Lou scrambled to answer his cell phone when it rang. He had been pacing with it clenched in his hand for the past half hour, worried where Catherine had gone alone in her distress. "Catherine?" he answered, concern flooding his voice.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," her voice came in sobs across the line.
He ignored the needless apologies and focused on her wellbeing. "Where are you?"
"The park. I – I can't make it back." She shuddered as she took another breath. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
He was out the door and behind the wheel as soon as he knew where she was. His mind immediately jumped to the worst conclusions. "Are you hurt? In danger?"
"No."
"Stay where you are. Stay on the line. I'm coming."
All he could do was repeat "It's going to be okay" and "I'm coming" while he heard her sob uncontrollably intermingled with statements of "I'm sorry" over the line. His pulse hastened in fear of what he would find as he raced to the park and scanned the area for her form. The woman on the phone sounded much different than his Catherine – even so much more vulnerable than the woman that had left his house on foot. "Where did her thoughts possibly go in half an hour?" he thought. He moved in the direction of the swing sets as he recalled one of the memories lining his living room was of Lindsey grinning as she was pushed on a swing toward the sky.
He returned his cell phone to his pocket when he found Catherine sitting on a swing, arms wrapped around the chains to hold herself up. Her back was slumped in defeat and shook with sobs. He could hear her mantra of "I'm sorry," continue as he moved closer, her words repeating as if she was apologizing to her daughter for being unable to protect her, unable to save her. Thankfully, it was early enough and the park was fairly empty – she hadn't drawn a crowd. "I'm here, I've got you," he assured, landing on his knees in front of the swing, detangling her arms from the chains, and pulling her to the ground into his arms.
She continued her chants of "I'm sorry" at the air as he desperately tried to hold her together in his arms. His fear lessened now that he had confirmed she was physically safe, yet he felt overwhelmingly unprepared for her emotional state. "The walk was supposed to clear her head, make things better," he thought, "What the hell happened?" Tears trailed down his face as he rocked her, her repeated words piercing his heart, making it bleed for her and her lost daughter.
The 5 minute drive home stretched to an eternity when he couldn't hold her while she cried. He was able to get her to the car when her sobs softened to shudders, yet now driving, all he could do was reach for her shoulder or brush her back when he stopped at a stop sign. Anything to keep her in touch with reality and let her know he was there.
He carried her into the house and maneuvered straight to the bathroom, not knowing what he could do to help her and hoping that a bath would be calming. "I'll run you a bath," he explained, holding her in his arms on the floor while the water came to temperature. He needed to feel like he could do something, anything to help her.
Her tears gradually stopped, yet Catherine kept her head burrowed in his shoulder. "I'm still wearing my sleep shorts," she noted after a few minutes, her voice still muffled from the cloudy haze she had entered. "What else have I missed?" she thought.
He would have laughed had the circumstances been much different. "As if going out in sleep shorts is the worst of her problems," he thought, yet he was relieved that her tears had subsided and he had hope that his Catherine would slowly return. "Yes, honey," he responded, turning off the taps as the tub filled, "let's get you into the bath."
He helped her disrobe and settle into the tub before assuming vigil beside the tub, brushing the top of her head with his fingers. Confident that he was having success calming her, he let his mind drift to fonder memories to calm himself.
The only time she had visited him in Las Vegas had been late May when she had closed the sale of her house. He had originally planned to take her out for a celebratory dinner, yet when she returned to his house, exhaustion dripped with the sweat from her pores. "How about a quiet night in," he had suggested, changing plans on the fly, "a bath, some light dinner, some –"
"Wine," she added, interrupting and pointing at the bag she had left on the counter, "I picked it up on the way over."
"Wine it is. Sound okay?"
"More than. I'll get the bath ready while you get the food," Catherine responded, disappearing into the bedroom.
He took his time slicing and plating cheese and vegetables and pouring a glass of wine for her and iced tea for himself. When he entered the bathroom, he found Catherine in the tub, her head resting against the back with her eyes closed. "Come on in, I'm waiting for you," she said, skimming the top of the water with her fingers.
He set their tray of food on the ledge of the tub before disrobing and sinking into the water next to her. She shifted into the crook of his shoulder and reached for her glass of wine and a piece of cheese. They nibbled for a few minutes in silence before Catherine stated, "Thank you, Lou," and turned to meet him for a kiss.
They lounged until their food and drink was finished and the water had become tepid. Catherine traded nibbling on food for nibbling on Lou's lips and letting her hands wander his muscled back and tight ass. His hands caressed her breasts and stroked her back until he felt the tub digging into his spine and decided they would both be more comfortable in the bedroom.
She whimpered at the loss of his lips and slight chill of the air on her wet body when he pulled her from the tub. He quickly wrapped her in a towel to stifle the chill and led her to bed, where her whimpers would only be of pleasure as they slowly and passionately made love.
"Lou, I'm exhausted," Catherine admitted, her eyes closed as he continued to stroke her hair a half hour later.
He turned to face her, his eyes sweeping across her features, noting they were much more relaxed – the strain had depleted, taking her energy along with it. He leaned in to softly kiss her eyelids, her forehead, her cheeks, as if to check that she was physically intact despite her emotional turmoil. "I'm okay," she whispered, meeting his eyes and catching his lips with hers before he could retreat.
Their definitions of okay differed at the moment, yet they could agree that she was doing much better than before. He cupped her cheek in his palm and looked through her eyes, seeking to connect and hold onto his Catherine. "You scared me," he admitted, mentally adding that scared was a vast understatement for the feelings evoked by the emotions he had witnessed in the past 18 hours.
She glanced away, ashamed. "I scared me," she returned, shaking her head. "I'm not ready to talk yet," she acknowledged, her mind still trying to piece together the chaos of the morning.
He nodded and felt the water with his free hand, noting that it had tempered along with her anguish. "How about we go sit in bed, and I can hold you, and you can try to sleep?"
At her nod, he guided her from the tub, dried her with a towel, and helped her into a fresh t-shirt and shorts. He piled the pillows onto his side of the bed so he could rest sitting up with Catherine laying against his chest. He resumed lazily stroking her hair, hoping the repetitive motion was as soothing for her as it was for him. "You can have Jim come by tomorrow," she said against his chest, "and Gil on Wednesday."
"I can –" he started, but she cut him off.
"It's fine, Lou," she paused, her shame lingering, "I really am sorry."
"I could stand going without those words for a very long time," he thought. "Please don't apologize," he assured her, "I'm here for whatever you need."
Her mind returned to wandering. "I don't think I'm in any shape to go out later," she realized.
Grasping for stress relief, his mind jumped to, "I could find your sleep shorts again," yet he avoided their usual banter given their tumultuous morning. He felt like parsing his words would protect them from a repeat of the morning that he felt responsible for. Regardless, he sure wasn't leaving her alone. "How about I call Nick later this morning. Ask him to help with whatever you need."
She considered the offer, then meandered through her jumbled mental checklist of what needed to be completed. "That will be okay. I need the foam board, the dress for Lindsey," she listed and kept thinking, "Dammit, I didn't bring a dress for myself," her mind wandered for a moment before she landed on what Nick could help with, "Why don't you ask Nick to bring the foam board?"
Lou nodded. "I can pick up the dresses before shift tomorrow. I know you don't want to go out, but maybe you'll want to pick them out on the computer."
"There's something else I need help with."
"Hmmm?"
"The obituary needs to go in today."
"I can work on it while you sleep. Have you take a look when you're ready."
"I started it – it's on my computer."
"Okay."
She thought that was all she needed for now. "Thank you."
She threaded her fingers through his and settled into his chest, slipping into sleep. Lou released a sigh of relief – for the moment, she was at peace.