by Zoe York
“You need to stop telling me what kind of guy I am.” He said it gently enough, but it still scratched like a burr.
“You need to stop pretending that you aren’t exactly that kind of guy! You already feel the itch, right? You’ve been back three times in four months. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t rather be exploring some far-flung corner of the world instead of being obligated to come here.”
“Obligated? Babe, I promise you that’s not the word I’d use to describe how I feel right now.” He wrapped himself more tightly around her, his jaw twitching as he brought their cheeks together. He waited a beat, then whispered, “How about you stop pretending you wouldn’t rather come with me?”
She had good reasons. “Eric has school. I have to work.”
“And wanderlust is what vacations are for. I’ve worked hard for twenty years and I’m looking at starting a new company. I get not being able to drop everything. You think I don’t respect that about you? I’ll never try to tell you to work less. You work as much as you want. But there are other things you want, too.”
Heat radiated off his body, seeping into her, carrying with it the confidence he felt. Was he right? She wanted so much more, it was true. But she’d lived that way once before. Greg had, too. She’d learned the hardest way possible that being an adult meant giving up the right to indulge all the wants of the human spirit.
Especially the wants that tugged one away from safety and security.
“Zander, I can’t—”
“I know.” He turned her enough to cup her cheek and he circled his thumb at the corner of her mouth while his dark eyes searched her face. “You’re not there yet. Hear me say this: I don’t need to take off on an adventure until you are by my side.”
“But—“
“And yeah, it might not ever be your bag again.” He lifted one eyebrow and gave her a bossy look that made her quiver all over. “You and Eric are more than enough adventure for me, right here in this little house. I will take all of my leave passes and mark them as destination Tobermory and Pine Harbour in advance if that would prove it to you.”
“What if you just marked them as Tobermory?” Her heart was fluttering a mile a minute, but yes, this felt like the right step. “Would it be crazy to ask you to move in here when you come back?”
“Maybe. But crazy…now that sounds exactly like what kind of man I am.”
Hardly. But she let him whisk her to bed, and when she woke up in the middle of the night to find him rolling off the mattress, she tugged him back down beside her. There would be no more nights in the spare room.
Life was too short and precious for pretending he wasn’t exactly what she wanted, every minute of every day.
— —
Zander’s alarm went off at six. He hit snooze and rolled onto his back. Faith murmured something in her sleep and rolled too, resettling with her head on his shoulder and her hand on his stomach, warm and soft as her fingers unconsciously tangled in the hair there.
This is what happiness feels like. The house was quiet still, and he let himself sleep in a bit, drifting in that pleasant near-awake state until his second alarm went off. As much as he wanted to stay there all morning, they hadn’t talked about Eric knowing they were sharing a room. With a groan, he shoved himself out of bed and carefully tucked Faith back in.
In the kitchen, he found pancake mix and whipped up the batter, then he turned on the TV and watched the news as he did his morning push-ups. He had a set of six different push-ups that he did most of the time—plyometric, walking push-ups, pike push-ups, etcetera. They worked his entire body and didn’t require any equipment. As he finished his third set of the lot, he heard little footsteps enter the living room. He looked over his shoulder. “Morning, bud.”
Eric yawned. “Morning.”
“Pancakes?”
He nodded, then stared as Zander stood up. “You’re not wearing a shirt.”
“No, I—” didn’t sleep with one on was probably too much information. “I didn’t think anyone was up.”
“Are you exercising?”
“Yep.”
“I do exercises. Sometimes Mommy does yoga and I sit on her back.”
“That’s fun.” Zander filed away the fact that Faith secretly did yoga. He wanted to watch. “Want to do some push-ups with me?”
Eric nodded solemnly and shuffled closer, still sleepy. He carefully pulled off his shirt and put it on the arm of the sofa and then planked next to Zander. That was how Miriam found them, Zander in his shorts, Eric in his PJ pants, neither of them wearing a shirt and both of them laughing like idiots as Eric pretended to correct Zander’s form over and over again.
“Grandma, can you do push-ups?” Eric asked as he climbed onto one of the kitchen chairs.
“I can make coffee, sweet pea. That’s my superpower. Now put on your shirt.” She pointed at Zander, an amused smile dancing across her face. “You too.”
Zander tossed it over to him, then headed for the stairs. Faith’s mother was the only person on the planet who could make him blush. He jumped into the shower, then dressed himself properly for mixed company in a long-sleeved black Henley and faded blue jeans.
Faith woke up as he was threading his belt through his jeans. “Is Eric up?”
“Yep. And we worked out together.”
“What? He wasn’t grumpy?” She laughed as she pushed herself up in bed. She was wearing a silky camisole, but with the sheet held up in front of her chest, it was easy to imagine her naked. Breakfast. Focus.
He cleared his throat. “Nope, not grumpy. Although your mother chastised me for not wearing a shirt.”
Faith giggled and shook her head. “You don’t know my mother. I highly doubt she was chastising you. What did she say?”
“She told me to put on a shirt.”
“Was she smiling while she said it?”
Zander groaned. “No, don’t tell me.”
“You were lucky she didn’t pat your chest and compliment your form.”
“Oh, Jesus.”
“What? You’re a beautiful, beautiful man, Zander Minelli. And we appreciate—” She shrieked as he dove onto the bed, silencing her with a soft, lingering, thorough good morning kiss. When he let her up for air, she sighed and snuggled closer. “I appreciate you the most, though.”
“Lucky me.” He pushed himself off the bed and held out his hand. “Pancake duty calls. Your mom is making coffee.”
Faith grinned. “I’m the most spoiled girl in all of Tobermory today.”
“Good.” He dragged himself away before he molested her in a way that wouldn’t be appropriate for a school morning.
Over breakfast they were all quiet, except for Miriam and Faith exchanging cryptic half-sentences about their day’s plans.
“Mom, did you call—”
“Yes, I’ll pick it up. And maybe for dinner…?”
“The fish? I think so. Zander?”
He gave Faith an amused look. “Do I like fish? Is that the question?”
“Yes.” Her brows pulled together in a delicate frown. “Wasn’t that clear?”
“Not even a little, babe. Yes, sure. I’m easy, I’ll eat anything.”
Eric shook his head. “I won’t. I don’t like steak. It’s hard to chew. And I really hate mushrooms.”
“Oh, you’re missing out. Steak with mushrooms on the side…maybe some herbed butter, and mashed potatoes…” Zander’s mouth was watering. “That’s heaven, right there.”
Faith groaned. “Well now I don’t want fish for dinner.”
He grinned. “Fish is good. Lemon, herbs, butter again, because that’s the secret to good cooking. And rice instead of potatoes. Delicious. Asparagus or green beans on the side, and voila.” The entire table stared at him. “What?”
“Zander…” Miriam cleared her throat. “Can you cook?”
“Sure.”
She smiled enigmatically. “Good.”
Faith’s phone beeped. “Time for school.”
“I don’t want to go to school! I want to stay here with Zander!”
“I’ll be there to pick you up as soon as you’re done. And I’ve got work to do today, anyway. Not fun for a five year old.”
“I like work. I do work at my spy base all the time.”
“School, end of story,” Faith said, firmly propelling Eric toward the front door.
Zander followed behind. “I’ll come along for drop-off.”
“Will you tell me about your Arctic training in the car?”
“Definitely.”
Eric sped ahead and pulled open the back seat door of Faith’s car. She turned and winked at Zander. “And then will you take me to Greta’s for pie?”
— TWENTY —
“HOW many more days now, Mommy?”
“Three more days.” Faith pointed to the calendar on the side of the fridge. They’d been counting down the days until Zander finished his arctic exercise. There was no cell reception where he was, they only had satellite phones. He’d had his turn to make a call home at the end of the first week, and that had re-doubled Eric’s interest in knowing everything about what Zander was doing.
“How much snow is there?” he’d asked five times, at least.
Each time she said a variation on the same answer. “More ice than snow. But it looks like snow. It’s white in all directions. Rocks and dirt, too, here and there. We can look it up on my computer.”
Each night they looked at YouTube videos of life in the far north.
It was early November, and snow had yet to come to the peninsula, but it would soon. Every day was a little bit colder. The bright burst of autumnal colour that had greeted Zander’s last visit was now gone. The leaves were still crunchy on the ground, but brown now, and the cloud-heavy sky looked greyer each day.
Or maybe that was just her mood.
If you fall in love with a soldier, this is the life. She told herself that over and over again. And two weeks wasn’t so bad. She was selfishly grateful that she hadn’t had to love him through his tours in Afghanistan and Bosnia. Her heart ached for the women that made that quiet sacrifice right along with their spouses.
“And when is it going to snow here,” Eric asked next.
“That’s harder to say,” she answered, trying to be patient. His endless questions were really a mask for wanting to know when they’d return to their new normal. Zander calling each night, planning for the holidays. In less than six weeks, they’d have fifteen days all together. And they just needed to hold their breath and be brave until then.
It sounded melodramatic when she said it out loud—to Olivia and Dani when she met them at the diner in Pine Harbour for coffee, to her mother one late night when Faith couldn’t sleep. But every time Eric asked another question, something twisted inside her. A dial of worry.
Three more days. Maybe the worry would ease when they got to see Zander’s face on the iPad again.
— —
Faith yawned and blinked at the white stuff falling from the early morning sky. Eric would be happy, at least. She needed another cup of coffee.
She had a phone meeting with her editor as soon as she dropped Eric at school, and then, if her courier guy showed up early enough in the afternoon, fifty hot-off-the-presses novels to sign for giveaways. And Zander was coming home for a surprise visit.
He’d been back at his base for a few days, and he had another three day weekend which he finagled into four somehow. She wasn’t going to question their good fortune. Two months apart would have been too long.
Her mother had left the day before for a week-long vacation with her “friend”, Bill, who Faith had only met twice, and briefly at that. Miriam seemed content to keep that relationship separate from their lives.
As opposed to Faith, who had gone from flirting to dating to moving in with her boyfriend in what felt like the blink of an eye.
A very happy blink, but still.
And yet every time she thought of Zander, a happy calm settled over her. He was ridiculously good for her, and she wasn’t going to sabotage those feelings in any way.
She poured herself another cup, then finished making Eric’s lunch. He still wasn’t up yet, so she grabbed her mug and went to wake him. When she knocked on his door, half-open, she was surprised to see him already dressed. He had his backpack on his bed. She set her coffee on his dresser and zipped it up for him. “What’s in this thing, rocks?”
“Show and share today,” he said as he crawled under his bed. He came back out with a plastic toy from a fast food restaurant, which he tucked into the outside pocket. “All set.”
She’d made oatmeal, which he tucked into with more enthusiasm than he’d had for any meal all week. And before her alarm could go off, he cleared his bowl to the sink and was rifling through the front closet for his snow pants.
“I’m not sure you need them,” Faith started to say, but that was silly. Better warm than cold, even for the short recess breaks.
He kept taking gleeful peeks out the window at the fluffy flakes now sticking to the window. The temperature was hovering right around freezing. A degree or two warmer and all of that would melt into slushy, muddy yuck.
At the very least, the snow pants would keep the rest of him clean and dry.
As they headed out the door, her phone vibrated with a text message from Zander. Heading to the airport soon. See you tonight. XO
Drop off was extra quick, just a kiss on the cheek and a rushed encouragement to have a good day, and then she scurried home again for her phone meeting, which ended up being more than an hour long. By the time she hung up her head was spinning from the mile-long to-do list for the new series arc. She tried to open her project file on the computer, but she couldn’t focus, so finally she pushed away from the computer and put on laundry. Zander would be arriving in Calgary soon. He couldn’t get a direct flight, so he had a two hour stop-over. At least he had a direct flight home.
She stopped mid-transfer of laundry from the washer to the dryer and closed her eyes. She needed to cut herself some slack if she didn’t get any work done today. It was okay to just be excited and distracted sometimes.
Like Eric and the snow.
Her phone vibrated on the kitchen counter at the same time as someone knocked at the front door. She ran for the door first—it was the courier, and she signed for the box of books. It was heavy enough to just leave on the foyer floor, and she wandered back to the kitchen to see who had texted her.
It hadn’t been a message, though. She’d missed a call from the school.
Before she could dial back, it rang again.
The school calling back. Worried, she answered the phone. “Hello?”
“Mrs. Davidson?” an unfamiliar male voice asked.
“Yes?” Was Eric sick? Why wasn’t the secretary calling?
“This is Will Kincaid, the principal of Tobermory Public School. Did you by any chance pick Eric up for an early lunch?”
White hot fear thundered through her body. “What? No…Where is Eric?”
A single, painful beat of hesitation was all she needed for that panic to explode. “We can’t locate him, Mrs. Davidson. I’m sorry to tell you this over the phone. We’re calling 911 right now,” he said over muffled conversation in the background. “You should perhaps stay home until the police arrive, in case Eric is heading there…”
She didn’t hear the rest of what he said, because she was already out the door, her phone still in her hand.
No.
No, no, no.
She starting screaming the word over and over again as she backed her car out of the drive, rocking wildly onto the curb. Her wheels spun on the snow-slick road as she gave it too much gas, and she jerked her foot back. Get it together, Faith. Heart pounding so hard it hurt her chest, she drove the two minutes to the school, eyes peeled for any sight of her son.
As she pulled into the lot, so did two O.P.P. cruisers. The police officers followed her inside. The principal was st
anding right inside the entrance. All the doors were closed, and two teachers were moving quickly down the hall away from where their boss stood. He held up his hand. “We’re searching the school right now. All classrooms are locked down, and our staff members are going room by room—”
“When was he last seen?” Faith interrupted. “When did you lose my son?”
“He had gym class—that’s right now, just ending. So we last saw him forty minutes ago. Lunch is next, so our hope was that…”
“Are you the mother?” one of the police officers asked.
She nodded. He introduced himself but Faith didn’t catch his name. He asked for a description, which she gave with some prompting, then he started talking into his radio as the other officer ushered them into the school office.
She watched him through the glass pane in the office door as the principal started talking again. “My understanding is he asked to go to the washroom, and approximately fifteen minutes passed before it was noticed that he didn’t return.”
She spun around. “Aren’t they supposed to go with a buddy?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “Yes.”
“So that didn’t happen?”
“Mrs. Davidson, I am so sorry—”
“I don’t give a fuck if you are sorry. That didn’t happen?”
His voice shook and at any other time, she’d have cared about his obvious pain. “It was an oversight.”
The first police officer returned to the office. “We’ll need some recent pictures…”
The next twenty minutes passed in a blur. A fire truck arrived, then more police. She was holding it together okay until Dean Foster strode in. He was in uniform, and everyone else looked his way, but he didn’t stop and talk to anyone. Instead he bee lined to her, concern written all over his face, and at the sight of someone familiar, something inside her chest cracked open.
“I’ve got you,” he said roughly as she clung to him. “We’re going to find him.”
“He packed some extra stuff in his backpack,” she choked out. “I didn’t realize it this morning, but it was heavy.”