Coming Home

by Julie Sellers

  Coming Home

  Julie Sellers

  Copyright © 2011 by Julie Sellers

  All Rights Reserved

  For my children.

  "We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned,

  so as to have the life that is waiting for us" EM Forster

  Chapter One

  A torrent of rain slashed the windshield. Lillian Harper pulled her blue station wagon into the last available space at the back of the bank parking lot and steeled herself for the unavoidable run through the rain. She flicked her wrist from the cuff of her Burberry trench, glanced at her watch, and calculated the time it would take to drive to her children’s school.

  No time to wait for the rain to let up, nor could she shelve it for more accommodating weather. Her mortgage company required a letter from the bank before they would process her loan. Waiting for clear skies would delay the closing on her new house scheduled for next week.

  Her mind wandered to the new purchase. She hadn’t realized before they’d come into her life, just how two small children would strain her too-small house. They were bursting at the seams. Just thinking of the new, four bedroom, two and one half bath colonial on its wooded lot, soothed her. Only the thought of an attached garage made her grasp the door handle in this monsoon.

  Was it her dream home? Maybe not, but as she opened her door and struck out into the deluge, she recalled another house. It had been perfect in every way. As a newlywed, she’d pored over home plan books and searched the Internet, drawing and redrawing, tearing up reams of paper in order to get the room configurations just right.

  Only bricks and wood--not even that really. In the end, it was just a fantasy. One that flitted away just as surely as her marriage.

  Lillie shook her head as she arrived at the sidewalk and skirted under the awning of the bank’s front door. She thrust her sopping bangs away from her forehead, called on her inner optimist to set the old maudlin thoughts aside, and pushed open the door.

  An hour later, she’d completed her business, and the last hurdle for larger lodging in record time. Lillie swung back through the door of the bank.

  Jonathan Oleson, her ex-husband, strode toward her. Jonathan’s scanned her face as he walked by, nearly dismissing her, before his eyes returned with a start. The nearly imperceptible snap of his head, the only clue he was surprised to see the wife he had left seven years before like last year’s shoes at a Salvation Army drop box.

  She stopped mid-stride, unable to go further, as if she were a bunch of spring peas who’d just been flash frozen for freshness by the Jolly Green Giant.

  The man exiting the bank directly behind her swerved, but it was too late. His shoulder brushed against her back and threw her off balance. She stumbled, and Jonathan reached out to keep her from falling at his feet.

  “Lillie.” Jonathan set her back on wobbly legs and smiled at the man to let him know he would make sure Lillian was okay.

  Lillie looked at her ex-husband from beneath her still damp locks and tried to speak. But her mouth hung, silent, and her blood roared in her ears.

  “Lillie,” he repeated. “How are you?” Jon led them to the front sidewalk and away from the flow of traffic coursing in and out of the door.

  Recovering slightly, she answered. “I’m fine, thanks, and you?” Her voice sounded unnaturally high-pitched, reminiscent of her neighbor, Mrs. Milliner’s, crazy parrot. It surprised her no one passing by threw her some birdseed.

  Jonathan looked at her, his brows knitting together and head tilting slightly to the side as he answered in an even tone, “I’m well.”

  “I have to go. My children are waiting. It’s Happy Chopsticks night.” Lillie knew she would be horrified later when she could fully fathom how ridiculous she sounded.

  “Children? When did you get married?”

  “I have two children. Hope is six and my son Alex is three.” Lillie purposely evaded the question regarding her marital status. It had been a long time, but not so long she’d forgotten how he could never take a hint.

  The Jonathan she remembered would be all over that like a duck on stale bread.

  “That’s great, Lillie. Your husband?”

  “I’m not married, Jonathan.”

  He nodded in surprise, his composure at last cracking, now his turn for the deer in the headlight look.

  Lillie’s fight or flight response engaged. It took less than a millisecond to choose between the two. “It’s Happy Chopsticks night, I’ve got to be going.” She abruptly stepped off the curb. “Great to see you. Have a nice day now,” she called over her shoulder with a jaunty wave, fully aware of how utterly ridiculous she sounded.

  Her heels clicked across the pavement and she slid behind the wheel of her little blue station wagon without further incident. Consulting her rearview mirror, she noticed he hadn’t moved or stopped watching her even though the lingering mist dampened his hair and shoulders.

  Her eyes met Jonathan’s as she pulled the car from the narrow parking spot and her whole body tensed. Too late, she remembered the car she’d set in motion. A loud bang echoed from the rear of her wagon, and it shuddered to a halt.

  Lillie exhaled in a whoosh and rested her forehead on the steering wheel. She banged it lightly three times before allowing it to rest there for a few heartbeats. She knew she had to get out of the car and determine the extent of the damage, but she sat, glued to her seat. Waves of mortification washed over her as she breathed deeply and tried not to hyperventilate.

  Her breath came in gasps and she glanced to her right in search of the brown paper bag from her morning bagel. For once, the floorboards were clear. Wouldn’t it be ironic if her one act of tidiness caused her to faint from lack of oxygen?

  It took all of the courage she possessed to open her door and stride to the back of her car. Her rear bumper rested against a large blue mailbox. Humiliation radiated from every pore. Not even her well-honed sense of morbid curiosity could make her turn her head to see if Jonathan still stood on the sidewalk.

  She investigated both her bumper and the mailbox. As soon as she determined the only thing damaged was her pride, Lillie ran back to the open driver’s side door and dove for her seat. She fumbled with her seat belt buckle but managed to ram it into the slot on the third try.

  Her hands shook as she flipped the wagon into drive and squealed the tires on the rain drenched pavement in her haste to put more than emotional distance between herself and Jonathan.

  * * *

  Lillie and Cassie sat with the remnants of the Chinese feast surrounding them. Their children ran off with quarters for the video games and play toys in the corner, within easy viewing distance of the table. Head in hand, Lillie replayed the scene at the bank to her best friend. Cassie’s fire engine red, corkscrew curls bounced as she chuckled. She snorted and slapped her leg before she could compose herself and breathe again.

  “I can’t believe that swine is back. How dare he show his face around here!” Cassie said.

  “Whoa, partner. You sound like you’re going to challenge him to a duel.” Lillie put her hand out.

  “Well, he should be shot, so it would be just fine with me.”

  Lillie drew in a deep breath as she reached for her fortune cookie. “It was a long time ago. And his only crime was he didn’t love me. That’s not illegal, you know.”

  “Didn’t love you?” Cassie paused for a moment, then shook her head, curls rebounding in every direction. “Not possible.”

  “I know,” Lillie shrugged, “Can you imagine?” She smiled and batted her eyelashes in an exaggerated way.

  Cassie put her hand on Lillie’s forearm and said with all seriousness, “No, I can’t.”

  Lillie shrugged and reached for the basket of f
ortune cookies. She cracked the cookie and unfurled the small, white slip of paper. She frowned at the message. “Wise men say: Allow the past to show you the future.”

  “You’re kidding me,” Cassie blurted between chuckles.

  “Nope, see?” Lillie flipped the fortune toward her friend, and they watched as it spiraled to the table like a whiling seed from a maple tree.

  “Speaking of the future, how’s it going with Jack?”

  “Jack?” Lillie squinted and her eyes looked to the ceiling as she Googled her memory. She looked back at Cassie, one brow lifted when her search failed to receive any hits.

  “You know, Jack from our 4th of July party?”

  “Oh, Jack…” Lillie remembered. “Was he the one with the funny nose?”

  “Oh his nose if perfectly fine and you know it.”

  “Then it must have been the fact he spent the whole party looking down it at everyone.”

  “He’s not that bad.”

  “My dear, the Sycamore Club is the only way to go in LaSalle…”Lillie drew her voice across the words in an exaggerated fashion.

  “Lillian, he’s single, financially secure.”

  “I’m just not ready Cassie.”

  “Not ready? It’s been seven years. Don’t you think it’s time you get ready?”

  “I want to Cass…”

  Cassie frowned at her, doubt in her eyes.

  “I do. It’s just--I can’t.”

  “Can’t?”

  “I don’t know. I have everything I want. I have Hope and Alex and I’m lucky really.”

  “But they’ll grow up and then who will be there for you?” The question hung in the air. Lillie didn’t have an answer. Instead, she plucked a cookie from the basket on the cluttered table and passed it to Cassie.

  “Your turn.”

  Exasperated, Cassie snatched her hand back just before her fingertips hit the cellophane. Lillie had to look to make sure the cookie wasn’t on fire. “For it to be a true fortune, one must choose it for one’s self.”

  “Ancient Chinese secret, huh?” Lillie passed the entire basket of cookies to Cassie so she might choose her own destiny, wrapped in pastry.

  “Absolutely,” Cassie said, her face solemn.

  Cassie opened one and cracked the cookie, gingerly pulling her own fortune free. “You will travel great distances for a true friend.”

  “Ha. The cookie makers got that right. Seven thousand miles, twice. If that’s not a great distance, I don’t know what is.” Lillie agreed, remembering their trips to Russia when Lillie adopted her kids. Russian adoption required two trips for each adoption and Cassie accompanied her. She’d used the excuse it gave her time to rest, away from her own brood, but Lillie knew differently. Cassie was always there for her. Once her maid of honor, she had never faltered when Lillie needed her.

  Cassie pushed aside any doubts she may have had and approached the news of Lillie’s impending parenthood with joy. She never, ever made a negative comment or asked Lillie if she’d thought it through or reminded her single parenting would be hard. She just supported her as she’d always done. If for nothing else in their thirty-year friendship, Lillie would be forever grateful for Cassie’s confidence in her.

  Tears welled in Lillie’s, then in Cassie’s eyes as the message was sent and received without a uttering a word. Cassie reached across the table and took Lillie’s hand in silent understanding as they watched their children play.

  * * *

  Jonathan pulled the covers up to his niece’s chin and kissed the top of her head. He checked, and then double checked the baby monitor his mother still used to hear her in the night. He hooked the other receiver to his pocket, backed silently out of the room and pulled the door shut behind him.

  He made his way to the darkened living room and stared out the patio doors toward the small pond at the rear of the condominium complex. His shoulders slumped as he leaned against the wall. The earlier rain had passed, but a gray mist still shrouded the landscape. Light filtered in from the kitchen fixture above the sink, but did more to provide the brooding shadows his sullen spirit craved, than provide illumination.

  He turned as he heard his mother’s steps in the hallway. “What are you still doing up? You must be exhausted from traveling,” she asked.

  “Couldn’t sleep.”

  “Me either. Anything you want to talk about? Seven years is a long time away from LaSalle, Jon.”

  “It doesn’t seem that way.” He stood silently for a moment, his gaze never leaving the pond. After a while, because he didn’t think she’d retreat until she’d had her say, he turned and peered at his mother through the gloom. “I saw Lillie today.”

  “Ah,” she nodded her head. “That explains a lot.”

  “She looked...the same. For a second it seemed natural to see her there on the sidewalk.”

  “Then?”

  “She said she has a son and daughter.”

  “They’re lovely children.”

  “You never told me…”

  “You never asked.” Donna cleared her throat self-consciously. “And I didn’t think it was my place.” Donna opened her mouth as if to continue, but Jon interjected.

  “Not your place to tell me my wife has two children?

  “Not your wife, Jon. Your ex-wife.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Yes, it does.” Donna paused for a moment; then she continued. “When you divorced Lillie, you didn’t feel the need to share with anyone the reasons for your decision, let alone your old mother.” Donna placed a hand on his shoulder, and he tensed. “You’re a grown man and I respected your right to privacy. But I was always disappointed you and Lillie couldn’t make a go of it.”

  “There were reasons, Mother. Things you don’t know anything about…”

  “There are always reasons, Jonathan. But most of marriage is about sticking it out. Not Champaign, roses and boxes of chocolate. Marriage is about being there. Day after day, month after month even though you would rather be anywhere else.”

  “I always wanted to be with Lillie.”

  “Then why?”

  Jonathan didn’t answer; he just squared his shoulders and looked back out the window.

  Donna stood for a moment and opened her mouth to speak before closing it again and turning away from her son. She walked back down the hallway and eased the door closed.

  * * *

  The rain slid down Lillie’s windowpane in rivulets. She opened one eye to survey the bleak morning, swatted at her ringing alarm clock and pulled the well-worn patchwork quilt over her head.

  In slow motion, despite the quilt that should have, by all rights, been acting as a buffer, thoughts of the day ahead began to volley for position in her brain: Hope’s dental appointment, Alex's pre-school zoo field trip, the listing appointment scheduled for the afternoon, lunches to pack and homework to look over. Life to live, promises to keep, miles to go before sleep and all of that. Robert Frost had it right. Hard to believe he wasn’t a single mom.

  Lillie snuggled further into her warm cocoon, not willing to miss a moment of the one “snooze” of the alarm clock she allowed herself, especially after a day like the one before. As she yawned, she heard a clunk from the adjoining room.

  The door squeaked, and between the folds of her quilt she glimpsed Alex’s bare heels flying through the air. In the next instant, the breath rushed out of her lungs as he landed, full force, on her mid-section.

  “Good morning, my favorite mommy!”

  Much to Lillie’s dismay, her youngest child was a happy morning person and one of the many reasons sharing a room with his sister was a downhill spiral toward disaster.

  “Good morning, my favorite boy.” Lillie peppered his face with kisses. His brown eyes danced and his dark, curly hair stood on end as he quickly scurried under the covers and snuggled beneath her chin. He laid his head on her shoulder and relaxed against her. She breathed in his clean, sweet scent—a cross somewhere between
well-loved boy and cherished baby. After two seconds, he squirmed from her grip and sat up in bed.

  “Mommy, what day is it? Who is picking me up tonight? Where is Hope? What are we going to have for breakfast? Do I go to school today? Can I have a dog? A yellow one? Or a pig? The man down the street has a pig.” He paused to breathe, showing his crooked front tooth, before he continued, “Can I have a pig, Mommy? I want a little pink one like at the zoo. Hey, is today the day we go to the zoo?”

  Lillie laid her finger lightly on his lips. "Three question limit before coffee."

  “Okay, Mommy. Come on.” Alex whipped back the covers and tugged Lillie from her bed.

  They made their way down the hall, and Lillie paused to look in on her daughter. One arm trailed off the side of the bed, and Hope’s favorite blanket pooled on the floor.

  Lillie straightened the bed linens with no fear of waking her daughter. She slept like a burrito in a coma, wrapped up in her blankets. She would remain out like a light until her mother or her brother prodded her awake.

  Lillie smoothed Hope’s wrinkled brow and wondered for a moment what dreams could cause a six-year-old to look so serious.

  Her mother’s heart worried for Hope. Kindergarten opened her eyes to all the ways her family was different. Homes without fathers were as common as Starbucks. They were every place. But Lillie worried, nonetheless.

  Lillie smoothed Hope’s pixie-bobbed, blond hair one more time before rounding the corner to the kitchen. A row of drawers were open, each a bit more than its predecessor. Alex stood on the counter. Before she could mutter a protest, he opened the cabinet and spun around, a triumphant smile on his face.

  His single dimple flashed as the mug teetered in his hand, his bony wrist trembling as he held it out to his mother. She plucked Alex and her favorite Chicago Cubs mug off the counter with one motion. She deposited him on the floor, gave him quick peck on top of his head, and grabbed for the coffee pot. Pausing to lift her eyes heavenward, she thanked the good Lord once again for the small favor of a programmable coffee maker.