Homecoming Day (11 page)

Eli sniffled. “That's what I need you to understand. Before I got pregnant, I knew where I thought my life was going, but nothing worked out that way. Everything is different. And as our friend Colm would say—different is just different—”

“And that can be very special,” Laura finished.

Eli shot Laura a smile that Laura recognized. It was the same smile she used when a student finally got a concept.

“Now, before I go,” Eli said, “I'm inviting you to Ebi's Homecoming Day. I don't have an exact date yet from the social worker, but whatever day it's going to be, I'd like you to be there.”

“You might as well say yes right off the bat, Laura. Once you've been Kellerized, there's no way out. They'll simply hunt you down. Tell her what Homecoming Day is,” Tucker commanded.

“Whenever the kids arrived at Mom and Dad's, that's their Homecoming Day—capitalized, like Christmas. Those children weren't simply adopted…they came home. We're going to carry on the tradition with Ebony. We want everyone, including you and Jamie, to be a part of welcoming our daughter home.”

Laura didn't want to go. She wanted to put as much distance between herself and Seth, and conversely, she wanted to be with him as much as possible. How
could someone have such warring feelings? “Thank you, but—”

She looked at Eli's obvious excitement and found herself saying, “Thank you. I'd love to be a part of Ebony's Homecoming Day.”

“I'll call Seth and get you both the details.” Eli put a hand on Laura's shoulder. “I know this is a difficult time. Remember you have friends. You call if I can do anything.”

“You can call me, too, but, unless you have a car that needs fixing or specialty painting, I'm not sure how much use I'll be.”

“Don't listen to her,” Eli said. “She's very handy.”

Tucker handed the baby back to Laura.

“I'll tell you, Tucker, if I can learn to handle a baby with the ease that you do, I'll consider myself very handy.”

“That's not tough. Just imagine you're cradling a piston and gently placing it in the engine head and you'll have it.”

Laura laughed. “I don't know what that is.”

“Eggs,” Eli explained. “Babies are like hard-boiled eggs. They require care, but they're tougher than you think they are.”

“Now that, I get. Thanks. And, Eli, congratulations again.”

“Thanks. My daughter may be home in time for Christmas. That'll be something else to celebrate.”

Laura saw them out and felt as if she'd been thrust into the center of an emotional whirlwind. She couldn't really sort through all of it.

When she was teaching Art History, she told the kids
if they could finish a lesson and have one take-away, one impression or fact, she'd be happy. Well, though she still felt breathless from the visit, she had her take-away, Colm's phrase about different being special.

Her life was different, but she didn't have to look any further than her son to find some special. She'd known that and held on to that throughout her pregnancy.

Maybe it was now time to start looking around and seeing what other special gifts life had to offer her.

L
AURA BELTED OUT THE CHORUS
of a popular tune.

Something had changed since Eli and Tucker's visit two and a half weeks ago. She felt lighter. Happier. And when she was happy, she sang. Badly. Loudly. And with a great deal of gusto.

JT looked up from her math book on the coffee table and laughed. “Trying out for
American Idol,
Ms. Watson?”

She stopped. “Sorry, I didn't mean to sing that out loud.” She was sitting on the floor across from JT. Jamie was on his stomach on the floor next to her, studying a stuffed zebra. He could raise his head now.

The book said to make sure he spent time on his tummy each day. It would strengthen his neck, and that soon he'd start doing more than raising his head. He'd be raising his whole torso, then rolling over. Then the world would be his oyster.

“Sometimes happiness spills out.” It had been a while since she was so happy that she'd ended up singing. She smiled at the memory of Jay's teasing—memories that made her smile rather than cry. “I'd like to say being caught by you was the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to me, but it's not even close. Once, I went to a teacher's conference at a hotel. I was getting ready for the evening and jamming—”

“Jamming?” JT teased.

Laura tried to look indignant. “What, jamming isn't a hip word anymore?”

JT shook her head with what Laura assumed was pity. “Ms. Watson, hip isn't a hip word anymore.”

Part of Laura's happiness stemmed from JT's progress. JT had brought home an English test—a C–. For JT, that was an improvement. They hadn't worked together that long. By the end of the year, Laura hoped that JT would have a C average.

Feeling overwhelmingly gleeful, Laura continued their “hip” banter. “Well, I'm a mom now and I don't have to be hip. I shouldn't even try to be hip. I mean, a hip mom is a huge embarrassment to a child.”

JT shook her head again. “I don't think Jamie has to worry about your hipness.” She snorted. “Finish your story. You were at a conference and in a hotel room…?”

Laura ignored JT's rip and continued, “I was in the hotel room by myself, singing as I got ready to meet friends for dinner—friends in the room next to mine. When I went into the hall and met them, they asked what radio station I'd been listening to. I was singing so loudly they'd heard me through the wall.” She remembered Pam and Barb's laughter.

“You must have sounded good.” JT laughed.

Laura shook her head. “That's what they said, but you heard me. So, I'm sure you'll agree that while I sound very nice through a wall, I'm not quite ready for the
American Idol
competition. Simon would rake me over the coals, but hey, I'd get to meet Ellen. I've always been a fan.”

“You're too old to be on
American Idol,
anyway. They have age limits.”

“Ouch.” Laura and Jay used to joke that they'd be in their mid-twenties until they hit twenty-nine, only then would they admit to being in their late twenties. She smiled at that memory, too. “Go ahead, call me old. I refuse to let you dim my happiness. Today's Jamie's one month birthday. And it occurred to me that a year ago today, I wasn't pregnant yet.”

Suddenly, on the heels of that realization came the thought that a year ago, Jay was here, getting ready for Christmas with her, and her bubble of happiness fizzled.

Right after Jay had died, the pain had been constant. Unremitting. Now, there were periods of time she forgot. Not forgot Jay, but forgot the pain. And because she went for times without it, when it did hit, it could buckle her knees.

“You okay?” JT reached out and took her hand. Her short, black fingernails seemed incongruent with the gentleness of her touch.

“Yes. Sure.” But she wasn't—not really. She noticed that she'd been happy for hours.

Jay was gone, and she'd kissed Seth Keller two weeks ago. She was pretty sure he felt as bad about that kiss as she did. He called daily and had stopped in, but only when JT was there. Neither she nor Seth had mentioned the kiss, and she planned to keep it that way. What did that say about her love?

“So, what about next week?” JT asked. “I mean, we have a half day of school on Monday, then we're off
until after the New Year. I don't know if you still want to get together, or not.”

“What do you want? I mean, you certainly deserve time off if you want it.” Laura didn't relish the quiet afternoons. She missed teaching, and helping JT filled that void.

Yet it was more than fulfilling her need to work. She felt a special bond with JT.

“I kinda would like to keep working, but I wasn't sure if you did. I mean it's almost Christmas.”

Laura picked up one of Jamie's blankets and folded it. “JT, I'm here and would love to keep working, if that's what you want.”

JT grinned, as if relieved. “Sounds good.”

A horn sounded in the driveway. “That's my mom. Gotta go.” JT gathered all her books and stuffed them in her bag. “See you tomorrow, Ms. Watson.”

“See you then.”

After JT had gone, the house seemed quiet. Too quiet. Her happy singing from earlier was gone, as well.

Jamie fussed, so Laura picked him up and they sat in the rocker. Nursing him now was second nature. And suddenly the silence wasn't so profound.

Laura started to hum the song Seth had sung to Jamie. She glanced at the clock. Seth was running late, but he'd be here soon. He had called to say he was stopping over today, if that was okay. It shouldn't be. She shouldn't be happy at the thought of seeing him. She was, and the fact that she was brought on a new wave of guilt. What did she want to do about Seth Keller?

They'd fallen into an easy routine. Laura and Jamie
had quiet days together until JT arrived around three-fifteen. They spent the first hour or so on reading. Laura had made flashcards with basic sight words and every day, she added new words to them. When they reached an unfamiliar word, she helped JT sound it out.
Cavern. Mechanics.

JT was still frustrated on occasion, but she was feeling better about herself. And Laura was thrilled with the speed in which she learned.

After flashcards and reading, they worked on JT's homework assignments.

In November, Seth had been on second shift. This month, he was on first and finished up at work between three and four, depending on the day. Most nights he came over and spent the evening. They ate together, watched television together. Occasionally, they went out somewhere and took Jamie.

It was nice. Comfortable even. She'd started to rely on Seth. Most of the time she didn't think about it, but now, nursing Jamie in the quiet house, she wondered if she'd become too reliant on him.

She was still pondering that question when Seth bounded through the front door. “Sorry. It snowed more than I thought and traffic's brutal.” Then he stopped and sniffed. “Something smells good.”

“I've got some of Tucker's soup in the Crock-Pot.”

They ate, played with Jamie and…did things that any normal couple would do on a winter's evening.

Only they weren't a couple.

They were friends. Friends who spent more time together than apart. Friends who'd shared a kiss that
had changed everything. Laura wondered again if she was growing too dependent on Seth.

“About Christmas…” Seth began.

Laura looked up but didn't say anything, mainly because she didn't know what to say.

“My mother called with invitations for both of us. Zac and Eli got word that they can bring Ebi home the day before Christmas Eve. It's her Homecoming Day and you're invited.” He kept plowing through his invitations. “And there's Christmas dinner. You're invited to that, too.”

Laura didn't mind being Kellerized. To be honest, it was a very lovely thing. But she wasn't sure she could spend Christmas with them. “Christmas is a time for family, Seth.”

“You and Jamie are my family. Sort of. I'd like to spend the holidays with you, but if you don't want—”

His comments struck her as too much. “Seth, what exactly is our relationship? Since you kissed me, you've been avoiding me. Okay, you stop in for a few minutes, and for the last month, I've talked to you almost every day. But we're not a couple. I don't know—”

He cut off her sentence by kissing her. Not some platonic buss on the cheek, or even a friendly kiss on the lips.

This one spoke of attraction and a hunger that Laura suddenly felt keenly. Or maybe it wasn't that sudden. Maybe she hadn't wanted to acknowledge that she'd felt something more than friendship for Seth for a while. It had been so long since she'd been held like this. Her lips joined to his. A tentative exploration that quickly deepened into something more.

She twined her arms around his neck, his arms wrapped around her waist. The kiss went on and on, his hands stroking her back, pulling her closer. She touched his short stubbly hair that was surprisingly soft.

For the first time in so long, Laura felt connected to someone. She felt wanted and cherished.

It felt good.

She hadn't been held like this since…Jay.

Jay.

She hadn't thought about Jay as she'd kissed Seth. That realization made her feel as if she'd cheated. It was crazy, and she knew it. Jay was gone. But she still felt as if she'd betrayed him. She pulled away from Seth. “I can't do this.”

“I understand.”

She nodded, not surprised in the least that Seth would.

“Everyone says the person you lost would want you to be happy, but—”

“But. Yes, there's that great big but. I do know Jay wouldn't begrudge me happiness, just like I wouldn't have begrudged it to him,
but
I can't. Not yet. I'm not sure when.” Laura reached out and took his hand. “You know, for me to say I can't because of baggage sounds so utterly boring. I've read a lot of romances. The characters have these huge external conflicts to keep them apart. He's a prince, she's a serf. She's a defense attorney—”

“And he's the prosecution.”

“He's a carnivore, she's a vegan.”

“He's a cop and she's…?”

“An international art thief.” He laughed, which had been her intent. She added, “A stymied artist who tried teaching, but now has turned to stealing works of art. You know what they say? Those who can't teach…or steal.”

They both laughed together for a few minutes, and finally Seth said, “This is where one of us should say, another time, another place.”

“That needed to be said, because it's true. You've become my best friend, Seth.”

“And you, mine.” He squeezed her hand. “I don't want to lose your friendship because of a few kisses.”

“So, we set aside the attraction and be each other's friend. We've got JT and Jamie. That's enough for now. The rest—well, it's not something big and external keeping us apart, but I can't put it aside.” Laura knew it would be easier if they were a cop and an art thief. You could stop being an art thief, but she wasn't sure how to stop loving Jay.

“Star-crossed, like Romeo and Juliet,” he murmured.

Laura nodded. “If we were a Capulet and a Montague, then we'd have a great external conflict. But alas, you're a Keller and I'm a Watson…and worse still, I like you. I don't want to lose you.”

He thrust out his hand. “Friends?”

“Friends.”

For a moment, he looked as if he was going to say something more on the subject, but in the end he simply picked up their pre-kiss conversation. “So, about Mom's invites? I'd love to have you there. You know that things are strained with my parents.”

“Would you like to talk about it?” Talking about his family wasn't something Seth did, but she hoped things had changed enough for him to reconsider.

“No.” His monosyllabic response was definitely to the point.

Laura didn't know what to say, but Seth saved her from trying to find something by continuing, as if she'd never asked about his family. “If you came it would be easier. Having a friend by my side.”

“I'll come to Ebony's Homecoming Day. I couldn't miss that. But Christmas…” She paused, needing him to understand. “I really need to do this one on my own. Just me and Jamie. I need to mourn Jay and figure out how to start this new year without him. Do you understand?”

“Yes. Better than most. The first Christmas after I lost Allie, I went to Atlantic City.”

“To gamble?” Seth didn't seem like someone who'd lose himself in games of chance, but everyone dealt with loss in their own way.

She wondered what her way was?

“No, not gambling. I thought maybe, but no. I ended up sitting on the boardwalk and remembering my last Christmas with Allie. It's amazing how much can change in a period of months. I needed that holiday on my own to…well, process it all. So, I'll tell Mom we're on for Ebony's Homecoming, but not for Christmas.”

“You should go to Christmas with your family, Seth. I'm not going to nag you about your parents and insist you talk to me about it, but you ought to be with them.”

He was quiet a moment, then nodded. “Maybe.
Things have changed with us…been better. We'll see.” He stood. “And speaking of going, I'd better go.”

She didn't get up to show him out. “I'll see you tomorrow,” was all she said.

She sat with Jamie long after the baby had fallen asleep, thinking about kissing Seth. It felt right, and the fact that it did felt oh-so-wrong.

Friends. They'd be friends.

 

S
ETH COULD HAVE KICKED
himself. He'd pushed Laura too hard too fast.

It had been so long since he'd wanted anyone. To be honest, he wasn't sure he'd ever wanted anyone the way he wanted Laura.

With Allie there had been a gentle familiarity. They'd grown up together. He knew everything about her. She knew everything about him. And after he lost her, he hadn't opened up and shared himself with another woman.