by Kaitlyn Rice
A movement by the door sent both Isabel and Roger across the kitchen to stop a full-blown cookie-throwing battle. Once the kids were subdued, Roger said goodbye and the four of them headed out the door.
When she found herself alone, Callie munched on a chocolate chip cookie and scrutinized the room again. The entire house had taken shape. Isabel needed to add shelves and finish the walls downstairs, then she’d get the city inspector here to approve the last phases of work. She needed to replace the range and more of the ruined furnishings, but she’d be able to move home very soon.
She could return to her normal life.
Callie didn’t know if she would recognize hers. She’d been in Kansas long enough to feel at home here again. Eight years ago, she had left with Ethan after she’d been accepted into the University of Colorado’s graduate biochemistry program. Ethan had found work with Denver’s police squad. She’d been so excited.
She could hardly remember the big allure. She loved her job, certainly. Her co-workers’ appreciation still surprised her, sometimes. Her townhome was beautiful and Luke thrived under the care of BioLab’s excellent day care staff.
But Callie didn’t get into the Colorado lifestyle as much as others did. Despite her co-workers, some nice neighbors and her son, Denver was lonely without Ethan.
That didn’t matter.
Her research at BioLabs was important. Her lab had been awarded a grant to develop a new drug that would aid in the early detection and treatment of certain forms of ovarian cancer. She couldn’t give that up. In any case, moving here wasn’t an option. Ethan would be too close.
As it was, she’d have to think of an explanation for Isabel to use if Ethan visited her after Callie left with Luke. She hadn’t thought of a thing. All she knew was that she needed to be gone. That her heart was certain to break again. And that Ethan would have made a terrific father.
Isabel returned from walking Roger and the kids to his truck, then reclaimed her spot next to Callie.
“Time for them to go, huh?” Callie asked.
“Mmm-hmm. Roger just brought them by to admire the kitchen. He’s taking them to their mother’s.”
“At least you didn’t get stuck with them.”
Isabel shrugged. “Actually, I’d prefer to keep them around. Taking care of them is a nice break for me.”
Callie nodded. Sometimes, Isabel acted as if she cared as much for the kids as the dad. Or more.
“Oh! I meant to show you something,” Isabel said, crossing toward her basement steps. “Hang on.”
A moment later, she appeared around the corner carrying a green metal toolbox. “Isn’t this Ethan’s?” she asked.
It looked familiar, but a lot of men must own similar boxes. Callie pursed her lips. “Where did you find it?”
“Behind the old kitchen cabinets, downstairs.”
“Then it’s probably his. Ask him next time you see him.”
“He hasn’t been by for a while,” Isabel said.
Callie knew. Lord, she knew. She’d kept telling herself she was glad she hadn’t seen Ethan for a week. That his absence was exactly what she’d wanted.
The fact that she’d missed him wasn’t the point. She’d studied Pavlov. Her interactions with Ethan might have encouraged a hunger for him, but eventually she’d stop craving something she wasn’t rewarded for.
Surely.
“Well, he’ll come soon,” Isabel said. “He shows up most Saturdays, doesn’t he? Maybe tomorrow, he’ll call. I could use help assembling those metal shelves.”
And Callie would stay away.
“Maybe.”
But Saturday came and went, and Ethan didn’t call or come by. The toolbox sat on the floor next to Isabel’s front door. Every time Luke came near it, he’d stop to sit by it and toy with the locks, bang on the lid or drop his pacifier on top.
Callie grew tired of seeing the infernal thing, which brought up too many questions.
Would he come? When? What would happen?
On Wednesday, Callie asked Josie to take the toolbox to Wichita with her when she went to work. Josie refused. She claimed that returning Ethan’s property wasn’t her responsibility. She told Callie that she should take it to him, and also initiate a discussion about the genealogy of an adorable one-year-old boy.
Callie didn’t have the heart to ask Isabel to take it by. The woman was working nonstop, still finishing house details while trying to restart some of her craft work at Josie’s apartment in the evenings.
So the toolbox had remained just inside Isabel’s front door, reminding Callie of how much she wanted to see the man she didn’t want to see.
On the next Saturday, after it had become clear that Ethan wasn’t going to show up again, Callie went to Isabel’s to help. She busied herself helping her sister put clean dishes into cabinets while Luke napped in Isabel’s quiet, newly furnished bedroom.
“I thought I’d take that toolbox to Ethan this evening,” Callie said.
Isabel’s head emerged from behind a crate of pots and pans. “Really?”
“I’d be gone only a short while,” Callie said as she dropped a handful of forks into the drawer. “We’re almost finished here, and I don’t know if he’ll make it back to Augusta before I go home.”
“Well, good,” Isabel said.
“I won’t be telling him about Luke, though. In fact, I hoped you might babysit. Still want that break from cleanup chores?”
“You bet.” Isabel placed their mother’s iron skillet in a low cabinet. “I’ll have a blast with Luke. He usually goes to sleep around eight-thirty, right? And doesn’t he wake up around three in the morning, sometimes?”
Callie sighed as she transferred spoons from a box to the drawer. “I’ll certainly be home by three.”
Isabel had disappeared behind the door again. “I’m not saying you won’t. But if Luke wakes up and you’re not here, I’ll check his diaper or feed him. I’m telling you not to worry. That’s all.”
Stopping her work, Callie stared at the cabinet door until Isabel glanced around it again. “I won’t worry. But I’ll be gone long enough to get there, give the box to Ethan and drive back,” she said.
“I’m sure.” Isabel batted her eyelashes.
Callie should never have told her sisters about that patio escapade. She’d told them only to explain about the blanket Ethan had left outside. She hadn’t given many details. Only that things had gone too far.
She certainly wasn’t heading to Wichita for another make-out session, no matter what Isabel believed.
Moments later, Callie dialed Ethan’s number using Josie’s cell phone, while Josie worked nearby in the basement, humming the tune to an old, sexually suggestive rock song.
“Shh!” Callie hissed as Ethan’s phone rang. “Just keep scrubbing.”
“Hi, Ethan, it’s me,” she said, cringing when Josie broke into verse.
“‘Lo, Callie.” Ethan sounded surprised.
Josie sang louder, so Callie strode up the steps and out to the front porch. “I’m calling to ask what you’re doing tonight.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted her phrasing. Josie’s teasing had flustered her.
“Doing?”
“I think you left your toolbox at Isabel’s,” she explained. “I want to bring it by.”
He hesitated for a minute, then said, “I guess I did leave it. I hadn’t missed it yet.”
“May I bring it by?”
“You don’t need to. I’ll pick it up.”
“Tonight?”
“I have plans tonight, but I could come to Augusta tomorrow afternoon, maybe, or next week.”
And she’d have to worry about the whole Luke problem, and she’d go slowly insane from seeing the dang thing sitting next to Isabel’s front door.
“No. I’ll bring it,” she said. “I can get to your house and leave again before you go out.”
“Okay. Come any time before eight.”
Callie drove to west Wichita two hours later, and
wasn’t surprised to discover that Ethan lived in a family neighborhood. Down the street, a group of boys played basketball in a driveway. At the house next to his, two young girls skipped rope.
A typical bachelor might not choose this neighborhood, but Ethan would. No doubt he called the basketball players and little girls by their first names. That gregariousness had made Ethan perfect for her, once upon a time.
As she walked to the door, Callie became more and more nervous. It didn’t help that those infernal song lyrics kept replaying in her mind.
Tonight was the night for the return of a toolbox, dang it. That was all.
She rang the doorbell, then held the toolbox in front of her, as if to protect herself from the impact of seeing him again.
The ploy failed. He was stunning. He’d dressed in a black button-down shirt and khaki pants that looked sexy on his long legs. Immediately, he took the toolbox and put it down just inside his front door.
“What? No baby?” he asked, dimples flashing. “I can hardly remember seeing you without the little guy.”
Callie nearly panicked at his question, and she was glad she’d come alone, tonight. The mixed-up aunt-mother story would be more plausible this way. “No. He’s at home with Isabel,” she said.
He stepped backward. “Want to come in for a moment?”
Callie peered at him. She should go, especially since he’d already taken the toolbox. But she was curious about his house. Curious about what he’d been doing. “You have time?”
He shrugged. “It’s only seven-twenty.”
He entered his living room, and she followed him. The oversize furniture didn’t surprise her, but the tidiness did. Ethan wasn’t a slob, but he usually had at least four projects going at once. Their apartment had always been messy with belongings—a basketball from his afternoon game, a hammer from helping a co-worker fix a roof leak.
She’d complained then, but now she recognized that his clutter had been a good kind, indicative of his busy life.
“Nice place,” she said.
He motioned toward his sofa. “Have a seat.”
Callie sat, thinking of the items that filled her house in Denver these days. She’d traded the hammer for a baby gym and the basketball for stuffed toys.
She’d traded the man for a baby boy.
The thought upset her.
“How is Isabel’s house coming along?” Ethan asked as he sat adjacent to her, on one of a pair of plump, chocolate-brown chairs.
“She’s almost ready to return to the house.”
“That’s great.”
“I know.”
Neither said it. But Ethan held her gaze, as if to acknowledge that she’d return to Denver soon.
They’d be over. Again.
Thank heaven he didn’t mention the divorce.
Maybe things had cooled off with LeeAnn, making the divorce more formality than necessity. “Well, I’d better go,” she said. “You’re going out.”
Her last statement hung in the air between them. It had been an invitation for him to reveal where he was going, and with whom.
“It’s still early,” he said. “You want something to drink before you make the drive?”
If she stayed, she might learn more about the state of his relationship with LeeAnn. Callie smiled an encouragement.
“How’s lemonade sound?” he asked.
“Mmm.”
He got up, then stood gazing at her. “Come to the kitchen with me?”
Seizing the chance to see more of his house, she followed him through to a large kitchen with two skylights and a table full of clutter. Here was the basketball, the box of candy some neighborhood kid must have sold him and about a week’s worth of newspapers.
Callie grinned at the sight, then walked over to stand next to Ethan at the counter, watching him put lemons in his juicer to squeeze them. He poured the juice into two tall glasses, added water, sugar and cracked ice. Finally, he handed her a glass and leaned against the counter next to her to drink his.
He probably ate his meals right here in the very same spot. The thought comforted her. He’d adjusted to life without her, but not entirely.
As Callie sipped her drink, she noticed some items on the opposite counter—car keys, a wallet…and a florist’s box.
So the romance with LeeAnn was still on. Callie’s heart sank, and she didn’t even try to convince herself that she wanted the other woman gone only to reduce the potential for divorce.
She wanted her gone, period.
She still wanted Ethan for herself.
“Let’s take our drinks into the living room,” Ethan said abruptly, leading the way.
Callie sat on the sofa again, drinking her lemonade more quickly and feeling foolish for caring about Ethan’s life.
“I know you saw the flowers,” Ethan said. “I don’t know why either one of us should be embarrassed. We’ve moved on, haven’t we? They are for LeeAnn.”
“I figured. Date tonight?”
“Not exactly. Her group is playing at the Crawdad Creek Saloon, off West Street. I’m going to her concert.”
Callie nodded. She didn’t want to know about this. Then again, maybe she did. “Which instrument does Lee-Ann play?”
“Fiddle, and she sings backup vocals, too. River’s Bend does mostly bluegrass, but every so often they play an old-style country song. They are pretty good.”
Forcing a smile, Callie said, “You’ve always enjoyed bluegrass.”
“So have you.”
She shrugged.
“So come with me tonight.”
Ethan couldn’t have meant to say that. Callie raised her eyebrows.
He held her gaze. She could almost hear his thoughts.
Why not? We are still married.
They were, dammit. They were still married, and she still loved him. Soon she’d go home, and she might not see him again. Ever.
Refusing to think deeper about that thought, or about the jealous curiosity that had seized her impulses, Callie smiled and shrugged again. “I’d love to hear LeeAnn play.”
Chapter Nine
“Am I dressed all right?” Callie asked nervously.
Ethan didn’t have to look across his car seat to know. He’d taken full notice of Callie earlier, when she’d arrived at his door. She’d worn a Western-style jean skirt and a ruffled white blouse. Her hair was down, and the hint of color she’d worn on her eyes and lips appeared nothing at all like armor.
In fact, her wearing any makeup at all showed a vulnerability. As if she was admitting that she cared what he thought. “You’re gorgeous,” he said quietly.
Too gorgeous. LeeAnn would be livid. But he could explain that Callie had made a special trip to Wichita just to return his toolbox, and that he hadn’t felt right about booting her off his front porch. He’d thought she might appreciate the music, he’d say, and assure LeeAnn that Callie’s presence was practically an accident.
What he wouldn’t explain was that the evening would give him one more chance to figure out why he wasn’t forgetting about Callie, and why the most exciting woman he could imagine dating wasn’t erasing those old memories.
Callie smelled good, although again the effect was subtle. She hadn’t sprayed on perfume or bathed in oils with an intention to entice. She’d always smelled this way. Even when she’d come home from the lab with those sharp, sterile smells clinging to her clothes, he’d hug her and catch hints of her rain-scented soap and herbal conditioner.
He ached to bury his face in her neck now.
But seducing Callie wasn’t his intention, tonight. In fact, he intended only to answer some questions for himself.
They walked into the Crawdad Creek just as the band was heading for the stage. Ethan found the front-row table LeeAnn had reserved for him, helped Callie into a chair and ordered her a drink. She’d asked for a beer again. She must be nervous. Now she asked for the location of a pay phone so she could call her sisters.
He pointed toward
a hallway, then got up at the same time she did. At her questioning look, he picked up the flower box. “I’m not following you. I thought I’d go give these to LeeAnn,” he said.
No need to leave the thing sitting on the table, right under Callie’s nose. Besides, he might be able to defuse Lee-Ann’s temper if he gave the flowers to her immediately.
As soon as LeeAnn saw him approach, she grabbed his arm and pulled him off to the side. “What’s she doing here?”
“She brought me the toolbox I’d left at her sister’s place,” Ethan said. “I mentioned that I was coming here, and she said she wanted to hear you play.”
LeeAnn squinted toward the audience. “She said that?”
“Sure.”
“Right.” LeeAnn poked a finger at his chest. “She wants you back.”
If only.
“I don’t think so,” he said.
“You shouldn’t have brought her. Are we still going dancing after the show?”
Crap. He’d forgotten his promise. He could take Callie to her car and return for LeeAnn.
But he didn’t want to. “I guess not,” he said. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
“Be good, Ethan.”
He threw his palms up. “You know me, LeeAnn. If I meant to be anything else, I wouldn’t have brought Callie here, would I? Also, she’s not some new woman I’ve brought to make you jealous. She’s my ex.”
LeeAnn pouted. “Right.”
Todd, the short, brawny mandolin player, walked off the stage and approached LeeAnn. “Let’s do this, babe,” he said. “You’ll be fine.”
Ethan studied Todd. Sure enough, he saw an intensity in the man’s expression. LeeAnn nodded and walked on-stage with him.
Until tonight, Ethan had had no idea that the guy had a crush on his girlfriend. This might be an interesting night.
The band started with a few of their new songs, and Ethan knew Callie was impressed. She bobbed her head, tapped her fingers against her beer bottle and applauded. Ethan was proud to have her sitting beside him.
He was prouder of her, sitting here responding, than of LeeAnn, playing her heart out onstage.
Ethan wasn’t being honest with himself or with either woman. He still had a thing for his wife, and LeeAnn wasn’t going to erase it. Even if Callie divorced him, Lee-Ann would be a consolation prize.