by Leah Atwood
He attached the leash and walked Oscar to a designated pet area, a nice perk of this travel center. His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out to answer.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Good, you answered.” Her tone sounded near frantic, or she could have been busy. Mom was an expert multitasker, or so she believed. “I have news for you. I debated if I should tell you, but decided you should know.”
He had a feeling where the call was leading, but he’d play along on the chance he was wrong. “What’s going on?”
“Beth Bailey passed away yesterday morning.” His mom sniffled. “Cancer.”
“I know.”
“You did?” Her voice transitioned from sadness to hope. “How?”
“Meg called me yesterday.”
A short gasp on the other line. “She did?”
“Yes, and I’m on my way home as we speak.” He tugged at Oscar who wanted to chase a dachshund. “I’m giving the dog a break, and then I’ll be on the road again.”
“Where are you? Did you say a dog?”
“About four hours from home, and I kinda sorta picked up a dog on the way.” He held his breath, waiting for her reaction.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Excitement practically oozed from her side of the call.
That she would see him or that it was at Meg’s request, he didn’t know.
“It all happened so quick, and I didn’t want you reading into the situation. I’m only coming to show support to an old friend.”
“Umhmm.” She gave the same doubtful cough Jared had earlier. “Are you staying at the house?”
“If it’s okay with you.”
“Of course. I’ll get your room ready now.”
“Thanks, Mom.” He led Oscar back to the SUV. “What about the dog?”
She sighed. “What kind of dog?”
“German shepherd mix. Friendly as can be.”
“Bring the dog, but if he causes trouble, he’ll have to stay in the garage.”
“Fair enough.” He decided to lay on the charm for the surprises he was springing on her. “Did I ever tell you you’re the best mom ever?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She laughed. “Just get yourself here safely.”
Ending the call, he loaded Oscar into the front seat then took his spot behind the wheel.
The remainder of the drive went without incident—thankfully, because taking on a sixtyish pound dog, who’d easily put on another ten once fed regularly, was enough. He pulled into Lilston at a quarter past eight. Not much had changed since he’d last come home fifteen months ago. For that matter, not much had changed in the five years he’d been gone.
He’d stop by his parent’s first, then call Meg. She’d always been a night owl, and he doubted that had changed. Slowing down, he scouted for police cruisers. The Lilston Police Department had a well-earned reputation for stopping out-of-towners for going three miles over the speed limit, and his North Carolina plates gave him the temporary status of an outsider. After a long drive, he didn’t want to waste time explaining his way out of a ticket or playing catch-up with a school acquaintance.
His hands clenched the steering wheel tighter as he pulled into his parents’ subdivision. After twelve hours on the road, I’m still not prepared to see her. Maybe he should hang out with his parents for the night and see Meg tomorrow. No, I told her tonight. The internal debate continued until he pulled into his folks’ driveway.
Lights above the two-car garage flashed on, followed shortly by the porch light. When he put the Land Cruiser in Park, Oscar bounced around, in tune with the fact he’d soon be out of the vehicle.
Wyatt fished the leash from the console and clipped it to the loop on the collar. “Me, too, buddy.”
He opened his door and hopped out, holding the leash with a firm grip. Oscar had done well on their few stops, but that wasn’t to say he wouldn’t dart now. Sure enough, he tugged, wanting more freedom than the six feet of nylon allowed.
“Tomorrow morning, first thing, we’ll go for a run.” He patted Oscar’s head. “I promise.”
A ray of light pushed through the front window, and he glanced over to see his mom’s head peeking through the curtains. She broke out in a wide smile, then disappeared before exiting the house seconds later.
He braced himself for the hug to come, and grinned because it was one of those routines he loved to roll his eyes at, but would be disappointed if Mom didn’t follow through with. Kind of like the year she didn’t send pajamas for Christmas. Traditions were traditions.
True to form, Mom hurled her arms around him, squeezing the breath out of him. “I’m so glad you’re home.”
“Me, too.” He hadn’t come home for leave after the deployment. As much as he’d needed escape, he’d needed to be with the guys who understood what he’d been through. When he returned to the States, he’d been mentally fragile, and the only way he knew to cope was to be with those who knew. Even if they didn’t talk about it, simply being there was enough.
Mom released her grip and pulled at his arm. “Come in. Your father ran to the store to pick up your favorites, but he’ll be home any minute. Corie’s at a friend’s house for the night, so I thought I’d let her be surprised in the morning. Noah has finals until Tuesday.” She stopped in her tracks. “How long are you staying? He’ll be disappointed if he misses you.”
“At least a week.”
“At least?”
And hope springs eternal. He laughed at the undisguised anticipation in her question. “I love you, Mom, but please don’t start. And the ‘at least’ part is to spend time with family, make the trip worth it.”
Poor wording. If he could help Meg at all in her time of need, then the trip was worth it.
“I know, I know.” She gave a resigned sigh.
He knew better, but he’d take the truce while it lasted. Guilt pricked at him—maybe he’d been a little too hard on her. “Hey, I applied for a few jobs up this way. No word yet, but say a prayer.”
Her ear-to-ear grin made the announcement worth the possible questioning. “If you came home permanently that would be an answer to this mom’s prayers.”
Wyatt opened the screen door for her and let her and Oscar walk through.
“Mine, too,” he whispered, half-afraid to admit coming home is what he wanted.
Chapter Four
The house was way too quiet.
Kelly decided she couldn’t sleep in the house knowing Mama had died there, and she’d gone to Kyle’s for a few hours before returning to her house. Dad had fallen into a fitful sleep around seven-thirty, hours before the time he normally went to bed, but these weren’t normal circumstances. When she’d peeked in on him fifteen minutes ago, he seemed to be resting more peacefully.
Now she sat on the sofa, staring at her phone, waiting for a call or text. She’d hadn’t heard from Wyatt since their one and only phone call yesterday. There’d been a few times throughout the day when she’d checked her call history to convince herself she hadn’t imagined the conversation with him.
The green lights on her parents’ ancient DVD player flashed the time. 9:33. Had he come home? Did he get in and think it too late to call her? Didn’t he remember she never went to bed before midnight? She loved the calm of night, the sound of crickets chirping outside the window. As a child, she’d listen to their symphony until she finally fell asleep.
Why were they silent tonight?
Soft undertones of vanilla and amber clung to the cushions and infused her senses. Mama always sat in this exact spot—the foam under the taupe fabric had molded to the shape of her body. The spot cradled Meg, gave the illusion of her mom being there. It’s the closest she could get.
Her phone vibrated against the maple end table. Please be Wyatt.
The muscles in her chest tightened while her heart rate skyrocketed. Breaths came short, uneven.
Shaky fingers gripped the phone to see the message.
From Wyatt.
&nb
sp; —Still up? Just got in and settled at parents.
A simple text, yet it struck her odd that he said parents, and not mom and dad’s, as he’d always said when they were dating and married. Had he done that out of consideration, purposefully excluding the mention of a mom not to upset her? It wouldn’t have, but she appreciated the thought.
He’d always been kind and understanding, but she’d taken it for granted, not seeing it for what it was.
Her fingers trembled, and it took her several attempts to type a response. —Yes.
—Want company?
Was that a trick question? Of course, she did. —Meet me at the ball fields in fifteen?
—I’ll be there.
Her heart beat erratically. All these years past, and she’d see Wyatt again, albeit under the worst circumstances.
But he’d come!
She raced upstairs to change in a hurry, not bothering to lie to herself that she didn’t care how she looked. She wasn’t out to impress him, but she certainly didn’t want to show up in a bright orange t-shirt with a fabric softener logo on it and wrinkled pajama pants with pink llamas on them. No one had to hand her a mirror for her to know she looked a hot mess.
Her clothing was limited to the two outfits she’d thrown in a Vera Bradley tote. She could run to her house, but that would cost precious minutes. A pair of skinny jeans and pastel pink t-shirt would have to do. She slid her feet into a pair of navy flip flops, grabbed her purse and ran down the stairs.
Catching her reflection in the foyer mirror, she groaned at her hair sticking out in every direction. She reached into her purse for her brush and then tamed the loose curls into a ponytail. Good enough.
She should have prepared herself earlier, but she hadn’t been in the frame of mind. Even now, she didn’t care if she looked perfect, only that she was presentable. Mama’s death put a lot into perspective.
Was she ready? No.
The only thing she looked forward to in the world right now was seeing Wyatt, but it scared her. How was it possible to want something while simultaneously dreading it?
Her muscles tightened. She drew in a deep breath and hunched her shoulders. After holding the breath for several seconds, she exhaled slowly, relaxed her shoulders. She repeated the process, easing the tension from her body.
Now or never.
This was her idea. She’d asked him here. It was too late to back out.
And she wanted to see him. That wasn’t the problem.
Her heart was already breaking from Mama’s death, and Kelly’s words played on repeat. Would Wyatt’s presence invite heartache? When would she learn to curb her impulsive behavior?
She got into her car, buckled, and flicked on the headlights. Backed out, then shifted into drive. Heightened senses made her hyper-aware of every action, no matter how small or common. She drove away from the neighborhood, noting which houses had lights on, and which had gone dark for the night.
Mama always kept a light on—she hated the dark. When she was home, every light in the house would be on. She and Dad had argued many times over it. Dad said it was a waste of electricity. Mama argued it kept her spirits high. In the end, Mama won because Dad would have done anything to make his wife happy. If possible, he would have taken cancer on himself if it would have cured Mama.
On an empty stretch of road, only a few scattered streetlights and her faded headlights lit the way. She made a note to get new bulbs soon—she’d meant to ask her dad for help, then Mama got sick, and she wasn’t going to bother him with something she could figure out herself.
A line of homes came into view, and Meg sucked in a breath. Once she passed through those, she’d come to the ball fields. And Wyatt. She stopped outside the gates and said a short prayer. “Thank You, Lord, for bringing Wyatt home, and help me protect my heart from further hurt. It can’t take anymore.”
Overhead lights brightened the thirty-acre sports complex, added onto over the years from the simple three -diamond area it had been when she was a child. It now included soccer and football fields, all in one concentrated area. She missed the simplicity of what once had been.
Groups of teenagers loitered by field seven. Some had gear bags slung over their shoulders. Others held bottles of sports drinks. They all laughed, enjoyed the freshness of late-Spring. She remembered those days. Ten years ago, she could have been one of those girls hanging on the arm of a ball player.
He wore number sixteen and was the cutest guy on the field. All her friends had giggled when he came near, but not her. For as long as she could remember, she’d been comfortable around Wyatt.
She drove on, knowing exactly where he would be. At the rear of the fields was a small playground, meant to occupy the siblings of children playing sports. Swings, merry-go-rounds, slides and spring riders. They’d spent many late nights sitting on the metal animals after everyone was gone. She’d first met Wyatt when her nine-year-old self had fallen off the dolphin.
It wasn’t love at first sight. Not even a crush at first sight. He’d simply been a kid she recognized from another class at school who’d stopped to help her back to her feet. Their love story wouldn’t start for another eight years, but it was the first seeds of a solid friendship.
A lone vehicle occupied the small parking area near the playground. She drove to it, noticed the North Carolina tag. What were the chances it wasn’t him? Slim to none. Lilston didn’t see many visitors, especially from beyond state lines.
Her modest sedan appeared cheap next to his Land Cruiser. His SUV easily outvalued hers by more than her entire year’s salary at the library. The monetary chasm made her insecure. For a brief second, she fell into the trap of assuming he’d turned out more successful, and that was a pill she didn’t want to swallow. She’d fought often enough with feelings of failure.
Not anymore, though the battle surfaced occasionally. She defeated it by reminding herself she had a job she loved, and though she might never be well-off, she had a comfortable life. Her cozy house suited her, and her landlord allowed her freedom to decorate and make changes as she desired. Money didn’t define success. Neither did a nice car.
Even if it did, Wyatt deserved success. If he’d done well for himself, she was happy for him. He’d always worked hard, and from what she knew, he’d been through tough times. The entire community had prayed for him during deployments, especially the last one when he’d been listed Missing-In-Action for a period.
During that time, every regret in her life had rained down on her, making her question her decisions. She’d have given anything to hear his voice again and be in his arms once more. After he’d been found safe, she’d wanted so badly to email him, reach out to initiate contact, but she hadn’t had the right. So, she’d prayed for him from a distance and found contentment in knowing he’d made it back stateside alive.
Get out of the car and go see him.
She opened her car door, scanning the area for him. Her eyes landed on him, sitting atop the same dolphin she’d fallen from. A grown man should look ridiculous sitting on a child’s toy, but not Wyatt. She couldn’t remember ever seeing him uncomfortable in his skin. Seven years hadn’t changed that.
He glanced her way when she closed the car door.
From a hundred feet apart, their eyes met. Her jaw trembled with sheer emotion. She’d only seen him from a distance since their divorce. One time at the grocery store, and once at the post office, but she was almost positive he hadn’t seen her.
She took a step toward him.
He stepped closer to her.
Neither moved again. Their eyes remained locked.
Her mouth went dry. What could she say? Time had aged him well, or maybe that was the Marine Corps. He stood taller, self-assured. Broad shoulders and strong arms were formed with well-sculpted muscles.
He moved again, narrowing the gap between them.
The dam broke, and all the tears she didn’t know were left spilled over. Her feet carried her of their own volition towar
d him, and the next thing she knew, his arms engulfed her, freely offering the comfort she desperately sought.
Time stood still, allowing her to fall into a safe space where death and divorce and disillusioned dreams failed to exist. She rested her head against his chest. The beat of his heart became a natural medicine to her battered soul.
His chin rested on the top of her head, his warm breath caressing the tendrils she’d tried to tame. Familiar hands stroked calming circles on her back, sending tiny messages to her brain that all would be all right. Maybe not now, but time would make it better.
She sounded a sigh.
Wyatt wrapped his arms tighter.
This. This is what she needed.
The sobs and cries subsided. She’d fallen apart in front of Wyatt, but no embarrassment accompanied the breakdown. He was the one person with whom she could be whoever she needed to be. She needed to be the girl whose mother just died, who couldn’t imagine going through life without Mama but knew giving up wasn’t an option. She needed to be the girl free to grieve without staying strong for Dad or Kelly, whose salty tears helped release the sorrow she’d pent up.
He relaxed his hold and handed her a tissue—still her knight in shining armor.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
At some point during her tears, the park lights turned off. Only a few security lamps remained on, but those paired with a full moon gave her a clear view of Wyatt. She couldn’t see the depth of brown in his eyes but could make out every strong angle of his face. She ached to reach up and cradle his cheek, feel the stubble of his five o'clock shadow.
They stood facing each other, at a loss for words.
She drew her bottom lip between her teeth, trying to conjure a profound statement to bridge the years between them. Now that she’d expelled her tears, she didn’t know what to say or how to act. She couldn’t just take his solace and leave. Not that she wanted to.
“So,” Wyatt drew out the word for several beats, ending it with a low whistle.
“So,” she repeated, imitating him.