Devotion Page 7

  Katherine will never guess what the money is truly for. And when she finds out, her expression will bring me far too much delight. The truth will crush her spirits as she realizes how terrible a wife she really is.

  I'm working a longstanding mistrust against her and have Peter to thank for what happens next. I'd heard all about the terrible things he did. Apparently, one night, when he had run out of money gambling, he stole all of Katherine's jewelry to pawn for fast cash. He was already deep in the hole for a few thousand to some shady people around town and thought he could claw his way out. Not only did he lose that cash, but he then asked Katherine if she could dig into her savings account for a few hundred dollars he claimed he needed for a cousin in Portland.

  Even when Katherine found out the sad but predictable truth, she still didn't end her worthless relationship with her ex. If she hadn't have fallen pregnant with Ava, she'd still be with Peter, losing every cent she had to his gambling addiction.

  It makes me wonder how far I must take things before she finally cracks.

  23

  Katherine

  I know what I saw. There's no denying it. Corey's hiding money from me. All I can ask myself is why? Before we got married, we had already opened a joint account together and told each other our financial history. He knows about all the troubles I had with Peter and how bad he ruined my credit rating. Keeping cash hidden is the last thing anyone should do around me. Yet here I am, scared and confused.

  Corey and I went through a dozen boxes, unpacking and sorting their contents as best we could for several hours. The entire time, my eyes were fixated on the box where Corey had concealed the wad of cash. He eventually placed the box up on a shelf at the back of the garage. He'd even tried to tuck it away behind some motor oil bottles to make it seem like the carton had been there all along.

  "Is everything okay?" he asked several times as we worked. I gave him whatever lines I could think of to avoid blurting out what I knew. I didn't want to accuse him of anything, but in the same breath I should have demanded to learn what he was up to.

  Corey might have a legitimate reason for hiding money away from me. I know though that I'm only trying to dodge an inevitable confrontation by not asking him. We have an agreement. If either of us needs to purchase something, we have to discuss it first.

  We stick to a strict budget to keep the household going strong. Our goal is to save up as much as possible to buy a house here in Battery Beach. There is only so long we can go on renting homes in the area.

  Housing in the town isn't as affordable as it could be. And the closer to the water a property is, the steeper the asking price. We're not after some mansion by the ocean, but we don't want to buy anything too far out of the main area just so we can secure a cheap house. After all, this region is where I want Ava to grow up. We need a solid base to work from if we ever hope to settle down.

  The rest of our day went by as usual. I struggled to be as normal as possible under the circumstances, but it was clear something was bothering me. Corey tried several times to get me talking, but I kept telling him I wasn't feeling the best.

  "Maybe you should go to bed soon? Grab a good night's sleep," he said.

  I took up his suggestion to avoid having to broach the subject of the hidden money and went to bed early after putting Ava down. On a normal Sunday night, I often stayed up late trying to fend off the week ahead.

  With a bag of rocks in my stomach weighing me down, I lay in bed, staring aimlessly at my phone to distract myself with Facebook. Normally, this rabbit hole of randomness kills the time and pulls my concentration away from my problems. All I can see though is the money being shoved into that box in a hurry. What is it for?

  My school day passed by in a blur. For a Monday, it's not the worst time I've ever spent teaching. The kids were often at their craziest on a Monday morning or a Friday afternoon. Maybe I wasn't paying attention to them the way I should have been, but I couldn't help letting my frustrating thoughts seep in.

  Corey drove Ava and I home as he always did. We went about our routine like clockwork until it was time for Corey to go to the Monday night poker game at his friend Dan's house.

  They arrange the game on a Facebook group I was not a member of, so I didn't have to hear a word about it. He knew my history with Peter. Corey talks about the night in such a way to spare my feelings.

  "I'll be back from Dan's around eleven. Don't wait up for me the way you always do."

  "Why not?" I ask.

  "Because you need your sleep. I can tell something is still off with you. We've hardly spoken today. In fact, maybe I shouldn't go."

  "No, don't cancel your plans because of me. I'm just tired and worn down. I'll be fine, okay?"

  Corey chuckles. "Got it. You know me, though. I won't be able to help myself. Don't be surprised if I send you multiple texts throughout the evening."

  I wrap my arms around him and lean my head against his chest. "That's because you're a good husband." I feel like I'm trying to beam the thought into his brain so he does the right thing and tells me about the money.

  "I try," he says as he kisses me on the forehead.

  "You better get going," I mumble.

  "Yeah, they'll be starting up soon and it's my turn to bring the snacks."

  I flash a quick smile at Corey and try not to let him see the concern wrinkling my brow. I don't want to ruin his poker night because I caught him hiding some cash away. Maybe he put it there to buy me a present for my birthday? It's possible he didn't want me to know how much he'd spent or where it was from.

  "Have a nice rest," he says as he heads for the door.

  "Have a good time."

  "Thanks, honey. Oh, I just remembered: don't look at our bank statement online until after your birthday. There might be a little something bought for a certain someone's special day." He smiles at me as he scoops up his car keys.

  "Okay, I won't," I reply.

  "You better not," he says with a chuckle. "I've got a few fun things coming in the mail, so don't open anything this week unless you want the surprise ruined."

  I don't respond and return his happy expression as best I can.

  "I'll see you later," he says as the door swings closed. The second the lock catches, I let out my breath. A tightness wraps itself around my chest and squeezes. A sting of pain stabs at my forehead moments before a bead of sweat pokes through my pores.

  "Calm down," I tell myself. "Everything will be fine."

  I distract the damn anxiety that is minutes away from burrowing deep into my brain by looking at Corey's car through the curtains. He backs out of the drive and rolls into the darkness. He's gone.

  I almost drop my cell as I draw it from my handbag. With shaking fingers, I unlock the screen and get to work logging into our bank account online. I screw up the password three times and have to wait a few minutes before being able to attempt another login.

  "Stop it," I mutter. "Pull yourself together." I shake my head, embarrassed by how insane I must sound to anyone else. I just need to confirm the money Corey is hiding came from our bank account, then I can regain some focus.

  After taking a moment to collect myself, I enter the password correctly. I soon rush through to the right account faster than I should be and wait for the page to load up a list of our recent transactions.

  "Come on, come on," I say to myself. Our Internet connection has been an issue from the day we moved in. It only adds another layer of hell to my problem.

  "Finally," I say as the site finishes loading. My eyes scan the statement and see the usual purchases listed. Groceries, utility bills. Several transactions from Vegas stick out, but I'm looking for a cash withdrawal from our joint account that can explain the wad Corey so elegantly hid away. I find nothing. Did he win the money on our honeymoon and didn't want me to learn about it? In hindsight, Vegas was a terrible location for a honeymoon but the deal the hotel offered was too good to pass up. I know that can't be it. We were together the wh
ole time.

  "This isn't right," I mutter. "Where is it?" I scroll up and down again and again. We rarely get cash out more than once per month, so there's no way I could miss anything. I soon find a transaction that confirms what Corey was telling me about my gift. A purchase from Amazon stares back at me on the screen. It's dated for yesterday. I haven't ordered a single thing from the site in a few weeks. This has to be from Corey buying me a birthday present.

  So where did he get the money from?

  24

  Katherine

  I try to relax and have a nice evening, but my crazy mind won't let me. That would be too simple. The Amazon transaction flashes through my brain on repeat, mocking me. All I want to do is log into our account and see what the charge is for, but I recognize that would be a huge mistake. If I get caught, Corey will feel cheated that I went snooping around for my gift. But the truth is, I don't care what he's bought me. I just have to know what that damn money he's hiding is for.

  There's only one other thing left for me to do before I ruin Corey's present while simultaneously driving myself off the deep end: I need to check the box in the garage. Not only to prove to myself that the money exists, but to count it and attempt to work out what it might be for. It's the only way I'll be able to allow myself to calm the hell down and not assume the worst about my husband.

  Moving down the corridor with a purpose, I quickly turn toward Ava's room to check on her. I find the little sweetheart sound asleep in an awkward twisted position. I tuck her in as a grin overtakes the frowning muscles in my forehead. No one else in this world brings me back from the brink of a meltdown faster than my daughter.

  Once I finish pulling her blankets up to her chest, I brush her hair out of her face. She doesn't stir and continues to breathe at a steady calming pace. Some days I wish I could trade places with her. To be that young and carefree would be such a blessing. I only want to be able to clear my head at the end of a long day of irrational thoughts.

  Satisfied Ava is okay, I walk out the front door and gently close it behind me in case she wakes up and thinks I've left. I can't have her running into the street because I'm too stupid to let go of my obsessive thoughts.

  The cold air hangs on my warm breath as I approach the garage wearing a coat over my thin layers. I fumble with my keys as I try to open the side door and get inside the freezing detached room. When Corey and I buy our own place, the house has to have a connected garage. That's assuming our relationship survives whatever has been going on lately.

  I grab the handle of the garage door and hold up my keys. They slip from my nervous fingers and fall to the concrete footpath, clattering about in a frustrating mess.

  "Dammit," I whisper while squeezing my fists. I scoop up my keys and try to get a solid grip on them. With two hands, I jiggle the key into the tumbler and unlock the door. What am I doing?

  I can't help but feel like a hypocrite for being this upset over Corey hiding money. I did the same thing with Peter, stashing small amounts of my wage around the house so I'd have enough funds to put gas in my car or buy toilet paper. The two situations don't compare, but the voice in the back of my head won't let me think otherwise.

  Flicking on the dull light to the garage, I wait for the dusty energy-efficient bulb to warm up and provide me with some visibility in the dark space. During these few seconds, I see demons dancing in the shadows, filling my heart with enough anxiety to sink a ship.

  I do what little I can to pull myself together and focus. The money needs to be found if I want any hope of sleeping a wink tonight despite the overwhelming sense I'm betraying Corey's trust.

  I creep across the cracked and stained concrete to a carton up on a shelf in the corner I know Corey placed there yesterday.

  The container is behind some old bottles of motor oil we'll never use. It's not in the most accessible place within the garage. I'm forced to pass around a pile of unorganized gardening equipment so I can bring the box down. Not being as tall as Corey makes the task all that bit harder.

  My fingertips brush against the outer flap of the carton as I extend my reach as much as it will go. "Come on, dammit." I grab the cardboard's edge between my index and middle fingers, establishing the world's weakest grip on the container. But it's enough to slide the light object toward me. "A little further," I say to encourage myself. My eyes close so I can dig deep and stretch out as far as possible until the box slips over the side of the shelf and tumbles down, hitting my head.

  "Dammit," I yell, bringing my hands to my face. I feel around for blood and find nothing, swearing the edge of the cardboard felt like a knife. I'm such an idiot. Dusting off what's left of my pride, I bend down to retrieve the box so I can search for the money inside.

  "What are you doing?" Corey asks.

  I almost fall over as my feet buckle while my body spins around. Corey stands in the doorway staring at me, his hand gripping the handle tight.

  "Uh, I'm looking for something I need for school."

  He steps into the garage and crosses his arms over his chest. "Is that right? Tell me. What are you searching for? Because I thought we got out everything we both needed for work."

  "Um," I say. I don't do most things well under pressure, so lying to my husband's face won't help. There's little choice but to hit him with the truth. "Why are you hiding money from me?" I ask with closed eyes and slowly open them to see his response. He hasn't moved an inch. Instead, he remains in the same position looking more and more angry as each agonizing second passes us by.

  Corey stays silent as he ambles toward me. I feel every vein in my body freeze as the blood drains from my soul. What is he doing?

  "I can't believe you're forcing me to do this," he says.

  "Forcing you to do what?" I rear up a step as he continues on a straight path in my direction. He won't hurt me, will he? This is Corey. I've never seen him so much as squash a bug.

  "You've ruined everything, you know that? I can't understand how it's come to this."

  "Come to what?" I ask as I feel the shelf ram into my spine. Corey is less than a foot from my face, still staring at me like I just kicked his childhood pet in front of him.

  He exhales out of his flared nostrils and bends down to the box, picking it up with one hand. Without breaking eye contact, he digs around inside the carton and pulls out the wad of cash. I don't know whether to feel relieved to know it exists or if I'm supposed to let guilt take hold for being caught looking for it. I go with my only option. "Why do you have this?"

  "Why do you think?" he asks, jutting the notes into the limited space between us.

  I respond with a slow shrug as I do what I can to stop his eyes from dominating me into submission.

  "You're really going to make me say it, aren't you? God, why can't you ever leave things alone? You always have to know everything."

  "What are you talking about? What's this money for?"

  "It's for your birthday, okay. Annette gave it to me so we could buy you something decent as a joint present. That thing on Amazon was to throw you off the scent. This is her half of the money I was going to put into our account after I purchased your gift this week. I couldn't do that without you knowing about it, so I had no choice but to stash it away for a few days."

  My body slumps.

  "Happy?"

  "No," I reply. "Of course not. I'm so sorry, baby. I didn't mean to ruin things."

  "It's too late now, isn't it?" He shoves the cash into my chest. "You might as well give that back to Annette. You can explain to her why you felt the need to screw up your own birthday."

  I almost drop the money, not wanting it. “I will. I'll ring her now.”

  Corey storms off as I try to secure the slipping notes. "Baby, wait. I didn't mean to—"

  The door to the garage slams shut before I get in another word. I'm left standing in the cold, holding money that was never meant for anything dishonest. Corey and I have only been married for a short time and I've broken the trust between
us.

  What have I done?

  25

  I'm stunned. I never expected Katherine to sabotage herself with such efficiency. I got lucky when she saw the cash being stuffed into that box. I imagined all kinds of scenarios I'd have to work up to force her to discover the hidden funds, but it turns out I didn't have to go down that route.

  The money stuck in her mind like a rusty knife. She had to know why it was in the garage and what it was for. She couldn't stop herself from snooping. Today will be interesting to say the least.

  The drive to school flashes by as I can't help the expanding grin that's desperate to spread across my face. I can only picture the intense guilt Katherine must feel as she sits next to me in silence. Ava sings in the back seat, oblivious to it all like the ignorant child she is.

  Katherine tried countless times to apologize at the start of our drive over the money. I played my part to perfection, showing her how hurt I was while giving out a partial understanding. "Peter really worked you over, didn't he?" I related, milking the pain for what it was worth.

  Now there's a brutal quiet between us that only Ava's horrible singing can interrupt.

  We reach the school's parking lot fast. I'm too excited for what lays ahead to contemplate time. I find a spot and leave the engine running for the heat in case Katherine has anything else she wants to say. I've got several replies loaded up to make her feel like crap for what she did. At this point, I'm desperate for her to open her mouth and give me more ammunition to work with.

  "I guess I should get Ava to before-school care," Katherine says.

  "Sure." I've kept my responses short and sharp this morning, hoping they sting. There's nothing worse than talking to someone you've wronged only to receive one- or two-word answers. Sometimes the words a person doesn't utter hurt more than all others.