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Chapter 1
Who knows why people do what they do or how a split-second decision can change a life, or, in my case, several lives. No clue, hint or sixth sense forewarned me of the impending events that day. Or so I thought.
I woke up early Saturday morning, looking forward to a girls’ day out with my best friend, Liz: a day planned to pamper ourselves with haircuts, manicures, pedicures and massages and then finishing with dinner and hours of nonstop catching up and reminiscing.
The sky was dull and gloomy, typical for February in Ohio, with temperatures below freezing and a thick blanket of heavy snow covering the ground. In spite of the cold and depressing weather, my spirits were still high.
My daughters were in the bathroom with me, where I was trying to finish my hair and make-up before dropping them off at my parents’ house for the day. Jenna, who was ten, was helping get my almost three-year old daughter, Mia, ready. I had just sprayed my hair one last time when Aaron, my husband of eleven years, walked in with the collar of his long sleeve white dress shirt straight up and a black and pink striped tie in his hand.
“Can you help me with this?” he asked, looking frustrated by his failed attempts.
“Sure,” I said as I took the tie from his hand and wrapped it around his neck. Crossing one end over the other and then through the loop, I tightened the knot and then neatly laid his collar down. Looking up at him, I couldn’t help but think how handsome he was. Standing at six feet tall, his cute baby face was framed by brown hair, deep blue eyes and two dimples that set off his beautiful white smile. He was an attorney at Turner & Turner Law Firm in town, and I loved when he dressed in his black suit.
“Thank-you so much,” he said, putting on his suit jacket. “Do you want me to drop the girls off at your mom and dad’s on my way to the office?”
“What time is your meeting?”
“In fifteen minutes.”
“No, that’s okay. Liz won’t be here for another half hour, and I’m almost done getting ready.”
“Okay. Do you have any idea what time you’ll get back?”
“I’m guessing around eight o’clock.”
“Sounds good. See you then,” he said, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. “You two have fun spending the night at Grandma and Grandpa’s, and I’ll see you first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Bye Daddy!”
Forty-five minutes later, I pulled back into my driveway after dropping the girls off at my parents to find Liz waiting patiently for me. I parked in the garage and then walked up to her car.
“Sorry,” I said, sitting down in the passenger seat. “Will I ever be on time for anything?”
“Well, since you haven’t been on time once during your thirty-four years of life, I highly doubt you are going to start now,” she smiled.
“Good point. I even bought a book on how to never be late again, but I keep forgetting to read it,” I said.
The spa was in Dayton, a city that was an hour away, which gave us plenty of time to get caught up. Liz and I had been best friends since we were in diapers. We are only fifteen days apart in age and are still as close now as we were in school. Her oldest daughter, Abbey, is the same age as Jenna, and then she has another daughter, Rachael, and twin sons, Jason and Jacob. She was filling me in on how everyone in her family was doing when she brought up Jenna.
“I can’t get over how tall she has gotten.”
“I know. She’s almost as tall as I am. I bet by the time she’s in junior high, I’ll be looking up to her.”
“Kate, you’re only five feet, two inches . . . You look up to everybody.”
“Actually I’m five feet, two inches and A HALF, and on a good hair and shoe day, I’m five feet, four,” I said and she laughed.
We talked a little more about the kids before the subject changed to work. We lived in Versailles, a small rural town, where we both grew up and graduated from high school together. Liz was a guidance counselor there, and she was talking about a new scheduling program they were trying to implement.
“Oh, and before I forget,” she said, her eyes lighting up, “Mrs. Lynn is retiring at the end of the school year. You should apply for her job.”
Mrs. Lynn was our art teacher when we were in high school. She was a fantastic teacher and was the one who inspired me to become an art teacher myself. I taught at Russia School, the same school I started at right after college, and it was only ten minutes from home.
“You know it would be nice to teach in Versailles, but I don’t think I could leave my students.”
“Don’t blame you, but just think of how much fun it would be if we worked together.”
“I know, but I’d be afraid we would get into trouble like we did when we were in school.”
“So true! Well, give it some thought. They just accepted her resignation, and I don’t think they have started interviewing yet.”
“Okay,” I said, leaning back onto the head rest. Looking over, I checked out Liz’s shoulder-length hair, which she would either wear straight or curly, depending on her mood that day. At one time, she had colored it dark brown, which made her blues eyes really stand out, but she has been blondish-brown for awhile now. My hair style, on the other hand, had been the same forever—shoulder-length blonde bob.
“This cold weather has really put me in a blah mood lately,” I sighed. “I’m almost tempted to color my hair dark brown to spice things up a bit.”
She crinkled her nose up at me, obviously not liking my new hairdo idea.
“This winter has been a depressing one, but don’t you think coloring your hair dark, when you have been a blonde your whole life, is a little drastic?”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. I guess I was thinking about it because both Kellie and Kristie colored their hair dark brown and they look great.”
Kellie was my older sister and Kristie was my younger one, and all three of us were blondes, just like our mom.
“I saw Kristie’s hair, and I really like that color on her. I didn’t realize Kellie colored hers too.”
“Yeah, they both dyed their hair around the same time. It was funny because right after that, Dad made a comment about how he USED to have three blonde daughters. Then he looked at me like ‘now don’t you go doing the same thing.’ ”
Knowing my dad, Liz started to laugh. “I can so hear your dad saying that. Well, if you want my personal opinion, I love you as a blonde, and that messy flip thing you do makes you look so young and chic,” she kidded, emphasizing the last word and fluttering her eyelashes.
Our laughter was interrupted by her cell phone.
