Soaring (9781311625663)

by Ashley, Kristen

  I still wanted her to help me decorate because I didn’t care what side she skirted. I liked her a lot.

  “I’m ready when you are.”

  Her grin turned excited.

  “I know of a local interior designer who does very good work,” Josie joined our conversation, a can of Pledge and a dusting cloth in her hand, even though I had no idea what she could possibly be polishing since I’d sold my dining room table (that had been for sale) and she’d been nowhere near the end table.

  “I want whatever I create here to be all me,” I replied carefully, not wanting to hurt her feelings and also not sharing that I had no idea who that me would turn out to be.

  She tipped her head to the side as her lips curved up. “Then that’s what it’ll be.”

  Alyssa threw her hands in the air shouting, “Girlie home décor shopping trip!”

  More like fifty of them. I had a big house, and except for the kids’ rooms that were still untouched, it was now a clean slate.

  On this thought, while Alyssa still had hands in the air and was celebrating, Josie turned concerned eyes to her friend. “Amelia will not want her home to look like a bordello.”

  I sucked in an audible breath at what this might mean but more, how Alyssa might take it.

  I let it out when Alyssa dropped her arms, burst out laughing, allowing herself to do that with abandon for a few moments before pushing out words while still doing it, “Are you sayin’ my place looks like a whorehouse?”

  “I’m saying you decorate heavily in scarves,” Josie replied.

  “Every girl knows lighting is everything,” Alyssa returned.

  “Agreed. Thus those who have that ability provide light bulbs of a multitude of different wattages and finishes in order to offer us a variety of lighting opportunities,” Josie retorted.

  Alyssa turned to me and jerked a thumb at Josie. “Ain’t this bitch a kick?”

  She was.

  However, I wasn’t sure Josie knew how she was and thus shared in the amusement making it okay to be amused so I decided to say nothing.

  “Babe!”

  I stiffened then turned at hearing Mickey’s voice.

  With the women as well as kids that were female in my house, there were currently eight “babes” he could be speaking to.

  Upon catching his eyes, eyes that were aimed my way, I found this particular “babe” was me.

  “Two o’clock tomorrow good for you?” he asked when he got my attention.

  “Sorry?” I asked back.

  “Brats, chicken, you kickin’ back,” he reminded me.

  Oh…shit.

  I’d totally forgotten.

  “Uh…well…”

  “Two,” he stated firmly. “And don’t even think of offerin’ to bring anything. Just come over. We’ll have you covered.” Before I could come up with a suitable way to decline his invitation, he looked to his daughter and called, “Ash, baby, you ready?”

  “Yeah, Dad,” she called back quietly and I looked her way to see her eyes come to me. “It went awesome, Miz Hathaway.”

  “Partially thanks to you, blossom,” I told her.

  She lifted her shoulders, dropped them, tipped her head to the side, looked to the ground and made no reply, doing all of this while heading toward the door.

  I watched, feeling my eyes narrow, not certain why those brief, subtle movements made by Aisling troubled me, just certain that they did.

  “Two.”

  I jumped and looked at Mickey who’d repeated himself and again did it firmly.

  How to get out of this?

  How?

  “Two, Mickey,” my mouth said.

  Well, that was how not to get out of it.

  Shit.

  He nodded, swept his eyes through the room and called a general, “Later.”

  Then he disappeared, closing the door behind him and his daughter.

  It barely clicked before I found my body shifting an inch to the right at the same time I felt a piercing pain in my ribs, all because Alyssa had elbowed me and did it hard.

  I looked her way in surprise.

  She waggled her eyebrows, saying, “Mickey?”

  “I like this,” Josie said softly and I looked to her to see she did like it. A lot.

  “I don’t like it, I love it,” Alyssa declared, and my eyes went back to her. “Mickey Donovan. The Irishman. Total score,” she decreed.

  If this was that, she would not be wrong.

  However, this was absolutely not that.

  “We’re neighbors,” I told them both.

  “Neighbors where one of you has boy parts and one of you has girl parts,” Alyssa pointed out suggestively and unnecessarily.

  “Yes,” I agreed, also unnecessarily. “But his kids will be there.”

  Alyssa’s grin got big. “All the better. Though, not about the boy-girl parts. Just about the invitin’ you over with the family part.”

  “No, Alyssa,” I said softly. “I’m a neighbor. Just a neighbor. Sure, a female one, but this is how it goes,” I began to explain. “You’ll never know it because you and Junior look at each other like you’re passing in the halls in high school on a Friday afternoon and you have a hot date planned that night so you’ll never have to do this. But if this was a neighbor with boy parts and one with girl parts scenario, I’d meet his kids probably in six months after we spent six weeks planning for that particular meeting.”

  “This is, unfortunately, true,” Josie murmured.

  I nodded, even though I wasn’t fond of her confirming. She didn’t need to. “So this has nothing to do with boy and girl parts. This is just Mickey being a good guy.”

  “Bet, you go over there with cleavage, his good guy will get better,” Alyssa suggested.

  I shook my head but did it grinning.

  Josie snapped, “It’s hardly appropriate for her to wear cleavage in front of Mickey’s children.”

  Alyssa looked to Josie, raising her brows. “Why? I wear it front of my kids.”

  “They’re your children, Alyssa, with your children you can do what you wish,” Josie pointed out. “And if something were to happen between Amelia and Mickey, and the children got used to her and she became a part of their family, then she could do what she wishes.”

  “Oh…right,” Alyssa muttered.

  “Anyway,” I cut in. “It’s nothing to get excited about. Just brats, chicken and relaxing with a new neighbor.”

  “Bummed,” Alyssa kept muttering. Then she perked up. “Though, means you’re good to go on the prowl, which means we can go on the prowl with you.”

  On her we, she elbowed Josie, who didn’t shift an inch to the side, but she did glare at Alyssa.

  “You’re kinda very married,” I reminded her.

  “I’m definitely very married,” she agreed with me. “That doesn’t mean I don’t get to go out. Junior knows I wouldn’t stray. He doesn’t care.” She turned to Josie. “You in?”

  “I’m always in for something that would allow me to dress up,” Josie announced.

  I was uncertain about this, therefore told them, “I’m not sure I’m ready.”

  “Okay, then don’t be ready,” Alyssa gave in instantly. “First, we pimp your house. Then, we go on the prowl. You call it. We’re there. Lunch wore off about half a minute after they ate it so now I gotta get my brood home or they’re gonna start eating your couch and that’s the only thing you got left to sit on.”

  I looked to her brood, which was expansive. Every one of them was crashed on my large sectional, looking cranky.

  She corralled them out of the house and into her SUV while I said good-bye to them along with Amber, who took off with her two friends, both named Taylor (though one was a boy and one was a girl) as well as handing out hugs and giving and receiving thanks from the last moms who left.

  This left me with Josie, both of us standing at the door.

  “I delayed because I wanted to be certain you’re okay,” she explained her
lollygagging.

  “I’m good. I have a couch. I have a bed. And unless someone sold it, I have a bottle of wine,” I replied on a smile.

  “No, Amelia, I dawdled because I wanted to be certain you’re okay.”

  I pulled my lower lip between my teeth.

  Josie’s eyes dropped to watch.

  Then she said softly, “I see.”

  I let my lip go and whispered, “I need to decorate.”

  It made no sense, couldn’t make any sense to anyone but me.

  Somehow, when Josie lifted her gaze to mine, I knew it made sense to her too.

  “Then we shall be certain to get on that immediately.”

  Why was that such a relief?

  “I love it that you and Alyssa are helping,” I told her honestly. “I—”

  “I love it you want us to help,” she cut me off and I felt more relief that she understood and I didn’t have to say it. “A very short time ago, I was new here too. And I had many who embraced me. I know how it feels. So I might love it more, seeing as you’re giving me the opportunity to return that to somebody.”

  I couldn’t say we’d gotten to know each other very well in the time it took to pull this house sale off. There were certain things you shared just because you were communicating but nothing had been that deep.

  I could say, although she was an unusual woman, I knew she was one I liked.

  Now I could say I’d been right in doing that.

  I took a chance, reached out a hand and grabbed hers.

  I squeezed briefly and let it go. “I’ll call you. Set something up. We’ll get Alyssa and start Cliff Blue Project, Phase Two.”

  She nodded as she reached out, grabbed my hand, but she didn’t squeeze it briefly and let it go.

  She held it tight and didn’t let go.

  “And I’ll look forward to your call and think of wonderful places to take you that will inspire you.”

  “Thanks,” I whispered.

  “My pleasure,” she whispered back, her hand tightening.

  I tightened mine too.

  We held on as she said, “All you gave today, I cannot say. Jake did a preliminary count, Amelia, and we’re stunned at what we raised but not surprised,” she threw out a hand to my empty space, “given your generosity. That money will most assuredly cover new equipment plus gym time, something Jake always took a hit on, which meant the gym’s bottom line suffered, rather drastically. But he never even considered letting the league go, and now, for the first time, that won’t be an issue. He might even be able to afford to get the boys into a better ring for their matches with decent seating for parents, something the league’s never been able to do. You’ll need to come and see the boys when the season is on so you can witness what you’ve done for them and how much they enjoy it.”

  “You’re on for that.”

  She smiled.

  I smiled back.

  She let me go on a warm squeeze and said, “Farewell, Amelia, see you very soon.”

  “Very soon, Josie.”

  She turned to leave and I lifted my hand and waved as she did.

  She waved back.

  I made sure she was safely on the road before I closed and locked the door.

  I turned back to the room, the light feeling I had escaping me completely as the cavernous space suddenly didn’t seem like an invitation to create beauty, but instead with the quiet after a busy day, a crushing emptiness that could never be appropriately filled.

  “Clean palette,” I murmured to myself, moving to the kitchen and finding that my last bottle of wine had not been sold.

  I opened it, poured a glass in a plastic cup (for I no longer had wineglasses) and opened the fridge.

  I stared at the picked over sandwiches and curled my lip.

  I hadn’t even had breakfast, what with everyone lining the street so early. All I’d had time for was wolfing down a small bag of chips.

  But none of that mess looked appealing.

  I closed the fridge.

  I briefly considered texting my kids to tell them the house sale was a huge success. Something they couldn’t care less about. A fact that, if I’d actually had an appetite, would have completely erased it.

  Then I decided taking my first bubble bath in my fabulous bathroom in my fabulous tub overlooking the sea, doing this with a plastic glass of wine by my side, something my mother would never do and would actually find abhorrent (starting with the tub that had windows all around exposing her to the sea, though no neighbors, but definitely including consuming wine out of plastic), was just the thing.

  So I did that.

  Chapter Four

  The Danger Zone

  The next afternoon, not allowing myself to wish I was walking down my lawn toward Mickey’s house for reasons other than just being a neighbor coming over for a barbeque, I walked down my lawn toward Mickey’s house.

  I’d spent the day doing the minimal clean up left from the house sale and unpacking Auden and Olympia’s rooms. Since they didn’t take the opportunity, I’d also gone through their things. Anything I hadn’t seen them wear in some time, or I thought might not fit anymore, or they didn’t use, I put in piles with notes asking if I could add it to the next sale the league might put on.

  In other words, I stayed busy, mostly so I wouldn’t think on things, however, this only partially worked.

  It allowed me not to think of my impending kicking back with Mickey and his children.

  But it forced me to think about my children and how lost they were to me.

  I powered through this, finished with the kids’ rooms, took a shower and got ready, donning some of the Felicia Hathaway clothes I didn’t sell (but only because I needed something to wear).

  Now I was standing at Mickey’s door.

  I drew in a deep breath, let it out and hit the doorbell.

  I could hear it ringing inside and it was a normal bell, not dulcet and uncommon, like mine.

  As I listened to it ring, I allowed myself to hope for two seconds that the Donovan family had forgotten about my visit and had taken a spur of the moment trip to Disneyland.

  These hopes were dashed when the door was flung open.

  “Hey, Miz Hathaway!” Cillian cried, beaming up at me. Then he declared, “We’re in the kitchen,” turned and started walking into the house.

  I took that as what it was, my invitation to follow him, so I did, closing the door behind me.

  I wanted to take time to study Mickey’s house but Cillian was moving at a good clip down a short hall toward the back of the house so I didn’t get the chance.

  I still took in as much as I could get. And with what I took in I knew that either Mickey had put a goodly amount of effort into making his post-divorce house a home for his children or he’d gotten the house in the divorce.

  It was dark, not due to lack of windows, there were a lot of them, nor due to the plethora of wood and wood paneling, but instead due to the fact that Mickey had a number of mature trees on his lot and many of them were close to his home.

  The outside of the house made me think the inside would scream Home in Coastal Maine.

  I was slightly surprised it didn’t.

  When I looked left to take in the living room, above the stone fireplace, there was a beautiful seascape with an old-fashioned boat on it. There were also some of those colorful glass things that were suspended in webs of ropes hanging on the walls.

  That was it.

  The rest was comfortable, cushiony furniture, some in attractive tweed (the armchairs), some in worn leather (the couch). The tables were topped in everything from what appeared to be an old baseball ensconced in a glass block, bronze figurines (two, both art deco, one that looked like an angel without wings, arms out, head back, as if ascending to the heavens, the other an elephant) to multi-paned standing frames filled with photos from a variety of eras, sepia to color.

  To the right was a long hall I suspected led to bedrooms and bathrooms.

  As
I followed Cillian, I saw on the walls of the hall an expertly scattered display of frames that were mostly pictures of Mickey’s kids, from babyhood to recently. These were interspersed with pictures of what, to my fascinated eyes, appeared to be Mickey from a baby through adolescence and even into adulthood.

  These included Mickey (possibly) lying in nothing but a diaper on a fur rug in front of a fire, head up, doing a baby giggle at the camera. Also Mickey in a Little League uniform, posing with cap on, wearing a grin that would mature from the cute in that picture to the heart-stopping of today, bat on his shoulder. And another with Mickey, perhaps in his late twenties, leaning back against the front of a fire rig.

  There were also framed pieces of art, none of them good because all of them were done by a child’s hand, some of them signed “Aisling” others “Cillian.”

  And last, there were empty spaces that didn’t fit the careful arrangement. Empty spaces that laid testimony to this being the Donovan family home considering they were at some point more than likely filled with pictures of Mickey’s wife, perhaps their wedding, them together, the family together, but now they were gone.

  I knew what those empty spaces felt like in real life so by the time I made it to the back of the house, my heart was heavy.

  Once I moved through the mouth of the hall, I gave myself the quick opportunity to take in the long great room that was open plan.

  There was a large kitchen with gleaming, attractive wood cabinets and granite countertops to the right, delineated by a bar from the family room to the left that had a big sectional that faced a wide, flat-screen TV mounted on the wall above another, smaller and less formal, stone fireplace.

  This space, too, was not imposing. It was all family, with thick rugs over the wood floors, the sectional an attractive, very dark purple twill with high backs, deep set cushions, throw pillows and afghans tossed around for maximum lounging potential.

  Around the couch there were a variety of standing lamps that could offer bright lighting, say, should you wish to lounge and read, or subtle lighting, say, should you want to watch a horror movie and get in the mood.

  A long, wide, carefully distressed dark wood, rectangular coffee table with drawers on the sides ran the middle of the sectional. It held a lovely globe filled with burgundy-colored sand in which a fat candle was positioned that had tiers of blue, purple and forest green.