Finding Home

by Marianne Evans

  She shook her head and scowled, seeming ready with a rebuttal.

  He didn’t give her a chance to speak. “Oh, I can imagine where you’re about to take this conversation before you even say a word. Sure, you came back. Sure, you wanted to see your friends, and spend time in a country you enjoy, a city you love. Let those words die on your tongue, because speaking them aloud would be the worst form of hypocrisy.”

  “You’re being cruel!”

  He ignored the glitter of building tears in her eyes—eyes that would haunt his soul forever if they didn’t find a way through this mess. “There’s nothing holding you back from me, is there?” He gentled his tone, made it more tender and intentionally tempting.

  She sagged onto a corner of the bed.

  “God’s cleared a pathway for us, Lexie. Why won’t you explore it?” Realization punched a powerful blow to his heart. “It’s not won’t, is it? It’s don’t want to.”

  As the words died between them, Peter turned away, trembling, starved for oxygen. The depth of feeling wasn’t there for her. How else could Alexa’s leaving be explained?

  “Wait.”

  Slowly, he faced her.

  Her hands trembled as she twisted her fingers together tight and rested them on her lap. She avoided his eyes. “I don’t want to ruin this, Peter. I don’t want to ruin us. I…I love you. I love you so much, but I don’t know how to let go and believe that…that…”

  “That I love you? Find a way to believe it. Please. Because I do.” He sat next to her, at a careful distance. “You’re breathing hard, love. Have I struck home?” She bowed her head, her hair a curtain that hid her face from view. He rubbed her back slowly. “Once the dust settles, I hope you’ll be able to find yourself, Lexie.”

  She tilted her face so their eyes met. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning I hope you find some courage.”

  She took in a shaky breath and stood.

  Peter watched her pack-and-fold scenario resume and gain momentum.

  “I see. I need to find courage. I’ve left my cheating fiancé to his bombshell of a new girlfriend, I’ve moved into my own place, I’ve fought to stay focused and competent on the job, and I’ve traveled halfway around the world to be with you. Still, I need to find courage?”

  “Exactly. You’re mistaking courage with survival. Courage would keep you here. Faith would lead you to stay where you are right now. You wouldn’t be visiting me on some kind of a refreshing holiday to mend your broken heart. You’d’ve been here all along.”

  “Don’t throw that observation at me when you’re successful and happily settled in your homeland, surrounded by your family and a life you’ve never considered leaving behind.” She threw shirts and slacks into her suitcase then slammed it closed.

  The comment struck him like a well-positioned arrow, and all Peter saw now were the footsteps she took away from him. Distance built, irrevocable, shattering any hopes he had of holding on to a love his spirit craved.

  Unable to tolerate the pain, he pushed past her and out of a bedroom that echoed with the call of goodbye. Stomping down the stairs, he was met motion for motion by Alexa, who followed suit and tracked him to the living room. Vanessa, it seemed, had long since vacated the place. Smart woman, Peter thought.

  Alexa worked her way in front of him and blocked him from moving forward. “Stop running yourself, Peter Colby! Since you aren’t any more willing to leave Britain than I am to leave America, maybe we’ve both copped out.”

  Peter’s heart quickened. There wasn’t much to be said in response to that remark. “Fine, and fair. We both know we could be more, but we’ll stay friends. Is that it?” Alexa seemed ready to dissolve, but he ignored her building emotions. “Friendship suited in the past. Maybe friendship is what it will always have to be for us. That doesn’t mean I have to like it, because I don’t. Not anymore.”

  Her chin quaked. She nodded as tears built all over again. “Then like I said, it seems we’re both willing to step away.”

  Peter attempted to shake free of the truth behind that observation, but he couldn’t. He stared at her, convicted. They called themselves faithful? Trusting of God’s plan? No. Not by a long shot. The ramifications of that fact struck hard against his prideful behavior and took it down like a bomb blast.

  “Maybe you make a point, but I want you to realize I let you into my heart. I did everything I could to show you the depth of what I feel. If you want to walk away after that, that’s your choice. However, I’m not OK with it. Dealing with you wrecks me.”

  Just as quickly his intensity faded to a sickening vibration of futility and sorrow. He raked his fingers through his hair and stormed away. “I’m such a fool. I suppose, once you’re back in America, we’ll go back to touching base every now and again, and I’ll miss you with every heartbeat. But you need to keep something in mind, Alexa. We could’ve been spectacular together.”

  Silence replaced volatility and an electro-charged atmosphere. His head spun in a million different directions at the moment.

  “I know you need to finish up with your packing,” Peter muttered at last. “Flights are calling in the morning and all that. I won’t stand in your way, but I certainly won’t sit around watching, either. I’m headed to the pub. A pint at Rose and Wills sounds much more appealing to me than watching you prepare to leave.”

  Peter snagged his coat from the closet and yanked on the doorknob, pulling it open and letting in a blast of snow and cold air.

  “And that level of behavior just figures.”

  The bite in her tone stirred the flames of Peter’s breaking heart. He slammed the door closed and threw his coat down on a chair as he spun back and strode to the spot in the living room where she stood. “Meaning what, exactly?”

  “Meaning I have quite a track record when it comes to men who supposedly care for me doing a bolt and run.”

  “Oh, is that the way?” He raked her with his gaze and Alexa jammed a fist on her hip, jaw set, chin lifted. She was a masterpiece of defiance…and carefully controlled pain. That fact left him with the tiniest sliver of hope. A world of emotion swam in her eyes, but Peter had run out of time, and ways, to convince Alexa to release her heart and embrace the love they both felt.

  “Yes it is, unless you can find some way to explain how what you’re doing is any different from what Derrick pulled.”

  He gasped for air, feeling his stomach muscles clench as though he had been punched. “The difference between me and Derrick is the fact that I have always respected you. Furthermore, I’ve cared for you the way you should be cared for. Think about that once you’re alone in America.”

  The very idea broke his restraint. Tiny threads of control snapped. He needed a last taste of her—a filling, thirst-quenching gulp before she was gone for good.

  In a fast and possessive motion, he backed her against the nearest wall and pinned her there with the line of his body. Fast as could be, his head dipped low. Before he could reconsider or back down, Peter initiated a devouring kiss that sent his world reeling. The thirst didn’t end—it intensified, because she welcomed him in touch, taste, and open response.

  This woman was his soul’s other half…how could they part, and survive?

  He felt her knees buckle, but his support kept her from toppling. In a lightning flash, with barely enough time to reign himself in, Peter pulled away. He stumbled backward by several generous paces and ground out a desperate sound.

  He reclaimed his coat. “I have to get out of here.”

  He didn’t look back, or wait on any form of response. Instead, he banged the door closed, its reverberation resounding through his head like a hammer strike.

  9

  The ride to Heathrow was long, unnaturally silent, and awkward.

  In the window behind her, Alexa watched the cityscape of London grow small, vanishing at last. Tears stung her eyes, building and falling as fast as she could whisk them away with trembling fingertips. Saying goodbye to Vanessa h
ad nearly done her in before she even exited the apartment where Peter waited out front prepared to take her to the airport.

  Stalwart and stiff, his eyes trained nowhere else but traffic patterns on the road ahead, Peter navigated the car while Alexa crumbled beneath an anvil of sorrow.

  “Please…” The whispered word swelled through the air, even as she cleared her throat, trying hard to cope with their leaving. She started again. “Please don’t hate me.”

  He flexed his jaw, but at length he glanced her way. “I don’t hate you. I never could. I think you’re making a mistake, but your road isn’t mine to choose.”

  In the agonizing series of heartbeats that followed, Alexa trained her unseeing gaze out the passenger window and nipped at the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out how much she hated this land of goodbye. Especially since, for the entire visit, happiness had surrounded her like a treasure.

  Peter expelled a laden sigh. “Alexa, we’re OK. We’ll never be what we could have been, but that’s for me to cope with. You’ll always be precious to me. Always.”

  The words were beautiful, and meant to reassure, yes, but they sounded so hollow and pained.

  Alexa choked back sobs, unable to escape the truth that she had struck a match to a relationship that meant the world to her, and hurt a man who, time and again, had shown her the beauty of being properly treated.

  And loved.

  ****

  Matters didn’t improve any at the airport drop-off point.

  Peter parked the car and accompanied her to the check-in gate. That’s when Alexa found she could barely stand, or breathe. Forever chivalrous and thoughtful, he hauled her luggage and set it at their feet while they prepared to say goodbye.

  But nothing could prepare her for their parting. She garnered just enough strength to reach out one last time, and draw him in for a long, tight hug that tortured her spirit. “I never meant to hurt you—or us. Not ever, Peter. I love you.”

  She saw him swallow hard, witnessed the way his eyes filled. “Likewise.” He looked away briefly and cleared his throat. “I said we’re fine, and I mean it. Yes, I wish things had turned out differently—that you were only returning to the States for a short time rather than forever—but that can’t, and won’t, keep me from caring about you, Alexa.”

  She nodded, and attempted a smile. All the while, though, she realized he hadn’t called her Lexie…or Lexie-love. He was remote from her now, withdrawn to a place she’d never be able to reach again.

  “Safe travels.” He hugged her once more, but the instant passed quickly.

  Turning to claim her baggage, yanking free the handle of her suitcase, Alexa prepared to join the lineup at security. Before stepping forward, she intended to offer Peter a final farewell…but the words died on her lips.

  He had already left, and was nearly through the terminal entry doors.

  Alexa stood in the midst of a crowd, frozen and gasping for air, staring after him in stunned silence while he melted into a throng of people. Her legs wouldn’t move. Hanging her head, she tumbled toward the nearest chair and sank onto it. Propping her elbows on her knees, she cradled her head in her hands. Sobs wracked her body.

  She had to get moving. She had to work her way through the cordoned off inspection maze or she’d never make her flight. She had to get home.

  Precious child, you’re home now. Your home is where I place you, and your heart. Release your fears. Move forward in the love I’ve delivered.

  How could she possibly do that now? She lifted from the seat, spent and weak, wondering about God’s command. She reached into her purse for her travel documents, and pulled out a tissue to dab her eyes dry.

  A transatlantic flight, then a transcontinental flight, called her to action. She’d have hours to contemplate her decision to walk away. Alexa trudged to the TSA check point where she surrendered her belongings for x-ray and withstood the scans and standard questions.

  But her efforts to leave were so labored she felt her heart pounding. As she was waved through and instructed to collect her personal items, she found it necessary to lean against the metal conveyer belt, clutching its cool ledge for a moment so she’d remain standing. Her chest heaved and her breathing went shallow as she put one foot in front of the other.

  “Madam? Are you all right? Can I help you?” A young attendant moved to assist.

  Alexa went weak all over again.

  “I’m fine. Sorry…”

  Images crowded her heart: London vanishing behind her, Vanessa’s tearful farewell. In most strident terms came the moment that had just played out—looking into Peter’s eyes, and seeing so much love…then leaving it all behind.

  10

  Foolish, Alexa had believed she was miserable before leaving for England. The heartache of enduring Derrick’s betrayal paled in comparison to the emptiness she felt being away from Peter. Just three days back, an ache grew, overtaking her joy, eradicating hope.

  With Christmas Eve almost upon her, all she could do was scour Facebook, scan her e-mail account, and pray. Thus far, there came no answer from Peter, or God.

  She loved the warm band of sunlight that illuminated the kitchen table where she finally settled, but she longed for cold winds and frosty atmosphere, along with the cinnamon and evergreen kissed aromas of London. Where would Peter be right now? Work, most likely. Did he hurt, too? Did he miss her, too?

  Alexa propped her chin on her hand for a moment. Staring at the monitor of her computer, she allowed herself the dream of him. She tapped keys and set about exploring a travel site. She even clicked on details, filling them in.

  Destination: London

  Date of Departure: December 26th

  Date of Return: Open

  Her heart performed a round of summersaults at the prospect of what glowed before her on the laptop screen.

  “Peter.” She breathed his name assailed by longing.

  Tears hazed her vision. Trickles of moisture fell free, moving against the back of her hand. He wasn’t on line these days, or she’d use technology to connect with him. She hadn’t e-mailed because she longed desperately to Skype instead so she could see his face, absorb his inflections and tone of voice.

  Her cell phone chirped to life, issuing a shrill summons that made her jump. Wouldn’t it be a miracle if…

  Alexa didn’t check caller ID. Rather, she engaged the call promptly, squeezing her eyes shut, hoping, hoping… “Hello?”

  “Hey, Lex! Whatcha up to?”

  Alexa wilted, and her throat clogged into a tight knot. “Hey, Mom. I’m just hanging around.”

  “So I hear…from your sister. I’ve been thinking about you non-stop, and I really want you to end this exile. Mind if I force the issue? We’re putting on a family dinner tonight. Come on by.”

  Alexa sighed. True, she had avoided connecting to people since her return from overseas. “On a weekday? That’s unusual.”

  “Well, your absence has been unusual.” A pause ensued. “Oh, honey, we miss you. And I just don’t want you to be alone anymore. Join us, OK?”

  Alone. The word reverberated while Alexa clutched the phone in a death grip.

  “Stacy’s coming by, and we’ve saved you some ornaments to place on the tree. Plus, it’s your year to position the angel on top. Remember?”

  Yes, she did. Ever since grade school she and Stacy would trade off the honor of crowning the tree with its prized decoration.

  “OK. Let me put together something for dessert. I’ll see you in an hour or so.”

  “That’d be wonderful, Lex. See you soon.”

  She barely choked out a goodbye.

  Alexa’s chin quivered and her chest pulled tight. She tried to keep from crying, but failed. The flutter of a bird near the window drew her back to the place where she didn’t want to be—an empty life in California. The finch, of a cheery, vibrant yellow, perched on the outer sill of the window and chirped away.

  Lifting her chin, she forced herself to ge
t busy with a dessert offering for dinner. No scones this time. Today’s dessert would be mini crème puffs.

  Before long, chilled pastry dough awaited. In practiced motions, she formed the dough into small balls, settling them onto a baking sheet. Moments later she placed them in the preheated oven and set the timer.

  While the pastry shells baked, she prepared to make chocolate syrup from scratch. Drizzled chocolate would form the culminating touch to her creation. After rooting for cocoa powder in the pantry, she unearthed a clean mixing bowl and began to measure out heavy whipping cream and powdered sugar. Taking out her mood on the mix, she beat the combination into suitable stiffness for a crème Chantilly filling. Her throat constricted. In answer to that reaction, she increased the stroke and intensity of her whipping. The filling, at least, would be superb.

  Don’t ever let sweetness dissolve from your life.

  She stared at the spine of the nearby cookbook, hearing the echo of Peter’s voice. Defiant, she ignored the pin-pricks of pain and longing.

  After plating and wrapping the pastries, she drove the short distance to her parent’s home. She navigated the horseshoe drive in front of their stately colonial, thinking even though her heart was weighted, anything beat sulking within the confines of her lonely apartment.

  ****

  Alexa’s mom pulled her inside. After an enthusiastic round of hugs and welcomes, Alexa’s spirits perked immediately. She surrendered dessert and peeled off her coat. “Where are all the presents and goodies?”

  Reverting to the childlike exuberance of anticipating Christmas helped her turn an emotional corner. She linked arms with her younger sister, Stacy, and they strolled to the living room where the tree awaited, stationed before a huge picture window. On a nearby table, next to a small step ladder, rested a stash of ornaments…and the Christmas angel.

  Alexa sighed, leaning against her sister. Stacy was an inch or two taller, but they shared fair features and blonde hair. “I needed this.”