His Ordinary Life

by Linda Winfree

  But his daughters slept a room away, and he couldn’t take a chance one of them would wake up and come looking for Barbara for comfort. The last thing they needed was for Anna or Lyssa to find him in Barbara’s bed, and hell, he’d already fallen asleep there when he hadn’t meant to. He began the slow process of disentangling himself from Barbara’s hold. Murmuring a protest, she reached for him, but settled into his pillow as he slid from the bed.

  For long moments, he stood looking down at her. Emotions rolled over him, a sweet rush of love and desire mixed with a hefty measure of uncertainty. The future loomed around him, questions crowding in from all sides. Blake’s secrets, the girls’ safety.

  And Barbara’s ambivalence.

  I don’t want to need you.

  Even after an hour sleeping in her arms, the words stung. He’d seen the truth for himself. Not only did she not want to need him, she didn’t. In the last few days, he’d seen her handle unimaginable crises, and despite her tears earlier, she’d done it pretty much alone. A weird sensation of being outside a window, looking in, shivered through him. The feeling was eerily familiar, a holdover from his adolescence when he’d watched Tick with their father and wondered at the ease of their relationship when he himself couldn’t say or do the right thing.

  In the scheme of Barbara’s life, he felt superfluous. He hated the feeling, as much as he’d feared it when it first raised its nasty little head. Years before the separation, he’d watched her pore over college catalogs, her face glowing with an excitement that scared him to death. She’d wanted that degree with an intensity that bordered on desperation, and he’d wanted her to have it. But all the while, a little voice deep in his head had hissed, underscoring all of his insecurities. She was growing past him, education-wise at least. Would she still want him, still need him? Maybe she wouldn’t want a guy who’d barely made it out of high school on time, one who had no special training other than the insurance courses the state required. And he’d been ashamed, because that tiny, dark part of him had wanted her to fail.

  In the end, he’d tried to make up for those petty wishes, adjusted his schedule so he could help out more at home, worked late at night when she buried herself in studies. That was it. That was the point where we started to lose it. Del leaned down to pull the covers up to Barbara’s shoulders. During those five years, the need to talk had died a slow, painless death. No more long, lazy hours lying in bed wrapped in each other’s arms, sharing dreams and worries. Just quick checkpoints on schedules and budgets, with the occasional and casual “I love you” thrown in.

  He’d let it happen. She’d slipped away and he’d pulled away, and finally there hadn’t been a marriage anymore. Only two people living in the same house, sleeping in the same bed, but never connecting.

  An invisible weight pressing on his shoulders, he eased from the room. A small lamp on an antique table lit the wide hallway and he paused to glance in at the girls. They lay curled together in the huge, old brass bed, their hands intertwined. On the dresser, a hurricane lamp kept the room bathed in soothing light. He could almost feel them clinging to him and his chest tightened. This time, he couldn’t screw up. Even if he and Barbara didn’t make a go of it, he needed to come home, to be here, to be the daddy they needed.

  I don’t want to need you.

  He frowned. Barbara’s words insisted on slithering through his thoughts, niggling at him. Did that mean she didn’t want him? Didn’t want to try again? Leaving the girls’ door open, he returned to his old bedroom. He lay down on the narrow iron bed, hands folded behind his head, and stared at the ceiling. Maybe, in his typical stubbornness, he’d been asking Barbara the wrong question all along. He’d requested another chance. Maybe he should have been asking, “Do you want me back? Do you want us back?”

  He scrubbed his hands down his face, eyes burning. What now? How to get Barbara to trust him enough to confide in him, tell him what she really wanted? The admission tore at him, but he’d done precious little to earn that trust in the past few years. He needed to prove himself to her, all over again.

  “I can do that,” he said, his voice loud to his ears in the quiet. The question was how.

  Come home. Be here. Be the man she needs.

  He glanced at his watch. 11:48. His partner Perry was a notorious night owl. Not too late to make a phone call and get moving on the plans forming in his head. Rolling to sit on the edge of the bed, he reached for his cell phone.

  *

  Barbara awoke to bright sunshine and childish laughter. The light hurt her eyes, sore from crying. With a muffled groan, she closed them, rolled into the pillow and pulled the sheet over her shoulders. Another giggle filtered into the room and she frowned. That high-pitched voice didn’t belong to either of her daughters. Footsteps thundered across the wooden floors downstairs, followed by boyish whoops. Those she recognized. Chuck’s boys, which meant his wife Deanne was here with their entire brood. Of course. It was Saturday, a normal late spring weekend, and Deanne and Lenora would be in the kitchen, shelling peas or canning the early bounty from Lenora’s huge garden.

  She couldn’t lie here forever, as much as the idea appealed. She needed to see Blake, be with Anna and Lyssa, begin the process of taking back her home. Shoving the tangled covers away, she sat up and glanced at the empty pillow beside her. It still bore the indentation from Del’s head. When had he left? A picture rose in her mind of her clinging to him, crying on him, and her cheeks burned. Why was she always so weak around him? Lord only knew what he thought of her now.

  I need you. To complete me. To make me whole.

  He’d sought comfort in her arms and had clung to her as well, yet she didn’t view him as weak. So maybe he didn’t see her that way, either. She ran a hand over his pillow, remembered warmth flashing through her. In his arms, she’d felt safe and protected. Strong. Like she could face anything with him beside her. A smile tugged at her lips. She needed him, and for the first time, the realization didn’t scare her to death. Instead, hope filtered through her, creeping into her thoughts and easing the knots that had taken over her stomach three months before.

  She slipped from the bed. A long-forgotten eagerness bubbled in her, a desire to seek him out, to simply be in his presence. Her watch lay on the bedside table, and she picked it up. A horrified gasp slid past her lips. After twelve o’clock. What would everyone think?

  Hurrying into the bathroom, she rushed through brushing her teeth and scrambled into jeans and a white T-shirt. Thankful she’d opted for the short, no-fuss hairstyle, she pulled on her shoes and headed downstairs. The noise intensified the closer she got to the first floor. The back door slammed, the boys’ voices retreating outside. The soft cadence of conversation rose and fell in the kitchen, and with nerves flicking in her stomach, Barbara listened for Del’s deep voice. She didn’t hear him, only familiar female voices—Lenora, Deanne, Tori. The words grew clearer as she got closer.

  Tori sounded irritated. “I’m telling you, Mama, something is going on with him. I don’t know if it’s something that happened while he was undercover or a woman or what. I wish he’d talk to us, let someone help him. But is he going to do that? No. He’s too damned stubborn.”

  “Victoria, please. Watch your language.” Lenora Calvert’s voice was firm and calm. “And your brother’s life is his own. You don’t want his interference in yours, do you?”

  “No, but—”

  “Then leave him alone. He’ll work it out for himself.”

  “If he doesn’t work himself to death first,” Tori grumbled. Glass and metal rattled. “Maybe Del could talk some sense into him.”

  “Victoria Jean, what did I just say?”

  “Mama, I—”

  “Del looked good this morning, considering,” Deanne said, ever the peacemaker.

  “Of course,” Tori said, a hint of resignation in her voice. “He’s with Barbara.”

  Barbara stiffened and froze in the hallway, mere feet from the kitchen.

&n
bsp; “He still loves her,” Deanne said. “It shows.”

  Tori sighed. “And he’s obviously happier when he’s with her. I can’t help but pull for them to get back together.”

  “Maybe if you had your own love life, you wouldn’t have to be so involved in your brothers’.” Deanne’s teasing voice bubbled in the room.

  Barbara edged away toward the stairs. She sank down to sit on the next to bottom step and hugged her knees. Obviously happier. He seemed obviously happier with her. Again, irresistible hope rose in her. The previous night had given her a glimpse of what could be and her fear was having a hard time nudging in. Unable to keep a smile from her lips, she tucked her bangs behind her ears and pushed to her feet. Making sure her footsteps were audible, she headed for the kitchen once more.

  The heady scent of pickling spices filled the air and neat rows of canning jars lined the big pine table. The three women moved with the synchronized ease of long practice. Barbara hovered in the doorway, feeling out of place and not wanting to disturb them.

  Lenora glanced up, her eyes serene and affectionate. “So you’re awake! Feel rested?”

  Barbara nodded. “Where are the girls?”

  Deanne wrapped Barbara in a quick hug and laughed when her belly, rounded in her eighth month of pregnancy, got in the way. “Outside with my wild crew.”

  “Do they…” Barbara swallowed and caught Tori’s gaze. “Do they seem okay?”

  Tori exchanged a glance with her mother then smiled, her expression reassuring. “A little quiet, but okay. It takes time for the memories to fade. Let them talk when they’re ready, make sure not to push, call me if you need to. You’re a great mother, Barb, you’ll know what to do.”

  “Thanks.” Barbara tucked her hands into her back pockets and glanced out the back window. On the long green lawn, the girls played a laughing game of tag with their younger cousins. “And I want to thank you for last night, for just being with them.”

  “You must be hungry,” Lenora said, pulling eggs and butter from the refrigerator.

  “Actually, I think I’m just going to have some coffee. I’ll get something later at the hospital.” She swallowed and strove to appear nonchalant. “Where’s Del?”

  A knowing look settled on Tori’s pretty face, her lips curving. Her tongs clinked against the glass as she packed pickles into the sparkling jar. “He went to Tick’s. He said he was going to the hospital after and told us not to expect him for lunch.”

  Barbara nodded, feeling a ridiculous sense of distress that he hadn’t woken her to take her with him to see Blake or even say goodbye. She closed her eyes for a moment. This was what she’d been so afraid of. Letting him back into her life and losing control of her emotions. Having everything revolve around him and what he did. With a mental shake, she focused on the practical matter at hand—lack of transportation. Del had driven them last night and her car remained at home. She was going to have to ask someone, probably Tori, for a ride to the hospital. The idea was galling.

  She opened her eyes to find her sister-in-law watching her. Barbara sighed. Might as well get it over with.

  The back door opened, and when Del stepped into the house, a laugh tickled Barbara’s throat. Her own personal knight, rescuing her from a dragon of a sister-in-law. The urge to throw herself into his arms poured through her, and for a moment, she gave it serious consideration, if only to see Tori’s reaction.

  She smiled, and an answering grin quirked at his mouth before he folded his mother in a hug. He tugged at Tori’s ponytail. “Hey, brat.”

  Tori swatted his hand away. “How’s Blake?”

  “Sleepy.” He looked at Barbara. “Did you think I’d abandoned you?”

  She cupped her elbows in her hands and wished they were alone. “You could have woken me. We could have gone together.”

  “You were resting,” he said, his tone affectionate. But something about his eyes remained impassive and unease slid over her. The distant expression was too familiar. “But I knew you’d need a ride this afternoon.”

  “Thanks.” She nodded, fingernails biting into the skin above her elbows. “Do you want to take the girls with us?”

  “I’d rather not. I want to talk to him when he’s more awake.” He tucked his hands into his pockets and glanced at his mother. “Mama, do you mind if we leave them here?”

  Lenora patted his cheek. “Of course not. They’re always welcome.”

  Barbara fiddled with her watch, still trying to reconcile the quiet, somewhat-withdrawn Del before her with the man who’d held and comforted her last night. “Are you ready?”

  “Yeah.” He pulled his keys from his pocket and jingled them. “Let’s go.”

  Something was definitely going on. A chill of fear tiptoed along her spine. Had something happened to Blake that he didn’t want to talk about in front of his mother? She chafed as he told the other women goodbye, and even her daughters’ hugs and kisses didn’t assuage the impatience. After he’d finally extracted himself from Lyssa’s enthusiastic embrace, she walked with him around to the driveway.

  She stopped and stared at the silver Volvo SUV parked there, still bearing the dealer tags. “Where’s your rental?”

  He held open the passenger side door. “I turned it in.”

  The subtle scent of his aftershave flirted with her nose as she stepped around him and climbed into the vehicle. “Then where’s the Porsche?”

  One hand on the roof and the other on the door, he looked at her. “I traded it on this.”

  “This morning?” Barbara stared at him. When they’d been shopping for her Toyota, he’d taken days to visit every dealership within the tri-state area, looking for the best deal on the safest vehicle he could find.

  “Yeah.” He stepped back. “Saw it on Bill Davis’s lot yesterday. It’s only a year old, and the miles are low. The model has great safety features, so the insurance rates should be good.”

  “Did you worry about safety when you bought the Barbie car?” Oh, Lord, had she said that out loud?

  A grimace twisted his mouth and he rapped his hand on top of the door. “I didn’t buy the Porsche to keep it and I’ve been planning to dump it all along. This just seemed like the right time.” He shut the door and walked around to the driver’s side.

  Lean muscles rippled in his forearm as he turned the key. She rested her head on her hand and looked at him. “Why now?”

  Looking over his shoulder to back down the drive, he shrugged. “If I’m going to be transporting the kids again, I need something with a backseat, don’t you think?”

  Her breath caught for a moment, and she concentrated on breathing. “You make driving them around sound like a long-term assignment.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  This was it. Her opportunity to tell him what she wanted, that she was really, finally ready to go forward with him. “Del, we should talk.”

  He glanced her way. “You forgot your seatbelt.” She fumbled with the belt, and he cleared his throat. “I’ve been thinking, hon. About us.”

  She finally managed to latch the belt. “So have I.”

  “You might not like what I have to say.”

  Her breathing faltered again, for an altogether different reason this time. “What do you mean?”

  Holding the wheel in a white-knuckled grip, he braked for a stop sign. “I’m moving back, Barb. And I want to tell Blake.”

  “Why would that bother me?”

  The crossroad was clear, no traffic in either direction, but he didn’t let off the brake. Instead, he stared ahead, still clutching the steering wheel in a death-grip. “I think…I think we should back off for a while.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in a sharp movement. “On us, I mean.”

  She leaned against the door and stared at him, feeling the impact of the words like a slap. “What?”

  He didn’t look at her. “I don’t want to rush things between us again. I rushed you before, ended up taking all your choices away from you. Not t
his time.”

  “Del.” She reached for him, touched his arm, and the muscles flinched against her fingers. Oh, God, those bitter words from the kitchen were coming back to haunt her. Frustration burned her throat when he didn’t turn his head. “We made those choices together, remember?”

  “Did we?” He shook his head, fingers flexing on the wheel. His knuckles cracked. “The way I remember it, what you wanted was college and getting the hell out of here, out from under your Aunt Polly’s thumb. You ended up with me and having a baby too soon.”

  She clenched her hands in her lap, fighting the urge to crawl over the console and either smack him or kiss him. “I got college, too, didn’t I? Thanks to you.” She sucked in a shaky breath, tears burning her eyes. “I never regretted marrying you.”

  He looked at her then, his gaze blazing. “Tell another one, Barb.”

  “Del, listen to me. Please.” She swallowed against the lump threatening to choke her. “I admit, I dwelled on the what-might-have-beens, more than I should have, and sometimes I didn’t see what I had for what I thought I’d lost. But believe me, the last few days with Blake being sick, with what happened last night have shown me what my blessings truly are. Blake, the girls, you.”

  “Me, a blessing.” His exhale was closer to a self-derisive snort. “That’s a new one.”

  “Damn it, Del, don’t do that. You never give yourself enough credit.”

  A heavy sigh shuddered over him. “I want you to be sure. All this mess with Blake and the breakin…I don’t want it to be because I’m here and it’s convenient. I want you to be sure.”

  Looking at him made her ache, dredged up memories of giving herself to him. Maybe the truth was that he wasn’t sure, that he needed time to figure out what he really wanted.

  She lifted her chin. “And if I said I was?”

  He shook his head again. “I’d still ask you to wait. It needs to be right this time.”

  “Del, you’ve been pushing for—”

  “Exactly. I’ve been pushing, and that’s not fair to you or me. Or the kids. Every time we’ve rushed to some kind of decision or commitment, we’ve regretted it.” He glanced away, squeezing the wheel again. “I don’t think I could handle it if you regretted us again.”