've put on a few pounds just by lookin' at you? That's bullshit."
"Well," she said in explanation. "It's obvious that I don't get much exercise around here... and I eat constantly. Besides, you see me every day, so it's not like you can really judge the way he can."
"Then what the hell'd you ask me for?"
"I don't know, Sawyer," she said quietly, digging through the trunk. "Just forget it."
"Bet you'd take my word for it if I was a doctor, right?" He looked at her sharply.
She sighed. "I wish I'd never said anything."
He ignored her, apparently in deep thought. "Hey, there's an idea... maybe that's what my costume oughtta be. I could get me some scrubs.. maybe a stethoscope, a clipboard."
Kate glanced up at him quickly, wondering if he was serious. She looked vaguely interested, in spite of herself.
"You like that idea?" he asked roguishly, winking at her.
"No," she said in a firm tone, unable to prevent a smile.
"Hell, forget Halloween," he went on thoughtfully. "Maybe I oughtta get some just to wear around the house. Keep you all hot and bothered."
"You have a serious problem," she said, blushing slightly.
"Too bad you got a thing for the doctors," he added, regretfully. "Guess my profession'll just never live up."
"Your profession?" she laughed. "And what exactly would that be? Professional con-man?"
"Haven't come up with a title yet," he said. "Still workin' on it."
"You know, it's a good thing I don't have anybody to introduce you to. What would I tell them that you do for a living?"
He considered. "You could tell 'em... that I'm between things."
"Between scams, you mean," she said, not completely joking now.
He flared up, looking at her pointedly. "Yeah, well, I don't see you complainin' about the food it buys.. or the electricity, or the hot water, or anything else."
"That money won't last forever," she said softly, not meeting his eyes.
"Thanks for the tip, Puddin'," he said with scorn. "But I'm the one spendin' it, so I reckon I know how long it'll last better than you do."
Kate pressed on, however. "And what are you gonna do when it runs out? Steal some more?"
"You got any better ideas?"
They looked at each other seriously, all the playfulness having evaporated without their even being aware of it.
"You could get a job," she suggested wryly. "Have you ever had a real job before?"
"Yeah, I've had a real job! What the hell do you think?"
"I don't know, Sawyer!" she protested with sincerity. "How could I? You never talk about your past!"
He looked away, angry. "Look, I'll do what has to be done, all right? Let me worry about the money." He glanced back at her, his face softening the tiniest bit. "You got enough problems already."
She was touched, and she lowered her eyes, feeling bad. Moving across the room, she crouched down in front of him on the floor, forcing him to look at her, even though she could tell he wanted to sulk. They stared into each other's eyes for a few seconds, apologizing without words. Then Kate leaned in to kiss him. Just as he was starting to get into it, however, she pulled back, distracted by the box behind him.
"Hey, look at that!" she said, sounding intrigued. She lifted out an old-fashioned black Stetson cowboy hat. Dusting it off, she set it on Sawyer's head, angling it correctly and leaning back to peer at him contemplatively. She nodded in approval, finding it sexy and hilarious at the same time, in the same way his glasses had been. "That'll work!" she said.
He was annoyed. "Hate to break it to you, Freckles, but this ain't a costume. It's a hat."
She looked into the box again, this time pulling out a flamboyant pink feather boa, which she immediately draped around his neck with a flourish. "Now it's a costume," she said, standing back to admire her work.
He yanked the boa off and tossed it aside while she laughed.
"Find something yourself, then," she told him, going back over to the trunk she'd been looking through.
"Jackpot," he heard her mutter a few minutes later. She lifted out some gauzy folds of sheer fabric, in shades of dark violet, blue, and black.
"What are you gonna do with that?" he asked, intrigued.
"You'll see," she said secretively, setting it aside. There was a gleam of anticipation in her eyes, and he couldn't help but enjoy it, since she so rarely looked like that. She was beautiful all the time, of course, but she was even more beautiful when she was happy. There was a kind of glow about her as she continued to search through the trunk, and he was unable to tear his gaze away.
As he watched, she lifted out a box from the bottom, underneath some old tablecloths. Pulling the lid off with curiosity, she delicately picked up a photograph from the top of the pile.
Noticing that he was watching her, she moved over next to him, still carrying the box. "Are these your grandparents?" she asked, sitting down beside him.
He glanced at the photo of two young people in 1930s fashion. "Can't tell," he said evasively.
"How can you not tell? Don't you think you should be able to recognize your own grandparents?"
"Well, when I knew 'em, they were old," he said in defense. Since she was still holding the picture out, he took it and looked at it closer, sighing. "Yeah," he said quietly. "That's them. My dad's parents... Adam and Josephine Ford."
Kate leaned over his arm, examining it more closely. "Wow," she breathed. "You look exactly like your grandpa." She scrutinized Sawyer thoughtfully. "If he had more hair and more stubble, that is."
"That's what they always said... that I took after him. I don't really remember him, though. He died when I was three... That's why my parents got the house."
"The resemblance is amazing," she said again, looking at the black-suited young man in the picture.
She started to riffle through the other photos in the box, pulling out a few at random. "Your grandmother was beautiful."
Flipping over a picture of a group of very young teenage girls with their arms around each other, she read from the back. "Me and the gals after our night in jail."
Sawyer raised his eyebrows. "She was in jail?"
Kate turned the picture back over and examined it more closely, squinting to make out the words on a placard one of the girls was holding. "Equality for women." She smiled in realization, looking at Sawyer. "She was a suffragette."
"What the hell is that?" he asked, looking confused. It sounded like some kind of cult.
"The women's suffrage movement?" Kate asked, looking at him like he was an idiot. "Are you kidding me?"
"Oh," he said, understanding now. "The voting thing?"
"Yeah, the voting thing," Kate echoed him, sarcastically. "She couldn't have been more than fourteen or fifteen," she mused, looking at the picture again.
"Guess my grandpa had a thing for criminals too, then," he said jokingly. But he knew almost instantly that he shouldn't have said it.
Kate glanced down quickly, looking hurt.
Damn it... Would he ever learn to stop putting his foot in his mouth? He sighed.
"It's okay," she said before he could apologize. With the two of them lately, the intention often substituted for the act. She gave him a slight smile, forgiving him.
"You woulda liked her," he said, in a subdued tone. "She had a flair for the dramatic."
Kate listened with interest, waiting for him to go on.
"She always thought she shoulda been a Southern belle, even though she came from a one-room cabin in the foothills of Georgia. And she was determined that neither one of her boys would ever get married, because she wanted to keep 'em both at home to take care of her. When my uncle ran off and married Meg on a whim, she was so upset she threw herself down the well, just to make a statement."
"Are you serious?" Kate asked, concerned.
"Wasn't a very deep well," he said sardonically. "But the whole county came out to watch 'em pull her out. Except Aunt Meg was already there, and she refused to let 'em do it until my grandma would agree to stop bein' such a baby and accept the fact that she wasn't goin' nowhere. She even had a paper lowered down for her to sign, just so she could have it in writing. After that, they were best friends. When my mom married into the family, she was scared to death of both of 'em."
Kate smiled, imagining it all. She looked at Sawyer tenderly.
"They used to tell that story all the time," he said, still lost in memory. Then he looked sad.
"I've forgotten what that's like," Kate said, softly.
"What?" he asked, looking at her.
"Having family," she whispered.
He waited a second, then looked away.
"Me too."
They sat without speaking for a few seconds, thinking about everything they'd lost, and everything they'd never had to begin with.
Kate pulled another picture out of the box, not really paying attention to what she was doing. She looked at the back first, reading aloud. "Tennessee State Fair, 1936 - The day we fell in love." She looked at the front again, wistfully. Then she froze for a second, her expression changing to shock. "Oh my God," she said quietly, bringing the print closer to her eyes, trying to catch the faint light from the window.
"What?" Sawyer asked, a little worried. What was there in a seventy-year-old picture that could make her look that disturbed?
She continued to stare at it for a few seconds, but then looked up, shaking her head in wonder. "You aren't gonna believe this." She passed the photograph over to him. "Look what she's wearing," Kate said in awe.
He looked, at first not understanding. It was a dress. So what? But it did look strangely familiar. Then it registered in a flash that this was THE dress... the one Kate had worn every other day for the first few weeks she'd been here. He felt unaccountably spooked.
Kate seemed to be having a different reaction, however. She looked almost dreamy. "That was the dress I was wearing the first time we..." she stopped, clearly unsure which phrase to use in this situation.
"First time we what?" he asked with a cocky grin, momentarily forgetting how eerie this was.
She narrowed her eyes at him, grabbing the picture back out of his hand. "You know what I mean."
He thought about it some more, feeling increasingly disturbed.
"Don't you think it's romantic?" Kate asked. "What? Why do you look so freaked out?"
With reluctance, he said, "I was just wonderin'... If you have sex with someone wearin' your grandma's clothes, isn't that kinda like havin' sex with your grandma?" He looked vaguely disgusted.
Kate reached over and thumped him on the chest, her sentimental vision shattered. "Do you have to spoil everything?"
Then she smiled at him, replacing the picture in the box and standing up. She put it back in the trunk and closed the lid. Lifting the pile of fabric, she said to him, "I'm gonna go find some scissors... see what I can do with this stuff. You keep looking. It'll be dark in a few hours," she added, raising her eyebrows.
"Where are we goin' on this big night out, anyway?"
"I don't know," she replied. "That's the fun part, isn't it? We'll just... see where we end up." They gazed at each other for a few more seconds, and he marveled at how much she looked like a kid. Her excitement was infectious, and he found himself anticipating the coming of night in spite of his earlier fears.
"Come on, Gus!" she called as she started down the stairs. The puppy trotted happily after her, his head and ears covered in cobwebs.
Sawyer watched them go, allowing himself, for a few moments at least, to dwell on what he did have, rather than on what he'd lost.
