Homecoming

by Janet Wellington

  They plopped down on the ground under the drooping willow branches that enclosed them in a curtain of green, and Jake handed him half the cookies. “You like chocolate chip?”

  The boy nodded, finishing his first cookie in two bites.

  “Slow down—there’s plenty. Cory makes a lot of good stuff like brownies, muffins, pancakes...really good pancakes.”

  He watched the concern build on the little boy’s face. “Uncle Ted said me and Molly’d be stayin’ here probably.”

  “Yah. There’s plenty of room, and he knew I needed some help around here. You good with a hammer?”

  Mitch shrugged one shoulder, then finished another cookie, never taking his eyes off Jake. “You got any kids?”

  Jake stared into the boy’s eyes. He had a feeling Mitch had more to say. “Nope. You got a dad?”

  “Nah. He moved away—he’s got a new family now.” Mitch looked down at his last cookie, then back up at Jake. “You got a dad?”

  Jake nodded.

  “You’re lucky.”

  Jake took in a sharp breath, then plunged in with both feet. “My mom was in the hospital once too. You scared?” He watched as Mitch nodded, then saw the tears well up in the boy’s eyes until one spilled out, rolling down his cheek.

  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 comf
ort.

  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.

  “Cory?” Jake’s voice was soft and low.

  “Come in, I’m just doing my hair.”

  As Jake stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, her heart quickened a little. He’d changed into khaki shorts, but hadn’t yet put on a shirt. His chest had become tanned with all the outdoor work that summer, and it seemed to her he’d grown even more muscular with the physical labor. Her fingers flexed as she realized how much she wanted to run her hands over his smooth skin.

  “Cory, you okay?”

  Time seemed to stop and she had no idea how long he’d been standing there, waiting for her to say something. “Hmm?”

  “I’m getting concerned that we haven’t gotten any word from Ted about Mitch’s mom.”

  “Me too.”

  “Do you want me to drive in to the city to the hospital and see if I can find out what’s going on?”

  “Maybe. But first why don’t I take Molly for a stroller ride to Sara’s and see if she’s heard anything. Then we can decide.”

  “Good. Mitch and I have enough things to keep us busy this morning, though I’m starting to run out of stuff. Looks like we’re really finished here.”

  Was that melancholy she heard in his voice? She searched his eyes hoping to find more clues, but he turned away before she could really judge his emotions. He opened the door to leave, hesitating for just a second as he turned around to look at her.

  “I’m not having a good feeling about
this,” he said.

  “I know. Let’s take it one step at a time. I’ll leave right now for Sara’s.”

  He nodded, then left. His face looked as serious as she felt, her stomach tightening even more because he’d been worrying too. She put her comb in a drawer and went to get Molly.

  ***

  The walk to Sara’s felt good, even though the humidity was on the rise and the heat factor made it feel much hotter than the actual temperature read. The brisk activity helped settle her nerves enough so that when she pushed the doorbell, at least she felt more in control and not quite so on edge.

  “Sara, it’s me and Molly,” she called, finally hearing some noise on the other side of the door.

  The door opened and Sara stood in the doorway, tears streaming down her pale, drawn face. “Oh, Cory—” She stepped aside so Cory could push the stroller into the house.

  “Sara, what’s wrong?” She guided the stroller to a spot in front of the couch, then sat down next to a sobbing Sara.

  “I’ve been trying to figure out how to get word to you, but Mrs. Porter hasn’t been home all morning.” She dabbed at her eyes with fresh tissues. “I just can’t seem to stop crying.”

  “Mitch’s mom?”

  She nodded, then blew her nose. “I must have slept through the phone ringing last night when Ted called. I got up this morning and noticed the message light blinking. Oh, Cory...she never regained consciousness after the surgery and just slipped away during the night. Ted was right there sleeping in a lounge chair they’d brought into the room for him.”

  Fresh tears ran down Sara’s face as she scooped Molly out of the stroller to bring her close against her chest. Cory pulled mother and child to her and rocked them both as she waited out Sara’s renewed sobbing. After a few minutes, Sara quieted and leaned back.

  “What time is it?” Sara asked suddenly.