"Tomorrow? We're just having spaghetti."
"Great. I'll bring some wine." Obviously considering the matter settled, he tugged her out of the doorway. "We'd better go down and clean up."
She wasn't sure when she'd lost her footing, or why it seemed so impossible to refuse. He'd boxed her in, Zoe realized as she scrubbed up for lunch. There was no question about that, but he'd done it so neatly the lid was on before she'd seen it coming.
Besides, that was tomorrow. She had enough to worry about today without getting worked up about a plate of spaghetti.
It might have been a work in progress, but the kitchen was the best gathering place. A sheet of plywood on two sawhorses served as a table, and there were buckets and ladders for chairs.
Dana scooted a bucket over to her. "Is that peanut butter and jelly?" she demanded, eyeing the sandwich Zoe had unwrapped. "Chunky peanut butter and grape jelly?"
"Yeah." Zoe started to lift one of the triangular halves to her mouth, and noted Dana practically salivating for it. "You want it?"
"It's been much too long since I had a good pb and j. Half of yours for half my ham and swiss on rye."
They made the exchange, then Dana took a test bite. "Excellent," she said around a mouthful. "Nobody makes these like a mom. So, are you going to tell us what's going on, or do you want to eat first?"
Zoe glanced up, then shifted her gaze around the room. Everyone was watching her. Waiting. "Am I wearing a sign?"
"Might as well be." Malory dipped a spoon into her carton of yogurt. "You looked upset when you came in this morning, but more like you were trying not to look upset. Then you shot straight upstairs. Plus you haven't said anything about how the kitchen looks now that it's painted."
"It looks great. I meant to tell you." Never easy with being the center of attention, Zoe tore her half sandwich in two. "And I wanted to wait until everybody was taking a break before telling you what happened last night."
"We're taking a break now." Dana rubbed a hand over Zoe's thigh. "What gives?"
She took her time in the telling, wanting to make it clear, wanting to be sure she didn't leave out any details. "It was different than it was with you. With everybody here who's had an experience with Kane. Even different than what happened to us here in the house, the first month."
"Did you know it was him?" Jordan asked her.
"That's the thing. I never stayed in any one of the three… places"—she supposed she should call them that—"long enough to feel it. And I don't think I pulled myself out, the way some of you were able to. There wasn't time for that. It was more like being somewhere, then closing your eyes for a second and being somewhere else."
"Let's take them one at a time." Flynn had already pulled out a notebook. "Swinging in a hammock." He tapped the page. "Were you in your yard?"
"No. I don't have a hammock. I've never actually lain around in a hammock in the shade with a pitcher of lemonade and a book. Who has the time? It'd be nice, and I was thinking about not having much breathing room over the next few weeks, then, pop, I'm swinging in a hammock and drinking lemonade."
She frowned, and didn't notice the narrowed look from Brad. "I don't know where I was. I don't think it mattered, that's what I've figured out thinking it over. It didn't matter where the stupid hammock was, it was just symbolic of having nothing to do for an afternoon. Or, I guess, as long as I wanted to have nothing to do."
"I think you're right," Malory agreed. "He clicks into fantasies, lets us get a look at them, experience them. Mine, being an artist and married to Flynn. The perfect house, the perfect life." She gestured across the table. "Dana's, being alone on a tropical island without a care in the world. And for you, a lazy afternoon."
"Pretty pitiful fantasy, compared to yours." But Zoe smiled, relieved that her conclusion seemed valid.
"But he yanked you out of it, instead of giving you time to wallow," Jordan pointed out. "Maybe he didn't want to give you the chance to see it as false. Just give you a quick taste, then move on. A new strategy."
"I think that's part of it. But, well, take the second part. That was my mother's trailer, and God knows I swept up plenty in there. I recognized the way it looked, smelled, the way my brother and sister were arguing outside. But I don't know how old I was. Was I the way I am now? Was I a kid? Somewhere between?"
Thoughtfully, she shook her head. "What I mean is, I didn't get a sense of myself, just the heat and the fatigue and the annoyance of it all. I just felt like this is all I ever do, clean up around this place, mind the children, and I'm so tired of it. I felt, you could say, particularly put upon and bitchy. I think it's sort of symbolic, too."
"Being trapped in a loop," Brad supplied. "Always doing what needs to be done, and for somebody else, and never seeing an end to it."
"Yes. Mama did her best, and she needed me to help out. But you get to feeling trapped. You get so you feel it's not going to get any better, no matter what you do."
"So you can lie around in a hammock and enjoy life, or you can sweat and run the same loop over and over." Dana pursed her lips as she considered. "But those aren't the only choices. It's not that cut and dried. You've proven that yourself."
"Some people might look at my life and think I'm just running a different loop now. I don't feel like that, but it could seem that way. Then there's the third part."
"He wanted to scare you," Malory said.
"Oh, yeah, and boy, mission accomplished. It was cold, and I was alone. It wasn't one of those pretty wonderland snows. It was vicious and mean, the kind that kills you. And I was so tired, the baby so heavy inside me. I just wanted to lie down somewhere and rest, but I knew I couldn't. I'd die if I did, and if I died, the baby died."