And then the door opened and she saw him. He stood on the porch, flannel shirt, jeans, hair too long, earring too glittering, shoulders too broad, waist too trim, legs too muscular, smile too piercing. “Hi,” he said as he clutched a mug of coffee in his strong hand.
Ramona pulled Beth close, whispered, “I’m not saying goodbye again. See you soon,” and climbed into her car. It was only then that Beth noticed Shane and Tony waiting patiently in the backseat for their mother. They must’ve been there playing with Noah. Beth waved, and the boys waved back. Ramona gave a little toot as the car disappeared down the drive.
Beth slid her hands into the pockets of her suede coat. She was cold, but Chris stood there in just that old, worn shirt and looked comfortable as hell. “Hello,” she said as she approached him.
“Hi. Come on inside. You look cold.”
“The kids are out here.”
“They’re fine. Clem’s in the barn. They can’t get far. They’ve been playing out there for two weeks.”
“I don’t like them--” but then she stopped herself. So she’d never allowed Audrey outside without her, but Chris had, and this was his home now--his alone--and he’d discovered his own rules and privileges.
He backed up and let her pass, holding the door all the while. Beth looked around at the foyer and living room she’d loved before she’d resented. It was cluttered, but it looked happy if a room could look happy. The Christmas tree still stood in the far corner, but most of the decorations were new ones she didn’t recognize. Apparently Chris had felt the need to move on.
“How are you?” he asked then.
Beth turned to face him. “I’m good. I guess I’d forgotten how charming New England Christmas’ could be. I’ve heard all about yours. Noah loves his gun.”
Chris slid his mug onto the antique desk that stood in the corner. “It’s small. He needs something to start with.”
“Those things scare me.”
He met her eyes, held her gaze “Are you kidding me? I’ve never seen anyone better aim a Glock--myself included.”
Beth touched a wobbly branch of the tree. “That’s different.”
Chris crossed his arms. “What have you been up to with close to three weeks to yourself?”
Beth pulled off her leather gloves and stuffed them into the pocket of her jacket. “I worked quite a lot on my book. I met a publisher at my parents’ neighbor’s Christmas party. He’s interested.”
“That’s great.”
Beth touched an ivory piano key. It dinged, she touched it again and wanted to sit; sit down and pound out Brahms or It Came Upon a Midnight Clear or good old Heart and Soul in two parts. “Writing has been cathartic.”
Chris slid onto the arm of the easy chair. “I can’t think of anything I’d less rather do.”
Beth smiled and left the key alone. “I’m thinking of teaching too. I had a meeting at the university yesterday. I may pull something together for the spring semester, though it doesn’t leave me much time.”
“You’d be good at that.”
“Thanks,” she said and wondered why it felt awkward to chat with him and realized at that same moment that this is what they were now--pleasant and distant and through.
And as though he’d just become aware that she’d arrived Sundance bounded through the kitchen door and jumped, resting two furry paws on Beth’s shoulders. “Hey, you!” She stroked his fur and nuzzled his nose and hugged him close and he allowed it. A loud and deep woof resonated. “He’s been in the burdocks again.”
“I know. Noah was supposed to brush him.”
Beth set to work pulling out the prickly burrs. “Like that’s going to happen when he could be target shooting.”
And then she looked up to see Chris not disgusted and belligerent because she’d taken over and said what she thought, but smiling.
“Sorry,” she said.
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not my house.”
“It’s understandable.”
“He’s not my dog.”
“He was.”
Beth pushed Sundance away and stood up. “He’s not anymore.”
Chris stepped close, but kept his hands in the pockets that he’d slid them into, his head cocked, his smile blaring. “You are the bossiest person I’ve ever met in my entire almost forty-one years of living. You think you know everything.”
Damn him! She brushed her hands against her jeans and struggled to grasp onto Yankee cool instead of pissed wife that she couldn’t be any longer. “Thank you for pointing that out.”
But he just kept smiling--that cockeyed grin that made her blood pump and her head reel.
“Are the kids packed?”
She turned to face the stairs, but his arm snaked out and grabbed hers. “Listen.”
But she didn’t hear a thing.
“What am I listening to?” she asked finally, just a heartbeat from his face, his heart.
“This.”
“What?”
“This.” His left arm snaked out, his fist banged the wall next to them and with perfect timing the heat kicked on with a grunt and rumble.
“Fascinating.”
“It’s the sound of normal, Beth. It’s the sound of Tuesday, or Friday or Mother’s Day or Arbor Day or chili and crackers night or the two for one sale at the mall.”
And all her ivy-league education could reply was, “Huh?”
“I love you. I know I never said it enough. I know I never showed it enough--”
“Not never. There was a time I knew implicitly.”
His hands slid to her face, framed it, held it. “I love you. I kicked myself all the way home from Washington; picked up the phone about a hundred times. But I stopped because I knew I had to be sure, had to know for sure what I’d screwed up the last time, the first time. I think I just started taking you for granted. I started forgetting that you were a gift and that I had to be careful of you every single day. I got soft, Beth. I let the bad guy in.”
She covered his hands, bit her lip and dared hope that it was really true and he’d said it right here in the house where the ambivalence had first crept in.
“Come home, or if it’s what you really want and need, I’ll come home with you.”
And her prince broke through that door.
Beth shook her head. “That’s not what I want or need.”
Outside Audrey giggled a wicked giggle. They both turned to the window and watched Noah with Sundance, who apparently had escaped through the doggie door in the kitchen, at his heels bound forward, grab Audrey’s ankles and pull her into the fluffy snow.
Beth looked back to Chris as their kids squealed in the yard beyond them. “I just need a little normal.”
He smiled that roguish smile, reached for her hand, but didn’t kiss it. Instead he gave it a mighty and firm shake of partner to partner. “Deal?” he asked.
“Deal,” she answered and gave his a hearty shake of its own.
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