Coming Home To You (Man From Yesterday 1)

by Barbara Lohr

  Staring down at the lake, Cole resembled a brooding Heathcliff. “Back home for a while?”

  “Right. To see my mom.” To regain my sanity. Following his eyes, Kate felt her shoulders relax. No way you could watch the waves on Lake Michigan and not feel peaceful. Why tear the guy’s head off just because her own life was in shambles? “Sorry if I came on strong, Cole. Mercedes didn’t mention anything to me about selling the house. It’s premature to say the least, and I’ll talk to her for clarification.”

  “Clarification.” Business speak. Kate had heard enough it of to last a lifetime.

  “Good parcel of land here. Five lots?” His eyes resumed their roving.

  “Yes, but they are not for sale.” Tearing her eyes from the waves breaking below, Kate looked pointedly at the dog’s mess.

  “I'll clean it up, okay?” Cole walked toward his truck with a confident stride that took her back to high school. She’d trail down the halls behind him, keeping a worshipful distance. If she closed her eyes, she could smell Gull Harbor High School – the books, the gym clothes wadded in lockers, the bubble gum stuck under desks.

  The clatter of tools as Cole rummaged through the back of his truck razored Kate’s nerves. “Don’t bother. I'll get it.”

  Head rearing up, Cole opened his mouth and then snapped shut. “Right.” Jumping down like he was still eighteen, he slammed the back gate of his truck. When he yanked open the passenger door, Prissy leapt up onto the seat.

  Pulling her phone out, Kate pretended to check her texts. Glancing up, she ran smack into those eyes. Cole hadn’t given up.

  “Some of the old-timers are selling. They're pleased with their decision. The recession is easing, and boomers are looking for updated summer homes. Just thought I’d mention that.”

  She’d forgotten the soft burr of his voice. Kate scrubbed the traitorous goose bumps on her arms, grateful for long sleeves. “Not. For. Sale.”

  Slamming his door shut, Cole started the engine and put the truck in gear. Prissy rested her chin on the open window and sniffed the air. “If you change your mind, give me a call.” Reaching over his Great Dane, Cole extended a business card. “Good to see you, Kate.”

  Kate shoved the card into her pocket.

  The man had a lot of nerve. Irritation hummed in her brain. She definitely had to talk to Mercedes, but Cole’s receding truck sucked the anger right out of her. Robins chirped in the trees and the spring breeze soothed her. Grabbing the groceries from her trunk, she marched toward the house.

  Although it needed painting, the white-sided cottage was pretty much the way it had always been. Faded blue shutters framed the windows, although the blue back door and window boxes needed painting. Kate held the squeaky screen door open with one knee while she fumbled with her keys and finally pushed the door open.

  Inside, stale air greeted her. She swung the plastic bags up onto the counter. If Kate closed her eyes, she could almost smell her mother's apple crisp or the beef brisket.

  White eyelet curtains sagged at the windows and needed laundering. Walking slowly over the hardwood floors Kate’s dad had refinished, she entered the cool silence of the main room. Beyond the long table, a living room spanned the front of the house with bookshelves covering one wall and a fireplace at the other. Even in the half-light, she recognized each piece of furniture under the drop cloths.

  When she opened the plantation shutters over the front windows, fading sunlight seeped into the room. After yanking off the white cloths, Kate balled them in her arms and chucked them in a corner. Later she’d tidy up. Now she only wanted to see the lawn-striped overstuffed chairs and the blue sofa that sagged in the middle.

  French doors opened onto a porch that ran the length of the living room, but Kate took the steps to the second floor. Under a threadbare runner, the stairs squeaked. At the top was Mercedes' room. Nothing had changed. Her popular sister had never taken down the crumbling prom corsages pinned to her bulletin board or her cheerleading letters. Pictures of Mercedes with her friends formed a colorful collage, with Kate’s sister in the center of each group.

  Next was Kate’s room, slightly smaller but very cozy. Her father had built bookshelves for her when she was in grade school. Tossing back beers while he worked, he’d nearly lost a hand to a buzz saw. Books still crammed the shelves, accenting the off-kilter angle of the wooden slats.

  Kate hesitated before going into her mother's room. The four-poster bed faced the front windows, the best view in the house. From here, Kate could look see the beach where she’d spent endless summer days. Sandals tossed into the dune grass, she’d shake out her towel and settle into the afternoon heat after slathering herself with coconut suntan lotion. In their early teens, Kate and Mercedes struck casual poses, angling for the attention of the boys tossing a frisbee in the shallow water, as if they didn't see the Kennedy sisters.

  And they probably never did see Kate. It had always been Mercedes and her platinum blond hair they ogled, making fools of themselves to get her attention.

  It didn't take Kate long to haul her luggage into the house. Lugging her suitcase upstairs, she plopped it down on the window seat and collapsed across the chenille spread on her bed. Just a few minutes. That's all she needed.

  The next morning she made a list while sipping coffee in the kitchen.

  At the top of the list was “Call Mercedes.” But first she needed more information about her mother’s situation so she could update her older sister. She had to talk to Marianne and Lisa at the care center. And after that? “Run into Cole again.” Did she want some answers…or did she just want to see him again?

  Chapter 4

  Cole waited for his daughter. Water dripped from the umbrella down his back. A jacket would have been a good idea. Finally, the bus pulled around the corner. Maybe he’d be able to get some work done after all. Diesel fuel cut the damp air when the vehicle came to a stop. With a whoosh, the doors opened and Natalie sprang out.

  “Afternoon, Cole.” Myra gave a wave.

  “Hi, Myra.” Had her hair been that red in high school?

  Book bag in her arms, Natalie charged up Lake Shore Road ahead of him and the bus pulled away.

  “Hold up, Nat. You’ll get wet.”

  A gust caught her blonde hair when she turned. “Come on, Dad. I’m freezing.”

  They’d reached the driveway, and she galloped up the lane, hitting every puddle smack on with her tall yellow boots.

  “Hey, watch it.” Cole jumped into the next puddle with both feet, loving the way she squealed and laughed up at him.

  She was going to be beautiful. Like her mother.

  He was in for big trouble. “Wipe your feet on the mat.”

  Once they’d both scraped the mud off their shoes, Cole opened the door.

  His daughter pushed past him, chomping on gum. “Where’s your jacket, Dad? Don’t you always tell me to wear a coat?”

  “You look like a chipmunk, chewing like that. What if you get gum caught in your hair again?”

  “Dad. I was four when that happened.” She threw her bag onto the sofa. Prissy was batting her head against the kennel door, and Nat rushed to let her out. “Don’t you think Prissy could be left alone when you go to the bus stop?”

  “Nope. I don’t. I’ve had to replace those door frames more times than I care to remember. She just eats right through them when we’re out of sight, trying to get to us.”

  “Why don’t you give her the medicine?” Natalie was scratching behind Prissy’s ears in return for slobbery kisses. “The vet said the pills would help.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t like the idea of doping her up. All she wants to do is sleep when I give her that stuff.”

  “Poor Prissy,” Natalie crooned.

  “How was school today?” Good day for a fire. Cole started to stack logs in the fireplace his father had built. His mom always told him how she missed the fireplace now that they’d retired to Naples, Florida.

  Natalie slipped off her
yellow windbreaker and hung it on the coat rack. “Fine, I guess.”

  “No detentions? No trips to the principal’s office?” He turned on the gas and flicked the starter. The newspapers flared to life under the logs.

  “Dad. That’s so yesterday.” She shook her head in exasperation.

  So much for fatherly communication. The thought of puberty terrified him. “Hungry? Picked something up for you today.”

  Natalie put both hands on her hips. “Don't tell me. You got me another smiley cookie.”

  He gave a short laugh. “So that’s a crime?”

  Groaning, she rolled her eyes. “Dad, how many times have I told you I'm not a little kid?”

  He handed her a tissue. Big sigh, but she got rid of the gum, foot stomping on the trash can pedal like she was giving it gas. In a few years she’d be driving. The thought gave him chills.

  “But I thought you liked cookies.” Lord Almighty, this was frustrating. He came home early so he could meet her bus, but he had to bring his work with him. He had to find a babysitter. Time was money, especially now. And this was the kind of grief she gave him?

  But she didn’t have a mother to wait for her. Not really. That sad truth made him clamp down on his tongue. He opened the bag and reached for a plate. Prissy bumped her wet nose against his thigh and sniffed the air. “Not for you, girl. Beside, you’re in the dog house.”

  Hearing his tone, Prissy backed away, like I really wasn’t going to try, Cole.

  “What did she do?” Natalie slid onto a stool.

  “Left a mess on a friend’s lawn.”

  His daughter snorted. “Not much of a friend if he minds that, I’d say.”

  He let the assumption slide. “Maybe.” Kate Kennedy may have dyed her hair, but she sure hadn’t changed that independent attitude. Made him smile.

  Prissy laid her head in Natalie’s lap. “Were you a bad girl today? I don’t believe it. I think Dad’s telling stories again.” What a pair. Natalie paid more attention to the dog than to her own father.

  “So I should eat that cookie myself?”

  “No!” Natalie yelped. She grabbed the cookie and began to munch.

  Cole poured a glass of milk. He should tell her to wash her hands after she touched the dog. But sometimes it was better if he just didn’t say anything. He pretended he didn’t see her slip chunks of cookie to the dog.

  ~~

  “Francesca should leave that boring husband and go off with Robert Kincaid. You only live once.”

  Phoebe sure spoke her mind. Kate would have laughed but she was a visitor at Sarah’s book club. Snugging her knees to her chest, she sipped her chardonnay and listened. “Bridges of Madison County” had always been a favorite.

  Maybe she’d learn something. No way was she an expert on relationships.

  “Oh, no, Phoebe.” Chili shook her long, dark curls. A little plumper than in high school, she was still gorgeous with those fiery brown eyes. “Why would she leave Richard? He brought her to this country from Europe after the war!” Chili’s grandparents had fled Cuba in the 60s.

  Kate grabbed a potato chip and dug into the cucumber dip. Had she forgotten to eat dinner again? The wine made her mellow. The past week had been filled with scrubbing, from the kitchen counters to the baseboards in the living room. She was her mother’s daughter. Then she’d taken on the outside. Her back ached, and her hands had blisters from raking. Along with the chores, she continued to write pieces for the healthcare blogs and visited her mother every day. Tried to keep Mercedes updated. Exhausting.

  “But wouldn't Richard understand?” Diana Palmer owned a shop at the end of Whittaker Street, or so Sarah had told her. Dressed in a blue tie-dyed skirt and tank top, she played with her long blonde braid.

  Cheeks burning from the wine, Kate tugged at the neck of her Irish knit sweater. Why had she worn this thing? Made her feel like she’d dragged Boston back to the beach with her.

  “After all, Robert seems like a rational man,” Diana continued. “Couldn't they have joint custody of the children?”

  “He's a farmer! A man of the soil,” exploded Chili. “If Francesca leaves with Robert, they move from country to country, no? Que lastima! What Richard and Francesca have is special, raising their family.”

  “Boring,” Phoebe threw in.

  Chili pressed her full lips into a thin line. All through high school, all Chili wanted was to marry Ignacio Rodriguez and have a family. She’d succeeded, and the girl radiated happiness. Chili had found the secret.

  The Amtrak train rattled along the tracks not far from Sarah’s house, its whistle echoing through the night. Kate sat there feeling like the girl who’d missed the train.

  “Right, her family life is so special,” Phoebe continued with a shake of her close cropped head, “that her kids go through all her personal stuff after she’s dead, and guess what? They have no clue who their mother really was.”

  “Let’s keep it down, okay?” Sarah glanced at the stairs leading up to the bedrooms.

  Earlier, Nathan and Justin wandered downstairs with one excuse or another, so cute and cozy that Kate wanted to hug them. But now all was quiet up above and Sarah obviously wanted to keep it that way.

  “Kate, what do you think?” Sarah turned to include her.

  Kate twirled the empty wineglass in her fingers. “Francesca and Robert are characters in a book. This kind of choice doesn’t happen. Not in real life.”

  “You think men and women don’t feel that kind of passion?” Carolyn Knight turned her soft blue eyes to Kate. Carolyn came to Gull Harbor High School to teach sophomore English Kate’s senior year. Kate never got to know her.

  Swallowing the hard lump in her throat, Kate slid her empty glass onto the coffee table. “The book is fiction, right?”

  “But this happens every day.” Sarah patted both hands on her thighs. “A man can be the most important thing in a woman’s life.”

  Kate looked away.

  “You’re romantic, Sarah, and you're thinking about your Jamie,” Phoebe said. “Understandable. After all he's been gone a while. You didn’t have to divorce him to get some peace.”

  The words pierced Kate like a fish hook.

  “Phoebe.” Hoops bobbling, Chili shot Phoebe a warning look.

  Phoebe drained her glass. “What? I’m telling you, so many marriages settle into meatloaf dinners.”

  Kate had never made meatloaf, but she sure had whipped up a lot of eggs and toast for herself. Brian often missed dinner. Always a business meeting somewhere and more billable hours.

  “Maybe sometimes it's quesadillas and not meatloaf,” Chili finally offered with a smile.

  Giggles erupted, easing the tension. These girls didn't pull any punches and Kate was glad she’d come. Sarah poured more wine.

  “Isn't there a difference between sex and passion? What are we talking about here?” Carolyn offered, as if she were leading a class.

  “Francesca and Robert are soulmates.” Chili dove right in. “Doesn't that mean both sex and passion? They're hot for each other, but they want to hang around later.”

  Laughing with the other women, Kate remembered how Brian would jump up to shower after they'd made love.

  “Soulmates. Made for each other.” Sarah’s eyes turned dreamy.

  “Don’t know if I believe in that.” Diana looked like a woman with stories to tell.

  Phoebe took her keys from her purse and set them on the scarred coffee table next to the Fischer Price firemen.

  Kate began stacking the plastic blocks the boys had left scattered on the floor. When she first read “The Bridges of Madison County,” she'd been in high school. Possibilities lay before her. That sure wasn’t her life today. She sympathized with Francesca. A lot.

  Sarah clinked her wedding ring against her glass. “What do we want to read next time?”

  For a few minutes they discussed books, finally agreeing on a classic Agatha Christie mystery. The meeting wasn't for one month. Would Ka
te still be here? She could be back in Boston by then.

  Getting up to leave, Carolyn yawned. “School tomorrow. And trust me, it's not nearly as much fun as this.”

  “Me too. Full day tomorrow. Lots of girls coloring their hair to get rid of the winter blahs.” Phoebe had a hair salon in town.

  After Carolyn and Phoebe left, the others lingered. “I’m in no hurry to get home,” Chili admitted.

  “Ignacio isn't waiting for you?” Sarah threw Chili a wicked smile.

  Chili checked her watch. “I like to wait until he gets the kids in bed.”

  Their comfortable laughter made Kate feel like an outsider.

  “How is your mother doing, Kate?” Chili asked.

  “Doing great. I have a care conference tomorrow with the staff.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Sarah clucked. “Has she run into Marie McGraw? She fell a few days ago and broke her hip.”

  “Marie just about met me at the door. She’s taught my mother how to shop online Way too convenient. A few clicks of the remote have totally changed my mother’s style.” She gave them some details.

  “Your mother’s at the care center?” Diana's eyes sparkled. “So you get to talk to that yummy administrator?”

  “Will seems like a nice guy.”

  Reaching for her purse, Diana laughed. “In a town this small, any single man stands out.”

  “Yes, and you've cornered the market on one of the best.” Chili grinned at Diana, who looked away, a flush feathering her cheeks. “You and Cole make a perfect pair.”

  Kate’s empty stomach lurched. Must be the wine.

  “History. Old news.” Diana played with her braid.

  “Wow. When did that happen?” Phoebe looked amazed.

  “Recently.” Diana lifted a delicate shoulder. “Maybe we weren’t soulmates, but we are friends.”

  “My homecoming surprise was finding Cole Campbell and his dog on our property.” Kate’s stomach didn’t feel as jolly as her tone.

  “Cole’s company is very busy. Lots of plans for Gull Harbor,” Sarah explained, her voice matter-of-fact. “But why was he at Breezy Point?”