Homecoming (23 page)

He pulled Mitch into his lap and felt the boy’s head turn as he pressed his little face against his arm. “I know it’s scary, but she’s got good people taking care of her.”

“But what if she dies?”

Emotions flooded Jake as he rocked the boy in his arms. He’d asked the same question when his mother had gone to the hospital that last time, and no one had been honest with him. Neighbors had taken him in, and he’d been promised his mother was going to be just fine, and that he’d have a chance to see for himself.

He’d been awake that night when they’d come home from the hospital; he’d heard the woman crying, then the loud whispering between her and her boyfriend.

There’d been a knock on his door and she’d come in to say his mom wasn’t hurting anymore, and that she’d gone to sleep with the angels in heaven.

He’d been so, so angry. His mother had been brave all along; she’d put up with a lot of pain before and he couldn’t understand how she could have just left him without saying goodbye. He’d pushed the woman away and run out the door, not stopping until he’d run all the way to the playground. There he’d pushed himself higher and higher in the swing, until his feet touched the branches of a nearby tree, higher than he’d ever gotten before...he remembered having the crazy thought of trying to see into heaven so he would know if his mom was okay. And in that swing, he’d said his own goodbye.

Social Services sent someone to get him later that next day, taking him back to the apartment to pack a ratty-looking, smelly suitcase the neighbor lady had donated. He’d stayed in a foster home until they’d located his old man.

It all came back to him as clear as though it had just happened.

“Jake, can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“What happens when you die?”

Jake gently pulled Mitch away from his chest so he could see his face. “What do
you
think happens?”

The boy shrugged. “A kid at school had a grandma who died. He said she looked like she was asleep.”

“You know, not even grown-ups know for sure what happens.”

Mitch’s blue eyes searched his before he finally asked, “Does it hurt?”

“I don’t think so. I don’t think it works that way, especially when someone’s in the hospital. But sometimes, sometimes our bodies are just done. It has nothing to do with you, though. You gotta believe me. All you can do is wait, really. I won’t lie to you, Mitch. There’s nothing you can do but hope, and know your mom’s fighting as hard as she can.”

“And wish?”

“Yah. We can wish really hard.” He felt the tears in his own eyes and pulled the boy to him. “No matter what, I’ll make sure you know what’s going on, okay?” It was the least he could do. No matter what, he intended to tell the boy the truth.

The sound of Mitch’s okay was muffled against his chest, and he felt the little boy quiver with the shudder of quiet sobs. He held the boy for a long time, until finally he felt the boy’s breathing deepen and he realized Mitch had cried himself to sleep.

***

Cory leaned over to put Molly in her stroller. The baby’s eyes sprung open as she fought sleep with all her might.

“Shh...shh...shh.” She pushed the stroller back and forth until she saw Molly’s eyes flutter, her rosebud lips pursed to suck. Cory put her little finger into the baby’s mouth to soothe her while she rummaged in the sides of the stroller for a pacifier. When she found it, she wiggled it into Molly’s mouth and the baby relaxed, finally giving in to the pull of sleep.

Grabbing the diaper bag and cooler, she rolled the stroller into the kitchen, then parked it near the table where she placed the bags. First she opened the cooler where she found a note of explicit instructions written in Sara’s shaky hand, then peeked into the diaper bag. She touched the tiny pink and yellow onesies, and the little white undershirts that snapped at the shoulder. There were enough supplies for at least a week.

She pinched her lips together and shook her head. She shouldn’t have been so short with Jake earlier.
You were afraid to ask him to stay
, a little voice said inside her head. The truth was she’d thought he’d look at the added responsibility and run as fast as his legs could carry him. But he hadn’t.

“Oh, Molly,” she said as she looked at the sleeping baby, “you think there’s a tiny, tiny chance?”

One cat just leads to another.

Ernest Hemingway

Chapter 15

Cory spread the Faythe Bugle on the table in front of her and tried to concentrate on the front page stories, but her mind kept wandering and making it impossible to retain even the tiniest bit of information. She was getting nervous; there had been no word from Ted at all about his sister’s condition, though Sara’s neighbor had just walked over to let her know that Sara was through the worst and had been running a normal temperature for twenty-four hours. As promised, Mrs. Porter had been over three times a day to check on Molly so she could report back to Sara; it had been a rough time for everyone.

No news is good news.
Tillie’s voice mixed in with her worried thoughts, reminding her there was little value in worrying, and she tried to hold onto the sentiment. Maybe she should pop in on Sara and see if she’d heard anything...and use her phone to make an appointment to have a telephone line put in at the house. It was time to modernize, at least in the communication department.

It had been three days since her brood had expanded to four. Could she count Jake as part of her brood? Okay, three days since the little mixed family had been cohabiting. She was pleased at the easy routine they'd fallen into. Mitch was in the room between Jake’s room and the study; she’d found a charming sleigh-style daybed a week ago that suited the boy perfectly. She’d taught him how to pull the custom twill cover on after he’d straightened the sheet and blanket, making the bed look more like a couch once he’d arranged the bolsters and throw pillows.

He’d told her he liked it better than his room at home; it was bigger and it was cool because it came with cats. Max had taken an immediate liking to the boy, curling up at his feet and sleeping with him all night. Even little Leona had defected. By the second night, Amber and Oscar had joined the menagerie.

That first day Jake had Mitch practicing pounding nails on the porch, then together they’d made a simple bird feeder that now hung in the willow tree. She’d donated some of the leftover trim paint so Mitch could paint it to match the house.

Mitch was really having a good time and only asked about his mother in the evenings when things got quiet. And Molly had almost too easily fallen into a nice little routine of eating and napping, and even sleeping through the night. She seemed to adapt to a regimented schedule as though it were a comfort.

A family in the house seemed somehow to make everyone happier.

At the sound of hushed voices in the hallway, Cory looked up from the newspaper to see Jake’s hand nudge Mitch into the kitchen doorway.

“Just like we practiced,” Jake’s voice whispered loudly behind the boy.

“Hi, Cory,” Mitch said, waving at her and grinning a big, fake smile.

“Good morning, Mitch.” She glanced at Jake who had joined Mitch in the doorway, a conspiratorial grin on his face.

Mitch rubbed his belly dramatically. “
Boy
, am I
hungry
...and I heard you made the very best blueberry pancakes in the whole wide world!” He giggled behind his hand and looked up at Jake, who nodded vigorously back at him.

She leaned back in her chair, not about to make it easy on the two. “They’re pretty good, if I do say so myself.”

Mitch turned back to look at her, mischief flashing in his eyes. “Maybe we better taste ‘em...just to be sure.”

“Well, I guess that would be a good idea.” She stood to start pulling ingredients out of the cupboard and refrigerator, then peeked over her shoulder and saw Mitch and Jake high-five each other. She raised an eyebrow at Jake and he shrugged, raising both hands in mock innocence.

His teasing and light manner had resumed since Mitch and Molly had been added to the mix, and there had been little to no time when she was alone with him. Things felt more on an even keel, though her dreams at night were disturbed with various versions of their magical night together, all ending in all-too-realistic lovemaking.

Molly slept through their pancake breakfast feast and both Jake and Mitch consumed more pancakes than Cory had thought humanly possible, praising her culinary abilities until she begged them to stop. They even volunteered to do up the dishes while she went to check on Molly.

“I’ll wash and you dry,” Jake said as he pulled a chair up to the sink for Mitch to stand on.

“What if I drop one?”

“Just take one thing at a time. You’ll be fine. You can just stack ‘em on the counter and I’ll put ‘em away all at once.”

“Okay.”

They managed to get through the process with only a little water fight toward the end. Then Jake taught Mitch how to snap a towel, and the boy practiced on the table leg until he could produce a healthy cracking sound.

Cory came into the kitchen and they both held their wet towels behind them, grinning.

“What
are
you two doing in here?”

“Oh, nothing.” Jake brought his towel out, held a corner in each hand and started twirling it in the air between them.

“You wouldn’t dare!” she said.

Jake took a step toward Cory, and she squealed, then ran back into the hallway.

Jake and Mitch took chase and Cory ran out the front door, laughing. When they caught up with her, she had the hose in her hand and her eyes were dancing.

“Now, now....” Jake said as he and Mitch stopped on the bottom step, then looked at each other. “What do you think, Mitch. Think she’ll do it?”

Mitch shrugged, then took a step onto the grass.

“I’ll give you one warning,” Cory said, reaching down to turn the water on, keeping her finger on the trigger of the sprayer attached to the end of the hose.

“Mitch, I think she’s serious,” Jake said as he matched the boy’s step and took another one closer to her. Cory’s eyes flashed and she held her ground, ready to defend herself. She was wearing short shorts and a blue knit tank top, her chest heaving a little as her breathing quickened. She looked adorable, too much like he remembered her at eighteen. Her hair was loose over her shoulders, and she looked sexy as hell. She wore no makeup, and didn’t need it. Her skin had colored a little from the summer sun, and her cheeks were blushing nicely. Jake took a deep breath, clenching his jaws as he realized how deeply he was affected just looking at her.

“Hey, Jake,” Mitch said, the laughter brimming in his happy voice, “it is pretty hot out here anyway, right?”

Jake nodded, then started twirling his towel. He lunged toward Cory and she squealed, and pulled the trigger.

At the same instant Mitch yelled “Charge” and ran into the water spray in front of Jake so the water deflected back at Cory.

Their fun turned into a game of water tag as they took turns squirting each other, laughing hysterically until Jake finally called for a truce.

“What’s a truce?” Mitch asked, squeezing out the bottom of his T-shirt onto the pink-and-white petunias close to the house.

Jake held Cory’s gaze; he’d called the truce because he was having a great deal of trouble maintaining control over the impulse to wrap his arms around her and kiss her. She looked ravishing; her hair clung to her neck in long ringlets, and her top was soaked, accentuating the fullness of her breasts. And she had no idea how alluring she looked, that was clear. As though she were reading his mind, she crossed her arms in front of her and turned her attention to the boy.

“A truce, Mitch, is when the warring parties agree to stop fighting,” Cory said.

“And sometimes it’s just a rest, but sometimes it’s forever,” Jake added, pushing his dripping hair away from his forehead.

“Cool,” Mitch said. “Guess we better go change, huh?”

“Race you,” Jake said as he sprinted up the steps.

“Leave your wet clothes in the tub,” Cory yelled after them, waiting a few seconds before she followed. Had Jake been alluding to something more than their impromptu water fight? No. She was just hoping for something else and she needed to stop it.
Stop wishing for the impossible.

There were only seven more days together. He wouldn’t be starting something...maybe it was just his way of saying he wanted to be friends. But could she be just friends with him? She couldn’t honestly say. She still quivered when she looked at him, felt herself respond to even the most innocent of touches, her body craving more.

And besides, in seven days he’d be back in Chicago. With any luck, they’d slip into exchanging Christmas cards and an occasional phone call. Maybe she would be able to handle her feelings as long as it was from a nice, safe distance.

Stopping first in her room for a sundress, dry bra and panties, she added her own wet clothes to the guys’ in the tub. She squeezed out the excess water, then draped all their wet garments over the shower curtain to dry.

After she’d dressed, she combed through her hair, scrunching the waves to return her curls to some semblance of control. Then she heard a soft knock on the door.