Homecoming (20 page)

She lifted her chin and said, “I’ll see you back at the house sometime, then.”

“Right.”

She took her cup with her and went into the bathroom, glad to be by herself and out of the tension-filled room. She scrubbed her face clean and studied herself in the mirror, trying to decide if she looked different.

One night. One, glorious, magical night. That was the deal, and she would have to find a way to live with it. He had a life, a boss and job he loved, and absolutely no desire for attachments.

She narrowed her eyes, glaring at herself.
You knew that going in.
Her reflection stared back, her eyes welling up.

To stop herself from thinking it to death, she stripped off the tee-shirt, grabbed her shampoo and conditioner and took a long luxurious shower where her tears could mingle with the hot water.

***

Jake snapped the laptop closed and loaded it into his briefcase, then walked into the bedroom to change. The shower was on, steam drifting through the open door. He leaned his head into the bathroom. She was in the shower; her shape was blurred by the glass block but not enough to prevent his immediate arousal.

Clenching both fists tight, he ordered his feet to stay put. He easily imagined a second round of lovemaking under the soft spray, utilizing the shower seat, sudsing each other’s bodies until—

Stop.
He closed his eyes, trying to banish the image of her from his mind. More than anything he wanted to touch her again, feel the silky skin of all her curves under his hands, lose his fingers in her soft hair.

She’d done it again. She’d made him feel different. When he was with her he felt invincible, smart, that anything was possible—especially when they joined forces. But experience reminded him those feelings accompanied the infatuation stage of any relationship. And they weren’t having a relationship, he reminded himself. So, it was done.

One night. That was it. That was the deal.

Any more and they were doomed for failure, and he certainly wouldn’t put her through it. He had to be honest with himself and just realize he didn’t have the knack, the skills...or the genes for more.

Done.

Time to go to work and kick some Rod-butt.
There he was comfortable; things made sense. There he had a solid, predictable future. And he was good at what he did.

It would just have to be enough.

***

When Cory tried to tip the driver he explained Mr. Randall had already taken care of him. He placed her bags inside the front door of Tillie’s house, touched the brim of his hat, and walked back to the black sedan for the return trip to Chicago.

She closed the door after him and leaned against it, glad to have left the hustle of the city behind her. Glad to be home. Chicago would always be a nice place to visit, she’d thought as the driver had deftly woven through traffic getting out of the city. But now that she was home, it was clear more than ever that now her heart belonged in Faythe.

Meow.

Max sat in the middle of the hallway and looked at her.

“He’s not here,” she said, squatting down to the floor. The orange cat approached and flopped down in front of her feet, rolling over so she would rub his stomach. Winston appeared next in the parlor doorway, rubbing his cheek against the wood.

“You guys do okay while we were gone?”
We.
She shook her head as a long sigh escaped.
Not we.

She spent the morning cleaning cat boxes and refilling food and water dishes. No obvious signs of mischief or problems and it looked like the cats had gotten along fine without them—
her,
she corrected.

The sound of her own bustling about the house soon proved more annoying than comforting. First she tried putting on a record, but it only reminded her of Jake. She cut some flowers from the yard and arranged them in a cobalt blue vase, then was reminded there was no one to admire them but herself.

“I will not mope around this house wondering what he’s doing,” she told Leona as the kitten immediately jumped into her open suitcase and buried herself under the clothes. Cory shooed out the kitten and unpacked her bag, then hung her dress in the closet as far to the right side as she could. She didn’t want to see even a scrap of the pale lavender-colored material.

At least for a while. She felt too tender.

***

It had been two days and Jake still hadn’t come home.
But Faythe isn’t his home.
She forced the logical thought.
This—and everything here—is only temporary for him.

With everything on the day’s list completed and the long evening looming ahead of her, Cory grabbed a stack of unread books to return to the library. If she hurried, she could call Sara from there before the library closed, and maybe talk her way into a last minute dinner invitation.

***

Sara opened the front door, and handed a crying Molly to her. “I’m so glad you’re here—I think she’s got a tummy ache or something. I ate some shrimp then nursed her...you think she’s allergic?”

Cory shifted the baby to her shoulder and began patting her little back in tiny circles, then followed Sara into the kitchen.

Sara stood at the sink as she filled the teakettle with water. “All I want is to sit for five peaceful minutes and drink some tea. Want some?” She turned to look at Cory.

“I’m fine. Should we order in?” The kitchen was a mess. Every dish seemed dirty and stacked in the sink along with an assortment of crusty pots and pans and a myriad of cups and glasses.

Sara put the kettle on to boil. “Ted’s been out of town and she just can’t seem to settle down. She’s still not sleeping through the night so every time she naps, I nap. Look at this place,” Sara’s eyes filled with tears.

Molly’s sobs dwindled and she hiccuped softly, her breathing ragged. Cory took a pacifier from the table and wiggled it into the baby’s mouth. With a sigh, Molly began to suck, dropping her damp head against Cory’s shoulder.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” Sara’s face brightened a little.

“Sit down and have your tea,” Cory whispered. “We’ll call for pizza and I’ll try to put her down. Then I’ll help you clean up after you rest a while.”

Sara smiled and made herself a cup of tea, finally sitting at the table, propping her feet up on an empty chair. “Wait a minute,” she said as her eyes scrutinized her. A grin appeared and she added, “You
slept
with him, didn’t you?”

Could her friend really see something in her face? “Now, Sara—”

“How are you doing?”

“Fine. We made a deal.”

“About what?”

“One night. No strings.”

“Whoa...back up. First tell me about the gala and your dress.”

“The dress was a hit; you should have seen his face when I walked in.”

“Oh, tell me everything before I swoon!” Her voice sounded more like a lovesick teenager than a new mom.

She gave Sara a filtered version of the evening leaving out details about making love with Jake, then moved the dozing Molly into the bassinet Sara had placed in the living room. They attacked the kitchen together and had the dishwasher loaded and pots soaking by the time the pizza arrived.

“So, what are you going to do?” Sara asked, putting slices of pizza onto paper plates.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m assuming you left out how absolutely great he was in bed, and how now you’re trying to figure out how you can live without him.”

“Jeez, Sara.” She shot her friend her best “leave it alone” glare. “We had a deal. It’s over.”

“Hah. Your eyes give you away every time, girl. He’s probably seen it in them too which is why he hasn’t left Chicago yet.”

Cory looked away. Sara was probably right. “He seems so different to me now. The award ceremony was incredible—the things Daniel said about him... I think he might have even believed him at least a little—he had an incredible impact on that young man. Jake’s nothing like his father; he’s fair, attentive, creative, thinks things through—”

“Cory. Maybe it’s not that Jake
seems
different...maybe he really
is
different. Maybe you’re no longer dealing with the same man you started with.”

She considered Sara’s words carefully. Had he changed? Was it possible? She shook her head. “No,” Cory whispered. “He’s the same; it’s me who felt something and I’m just going to have to get over it.”

“Well, you did it once—”

“And I’ll do it again,” she finished and offered Sara a brave smile.

The cat has too much spirit to have no heart.

Ernest Menaul

Chapter 13

After Jake had left Cory in his apartment, he’d successfully crashed the meeting and set Rod straight. The weasel had been flustered, back pedaling the best he could about his tampering with the Stuart account, and Jake had backed off to give him just enough room to save face. Things would now safely wait for another three weeks. His secretary was due back on Monday and very soon his life would return to its normal, regimented routine.

If he could ever stop thinking about Cory.

He’d finished his business by noon the first day, but had delayed his return to Faythe. He’d moped around the apartment, watched old movies on television, tried to work out at the gym in the building, a hundred different paths of activity that led nowhere fast. Nothing held his attention more than a few minutes, hard as he tried.

He’d spent the second day in bed, assuming he was coming down with something, later admitting to himself he merely wanted to put his nose to the pillow that still held her lovely scent. He wanted to remember it forever; a delicious mixture of her subtle lilac fragrance and the mingle of both their bodies’ aroma of love making.

It was intoxicating.

After two more days, he finally managed to talk some sense into himself. He found his car keys in the spot where he’d thrown them during a midnight fit of self-loathing, left his apartment, and pointed his car north.

Now he was sitting at The Java Hut, sipping on a cappuccino and hoping for some liquid courage before driving to Tillie’s.

The bell tinkled the arrival of a new customer and Jake looked up to see Mr. Foster walk into the coffee shop.

“Ellie, I’ll have a large house coffee, black.” Then he looked toward Jake’s table. “Care for some company, son?”

Perfect. A nice excuse to delay his confrontation with Cory. “Been saving you a seat,” he said, kicking out a chair with his foot.

Foster walked over with the large mug in one hand. “Too hot for hot coffee, but I just never developed a taste for it iced. Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I was in the city for a few days. Business.”

“You and Cory about done with Tillie’s house?”

“Couple more weeks should do it.”

“So, was I right about you and her working well together, even after all these years?”

“She’s quite the slave driver.”

“She always was the organized one, but she had a real hard time having fun in school. You were a good balance for her, Jake. Her brains and your creativity...it was a good mix. I knew about your learning problems, too, son.”

Jake’s mind refused to register the significance of the words. “You knew what?”

“This school district wasn’t the best for testing and diagnosing back in those days. I’d done some reading on my own, though. You’d managed to survive your whole school career, so I figured you’d make it okay no matter what. But I knew Cory would fill in all the parts that were hard for you. I was right, wasn’t I?”

“Yeah, you were.” And she’s still filling in the missing parts.

“You two were my favorites, did you know that or did I keep it hidden well enough?”

Favorites
? Jake had learned early how to charm his way through school, but he’d never pegged any teacher for really liking him when his grades were always in the toilet and he was truant so much.

“Things going better for you now? At your job, I mean.”

“I’ve got it made. I’ve got an assistant that I keep giving raises to so she’ll never be tempted to leave me. She takes care of a lot of the details so I don’t get buried in paperwork on a daily basis. That allows me to do the things that I do to make the company shine.”

“All you ever needed, Jake, was a support system. I know Tillie provided that for a while. Your dad, well, he couldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t,” Jake corrected.

“Okay, wouldn’t.”

Jake watched his old teacher finish his coffee, amazed that he’d had to come back to Faythe to finally get a handle on his learning disability, and realize other people had known he’d needed help. He’d worked so hard to keep himself shielded, keeping his shortcomings hidden or at least give the impression he didn’t care about school.

But he had. He’d gotten sick to his stomach hearing all the other kids talk about their plans for college and the degrees they’d be getting. Something he’d never have, but wanted desperately. He’d never let on that he much he’d hated his inability to read well enough to even attempt furthering his education.