Long Way Home

by Neve Cottrell

  When Alexis arrived at Sandy Point, she couldn’t see a soul. She squinted into the distance as a lone figure appeared on the horizon. She watched his sure, fluid movements and knew in an instant that the figure was Tyler. She waved her arms and hopped up and down, hoping to draw his attention without looking ridiculous. As the kayak continued to move closer, Alexis felt confident that he’d seen her.

  When he finally came close enough that she could see his face, Alexis felt tiny shockwaves throughout her body. His dark blond hair was damp and wavy from the sea spray and his muscles rippled as he moved the paddle from side to side with decisive strokes. For a moment, she forgot why she was there.

  He grinned when he saw her and she hurried toward the water’s edge to meet him.

  “Didn’t expect to see you here,” he called.

  He effortlessly bounced out of the kayak and pulled it to the sand right near her feet. Alexis gaped as he unzipped the top of his wetsuit and slipped on a red wicking shirt that he pulled from his waterproof bag. Short of closing her eyes, she couldn’t avoid noticing his muscular torso. Dry clothes did not do him justice.

  “I just wanted to apologize for last night.” She searched for the right words. “For running off like some kind of drama queen. It’s so unlike me.”

  “No need to apologize,” he said gently. “You’re obviously working through some issues. I respect that.”

  Issues. Yes, she certainly had those. When she dared to meet his gaze, she realized that he was grinning from ear to ear.

  “Why do you look so happy about my issues?”

  He reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Because last night you told me you have feelings for me.”

  Embarrassed by her inadvertent admission, she dug the tip of her shoe into the sand. “I didn’t define those feelings. Maybe I meant friendly feelings. Or nostalgic feelings.”

  He continued grinning at her. “Don’t think it can be nostalgia considering your memory problems.”

  She couldn’t help but smile back. “I am truly sorry I don’t remember you from high school.”

  “Because you realize you missed out?” he asked, only half-joking.

  “Maybe I missed out on a lot of things,” she said truthfully. She didn’t know whether it was Tyler’s influence, the years away, or maybe a bit of both, but the island was starting to seem more appealing than it had to her younger self.

  “Do you kayak or have you missed out on that, too?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Not really my thing.”

  “Would you like to try?”

  She glanced at the kayak. “But it’s only for one person, isn’t it?”

  His eyes narrowed seductively. “You can sit on my lap. Then you can feel all my moves.”

  Alexis groaned. “If you want me to erase you from my memory again, you’re doing a good job.”

  “Do me a favor,” Tyler said, unable to stop smiling.

  “Not if it involves sitting on your lap.”

  “Get in the kayak,” he commanded.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Not with me. Just you. I’ll tell you what to do, but I’d like you to get out there and paddle around. Just see how it feels. I love to kayak when I need a release.”

  “Is that why you’re kayaking today?” she asked. “You needed a release?”

  He eyed her with a hunger she hadn’t seen before. “Definitely.”

  “Alright then,” she agreed. “I’ll give it a try.”

  He held the kayak steady while she eased herself down into the seat. After a quick demonstration on how to use the paddle, he pushed her out to sea. Alexis moved the paddle from left to right, using strong strokes, and quickly picked up speed. As the kayak undulated through the ripple of waves, she was amazed how free she felt. The salt water sprayed her face and she found herself smiling at the expanse of sky in front of her. In fact, the clear sky ahead was all she could see. How could she have labeled kayaking as mundane? She cursed her arrogant teen self. Kayaking in the open sea was thrilling, almost as thrilling as the thought of Tyler’s lips on her bare skin. Alexis shivered and chastised herself for letting such salacious thoughts sneak into her head. She had no right to fantasize about him. She took a deep breath and focused on paddling, following Tyler’s instructions on how to turn the kayak so she could change direction. It took a bit of maneuvering, especially with the breeze, but she managed.

  As she glanced to her right, she noticed a dorsal fin in the water and her stomach lurched. Another fin appeared. She quickly realized that there were at least six fins and they were curved rather than straight. A pod of dolphins. Her body relaxed and she stopped paddling to enjoy the view, wishing for a brief moment that she’d agreed to ride on Tyler’s lap. It would have been nice to share this incredible moment with him. Suddenly one of the dolphins leaped out of the water and sailed through the air, splashing back into the water as it swam across the horizon. Alexis’s smile widened as the other dolphins followed suit.

  Once the impromptu show was over, she faced the beach and began to paddle in earnest. Tyler applauded her when she reached the shore.

  “Those dolphins were trying to win you over,” he said, pulling the kayak safely onto the sand.

  “God, I could do that every day,” she exclaimed, her eyes dancing with excitement. She didn’t even bother to smooth her wild hair, despite the loose strands sticking to her cheeks.

  “You sure could. You’re a natural,” he declared.

  “It’s amazing,” she said, throwing her arms around him. Instantly she withdrew, her cheeks flushed. “I’m so sorry. I’m not trying to play games with you, Tyler, I swear. I want to explain everything at some point, but I’m just not ready.”

  “I’m a patient man, Alexis. I mean it,” he said. He hesitated, debating whether to risk his next question. He didn’t want to scare her off again. On the other hand, she had confessed to feelings, however vague they were.

  “My friends are having a Christmas party tomorrow night. Friends from school actually, not that you’d remember them,” he teased.

  “Names?” she prompted.

  “Craig was our year and his wife, Peyton, was the year after us. Craig Keeler.”

  She grimaced, ashamed not to remember Tyler’s friend either. Peyton, however, she did remember.

  “I played soccer with Peyton,” she said.

  Tyler high-fived her. “I hoped you’d get that one. She remembers you. Craig does, too. They’d love to see you.” His blue eyes beckoned her and she felt her resistance fading.

  Alexis sighed. “I feel so foolish, blocking out so many people. Like I wasn’t paying attention to my life. I had no clue how self-obsessed I was.”

  “You were looking ahead instead of around you. Not living in the moment,” he said. “A common mistake, but usually made by people on the mainland.”

  “Was I at least nice to you in school?” she asked, tipping up her chin to see him more clearly.

  “You were always polite,” he said. “You just kept to yourself. I used to try to sneak a peek at your notebook when we were in the library. I wanted to read some of your poems.”

  Alexis couldn’t believe he’d wanted to read her poetry. She realized that she would’ve let him, if she had known. No one in her family had seemed interested. Just her English teachers.

  “I’d be happy to share them now, if I knew where they were.”

  He slackened. “You didn’t keep them?”

  “I left here with a backpack the day after graduation,” she told him. “No exaggeration.”

  “Well, if you ever decide to express your emotions through the printed word again, I’m volunteering to read. As you know, I write lyrics so I’m always interested.” He swept a hand gently over her hair and she shivered at his touch. “So will you come to the Keelers’ party? I sure would like to ogle you in a pretty dress.”

  “I’ll go,” she relented. She wouldn’t mind seeing Peyton again. She remembered the tall blonde
as a talented soccer player with a fun-loving attitude.

  “They live in Flamingo Key. White Oak Lane.”

  “Close to Gatsby’s,” she remarked. “No wonder you like playing there.”

  “Craig actually owns Gatsby’s.”

  Alexis’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re kidding.”

  “People manage to eek out a living here, despite your misconceptions,” he teased.

  Her face grew hot. “I never thought this place was a dead end,” she objected. “I just didn’t think it suited me.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “Do you still think it doesn’t suit you?”

  She found the strength to hold his gaze and quickly began to lose herself in the depths of those blue eyes. “I don’t know anymore, Tyler. I feel like I’m seeing this place for the first time. Maybe what didn’t suit me then, might suit me now.”

  Chapter Nine

  “So if we’re going to bake the Good Housekeeping cake, we’d better do it soon,” Tilly said as she and Alexis folded laundry at the kitchen table.

  “I thought you decided it was Betsy’s thing,” she replied. Alexis didn’t want to piss off her sister anymore than she already had.

  “It’s fine,” her mother assured her. “Betsy has enough on her plate. She’ll be thrilled to have a year off.”

  Alexis focused on the pair of socks in her hand. “Don’t let me ruin any of your traditions. I know I haven’t been around much, or at all.”

  “Oh Alexis, you’re being ridiculous. It’s good to do things you’re not good at. Keeps you humble.” Tilly grabbed the laundry basket with the folded items and huffed her way out of the room.

  Alexis fumed inwardly. Lack of ability had nothing to do with it, not that her mother would believe that. Alexis stared at her mother’s outdated kitchen, the same butter yellow kitchen that Alexis remembered from childhood, and had a sudden urge to see her own kitchen in London. Well, it wasn’t hers anymore because she’d sold the flat, but still. She didn’t think it was possible to miss a kitchen, but she missed hers. She pictured it in her mind, the whiteness of it. The appliances were state-of-the-art, a real chef’s kitchen. Initially, she hadn’t been sure her skills warranted such a kitchen, but Mark had insisted. He liked to cook as well and had convinced her that they wanted the best, if only for resale value.

  Alexis remembered the wholesome smell of fresh banana muffins as they baked in her sleek, stainless steel oven. She pictured her burgeoning belly, how she’d looked forward to the day when she’d have a child who banged on pots and begged to lick the wooden spoon.

  “Baking again, huh?” Mark had asked, appearing in his pajamas. “Must be the nesting instinct.”

  He’d sidled up behind her and wrapped his arms around her newly expanding belly. She had gotten to the point where her regular clothes no longer fit comfortably.

  “I find baking more calming than cooking. There’s too much multi-tasking when you’re cooking.”

  “I shall have to remember to thank my wonderful mum for taking you under her culinary wing. To think when I met you, you couldn’t boil an egg.” He’d kissed her neck and delved into the refrigerator for juice.

  “I would love to pretend you’re exaggerating. And if you say that in front of anyone, I will pretend.”

  “Come on, love. You wore your lack of domesticity like a badge of honor. I hardly think you’d be embarrassed.”

  That was true. She had.

  “I wouldn’t want anyone to think I didn’t cook because I can’t. I’d rather they think it’s because I won’t.”

  “Point taken.” He kissed her lightly on the nose. “Let’s enjoy these weekends whilst we can because once this little bundle of joy muscles her way in, it’ll be a sleepless and muffinless world we live in.”

  “I’ve been thinking about something.”

  “Uh oh.”

  “Now hear me out. What would you think if I decided to leave my job after the baby is born?”

  She knew that those were not words Mark had ever expected to come out of his wife’s mouth.

  “Seriously?”

  Alexis rubbed her belly almost defensively rather than affectionately. “Yes. I’ve been feeling panicky and unsettled lately and I think it’s because I’m worried about leaving the baby.”

  “What about blasting off the glass ceiling?”

  “I know, I know. I’m baking muffins and contemplating leaving the work force. Worst feminist ever.”

  Mark kissed her sweetly. “Are you worried the nanny will give her chocolate too soon? Or that she’ll text her boyfriend all day whilst the baby swings from the drapes?”

  “I worry about all of it. That no one will look after it as well as me.”

  He lifted her chin slightly and looked into her hazel eyes. “It’s totally your decision. I’m happy either way.”

  “Thank you. That means a lot.”

  “Besides, if the baby’s anything like you, you’ll be running back to work in no time.”

  Alexis swatted his arm. “You’d better watch it, pal. If this kid’s anything like me, you’re going to want me on your side when it’s old enough to argue.”

  “So that buys me, what, another year before I need to make nice?”

  “You just lost your banana muffins to Hal.”

  Alexis swallowed hard, staring at her mother’s yellow, electric oven. She would never bake another muffin in her beautiful white kitchen. More importantly, she would never bake another muffin for Mark. Why had she not left her job that very day? Maybe it would have saved a lot of heartache. Why had she put her career above everything else? It was all she could do not to burst into tears.

  Tilly placed the laundry basket at the bottom of the stairs and came back into the kitchen, oblivious to her daughter’s torment.

  “Why don’t we do it now?” Alexis proposed. She wanted, needed to move forward. To make new memories. She didn’t want to live the rest of her life feeling haunted by a life that no longer existed.

  Tilly pulled a large mixing bowl from the cupboard. “Okay then. If you’re sure.”

  “I don’t have to be at the party until eight.”

  “A party?” Tilly repeated, grabbing bags of flour and sugar from the pantry.

  “Yes, a Christmas party at the Keelers. He owns Gatsby’s.”

  “Keeler? Somebody you went to school with?”

  Alexis nodded as she retrieved the wooden spoon from the cutlery drawer. “I played soccer with his wife, Peyton.”

  “I never could keep up with all those names,” Tilly admitted. “There were dozens of girls on your soccer team.”

  “It’s not like you came to any games,” Alexis pointed out.

  “Only because you didn’t want us to,” Tilly protested. “Dad couldn’t have because of his work schedule, but I could have arranged it with Morris.”

  Alexis didn’t remember telling her mother not to come to games, but it certainly sounded like the kind of thing she’d have said. In her defense, she was a teenager. She didn’t even like soccer all that much, but it was an excuse to be out of the house. Most of her after-school activities were motivated by a desire to avoid being at home. She’d never felt like she could be herself there; someone was always on hand to criticize her books or make her feel different from the rest of the family. Home for Alexis had never been the haven that it was meant to be.

  Tilly turned up the Christmas classics while she read through the cake recipe.

  “What would you like me to do?” asked Alexis.

  “Let me see what’s easy,” she replied, scanning the recipe.

  Alexis sighed. Deliberate or not, she was tired of the condescension. “I can do any of it, Mom. It won’t be the first cake I’ve made.”

  Tilly raised an eyebrow. This was news to her. “Terrific. You can do the whisking for me.”

  She handed a mixing bowl and a whisk to Alexis before moving to the cupboard for ingredients.

  “So
how did you learn to bake?” Tilly asked.

  “Someone taught me.”

  “Someone? You mean like those chefs that come to your house? I saw that on TV once. One of The Real Housewives, I think. I didn’t recognize the names of half the ingredients she used. I mean, what’s the big deal with gluten?”

  “Moira, my mother-in-law,” Alexis interjected. “That’s who taught me.”

  Tilly stopped, her hand hovering mid-air, clutching a box of flour. Alexis knew this news would rattle her mother, but she felt the need to tell her anyway. Tilly placed the flour on the counter, her eyes burning a whole into the cardboard. She was afraid that if she looked at her daughter’s face, she’d crumble.

  “And when exactly did you acquire a mother-in-law?” Tilly asked calmly.

  “Six and a half years ago.”

  “If you’re married, why aren’t you wearing a ring?” Tilly glanced at her naked finger. “And more to the point, where’s your husband?”

  Alexis felt her entire body tense up. “It’s not something I’m ready to discuss.”

  Try as she might, Tilly couldn’t bear the betrayal. It was bad enough that Alexis had shut them out over the years, but to marry someone and not even have the decency to inform her own parents? What else was she hiding?

  Tilly shifted the box of flour away from the edge of the counter and retreated from the room without another word. Alexis stood with the whisk still in her hand, uncertain whether to follow. Although she wasn’t ready to discuss Mark, she no longer wanted to bury all of her emotions. She needed to start some type of dialogue with her mother, however uncomfortable.

  Alexis found her mother in her parents’ bedroom. Tilly sat alone on the bed holding a piece of embroidery. Alexis was struck by the appearance of the room. It hadn’t changed a bit in seventeen years. Same floral bedding, same beige blinds with matching floral curtains, same magnolia white paint. The room was neat and tidy with a place for everything and everything in its place. She seemed to have inherited something from her mother, even if it was a simple de-cluttering gene.