by Susan Haught
“What’s wrong, Mom?”
“Evan—you scared me. I didn’t hear you come home.”
“Sorry. I should have texted you. What’s that?”
“God, you’re nosy.”
“Wonder which side of the family I inherited that intrinsic quality from.”
“Very funny,” she said, forcing back a growing unease. “How was your visit with your father?”
“You’re changing the subject.”
Ryleigh dropped her hands into her lap. “It’s a long story,” she said, noticing how his blue-green eyes were accentuated by dark hair, soft curls forming where it had grown past his ears. Until now, she hadn’t realized how much he resembled the soldier in the photograph. Generations apart, yet time stood still and the past looked back at her from the same green eyes he’d inherited. All prejudices aside, her son was more handsome than the man he would someday know as grandfather.
“It’s early.”
“Some other time.”
“You’re stalling.” Evan grabbed the side chair. He flipped it backward, straddled the seat, and folded his arms across the back. “I’m not going anywhere.” He dropped his chin to his arms.
She had no reason not to tell him. If she could get through the story one more time, it would be over and she could go on with her life—if it was possible. Evan would see things differently. Didn’t he always? He found the positive in any situation. But she couldn’t tell him—not now—not when he was embarking on a new adventure.
Calling on every ounce of reserve, she forced a wide smile. “It’s nothing. Really.”
“Yeah, right,” he said as Kingsley sauntered into the room, flicked his tail, and turned an abrupt about-face. “That cat hates me, I swear.”
She wasn’t good at lying, but she was good at being Mom. “It’s nothing that can’t wait until next time you’re home. Now go—I have work to do. And Kingsley doesn’t hate you.”
Evan flipped the chair back with one hand. “Let me know when you change your mind.”
“Evan,” she said, her tone stern enough to turn him around. “I will tell you. Just not tonight.”
“Okay,” he said, “I can wait.” He hesitated, and then leaned against the doorframe. “Oh, hey, have you seen the new house Dad’s building?”
She shook her head, an unsettling tingle erupting in her stomach. Chandler hadn’t been back since their last encounter, and she didn’t know if he’d been untruthful with her again, or if he truly intended to wait. Or if she wanted him to.
“The framing’s almost done and the roof’s on. He designed this amazing floorplan and he’s doing most of the work himself.” Evan shrugged. “Then sometime this summer he’s handling the remodel of an office building into another spa for Nat and Mitch.”
“He’ll do a good job for them.”
“You should go see Dad’s house.”
“Where is it?”
“Juniper Ridge Road.”
Ryleigh’s stomach turned a nasty flip.
The trunk was already stuffed, so Evan shoved the last of his things into the backseat of the Civic. His eyes sparkled with the excitement of adventure, his smile infectious. Though January was half gone, Saturday broke with clear blue skies, and Ryleigh was thankful for the dry weather out of pure selfishness. Bad weather would have complicated her worries for Evan’s trip to California.
“Please be careful, Son,” Ryleigh said, wrapped in his bear hug. “Take your time and drive carefully.”
“Mom, it’s Los Angeles. It’s only a couple hundred miles. I’ll be fine.”
“Four hundred and sixty…give or take.”
Evan pushed his mother to arm’s length.
“I Googled it.”
“You did?”
“I did.”
“Without help?”
“Bite me,” she said, smacking his arm lightly. “I manage. When I have to.” She wasn’t about to tell him she had countless manuscript pages of handwritten material that needed to be transferred to the computer. He would’ve thought her insane.
“I’m impressed.”
“Me too,” Natalie added with a wink. “Come here, young man.” Natalie and Mitch hugged their godson together. “Be safe and call your mother often.”
“I will.”
“Show that magazine they’ve got the best intern around. We’ll take care of things here. Right Mitch?” Discreet tears hugged the edge of Natalie’s eyes.
“Of course we will.” Mitch slipped his arm around his wife’s waist. “Give ’em hell, Evan. L.A. will be a better place with you in it.” Mitch shook his hand, the gesture returned heartily.
“Guess Dad couldn’t make it.” He peered into the street. “I’d better hit the road.”
“He’s on his way,” Ryleigh said. “I hear that obnoxious truck.”
A few seconds later, Chandler pulled to the curb. Evan met him and the two men exchanged a long hug. With his arm draped loosely over his son’s shoulder, they entered the garage.
Evan slid behind the wheel and the Honda engine came to life. With an animated wave and a smile that breached the darkened windows, he backed down the driveway and disappeared around the corner. Ryleigh’s shoulders slumped, a symbolic wave into the empty street falling into her lap, and the ache squeezing her heart comparable to the divorce, the separation no less painful.
Natalie clapped her hands. “Coffee anyone?”
Ryleigh nodded. Tears trembled on the edge of her eyes as she stared into the distance, searching for the sound of the engine; postponing the last reminder that her son was gone and the house empty. And empty houses, empty marriages and empty hearts beat differently.
“I’ll start a fresh pot.” Nat dragged her husband by the sleeve. “You can help.”
Chandler approached Ryleigh and without hesitation, pulled her into his embrace. “He’ll be fine.”
“I know he’ll be fine,” she said, struggling to free herself, but Chandler’s grip was firm. Giving in to a flood of emotions, she relaxed into his embrace, unable to move. And didn’t honestly know if she wanted to.
“I already miss him.” She didn’t look up. “And dammit, I miss you.” She did miss him. That much she was sure of. Not the long hours away. Or the attention he flattered on baseball stars instead of her. But the way she’d settled into the comfort of knowing she belonged. “Damn you, Chandler!” Her fists pounded his chest, transferring her outrage to him. “I hate you for what you’ve done.”
“I hate myself for what I’ve done to you.”
“Not to me. To us. We were a family.”
Chandler picked her up and set her on the counter that flanked one wall of the garage, the space where his tools hung in a former life. He’d built the counter taller than customary to fit his height, and she was inches from his sobering blue eyes.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Cradling the sides of her face in his hands, he brushed aside a strand of hair caught by the moisture of her tears. “I can’t change what I’ve done.” He searched her face. “But I can fix it. Tell me you want me to.”
“I don’t know what I want.”
“I do.”
“Chandler,” she said, tracing a crack in the concrete with her eyes.
Their eyes met. “I want to come home.” Chandler parted her legs so they hung discreetly beside his hips. She opened her mouth to speak, but he touched her lips with his fingers. “Don’t answer now.” He kissed her, his lips moist with the salt of her tears and eager with passion, his hands knowing and familiar over the curve of her waist, and then came to rest, solid and warm on her thighs. “I’ve never stopped loving you. And always will.” With a gentle squeeze, he backed away. “I’ll wait.”
She stared after him into the empty street long after the drone of the diesel engine had died.
Natalie returned with steaming cups of coffee. “Aren’t you cold?” She handed Ryleigh a mug, set hers down and then hoisted herself onto the counter.
&n
bsp; “Not when you’re wrapped in someone’s arms and he’s kissing you, confessing his screw ups, and how much he loves you and wants to come home.”
“Oh, boy,” Natalie said, turning to face her. “Should I say I’m happy? Or should I chase him down and beat the shit out of him?”
Although she smiled at Nat’s remark, a tear spilled to her jeans. The dark stain spread to twice its size, as big as the confusion taking up too much real estate in her head. “I thought I was past this. Remember last month when he brought me home from the airport?”
“Oh, God. I’m dead meat, aren’t I?”
“Charcoaled.” She pushed her hair away from her forehead. “He told me the same things that night. He kissed me then too. And I shouldn’t have kissed him back,” she said, smiling demurely. “And then he asked if he could make love to me.”
“Wow. When did chivalry return?” A perfectly groomed eyebrow arched dramatically. “Well, did you?”
She raised her eyes to the ceiling. “I wanted to. And badly,” she said, her shoulders collapsing around her.
“What stopped you?”
“I’d like to think it was my incredible common sense.”
“No?”
Ryleigh shook her head. “When I look at Chandler, I see him smiling at her.” Would she ever be able to sidestep the anger the mere thought of Della caused? It had built inside her, an expanding balloon ready to burst. Yet each time, she’d allowed the balloon to collapse. Her hands curled into fists. “Every time I think of that bitch, I want to rip out every strand of her too-blond hair, puncture her store-bought boobs, and pluck her fake nails off with a pair of pliers.”
Nat’s legs swung freely. “That’s my style, Riles. Not yours.”
“Sometimes I wish it was.”
“You’re learning.”
Ryleigh shrugged.
“You stood up to Chandler.”
“Maybe.” Ryleigh digested the words and nodded. “But I don’t know if I can handle anymore crap in my life, Nat. How many times can I break before I shatter?”
“This last year has been more than anyone should have to bear.”
“I’m spinning in circles and all I do is get dizzy.” Ryleigh held her mug to her mouth with both hands. Steam rose in curls and disappeared. “He’s changed, Nat. But he’s still Chandler. The doorbell is dying, the porch light is dead and the cement walk needs to be exhumed. He didn’t offer to replace, rewire or resurrect any of them. It’s petty, but that’s the Chandler I know. A long list of broken promises.” She set the mug down. “And there’s this teeny matter of trust,” she said, pinching her thumb and first finger together.
“It’s obvious he still loves you, Riles. But are you still in love with him?”
“A part of me will always love him. I could never abandon that. He’s Evan’s father. But there’s a difference between loving someone and being in love with them.
Natalie nodded.
Ryleigh sat on her hands, her shoulders hunched between her ears. “And he’s building the house I’ve always dreamed of.” Beyond the garage, a cardinal pecked the winter grass for remnants of fall’s crop of seeds, oblivious to the conversation, the cold, and the emptiness growing inside her.
“I know.”
She raised her hands in resignation. “Welcome to my secret life as a Portobello,” she mumbled. “Why am I always the last to know?”
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself and answer my question. Are you in love with him?”
“I don’t think I know the answer.”
“You have some hefty thinking to do, girlfriend.”
“My son is gone. My ex-husband wants to come back, and the man I thought was my father, and my mom—” Abandoned—from everyone and everything that defined her, that made her feel whole. “I’m homesick, but I don’t know where home is anymore. I just want to feel like I belong again. Somewhere. To someone.”
Nat scooted off the bench. “I think I have a solution,” she said, extending a helping hand.
“To which screwed up part?”
“The deep thinking part,” she said. “Let’s go inside. Your teeth are chattering since you don’t have that hunky man crawling all over you. Oh, and just so you know, I love you, Ryleigh Collins, my best friend in the whole flippin’ world, and I am also in love with you.” Natalie swallowed her in a comforting embrace.
Inside, Mitch was rinsing his coffee cup. “So, ladies, is this my signal to hit the road?”
“Time to take a hike, big guy.” Natalie reached around him from behind, slipped her hand precariously low on the front of his jeans, followed the zipper, and gently squeezed.
Ryleigh cleared her throat and turned away.
“You prepared to finish what you start?” Mitch whispered.
Natalie giggled and kissed him hard on the back. “Ryleigh and I are going for a run.”
Ryleigh spun around. “Nat, I’m not in much of a mood to—”
“Tough,” she said, turning to face her, “it’ll take your mind off your worries. Besides, I have something to talk to you about.” Turning to Mitch, she ran a perfectly manicured fingernail over his cheek. “And I’ll see you later, Mister.” Soft as suede, her eyes twinkled as the invitation rolled off her lips. “Wear a sweatshirt, Riles. We’re running on the forest trail at the spa today.”
The two women walked briskly to warm their muscles, their breath puffing ahead of them in disappearing clouds. Ryleigh gathered her hair into a ponytail and picked up the pace. The need to run overtook the reluctance, and she wanted to sprint, to outrun herself—to or from what she wasn’t entirely sure.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” A tall stone fountain gurgled and the pungent scent of ponderosas and blue spruce reminded her of Christmas and for a fleeting moment, of Ballston Spa.
“I need a favor,” Natalie replied between breaths. “Damn, girl, slow down. This isn’t a race.”
“Keep running and keep talking.”
“I’ve been e-mailing a friend…in Estes Park…about adding my spa services at their resort,” she said, the words coming in spurts. “Rose manages it. The owners are new…and want me to visit for the weekend to check things out.” She paused, breathing deeply to soothe a side stitch. “Shit,” she said under her breath. Ryleigh sprinted ahead.
Two miles went quickly. Ryleigh slowed to a walk, sweat trickling from her temples. Natalie joined her to walk the last lap.
“Estes Park. It’s northwest of Denver, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Natalie replied. “It’s the entrance to the Rocky Mountain National Park. I was supposed to visit Whisper of the Pines Resort in two weeks. Go over the numbers. They set up a long weekend on a trial basis—investors mostly. The area around Fall River is filled with resorts and some stay open during the winter for the ski buffs—if it ever snows again. The owners want their investors happy with the renovations and amenities.”
“Why’re you telling me this?”
“Because I want you to go in my place.”
“Yeah, right. I know nothing about opening or running a spa.”
“You know my expectations and what appeals to my clientele. And you know me.”
Ryleigh released the ponytail and let her hair fall loosely around her face. “Why can’t you go?”
“Mitch and I are swamped with the preliminary plans for the expansion. The timing sucks, but I’m curious about this opportunity, and I really need you to do this for me. It’s a complimentary trip, and you can take my laptop and work on your manuscript. Forget about life for awhile. Relax. Evan will be settled in his new job.”
Ryleigh glanced at her watch. He’d be on the outskirts of Phoenix by now. “The last time I went away I think the Azkaban dementors sucked out my soul.”
“What?”
Ryleigh chuckled. “Never mind,” she said as they entered the spa.
“And,” Nat said, giving her a teasing jab to the arm, “the Stanley Hotel is in Estes Park.”
Ryleigh
grabbed her coat and purse. “Stephen King stayed there, and it was his inspiration for The Shining.”
“They say it’s haunted.”
“I’d rather stay there than the resort. Room 237.” The offer was intriguing. Though she didn’t want to admit it, Nat’s wiles had set the hook. She raised an eyebrow and grinned. “When do I leave?”
“Two weeks. End of January.”
“Crap. That means more time off. Bernadette has no life outside The Sentinel and thinks no one else should either. I dread asking. I swear she inspired Horrible Bosses.”
Natalie flashed her a mischievous grin. “I don’t think she’ll be much of a problem.”
Ryleigh stopped dead. “What did you do?”
“Offered some incentives. A massage, pedicure and I threw in a facial.” Natalie scrunched her face. “Quid pro quo.”
“Gag me now,” Ryleigh said, clapping her hand over her mouth. “That’s bribery, Natalie Jo. I look good in pink, but I don’t particularly relish the idea of spending time in Tent City in Sheriff Joe’s infamous pink underwear. Besides, a facial won’t do her any good.”
Natalie chuckled. “Your boss will authorize the time. Trust me. And I guarantee she won’t utter a peep.”
“What did Mitch say about all this?”
Natalie swung her arm over Ryleigh’s shoulder. “It was his idea.”
A renewed energy forced a wide smile to spread across Ryleigh’s face and her step lightened. Not quite the butterfly from the chrysalis, but just maybe…one step forward. This could be fun.
“Go pack your long johns, it’s in the mountains. And cold. Oh, and these,” she said, digging in her purse. She removed six foil packets.
Ryleigh’s eyes widened. “What the hell do I need these for?”
“It’s a resort.” She shrugged. “With a boatload of male investors. You never know.”
She shook her head. “Um, no.”
“Know how to use one?”
Prickles of heat rose to the top of Ryleigh’s head. “I was married a long time. Didn’t have much need to…”
An impish smile played across Natalie’s face and she regarded her from eyes gone devilishly dark. “They’re flesh colored.”