Capítulo 39: 39. Chapter 39
At the door, Castle leans in and kisses her good-bye, feeling thoroughly domestic and proud of himself for organizing a play date while they're on vacation.
Kate catches him by the shirt and tugs him back; he can feel Dashiell head-butting him in the thigh. When his wife lets him go, smoothing his shirt back down, she bites her lower lip as if she's. . .ashamed. Or shy. Neither of which is really Kate.
"What's up, kumquat?"
She pokes his sternum for that, but he gets a smile out of her. "Just. You know. I'm a homicide detective. Be careful."
He laughs, but she's not laughing. "Okay," he says, trying to compose his features into something like seriousness. "Right. I'll keep an eye on the wild man."
"And yourself."
Ah. Okay. If she's not there to have his back, partners, then he's vulnerable. Is that it? Yeah, that's it. Six months ago, someone got the drop on her and now she's nervous for him. Maybe for herself as well.
"It's fine; we're fine." Castle turns his head and grabs Dashiell by the back of the neck. "Calm down, kiddo. We're about to go."
Kate pushes on him. "Go, go. Before the wild man breaks out."
"No. Wait a minute, Kate." He's got one hand on Dash, one hand on her, trying to keep from being shoved out the door. "Hey. We're fine. Vickie and Austin and their kids? Just a family enjoying their vacation. Just like us. Nothing will happen."
She nods. "I know. I'm being irrational. It happens. I'll get over it."
He laughs and shakes his head at her, but she seems already past it. So Castle nudges her aside and calls for his daughter.
"Ellery!"
The little girl comes bouncing out of her room with Totoro in one hand and a barbie doll in the other. She waves the barbie at him and bounds over. He scoops her up with a tight squeeze, gives her a raspberry against her neck. She giggles and writhes in his grip, knocking him in the head with her doll.
Castle laughs and drops her back down to the ground; she races off.
"Be good for Mommy," he calls after her.
"Dad-dy," Dashiell whines, tugging on his hand.
"One sec, kiddo. Give me just a minute."
"A minute and a second are NOT the same THING!"
Kate leans over and thumps his ear. "Be respectful of your father. Hush."
Dashiell growls and jerks away, but Kate glares at him, snagging his chin with her fingers. "Not the face, not the face," he grunts.
"Then you be respectful. If you backtalk Daddy, he's bringing you right home. Even with the stitches. You hear me?"
Castle quirks an eyebrow at the boy, and he gets a sullen look on his face, crosses his arms over his chest.
"She asked you a question, Dashiell."
He huffs. Kate lets go of his chin, leans down next to him to whisper something in his ear. Whatever it is, Dashiell's face relaxes, droops. He throws his arms around Kate's neck and whispers something back.
He may ask Kate later what it is she whispers to their son that works so well, or maybe he'll leave it a mystery. When Dash was first born, he remembers Kate whispering to him as a baby - she did the same to Ellery too - and somehow that little connection has persisted. He likes not knowing, likes the magic of it.
Dashiell nuzzles his mother's cheek and hangs on to her neck, even when she lifts up. Kate hugs him tightly, kisses his cheek with a smack that makes Dashiell giggle and groan.
"Ew, Mommy-cooties."
"Ew," she mimics. "Dash-cooties."
"I don't have cooties. Only girls have cooties."
"Girls don't have cooties," Castle interjects, grabbing Dashiell around the waist and tugging him away from his mother. "Girls are great."
"Mommy's great!"
Kate laughs, and Castle is pretty sure now that she's over whatever that was at the door. He tucks Dashiell under his arm like a football and checks his back pocket for his wallet and keys, then leans in and gives Kate another brief kiss. He'd like a few more, but this will have to do.
"See? Don't you want another squirmy thing that thinks you're great but also thinks you have cooties?"
She pinches his ear and narrows her eyes at him. "Go. Before I make you sorry."
"Ow, ow! I'm already sorry." He rubs his ear, hoists Dash up a little, and then heads down the hallway. "It's gonna be harder than I thought to convince your mother about the baby brother, kiddo."
"I heard that, Castle!"
Kate spends the first twenty minutes swimming with Ella latched onto her shoulders in the deep end of the pool. Claire paces her, a pretty good swimmer herself, and they talk haltingly about the girl's school, her brothers, and the last few days of her vacation.
Ella keeps letting go to try the water herself, but Kate grabs her before she can slip under. A few times, she misses, and Ellery comes up spluttering and laughing, reminding Kate of Dashiell's headfirst dives into danger.
Claire takes Ellery back into the shallow end; Kate threatens her within an inch of her life if she leaves for the deep end, then gets out and makes her way to the lounge chairs. Vickie has been holding their spots, laying out and reading - one of Castle's books, she sees - and while Kate isn't sure about this, she's willing to try.
"Thanks for playing and talking with Claire. That's sweet," Vickie says, putting the book on her raised knee.
Kate spreads out her towel, squeezes water out of her hair, and sits down gingerly. "Yeah. I kinda thought. . ." She pauses, studying Vickie's tired face, the lines of perpetual worry and the one brief smile of a moment's peace. So if Vickie needs to chill out on a deck chair and read for an hour or two while her kid with special needs is with his father, then Kate is in no position to comment on the way she parents the daughter.
"You what?" Vickie says, pushing her sunglasses up on her face and looking at Kate.
"I thought Claire and Ella might play better together if I kind of eased them into it," she says, giving the woman back a smile. "Ellery doesn't talk much."
Vickie nods, drops the sunglasses back on her face. Kate reaches into her beach bag and pulls out her own frames, Ray-ban Jackie Ohh sunglasses that Castle bought her last summer. Purple. She has black ones too. One for each kid, he said.
(When did she start letting him buy her two pairs of ridiculously expensive sunglasses? When did she just start accepting these gifts and going along with it?)
"My kids were like that too. Graham especially."
"Your oldest?" she says, wrapping a rubberband around her hair to keep the wet strands off her neck.
"Yeah. He refused to speak until he was three. He could do it - we heard him talk in complete sentences. He just. . .the speech therapist told us he was refusing to speak as a way of controlling his environment."
Control. Oh. . .that makes sense.
"That sounds a lot like Ella," Kate sighs. "Dash talks for her, so why should she? Especially when she knows she can drive me crazy with her silence."
Vickie laughs. "Yeah. That's kids for you."
"Okay, I have to ask-"
Vickie gestures for her to continue.
"Two to three. How was that? I mean, one to two was easy. Seemed easy. But I just can't imagine being outnumbered."
Vickie grins and smooths her palm down her arm. "Yeah, completely different. Having three kids is nothing like two."
"That's what I thought," Kate says, narrowing her eyes as she glances out at the pool. Claire and Ella are splashing through the tidepool area, jumping in and out of the fountains.
"But when I had Claire, Graham was old enough to be a big help. The problem is, Tate just needs so much. So here I had this newborn, and a boy who needs his mommy almost the same amount. And then Graham, poor kid, who needs so little. He sometimes falls through the cracks," Vickie sighs.
Kate winces and rubs a finger over the chapstick on her lips. "I can see how that happens," she says softly. "Just with Dash. . .he needs so much, like you said. His light sensitivity, his sensory stuff-"
"Ella gets less attention," Vickie says knowingly.
"Yeah," Kate admits. "I think sometimes. . .yeah. But Rick is better at it than me."
"The dads always are," Vickie snorts. "Because they worry less."
"Oh no, that's not true." Kate grins and watches Ellery pretend to sit on the fountain. "Rick worries more than I do about the kids. Way more. He tries to act the cool dad, but he wants to be there every second of their lives."
Vickie laughs and runs finger over Castle's picture on the back of the book. "I. . .this is just too surreal, Kate."
Kate grins. "Yeah, I'm sure it is."
"I'm probably gonna have moments where I flail a little here."
Kate knits her brows together and shakes her head. "Flail?"
"Internet, sorry. It just means. . .freak out."
"Oh," Kate murmurs, grinning. "We kind of avoid the internet stuff. The forums, the fan sites."
"Yeah, good idea. I can't imagine. . .oh the stuff we say. Oh wow. Please don't ever get on," Vickie groans and buries her head in her hands. "Don't google yourself."
Kate bites her lip; this is kind of funny. She's never been friends with someone who is as much a fan of Richard Castle as she is. Was. Still is? "We leave that to our daughter," Kate laughs.
Vickie glances up, her eyes going across the pool. "Your daughter?"
Kate slides her knee up and wraps her arms around it. "No, the oldest. Alexis."
"Oh, you mean - that is - yes. Alexis. I - she's. . .his daughter."
"Yes," Kate says with a shrug. She's never felt the need to explain it, and she won't now. Alexis is his daughter, and hers. It's just how it is. She came late to it, and was hesitant about it, but Alexis is hers.
Vickie nods slowly. "Sorry. This is very strange, knowing about your family but not knowing really. I mean. I've posted pictures of you guys at charity events in New York City - the ones from the AP with those amazing dresses, or just. . .oh, this is weird."
Kate leans forward and watches Vickie; the woman isn't that much older than her, has the air of someone who loves to talk. Maybe as much as Lanie. "So, how'd I look?"
Vickie laughs, a kind of breathless thing that belies her nervousness. "Oh, God, you're gorgeous. You must know that."
Kate feels the blush crawling up her chest, turns her head back to the pool. "Well. Thanks. That's. . .I appreciate it."
"Can I. . .the dress you wore last year to the Autism Awareness-"
"Oh," Kate says softly. "I. . .wow. Yes. That was an amazing benefit. Mariska-"
"Oh, no. No. Don't start telling me all the famous people you know, Kate. I will never survive this."
Kate laughs softly. "All right. No names. It was beautiful, and from what I remember, it raised over three million dollars for Autism Speaks."
"Yeah. I remember that."
"I bet you do," Kate says. She goes to those charity events; she was the one to push Castle to be more active in them, but still. It's different to meet someone who lives with a kid who has autism, someone whose life might be affected by the money they raised in the city a year ago. "But the dress?"
Vickie grins again and leans forward, taking the book off her knee and sliding the flap of the cover in as a bookmark. "The dress. It was breathtaking. That royal blue and silver looks damn good on you."
Kate grins and bites her lip. Castle thought so too. "Oh, I loved it too. I still have it, even though his publicist always wrangles the dresses away from me."
"What? Why?" Vickie drops the book next to her chair, grabs her sunblock and starts re-applying. "Why would his publicist want them?"
"Oh, we auction them on Rick's website." Kate feels the blush starting up again, presses a hand to her cheek. She's somehow become this person that Vickie might look at with that awe in her face; she's become famous or rich or something. Something strange. She can't figure out how it happened. "It sounds ridiculous, I know. The money goes to whatever charity it is that we're involved with."
"Oh, actually, that's amazing."
"But I couldn't let go of that dress." Kate grins, shrugs her shoulders. "Rick did write a check to Autism Speaks. . .he guessed a little high, but we covered the dress."
Vickie laughs and claps a hand over her mouth, shaking her head. "Oh, that's so sweet."
"Yeah." Kate rubs at her knee, a rush of warmth and pride. "He's a big. . .goofy mess."
Vickie laughs again and leans back against the chair, dropping the sunblock back into her bag and smoothing some over her chest. "This is. . .too much. All this inside information."
"Well. What about your husband?" Kate says, trying to push this back onto even ground again. If they're friends, and well, they seem to be, then this is what you do, right? Share with the other person about your life. She's just never met someone who knows Castle for his books, his celebrity, before knowing him for himself.
"Oh. He's. . .mine," Vickie says with a laugh. "We were high school sweethearts. Met in middle school, actually. His mom was my English teacher in ninth grade."
"Oh wow, that must've been. . .not so much fun."
"It was interesting. His mom's a nutcase, so you know, must be where Tate gets it from. So I like to say."
Kate grins and thinks she knows something about crazy mother-in-laws.
Now that they've broken the awkward ice between celebrity and regular person, it seems to go much more smoothly. Vickie tells stories about her in-laws, the kids, what it's like living in Arkansas, and Kate tries to share similar things without giving too much up.
She's still an NYPD detective at heart.
The girls run up at one point wanting ice cream, so Vickie and Kate wrap them in towels and gather up their stuff, taking them to the little ice cream soda place next door to the gift shop. Kate sits on a bar stool with Ellery in her lap, dabbing at her chin with a napkin as she lets peanut butter and chocolate chip ice cream melt down her face, off the spoon, licking it recklessly.
Vickie sits on Kate's right, with Claire on her mother's other side and eating a vanilla cone. "Hey, I just wanted to tell you - none of this is going to wind up online, you know?"
Kate glances at Vickie, lips pressed together. "Oh. I. . .thank you. But I figured you wouldn't."
The woman smiles. "I can tell you've been. . .reluctant to share. I understand. I just wanted you to know that I'm not. . .yeah. I just. I get it."
Kate glances at her daughter in her lap, struggles against herself. "It's not that," she says gently. "I'm sure you know what I do. My job."
"Nikki Heat," Vickie laughs.
Kate nods. "Sort of. Yes. It's just. . .Castle and I have run across people who were looking to hurt us, either of us, because of his books, because of my job, because of. . .anything. And not that I think you would. I don't. I just have a hard time being. . .letting anyone know me. My mother. . .my mother was murdered when I was 19 and-"
"Oh," Vickie breathes, a hand falling to Kate's arm and squeezing. "So that's true. Nikki's story is your story? Oh God, I would've hated for someone to write-" She drops off, flushing. "I'm sorry."
"No, actually, he asked. Well, no. He didn't ask. But he warned me. He said Nikki needed an origin story, and I had already told him, and it just. . .it was okay, actually. That he wrote it. It somehow. . .helped. To know that he understood."
"I'm so sorry about your mom. That's terrible. I lost. . .I lost my parents in a car accident when I was twelve. I was raised by an aunt after that. And then she died the day I got to ninth grade."
"Oh. Oh wow," Kate blinks at her. "I. . .I'm. . .What happened to you after that?"
Vickie lifts a half-smile and glances at her daughter; Claire is sitting quietly on the stool, listening to every word. "Austin's parents took me in. And then I married their son. So, you see? They're my family too."
Kate laughs at the grin in Vickie's eyes, the smirk of her lips. "That is truly an amazing story. And now I've got to tell you, just as you were honest with me. If I tell Castle all this, he's going to want to use it. He can't help himself. Are you going to be okay with that?"
Vickie gasps and clutches Kate's arm. "Are you serious?"
"Yeah." Kate rolls her eyes. "He's got this plaque in his office that says 'Be careful. Everything you say can and will be used against you in my novel.' Kind of a play on the miranda rights."
"Ohhh, that's adorable. That's seriously adorable."
"I just wanted to warn you. So while you're promising not to spill all our family secrets on the internet, I'm promising that my husband will spill all of yours in his next book." Kate grins and shrugs. "Is that going to be a problem?"
"Oh my gosh, no. Oh, no! Wait. Don't you dare tell him what I said about my mother-in-law."
"Grandma is crazy," Claire pipes up.
Vickie's eyes widen and she claps a hand over Claire's mouth. "You hush. Oh my goodness. Claire. Oh my word. I've got to shut up. My children are repeating me."
Kate laughs at that and swipes at the ice cream dripping from Ellery's mouth. "I promise not to say anything about Grandma. But Rick has a way of figuring out characters that is seriously uncanny; it might get in there anyway."
"I'm just a little thrilled he might use my story at all."
Kate bites her bottom lip. "I'm not saying he will. I just want to let you know there's a possibility." She glances at Claire, remembers some of his comments about Tate. "The autism stuff too, Vickie. That. . .it could come up. We've hurt people before without meaning to."
"We?" Vickie says, raising an eyebrow.
Kate shrugs. His writing is her. . .well, not hers. But they're partners. And it just. . .they share the blame.
"Well thank you. But really? The more people know about autism, the better off Tate will be. We're not shy about it. We used to joke that we should make up business cards to hand out to people in restaurants and elevators. They'd say, Please excuse us; our son has autism. And yes, this is the best we can do."
Vickie gives a little laugh, but Kate can read the struggle there. The hurt. "I can't imagine. And Rick would never. . .he'd be good about it."
The woman glances over at Kate with shining eyes, part relief and part amusement. "Oh, honey, I own every single book he's ever written. I know he'd be good."
Kate laughs, grinning widely at Vickie's earnest and proud look. "I do too. Own every book. Before I even met him."
They share a secret, fangirl smile, and Kate startles when she feels cold trickling down her leg.
"Ella," she groans, and wipes ice cream from her thigh. "Baby, eat over the dish."
"Cold," Ellery shivers, wriggling in Kate's lap.
"Okay, but sit up and eat, Ella-bean."
When Kate gets Ellery to sit still and eat, she glances over at Vickie but the woman is having a conversation with her daughter about dinner, or maybe reassuring her that Tate will get dinner, it's hard to follow. But that moment of strange fanhood is gone.
Better this way though. It's just too bizarre to. . .flail? right? flail. . .over Richard Castle.
Oh my. Just. No.
That's private.
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