A Perfect Homecoming

by Lisa Dyson

  “Maybe.” They just weren’t the things that allowed them to be in the same room together without friction.

  Paula may have taken his side in the divorce, but he was acutely aware that she’d never given up hope that he and Ashleigh would reunite.

  He turned to leave but not before her lips turned up slightly in amusement.

  Kyle didn’t know what else to say, so he went directly to the kitchen. No sign of Ashleigh or her tea. He opened the fridge to discover three casseroles, as well as a salad.

  He removed the food and set it on the counter for a better look. Lasagna, chicken enchiladas and some kind of mystery pasta casserole labeled with cooking directions. Not caring which they ate, he decided to leave it up to Paula. He strode out of the kitchen and turned right to go down the hall, nearly knocking Ashleigh down in the process. Instinctively, he grabbed her upper arms to keep her from falling.

  “Sorry.” They both spoke at the same time.

  Kyle hadn’t been this close to Ashleigh in years. He hadn’t touched her bare arms, inhaled her distinctive scent or seen those blue eyes up close in so long. Their azure color always reminded him of the island paradise where they’d honeymooned.

  As brand-new doctors, they couldn’t afford an expensive vacation. At the time, he had just been hired by the Grand Oaks Community Hospital as an E.R. doctor and Ashleigh’s dream of becoming a partner in her father’s pediatric practice was about to come to fruition.

  Both had agreed they wouldn’t spend money they didn’t have. So when they discovered their siblings had pooled their money to give them a honeymoon as a wedding present, they were ecstatic.

  The trip had been idyllic. No work, no worries, only each other. Swimming and snorkeling during the day, dinner alfresco on their private balcony in the evening and making love whenever the mood struck.

  If only they had been able to avoid the devastation and heartbreak that followed.

  “Kyle?” Ashleigh’s whisper interrupted his reverie. He immediately released her, dropping his hands to his sides as if burned.

  “Sorry.” He stepped back and searched for something more to say. He rubbed his palms against the outside of his thighs to erase the tactile memory of her. “I was going to ask Paula which casserole she’d like for dinner. Maybe you should see if there’s one you prefer.”

  Ashleigh replied by bobbing her head as she walked past him into the kitchen.

  Fool! How could he have allowed her to see him so vulnerable?

  He strode to Paula’s room and rapped louder than he should have on the doorjamb.

  Paula’s head jerked in his direction. “Is everything okay?” She set aside the magazine she’d been flipping through.

  “Yes.” He paused. “No.” Another pause. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Ah.” Paula’s eyebrows rose. “Ashleigh strikes again.”

  “I said I don’t want to talk about it.” He racked his brain to remember the choices for dinner and finally recited the list. “Do you have a preference?”

  “Enchiladas sound good.” She patted her abdomen and referred to her baby. “Bam-Bam likes spicy food. Too bad I can’t have a margarita with it, but Jean said she made some corn bread. I think it’s in a pan on the counter and there should be a salad in the fridge, too.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Kyle returned to the kitchen where Ashleigh was turning on the oven.

  “I was just preheating to three-fifty,” she said. “I didn’t know which one we were cooking.”

  He took the enchilada casserole from the counter and put it into the oven, setting a timer according to the written instructions. He found the corn bread and pulled out the salad. A noise behind him was a reminder that Ashleigh was still in the kitchen.

  She’d gotten out plates, silverware and napkins, butter for the corn bread and dressing for the salad. Now she sat at the table, hands folded.

  “Kyle?” Her tone was soft.

  He gave her his attention, saying nothing.

  “At the hospital today,” she began, visibly swallowing. “I heard some talk about a lawsuit. Are you in trouble?”

  His jaw clenched so tight he was in danger of cracking a tooth. “I’d rather not discuss it.” He turned his back to her.

  * * *

  ASHLEIGH KNEW WHAT that meant. He didn’t want to discuss the lawsuit with her.

  After a moment of staring at his back in disbelief, she straightened her spine and rose slowly. She carefully pushed her chair in and left the kitchen, gathering every ounce of self-respect she could muster. She needed a moment alone to pull herself together—just one moment.

  She headed to the powder room located off the living room. She entered, closed the door and leaned her forehead against the natural finish of the oak door. Slow, deep breaths finally calmed her.

  What kind of trouble was Kyle in? Was it bad?

  Maybe she could help him. She didn’t know how, but he could have at least told her what was going on. They’d been married for three years, together since high school. Fifteen years total. Didn’t that count for something?

  They’d been through so much together.

  Hadn’t she been the one he’d come to when he didn’t get accepted into his first choice of college? And she’d gone directly to him when her father was diagnosed with prostate cancer the spring of their sophomore year in college.

  He’d dropped everything, including studying for a major exam, to come to her when she’d called in tears. He’d held her through the night, breaking the dorm curfew rules and not caring when her roommate came in. She’d woken in his arms, both of them fully clothed, and she’d realized for the first time how much he truly meant it when he told her he loved her.

  When had they stopped coming to each other? Had it been after the miscarriages? Or had it begun before that?

  They’d led busy lives as physicians, but they always made time to catch up with each other—an occasional lunch, a late-night glass of wine in bed.

  Kyle couldn’t have been more supportive during her first miscarriage. By the third, he’d made several contacts around the world with infertility experts.

  At the same time, Ashleigh couldn’t handle the pressure. She was failing to produce a child and didn’t know how to deal with it. Kyle had always been the one she turned to, but now he spent all of his free time looking for answers.

  Ashleigh washed her hands, taking extra time to run her wrists under the cool water. She dried off and braced herself to face whatever came next. Then she slipped out of the bathroom and went directly to her briefcase near the front door.

  She took refuge in the living room, using the Mission oak coffee table to spread out her files.

  From the sounds of it, Kyle was upstairs—likely helping the boys move some of Ryan’s things into Mark’s room. Several minutes later, Mark came down to retrieve Ashleigh’s suitcase, insisting he could get it upstairs himself.

  “Ugh,” Mark grunted. Her suitcase probably weighed as much as he did.

  Ashleigh grimaced as her luggage hit the wall halfway up the stairs.

  “Let me give you a hand.” Kyle came to his aid before Ashleigh could rise from the sofa.

  “I got it,” Mark insisted, breathless.

  Shortly after, the house became quiet as Ashleigh stared blindly at her client folders, unable to make sense of her notes.

  She leaned her head back on the tweed sofa and closed her eyes. The sound of voices carried from Paula’s room. It sounded like Kyle and Paula were talking.

  “She’s going to find out,” Paula was saying. “Whether you tell her or she hears it from someone else, there are no secrets in this town.”

  “She just arrived today.” Kyle was clearly frustrated. “I thought there’d be more time.”

 
At first Ashleigh assumed they were talking about the lawsuit he refused to discuss, but then she wondered if there was something else. Was he involved with someone?

  She was suddenly light-headed. Was someone sharing his life, his bed? Maybe even his heart? Her throat closed and her breath nearly choked her.

  “Why don’t you tell her?” Paula was saying. “Then it’s all out in the open.”

  Ashleigh strained to listen. She never eavesdropped and now she’d done it twice in the same day.

  “I don’t want her in the middle of it.” His words made Ashleigh’s heart clench. “She made her choices and they didn’t include me. She has her own life and so do I.”

  He had no clue about her solitary life back in Richmond. Her clients, mostly hospital boards and large nonprofit corporations, were her main providers of interpersonal communication. She didn’t date, didn’t want to date since that could result in a relationship and she couldn’t do a relationship.

  What would she lead with? This can’t go anywhere because I’m unable to bear children. Where did that piece of information fit? Right before dessert on the first date seemed a little presumptuous. After the third date? The eighth?

  There was way too much to consider.

  It wasn’t as if she didn’t have a social life. She had a few casual friends she hiked with and this past winter they’d skied a few times. She’d even gone to dinner with a former medical school classmate when she was in San Francisco last fall on business. Unfortunately, he’d gotten the wrong idea, leaving her to explain how she wasn’t looking for a relationship, not even a one-night stand.

  When he took offense to her noncommittal explanation, she finally spilled her real reason and left the restaurant in tears.

  That was when she made the decision to never date again. Period.

  The oven buzzer went off and Kyle’s hurried footsteps sounded as he came down the hallway from Paula’s room and into the kitchen to turn it off.

  He stepped out of the kitchen to call up the stairs to the boys, “Dinner in five.” He glanced over at Ashleigh a mere second, then called to the boys again, “Get washed up.” Laughter and scuffling accompanied their nephews as the water flowed through the pipes until Mark and Ryan came bounding down the stairs.

  After she put her files away and washed her hands in the powder room, Ashleigh entered the kitchen to find Paula sitting at the table, her boys on either side of her.

  “What are you doing out of bed?” The words had sounded much less accusatory in Ashleigh’s head.

  “I invited her to sit at the table to eat,” Kyle said, taking sides against her. Not surprising but painful, nonetheless. “Much less stressful than having the boys eat in the bedroom with her.”

  “We enjoy eating meals together,” Paula explained as if Ashleigh was some clueless twit when it came to family dynamics. “Especially with Scott gone.”

  Ashleigh pinched her lips shut to keep from saying something snarky in front of the boys. Kyle and Paula had made their positions clear. It was the two of them against her.

  Well, game on.

  * * *

  IF NOT FOR HAVING the boys at the table, dinner could have been a disaster.

  Mark and Ryan took over the conversation, eager to tell how Ryan could climb up to the top bunk in Mark’s room with just one good arm.

  “We took the sheets off Ryan’s bed,” Mark said. “And Uncle Kyle helped us put clean ones on. He said we made the bed perfectly. Like Dad does on his sub.”

  “You guys are going to a lot of trouble for me,” Ashleigh told them. “I’m supposed to be here to help out, not make more work.”

  “That’s okay, Aunt Ashleigh,” Ryan said. “We had fun with Uncle Kyle.”

  “Yeah,” Mark agreed. “We always have fun with him.”

  Ashleigh blinked several times, her demeanor projecting sadness if you knew her well enough to read it. Which Kyle did.

  After dinner, Paula returned to her bedroom, herding the boys with her to finish their homework.

  Ashleigh worked alongside Kyle as they cleaned up the dinner dishes and put away the leftovers. There was no need for conversation. They worked silently, diligently avoiding any possibility of physical contact. Nevertheless, his fingers itched to touch her while they were in such close proximity, causing him to be extra wary. The adage “if you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen” repeated over and over in his head.

  Relieved to be done without incident, Kyle was about to make his escape when Ashleigh spoke up.

  “Kyle?”

  He turned to her.

  “Can I talk to you a minute?” she asked.

  The subject could be anything and he wasn’t up to getting into a battle with her.

  He opened his mouth to say just that when Ryan and Mark came running down the hall.

  “Mom asked if you’d start the shower for us,” Mark said.

  “Sure,” Kyle agreed, thankful for Paula’s timing. “I’ll be right up. Let me grab a plastic bag to wrap Ryan’s cast.” As the boys ran up the stairs, Kyle turned to Ashleigh. “Our discussion will have to wait.”

  He didn’t stick around for a reply and left the kitchen with the plastic bag and no remorse. He stayed upstairs while the boys took turns showering so he wouldn’t have to deal with Ashleigh again.

  “This is ridiculous,” he mumbled to himself, and slowly descended to the first floor to find her.

  She was on the phone in the living room. From the little he could make out on her side, it sounded like a personal call.

  Not that he cared. She could have a hundred boyfriends. It was none of his business.

  Yeah, that’s why the sudden weight on his chest made breathing a chore.

  With Ashleigh on the phone it was the perfect opportunity to get the boys tucked into bed and vamoose. So he did just that.

  He took a minute to check on Paula and nearly made it to his truck.

  “Kyle!”

  He could have easily ignored Ashleigh, but he’d never been a coward.

  Although he’d also never claimed to be brave, either, especially when it came to his ex-wife.

  He reluctantly turned to Ashleigh, allowing her to catch up to where he stood next to his truck.

  He turned his car keys over and over in his hand while he waited for Ashleigh to speak her mind. Because if he stopped twirling them, he knew he’d clench his fist so hard it would set off his vehicle alarm.

  * * *

  ASHLEIGH’S HEART BEAT wildly as she struggled for the words that might allow the two of them to peacefully coexist. They’d never return to the days when they were a couple, but she couldn’t stand feeling like an outsider. Her relationship with her sister didn’t have a prayer of improving until she could convince Kyle she wasn’t the enemy. He was the first step toward family harmony.

  “Thanks for waiting.” Her words came out weak and raspy. She coughed to clear her throat. If not for her boss refusing to end their phone conversation until he was satisfied that she would follow up with her clients, then she wouldn’t have had to run after Kyle and get so out of breath.

  Kyle leaned back against his truck. “You wanted to talk?” The jingling of his keys rattled her nerves.

  She swallowed with difficulty. “I wanted to apologize.”

  Silence.

  “For things I said earlier,” she continued. “Like about spending so much time with Paula and the boys.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, but she raised a hand to stop him.

  “I know it’s been hard on my sister, not having Scott around to help out. Especially since she’s pregnant.” She brushed an errant hair off her face. “Thank you for being there for them. You’re a busy person with a demanding job and I appreciate how much you’ve given to my family.”
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  “They’re my family, too.” His monotone fairly oozed disdain.

  “Of course they are. And I know it’s difficult for you to have me around.” Her heart beat faster. “Difficult for everyone.”

  The slight twitch in his right eye indicated a chink in his self-control. “If you expect me to forget the past and act like everything’s fine, then you’re going to be disappointed.”

  She shook her head and took a step toward him. “No, no. I understand that, but I’d like us to call a truce while I’m here.” She paused. “For Paula’s and the boys’ sakes.”

  And because I can’t stand being considered an outcast, especially by my own family.

  She took his silence as agreement and went on. “I came here to help Paula get through her pregnancy and it’s imperative we not upset her. If we can be civil until after she delivers, I promise I’ll do my best to keep our contact to a minimum.” She took a quick breath. “I’ve only ever wanted the best for everyone.” She paused. “Most of all, for you.”

  Ashleigh reached across the few feet that separated them to touch his arm. He jerked away.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His eyes blazed.

  “I don’t know what you mean. Please lower your voice.” She swung around to see if anyone had overheard them.

  The late-April sun had set an hour ago. The currently deserted neighborhood was shadowed by the bluish white of the mercury-vapor streetlights and the occasional porch light, but the neighbors would come wandering out if they heard raised voices.

  “You’re playing me,” he accused.

  “What?” This time her voice was too loud. She lowered the volume. “I have never ‘played’ you.”

  “Sure you have,” he said stiffly. “You do it to everyone. You soften people up to get them to do what you want them to. I have to give you credit. You’re successful ninety-nine percent of the time.”