Coming Home (2 page)

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” the woman said, her face crumpling with the amused smile again.

Leah shook her head as if to clear it, trying to place this strange woman.

“No. I mean…not that I can remember,” she said after a few seconds, hoping she hadn’t just offended someone from her past.

“You’ve been here before, haven’t you?”

Leah looked over the woman’s shoulder at the little yellow house. “Not for a long time.”

“Just about a year, I’d say.”

Her eyes flew back to the woman. “What?”

“You come every Christmas,” she said with a smile. “You were here last year.”

Leah straightened her posture, saying nothing, and the woman nodded. “It was you. In this car,” she said, gesturing to the car behind Leah. “I remember your face. I may look to be past my prime, but I’m still sharp as a tack,” she said, pointing to the side of her head with a gloved hand. The bulky black gloves, like the coat, looked far too large to be hers.

When Leah still didn’t respond, the woman said, “Last year you stopped in the road. I saw you through the window, and I thought, ‘Now what would make such a pretty girl look that way?’”

She swallowed. “What way?”

“Heartbroken.”

Leah dropped her eyes as the woman said, “By the time I got my old bones out here to check on you, you were gone.” She tilted her head, looking Leah over before she added, “You don’t look heartbroken this year. Just…pensive. But I still thought I should check on you.”

Leah pressed her lips together, her eyes trained on the ground. She knew she should say something, but she was far too taken off guard to formulate a response.

After a moment, she glanced up at the woman; her smile was unfaltering, but she still had that expectant look in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Leah finally said. “I don’t mean to bother you. It’s just…I used to live in this house…and I’m running some errands near here…and whenever I’m in the area, I like to stop by and just…remember, I guess. I shouldn’t have—”

“Nonsense,” the woman said, cutting her off. “Don’t you apologize for anything. I like a girl who remembers her roots. Besides, what’s Christmastime without a little nostalgia? I think it’s wonderful.”

The look in the woman’s eyes mirrored the unadulterated kindness of her words, and Leah was suddenly consumed with the inapt desire to wrap her arms around this tiny stranger.

Instead, she exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Thank you. For understanding,” she said, pushing herself off the passenger door. “Anyway, I really need to get going, but it was nice meeting you. Merry Christmas.”

She started to walk back around to the driver’s side, stopping short when she heard the woman say, “Did you want to see the inside?”

Yes. You have no idea how much.

She took a tiny breath before she said, “No, that’s okay. Thank you anyway, though.”

“Don’t be shy, honey. I just put on some tea. You can come inside, warm up for a bit. Maybe see your old room?”

Leah dropped her head back slightly, blinking up at the sky
.
She shouldn’t do this. For one, it was getting late. She still had errands to run, not to mention the hour drive back home. Plus, despite the fact that this woman seemed harmless enough, there was always the possibility that she was the innocuous decoy, leading an unsuspecting young girl into the house where a demented serial killer waited.

She laughed to herself, shaking her head at the absurdity of that last thought before the woman added softly, “I’d love some company for a while. Just one cup of tea. I know you have to be on your way.”

Leah turned to look at her then. She was still smiling, but her happy expression belied the unmistakable sadness that infused her last words. And for some inexplicable reason, she couldn’t tolerate the thought of this woman being sad, even for one minute.

“Okay,” Leah said, taking a tentative step forward. “But I really can’t stay long.”

“One cup,” the woman promised, her eyes disappearing amid a mass of wrinkles before she turned and shuffled up the short driveway, unlatching the gate that led to the side yard.

Leah followed, stepping into the yard behind her, and without warning, her eyes welled with tears.

It looked so small. How could it be this small? Leah could distinctly remember playing tag with her brother and sister in this yard, the three of them running back and forth until they were gasping for air. Now, she could probably walk across it in four long strides.

She glanced around, her vision blurred from her unshed tears. The yard had been repaved as well. The block of concrete, the one they had imprinted with their handprints and initials, was gone. Her chin quivered slightly as she lifted her eyes, looking at the opposite end of the yard. The tiny garden where her mother had grown her tomato and basil plants had been blocked over with pavers. A barbecue sat above it.

Leah hadn’t realized the tears had spilled over until a gust of cold wind amplified the trails of warmth on her cheeks, and she wiped at them hurriedly before glancing up to see the woman standing in the doorway, holding it open with a sympathetic look on her face.

“You’re okay, honey,” she said softly, and Leah forced a smile as she walked past her and into the house.

It felt like being transported back in time, and she placed her hand on the wall beside her, feeling completely disoriented.

The furniture was all wrong, of course, and the walls were a different color, but the layout was still the same, so that if she stood there long enough, she could see the house as it was when she lived there. Her eyes traveled to the half wall that separated the kitchen from the living room, where two small vases of daffodils sat. She could remember her mother leaning on it with her elbows, peeking out at them with a smile while she fixed dinner.

The sharp whistle of a tea kettle brought her back to the present, and she blinked quickly, dropping her hand from the wall.

“Sit, sit,” the woman said, gesturing to the small dining area past the kitchen. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Leah walked through the kitchen and over to the table, unzipping her coat and hanging it on the back of one of the chairs.

“Can I help you with anything?” she asked, watching the woman disappear in the nook of the kitchen.

“That’s okay, thank you. Just tell me how you take your tea.”

“Two sugars, no milk, please.”

Leah heard the clinking of glasses and spoons before the woman turned the corner and approached the table with a steaming teacup in each hand. She placed one in front of Leah and patted her hand before she sat across from her, wrapping her frail hands around her own cup. Without her enormous jacket, she looked even tinier, wearing a thin white sweater and gray slacks. Leah’s eye was immediately drawn to her neck, where a bulky-looking ring was hanging from a thin gold chain. It looked like a man’s class ring.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even introduce myself, did I?”

Leah lifted her eyes from the incongruous piece of jewelry to see the woman extending her hand.

“I’m Catherine.”

“Leah,” she said, clasping her hand gently.

“Well, Leah, thank you for agreeing to have tea with me.”

“Of course. Thank you for inviting me,” she replied, lifting the mug and blowing gently on the steaming liquid. She took a careful sip, humming contentedly as the warmth spread down her throat and through her stomach, and Catherine smiled the smile that crinkled her face and made her eyes disappear.

“The house looks wonderful, really,” Leah said, looking around. “Especially the outside. You fixed it up beautifully.”

“Yes, well, my boy helps me with that,” Catherine said softly. She was quiet for a moment as she looked down, and Leah watched her shoulders rise as she took a deep breath, exhaling slowly before lifting her head. “So,” she said, taking a sip of her tea, “you’re here running errands?”

Leah nodded. “I come down here every year to get some things I need to make Christmas dinner. I live about an hour north, but no one makes homemade pasta like the Italian deli a few blocks over.”

Catherine quirked her brow. “Giovanni’s?”

“Giovanni’s,” Leah confirmed with a laugh, and Catherine nodded sagely.

“I can’t blame you. I can see driving an hour for the food there.”

“It’s kind of a Christmas tradition in my family,” Leah said with a shrug.

“Traditions are good. They help keep memories alive.”

Leah’s eyes flashed to Catherine, but she was looking out the window, her expression unreadable as she carefully sipped her tea.

“So,” Catherine asked after a minute, bringing her eyes back to Leah, “which room was yours?”

“Um, that one,” she said, gesturing to the room off the dining area.

Catherine smiled as she motioned toward the doorway. “Go ahead.”

Leah looked at the door before exhaling heavily. Seeing it made her chest ache. Why was she doing this? What was the point? Why did she continue to torture herself, year after year, by coming here?

She placed the cup on the table before she stood and walked the short distance over to the bedroom.

Leah took a few steps inside, trying to reconcile what she was seeing with what she remembered. The walls were grayish blue, no longer the lavender from her childhood. A single full-sized bed was pushed up against the wall where the bunk beds she had shared with her sister had been. She walked over to it and sat down, running her hand over the soft navy blue comforter.

Beside the bed was a wooden table with a small television and another vase of daffodils. As Leah leaned over to smell them, she noticed the far wall; the shelves that had housed all her dolls and stuffed animals were gone. Instead, there were several framed photos. The largest one was a close-up of two little boys, their arms thrown around each other, grinning from ear to ear. They were pointing at each other’s mouths, drawing attention to the fact that they were both missing their two front teeth.

Leah smiled, glancing around the room one more time. It was simple, neutral, and no longer hers.

“It’s my guest room,” Catherine said from the doorway, and Leah jumped up from the bed, rubbing her palms down the sides of her jeans. “My boy stays here from time to time when he—”

They both turned as the front door swung open, banging unceremoniously against the wall.

“Gram?” a voice called. “Do you know some stupid asshole parked in front of your garage? I had to park two blocks over and lug this thing all the way back here.”

Catherine glanced at Leah, smiling apologetically before she said, “Language, Daniel.”

“Sorry,” the voice said. “Just let me get your tree set up and I’ll have one of my guys tow it out of here.”

Leah’s eyes widened in alarm just as Catherine looked at her, waving her hand dismissively in his direction.

He turned the corner then, propping a Christmas tree up against the wall in the living room. Leah could see him through the half wall as he unzipped his jacket with one hand and pulled off his gray wool hat with the other, revealing a mess of inky black hair sticking up in every direction. He placed his keys on top of the wall and ran his hand through his hair, walking through the small kitchen toward the dining area. As he entered the room, he lifted his eyes, stopping short as they made contact with Leah. Against the dark tone of his hair, they were shockingly blue.

“Hi?” he said, his brow furrowed.

“Daniel, this is Leah.”

He cast a confused look at Catherine before bringing his eyes back to her.

“I’m the stupid asshole,” she said.

She heard Catherine chuckle beside her, and Leah smiled when Daniel had the good graces to look embarrassed.

“Sorry…I…”

“It’s okay. Sorry about making you have to walk with that tree,” Leah said, motioning toward the living room.

He nodded, still looking sheepish, and Leah couldn’t help but find his embarrassed awkwardness somewhat charming. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to put him out of his misery or needle him just to keep it going a bit longer.

“Listen,” she said, walking over to the chair to grab her coat, “if your tow truck guy is already on his way, could he just tow me over to Giovanni’s? That’s where I’m headed.”

He stared at her for a second before amusement flickered behind his eyes, and the corner of his mouth lifted.

“That’s sort of frowned upon,” he said, and Leah nodded in feigned disappointment.

“Damn,” she said, zipping up her jacket and wrapping her scarf around her neck. “Well, in that case, I better get going. Catherine, it was a pleasure to meet you. Thank you so much for everything.”

Catherine shuffled toward her, holding out her arms, and Leah leaned down and gave her a gentle hug. “Anytime, dear. Next year you come right on up to this door and give it a knock, okay?”

“I will,” Leah promised, and Catherine gripped her hand and gave it a squeeze.

“You take care, honey.”

As Leah made her way toward the door, she nodded a farewell to Daniel, and he returned the gesture; it looked like he wanted to say something, but he remained quiet as he stepped to the side to let her by.

The cold air seemed less offensive as she made her way across the tiny yard, feeling strangely at peace for the first time in a while. Leah unlatched the gate, and as she turned to close it behind her, she let her eyes rove over the yard one last time. This time, she pictured Catherine sitting in a folding chair, drinking a cup of tea while she watched her grandson paint the fence. Leah smiled to herself as she closed the gate and turned toward the street.

She had just reached her driver’s side door when she heard his voice.

“Hey, hold up a sec.”

Leah looked up to see the screen door swing closed behind Daniel as he jogged toward the gate and unlatched it. “Listen,” he said as he approached her car. He shoved his hands in his pockets before clearing his throat. “I just wanted to apologize. For the whole stupid asshole thing.”

And there it was again—that endearing self-consciousness.

“It’s okay,” Leah said. “It
was
a stupid asshole move.”