At a whoop of laughter from the front yard, she looked up. Michael barreled around the trunk of a maple, Daisy and Melanie blazing on his heels. The kids had launched a game of Monster Tag, boys against girls, and Michael looked doomed.
She wondered what he’d think of them. They’d blossomed since August.
Michael hurdled a pile of leaves Lil and Pop had raked earlier, then whisked around the corner of the house, laughing over his shoulder. She turned back to her email.
Michael’s paintings are...interesting, I guess is the word. Think he needs a shrink?
She chuckled. She’d scanned samples of finger paintings they’d created on one rainy Sunday. With his usual enthusiasm, Michael had smeared every color of the rainbow on his paper—and on the table, the chair and the pale yellow linoleum of the kitchen floor—then attacked the thing with such ferocity, he’d ended up with a river of mud. But he’d helped her clean-up, and hadn’t even found an advertising jingle that fit the occasion. With some lapses, what Jon called his ad-speak had subsided, probably because he had little time for television with all his activities.
You said they visited Belinda again. I’m glad Roy goes with them and can see why you don’t. Don’t worry about it, Roy’ll take care of them. Hope she’s not giving you any trouble. You let me know if she does.
She hadn’t seen any reason to worry Jon over the taunts Belinda leveled at her when she’d call to schedule the meetings with the children. A barb sometimes found its mark, but she’d grown a thick skin. His ex-wife still didn’t know Jon had no intention of returning Michael and Melanie once their agreement had ended. Lil would feel sorry for her, except she remembered that look of hate.
She never saw Jon’s ex-wife herself. And although Melanie was subdued and Michael more manic after seeing Belinda, Roy said she not only behaved during their visits, she was playing the model mother. Likely because she suspected what Jon was up to.
I told you Judge Dougherty sent me a head’s up when Belinda got out of Serenity in September. I thought she might cause some trouble, but it looks like I worried for nothing. Guess you were right about the media, too, but old Wart-nose is still hanging around, isn’t he? Only a measly snake? Helen Tidwell needs to try harder.
She leaned back on the cushions and laughed out loud, earning another vague look from her father. She’d written Jon that Helen had unleashed a harmless garden snake in Wart-nose’s room at the Sleep Inn. He’d discovered it around three in the morning, curled up against him in the warmth of his bed. His resulting howls had roused the entire motel.
The other photographers had long ago grown bored with both her and Cordelia and drifted on to other prey, but Wart-nose was tenacious. He still poked his greasy head up when they least expected it and snapped away with his camera. There was little noteworthy about his pictures. The children walking to school. The three of them buying bubble gum at the Quik Mart. Pictures better suited for Family Circle than for the National Tattler. If anything, the photos would further Jon’s cause more than Belinda’s.
Thinking Jon sounded lonely, she skimmed through the middle of his note, a narration of the past week, the grasping crowds, the riotous concerts, the cramped cage of hotel rooms and airplanes. Then she zeroed in on the part that intrigued her.
I’ve thought a lot about that day at the water park. Didn’t get a chance to talk to you about it before I left—hell, you didn’t give me a chance to talk to you about much of anything before I left. I haven’t mentioned it before, but it’s been on my mind more and more lately. I think it’s something we should talk about when I see you. Then, there was a quick line, like he’d added it before he could think better of it. But believe me when I say that kiss meant something to me.
That was all. Just that paragraph.
She read the words again for the umpteenth time and puzzled over what they meant, wondering why he brought it up now. That kiss meant something to me. Was he trying to tell her he wasn’t a womanizer? That if she wanted to indulge the fantasies that had plagued her dreams since that day, he could be trusted over the course of an affair? Or…did he really nurture deeper feelings for her? She thought maybe that’s what he did mean—hadn’t Zeke said he’d tried to impress her?
She took a breath of the crisp air. All she wanted was this, it was all she’d ever wanted…wasn’t it? The breeze ruffled the leaves on the trees, and the calls of the children echoed from the backyard. She surveyed the sleepy aftermath of Sunday dinner and tried to ignore the kernel of discontent that had lodged inside her since fall. Mari’s words sounded uncomfortably in the back of her head, Oh, Lil—there’s a whole, big, beautiful world out there!
With a sigh, she folded the paper and let it drop in her lap.
The screen door creaked. Zinnia appeared, wiping her hands on the flowers embroidered across her apron. “That’s done. We’ll have ice cream later.” Her mother whipped off her apron and settled next to her on the swing.
“I wish you would’ve let me help you, Mother.”
Zinnia patted her knee. “That’s okay, honeybunch. Patsy Lee and me had a nice talk while we did dishes. She wanted to talk babies and I thought you’d be—well, you know.”
“Oh, Mother, you don’t need to worry about that anymore. I’m not so sensitive I’m going to swoon at the mere mention of the word. Where is Patsy Lee, anyway?”
Her mother watched Michael zoom into view, then dart for cover under the pile of leaves. “Taking a little snooze. Just think, soon after Christmas, I’ll have another grandbaby to rock.” She nodded toward the yard as Melanie appeared, jumped on the rustling pile of leaves, yelled “Gotcha!” then dashed around the corner. “Those are good kids and you’ve done wonders with them. Best thing that could have happened to them. And you. So… What do you have there? Love note from your hubby?”
She blushed. “Jon emails me and the children all the time.”
“When’s he coming back?”
“He’s not sure. Says it could be as early as December twenty-two, but maybe not until Christmas Eve. Christmas Eve at the latest.”
Zinnia dug an elbow into her side. “Not soon enough, huh?”
She creased the paper, glad in the deepening light Zinnia couldn’t see her face. Her mother’s frank talks on the subject of sex had embarrassed her as a teenager, and she sure didn’t plan to go there with her now. “Why weren’t Alcea and Stan here today?”
“Alcea said they had something doing at the country club. But Pop saw Stan’s car at the Rooster when I sent him for a can of coffee. I dunno. Seems like anymore the two of them can’t hardly stand to be in the same room. I worry about Kathleen, Lord love her.”
“Why does Alcea stay with Stan? She knows he’s not faithful.”
“She doesn’t talk to me about it, never has, not since your pop and me objected to the marriage way back. Too proud. Maybe it’s because she’s kinda like you in some ways.”
Lil raised an eyebrow.
“She doesn’t know she’s strong enough to stand on her own.”
Lil started to protest, indignant at the comparison, but Zinnia pushed herself up. She swiped at her husband’s knee. “Hey, you old thing. Think you can take your nose out of that book long enough to take your honey for a walk?”
Pop smiled. “Think you can keep up with me?”
Zinnia snorted. “In a New York minute.”
They linked hands, and she dragged him to his feet. As they set off, Zinnia’s head dipped onto his shoulder. and their laughter floated back to Lil. Yearning tugged her heart. That’s what she wanted.
From under the folds of her sweater, she pulled out a chain and fingered her wedding ring. Her first wedding ring. The real one, not the thick, diamond circlet Jon had given her.
What did her mother mean, she didn’t know she was strong enough to stand on her own? Wasn’t that what she’d done? Idly, she compared the slender, gold band with the heavy ring of diamonds on her hand. Her heart stuttered, and she slid Jon’s email back out
and reread the last paragraph.
Not too much longer and I’ll be joining you. We leave on the Operation Season’s Greetings Tour with the USO in a few days. I doubt turkey dinner at Ramstein Air Base will taste the same as Zinnia’s. We’ll end up at RAF Mildenhall in England, then we’re on to the Apollo in Manchester, then London. Once those are done, I’m coming home.
Jon would be home in time for Christmas.
***
From Thanksgiving to Christmas, that thought continued to hum under everything she did. She and the children made the ruffled red dress for Melanie that she’d imagined on that day at the water park, draped their Christmas tree in strands of popcorn, made a weekend foray into Kansas City to see the Plaza Lights and caroled their hearts out in Cordelia’s square beside the mayor’s tree. With each day that passed, the children grew more giddy with holiday excitement, and the knowledge their father was coming home. But nobody was more excited than Lil, nor was anyone trying to hide it like her. By a snowy Christmas Eve Day, the thought had reached a cacophony that drowned out all other thoughts.
Somehow, in Jon’s absence, when her guard was down… Somehow, over the weeks and months of emails and phone conversations… Somehow, the assault he’d made on her feelings when they’d been together had triumphed. He’d sneaked past all her defenses and slid into her heart.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
HANDS TUCKED in the folds of an army surplus jacket and hair shoveled under a knit hat, Jon trudged along Lil’s deserted street. It was mid-afternoon, but the weather had brought an early twilight. Snow spit from a lead sky and crunched under his boots.
He shifted the duffel bag slung over his shoulder. The tour had been hell, the last couple days the worst, a tangle of crowded airports and holiday traffic. He’d parted with the band in New York, had flown on to Kansas City, then had spent two hours suffering the chatter of his limo driver before he’d had the guy drop him at the top of Lil’s street. He’d arrived without fanfare. Seemed even the paparazzi had better things to do on Christmas Eve. He hadn’t told Lil what time he’d arrive.
Solitude felt strange—he tilted his head and let snowflakes tickle his tongue—although he’d felt alone all his life. He wanted to change that. But he didn’t know how. Or even how to try.
He checked the addresses on the tract homes huddled together against the gusts of wind which swept the street. Striped awnings, decorative fences and an assortment of mailboxes, porch lights and storm doors, didn’t mask their sameness. All had single garages and a patch of front yard with a tree in the middle. Christmas trees glowed from same-sized picture windows, holiday lights crisscrossed gutters, yews and the juniper that marked the corners of each house. Plastic Santas and snowmen hailed him with green-mittened hands. Studying the houses, melancholy settled on his shoulders. He’d had addresses but never a home like these.
Down the street, a yellow house glimmered through the fog. His pace quickened, then slowed. Maybe Lil and the kids had made themselves one where he wouldn’t fit.
Even with half a world between them and days filled with bedlam, he’d thought about them all the time. Hell, let’s be straight about this, he’d thought about her all the time. He’d waited for her emails like a kid waiting for Santa Claus to drop down the chimney and had mentally counted down the days until he could return.
Muted by the snow, a shout of laughter sounded from the direction of the yellow house. Michael’s laugh. Jon felt his face stretch in a smile, and his eyes teared. A few steps more, and he caught sight of four figures dashing around the corner into the front yard. Roy wore a red pompom hat that matched Melanie and Michael’s. Jon’s smile wobbled, and he halted next to a pickup parked at the curb a door away.
Powdered with snow and oxidized paint, Lil’s Escort hunkered in her driveway. He’d once suggested he throw in some new wheels, but she’d set her chin. He hoped pride and not sentiment had made her hang onto it, or he could be in trouble tomorrow.
Roy and Michael squatted on the far side of the car, Roy packing snowballs into a pile by the rear tire. Howling like a wild beast, Michael scooped them up faster than Roy could make them. He pelted them over the hood.
A turquoise scarf tangled around her neck, Lil dodged Michael’s artillery. Mel, coattails at full sail, ducked in and out from behind a maple where there was another mound of snowballs. Mel’s laughter rang out. “Take that…and that…and that!” Concentrating on their battle, they hadn’t noticed him.
He grin grew stronger when his son scored a hit on Lil’s coated rear end.
“Oh, no, you don’t!” Lil and Mel advanced. Roy scrambled to grab more snow. Michael hollered. The girls backed the defenseless guys against the side of the house next door. “Uncle. Say uncle!” Mel insisted, threatening her brother with a faceful of snow.
Roy flung up his hands, and a disgruntled Michael plopped on his seat in a drift. Arms raised boxer style, Mel and Lil sashayed across the front yard and hooted their victory. “We are the champions, we are the champions…” Lil’s navy cap tumbled off her head, her curls caught in the wind, and the fringe of the scarf fluttered an invitation around her swaying hips. He couldn’t resist. All his good intentions to keep Lil at arm’s length crumbled in a surge of yearning to grab a little bit of belonging.
With a roar, he dropped the duffel and launched himself from the side of the truck.
Four shocked faces turned toward him. Mel and Michael squealed. They surged forward, and he scooped them up, dropping to his knees, kissing two pairs of sweet lips, losing himself in their down-filled hugs. Roy and Lil looked on smiling. Then he straightened, caught Lil’s gaze and was moving again. Her eyes widened, but her smile didn’t fade. Before she could swerve, he was on her. With a woof, they went down. He rolled to catch the brunt of the fall, pulling her on top. The children danced around them.
Looking down into his face, she laughed. “Why, merry Christmas, Mr. Van Castle.”
He felt her muscles bunch to shove herself off, so he tightened his grip and kissed the tip of her rosy nose, refusing to let her escape. He’d save that full lower lip for later. “I’m glad I could make it, Mrs. Van Castle.”
She bloomed red in confusion, then two bundles of energy walloped them. He hugged them all, let his head fall back in the snow, and laughed, feeling lighter than he could ever remember. He’d just been welcomed home.
***
Roy retrieved Jon’s duffel and they all tramped to the back of the house. Lil disarmed the alarm, and the children shed their boots and coats on the screened porch without being asked. Roy dropped his pompom hat on top of the pile.
When Jon raised his eyebrows, Roy raised his back. “She made it for me,” he said as if that was enough explanation. It was.
Lil held the back door open, and they stepped into a rec room neatly furnished with pine, an upright piano and a LEGO table. The children ran into the narrow kitchen to the left and snatched a few cookies off a trestle table lined by stools. Taking his duffel from Roy, he followed, conscious Lil hadn’t looked him in the eyes since their tumble in the snow. The spotless kitchen was a splash of sunshine yellow. A crock of philodendrons sat on the table. She pinched off a dead leaf and dropped it in the trash. Her hand was trembling. Inwardly, he smiled.
Michael snatched another cookie.
“Those are for the pageant tonight.” Lil admonished without any heat. She glanced at him. “I hope you won’t mind. Melanie is Mary, and Michael’s a shepherd.”
“Yeah, Daddy. A shepherd, with a stick and everything.”
“I can’t wait to see it.”
Scattering crumbs, Michael grabbed his arm and pulled him through an L-shaped room, dining room in the short end, living room in the long. Jon got a glimpse of cream walls, Christmas lights glancing off polished blond wood and a tree groaning under the weight of ornaments, popcorn and inexpertly-pasted, red-and-green paper chains. Michael tugged him down the hall. Mel danced along behind them. Lil followed. Ahead, a calico cat prance
d out of the way and disappeared through a doorway.
“That’s Petunia. She’s ours, too. Lil said so.” Michael pulled hard. “Come see my room. You’re staying with me. Lil said so.”
Jon veered into the first opening off the hall, a room lined in pink. Michael frowned. “Not there, Daddy. You don’t want to stay in some old girl’s room. Lil—”
“Said so.” Jon grinned. “Got it.”
The bedroom he’d stopped at was feminine and neat. Mel’s, he saw at a glance. Books lined wood shelves over a desk. Stuffed animals lounged on a bedspread scattered with rosebuds, and a matching border lined the ceiling. His eyes roamed the pictures arranged on the bureau. Some of him, one of the band, a couple of Lil and Michael and a portrait of Daisy. Even one of Belinda. He shook his head. He doubted that had been his daughter’s idea.
From behind him, Lil murmured, “She is their mother.”
Losing patience, Michael yanked him further down the hall and through the second door. This room was a total mess. Bunk beds draped in crumpled green quilts crowded against the far wall, and cartoon wallpaper cavorted above a litter of toys and clothing. The green dragon he remembered from summer stared from a corner, and from under a large, tipped-over dump trunk, the cat watched him with suspicious eyes.
Mel leaned against the doorframe, twirling a piece of her hair. “My room’s nicer.”
Lil sighed and bent over to pick up a stuffed bear laying butt-up in a corner. “Believe it or not, this was all picked up this morning.”
Frowning, Michael peered up at Jon. “Don’t you like it, Daddy?”
“It’s great, bud. Perfect.”
Michael bounced on the lower bunk. “This bed’s yours. I get the top.” The bouncing stopped, and a line appeared between his chocolate-drop eyes. “Unless you want it, I guess.”
“Bottom bunk will suit me fine.” He dumped his duffel next to Michael. The sloppy room and lumpy bed looked better to him than all the deluxe hotels in the world.
SING ME HOME (Love Finds A Home - Book One) Page 22