Coming Home

by Stacy Hawkins Adams

  “Well?”

  “Well, I survived,” Dayna said. She pulled into her garage and cradled the phone between her jaw and shoulder so she could grab her bags and continue the conversation on her way inside. The minute she entered her kitchen, she laid her cell on the granite island countertop and tapped the speakerphone button to keep chatting with Audrey while she stepped out of her heels and prepared a cup of tea.

  “What are you doing?” Audrey asked.

  “Making you tea and scones,” Dayna teased. “What are you doing?”

  She turned on the faucet near where the phone lay and let water stream into her stovetop tea kettle. The roses Brent had delivered on Saturday caught her eye. Their stems pointed out of the trash bin she had tossed them into Sunday morning. Now that she knew his circumstances, she felt a wave of guilt for being so dismissive.

  “I’m on my way home. Had a late meeting,” Audrey said.

  Dayna paused. “What late meeting did you have on Monday? Hospital accountants don’t meet after hours. Aren’t you guys too anal retentive for that?”

  “Very funny,” Audrey said. “Can we turn this conversation back to the reason I called? How on earth did the dinner go with Brent and his wife? Why are you dragging this out?”

  Dayna placed the teapot on the stovetop and turned on the flame. “The dinner went fine, Audrey. It’s what happened near the end that left me reeling.”

  “What?” Audrey asked the question in a hushed tone.

  “Brent is sick. He has terminal cancer and maybe only a few more months to live.”

  Saying the words aloud made them real. What she was describing, about a man who used to be her world, sounded like something straight out of a soap opera.

  “What? He’s just forty. What kind of cancer does he have?”

  “Prostate. He says it spread before doctors discovered it. Now the cancer is in his bones. I don’t know much more than that, Audrey, only that he wanted to meet with me to apologize for ruining our marriage and hurting me.”

  “Wow, Dayna. I don’t know what to say.”

  “I didn’t either. I think I accepted his apology; I really can’t remember now.”

  “Was his wife with him?”

  Dayna poured her tea into the oversized mug with the jewel-toned pattern she always used and reached for the jar of honey she kept in the cupboard. “Yeah, Tamara was with him, hanging onto his every word, except for the brief period when she left the table so he could share his diagnosis with me. Can you believe it?”

  Dayna grabbed the mug and cell phone and headed toward the brown leather recliner in the corner of her family room. The room’s wall of windows provided natural light during the day, but tonight the space was pitch black. Dayna stepped into the room, and a sensor-controlled table lamp switched on, filling the room with a warm glow. She closed the draperies on either side of the floor-to-ceiling windows before curling up in the chair with her tea and placing the cell phone on its arm, still in speakerphone mode.

  “Now it all makes sense,” Audrey said. “Why else would he work so hard to find you to say he’s sorry, and why else would his wife go along with all of this? What was she like, anyway?”

  “What was she like?” Dayna said. “She was like … Tamara. Pretty. Catering to his every need, it seemed. Letting him do most of the talking. They seem happy.”

  “How did you feel being there with them? How do you feel now, since it’s all over?” Audrey said. “I have too many questions, don’t I? Want me to come over?”

  Dayna shook her head, even though Audrey couldn’t see. “Where did you say you were coming from? You live twenty minutes away. It wouldn’t make sense for you to come by here on a Monday night. Besides, I’m gonna have to get off the phone with you shortly and give Warren a call. He’ll have a fit if I don’t let him know how tonight went.”

  “Yeah, you definitely have to update your man. Too bad he couldn’t go with you. But at least you’ve gotten this all behind you now. I’m sorry to hear that your ex is dying, really, but now you can focus your attention on that fine man who loves you in the here and now.”

  Dayna rolled her eyes. That comment reminded her, though, that Brent had tried to hand her a new dilemma.

  “I guess I should be celebrating, but I can’t.”

  A full minutes passed before Audrey spoke. “I’m not sure where you’re going with this one, friend.”

  Dayna released a nervous laugh. “I don’t know either, Audrey. Brent started talking about a charitable foundation he wants to establish with proceeds from his life insurance policy, and all of a sudden he decided he needs my help in setting it up.”

  Audrey gasped. “You are joking.”

  “Nope.”

  “How did you tell him no?”

  “The man is dying, so I tried to let him down easy. I told him I was flattered, but I wasn’t the right person to help with something this important. How could I just come out and say no?”

  “One word — Warren!”

  Dayna frowned at the mention of his name. She sat upright in the chair and clutched the mug. “I know, Audrey, I know. I didn’t say yes, but I didn’t say no. So Brent took my ‘I’m not sure’ as a yes. The minute I didn’t correct him, he ran with it. Now I’ve got to figure out how to really tell Brent I can’t help him, before he starts making big plans. And I guess I need to tell Warren how badly I handled it.”

  “I’m coming over,” Audrey said. “We’ve got to figure out how to get you out of this one, and fast, so you don’t have to tell Warren anything.”

  thirteen

  Instead of resolving how and when to share the latest developments with Warren, Dayna spent the next five minutes convincing Audrey to go home rather than drive to the southern end of Calero. “I’ve got this,” Dayna told her. “Warren and I will talk it through and work it out, okay?”

  “Don’t jeopardize your relationship over some tug at your heartstrings, Dayna. It’s not worth it, especially for an ex-husband who has a wife.”

  “Thank you, ‘Dr. Phil-lis,’” Dayna said and laughed. “Please don’t worry. I’m going to hang up now so I can give Warren a call.”

  “I wouldn’t tell him, if I were you,” Audrey said again. “Just plan on calling Brent tomorrow and telling him to back off.”

  “Your check is in the mail, doc!” Dayna said. “Now go home and get some rest. Good night!”

  She ended the call and curled up in the chair, thankful that she was now free to bring Warren up to speed. What Audrey didn’t know was that she had to tell him. When they began dating exclusively twelve months ago, they made a pact to keep no secrets from each other and to mutually handle challenges, no matter how uncomfortable or unpleasant they might be. She’d already broken that promise once by not telling Warren right away about the letters Brent had sent. He hadn’t called her on it, but she was determined to honor their agreement from now on. She would own up to being wishy-washy with Brent about his great idea, and maybe together they could come up with a plan for steering Brent elsewhere.

  They weren’t married, but Warren loved Dayna and he was good to her. He deserved her loyalty.

  She sighed and picked up the cell. She punched the contact list and brought up Warren’s picture in her favorites section. His tousled jet-black hair and goateed grin greeted her. It was just a photo, but the sapphire-blue eyes that peered into hers made her heart flutter. If he’d been with her tonight, telling Brent no would have been so much easier.

  Dayna glanced at the clock. It was nine-thirty. She felt like crawling into bed and dealing with this tomorrow, but if she didn’t call Warren, he’d call her.

  “Let me put my big-girl pants on and deal,” she said.

  Her ringing cell bought her more time. Vanora’s face popped up on the screen.

  “Talk about perfect timing,” Dayna said when she answered her college roommate’s call.

  “You knew I was going to call for details. How did it go? Does Tamara still have hair? Yo
u didn’t yank it all out, did you?”

  Dayna chuckled. “You are so silly! There was no catfight. Brent is her man now. We were civil to each other, pleasant even. It was a little awkward, but it went fine.”

  “But you still picked up on the first ring when I called; something went down. Spill it,” Vanora said.

  “Girl, you are in the wrong line of work,” Dayna told her friend. “You need to give up teaching and become a private detective.”

  Vanora laughed. “In this economy, and with these gas prices, don’t think I won’t consider it! Back to you and Brent. What happened?”

  Dayna filled Vanora in on Brent’s apology, his revelations about what had ended their marriage, and the shocking news of his terminal illness.

  “Brent? Our health fanatic football star? Dear Lord, be with him,” Vanora said.

  “Prostate cancer, of all things,” Dayna said. “I just can’t believe that a man as young as he won’t survive it. But there’s more. You remember those conversations we used to have over our potluck Sunday dinners about his dream of someday helping other college athletes thrive after a career-ending injury?”

  “Yeah?”

  “He actually wants to do that, Van. Can you believe it?”

  “But he’s dying. How is he going to pull that off with supposedly less than a year to live?”

  “He thinks with my help.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Over dinner we got to talking about how he’ll start with some savings and use about five million from life insurance to set up a foundation after his death, and I started giving him the pros and cons of each option. Before I knew it, he was trying to convince me to help him get everything established. He wants me to guide him through the process.”

  “Wow. What did Tamara have to say about this?”

  “She didn’t look happy, but she played the ever-faithful wife and didn’t say anything.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I told him I wasn’t sure I could do it well, but he insisted,” Dayna said. “I let it be, but I can’t do this, Van. I’m sorry that he’s dying, but I can’t devote my life to him. That’s Tamara’s job now.”

  “What is your heart telling you to do?” Vanora asked.

  Dayna frowned. “Call Warren and see what he says? I can tell you now his answer will be no.”

  Vanora chuckled. “I’m not thinking about Warren, or even Brent, right now. I’m asking you what feels like the right thing to do, when you think about what he’s asking, not about who’s doing the asking.”

  Dayna shook her head as if Vanora could see her. “Come on, friend. You know this is a case where I can’t separate the two,” she said. “If it were anyone else, I probably would do something to help, even if I didn’t take on the whole project. With Brent, I’m inclined to wish him well and let him figure it out on his own.”

  “But Brent is dying, and the clock is ticking,” Vanora said. “That’s what his asking you seems to be about. Maybe you can at least steer him in the right direction without constant personal contact. That’s the right thing to do.”

  It was easy for Vanora to declare what was right and wrong from the safety of her Midwest apartment and her husband’s loving arms. But she had no right to judge how Dayna should deal with her ex-husband, even though Dayna had invited the commentary.

  Dayna recalled how Brent had pleaded with her for help tonight and how thrilled he had seemed when she didn’t say no. But how had she felt? Not good, uneasy even, and manipulated. Her thoughts turned to how angry she had been at him for years, before mustering the courage to forgive him. Tonight she was being put to the test, but in her opinion, it didn’t mean she had to yield to all that he was asking. Vanora was right; she could steer Brent and Tamara in the right direction and be done with it. Warren might even have some ideas.

  “I know you mean well, Van,” Dayna said. “But my heart is saying move on and put the experiences with Brent in the past, where I had them nicely tucked away until two days ago. I’m also wondering what your aunt would tell me if I were sitting across from her at Sunday dinner.”

  Vanora laughed. “Mary ‘Duchess’ Miller has a ready answer for everything, doesn’t she? I should have warned you about that when I introduced you two. Funny thing is, she’s usually right, because she’s operating in God’s wisdom. I think she’d tell you to help Brent too. You’re not trying to rekindle your relationship, you’ll just be helping him fulfill part of his purpose — a part that you knew about and encouraged from its idea stage, back at Alabama U. That’s all. What happened in the past is in the past. He’s asked for forgiveness, and you have to move forward. How could Warren have a problem with that? Have you asked him yet?”

  The tension in Dayna’s chest eased. Here she was, getting all worked up about Warren’s reaction without giving him the benefit of the doubt. Once he knew all of the facts, maybe he wouldn’t have a problem. Maybe he’d encourage her to do this and then move on. There was only one way to find out.

  “I love ya, Van,” Dayna said. “I needed to hear what you just shared. I’m gonna hang up and call Warren now and fill him in. Who knows? He may agree with you.”

  In her heart of hearts, though, she knew Warren well enough to suspect he wouldn’t be pleased. This might be asking for too much understanding, and something told her that Tamara was feeling the same way.

  fourteen

  Dayna didn’t want to fret, but this was the second time her call to Warren had gone straight into voicemail.

  As head of the hospital’s marketing division, his cell needed to be on 24-7, no exceptions. That realization had come just a few weeks after they began dating, when intimate conversations were interrupted by calls from reporters or hospital executives who needed immediate help with couching a particular message.

  Surely Warren’s dinner with their boss and members of the hospital board wasn’t going on this long; it was now past ten. Then again, maybe discussions about the hospice expansion had taken on a life of their own. She started to speed-dial him for a third time, but decided against it. Warren knew where she was; he’d call when he was available.

  She tidied up the kitchen and headed for the bedroom, where she quickly shed her clothes and stepped into the shower. Every muscle relaxed for the first time that evening, and she was able to process what had transpired.

  Dinner with Brent and Tamara. She had done it and lived to talk about it.

  As the water soothed her tense body, she longed for something to soothe her mind. Why was she feeling guilty about not wanting to help Brent with his project? He had been out of his mind to think she’d agree. Now he’d occupy her thoughts for the next few days as she figured out where to send him for help when she told him no.

  She emerged from the shower and slid a nightshirt over her head before sauntering into her bedroom to check her cell phone. Just as she’d expected, Warren had called while she was inaccessible.

  She pressed redial, and he answered right away. She was surprised to hear chatter in the background this time of night, including a woman’s voice.

  “Hey babe, where are you?” Dayna climbed under the covers and lay back on her pillow.

  “I’m on the way back to Lily’s house to drop her off,” he said. “She picked the boys up from basketball practice this afternoon since I had to work late, and when they got to her house, Michael started complaining about his thumb. Lily called as my dinner with Spencer was wrapping up and asked me to come get him and take him to the doctor, because the thumb was swelling and he was in tremendous pain. Turns out it’s broken.”

  “Oh, no!” Dayna said. “Poor Michael. Is it a bad break? Will he be able to finish the season?”

  Warren’s twin sons were his spitting image, and Dayna loved them. So did Lily, his deceased wife’s best friend, who had served as their paid caretaker/nanny and surrogate mom of sorts since April’s death four years earlier.

  “It’s a pretty bad break,” Warren said. “He’
ll be out for the rest of the season and will probably need surgery. But he’s a tough guy; he’ll be okay.”

  “Good, I’m glad to hear it. I guess that’s why I couldn’t reach you, huh?”

  “Yep, that’s why.”

  Dayna’s green-eyed monster awakened. “So Lily went with you to the emergency room?”

  What she really wanted to ask was why Lily couldn’t have driven the seventh grader to the hospital or Patient First herself, and then called Warren. But this was characteristic damsel-in-distress behavior.

  “Yeeees.” Warren’s carefully drawn-out response cued her that she was being rude.

  “I see,” she said. “Well, I’m glad she called you.”

  Dayna hated how guarded his conversation became around Lily, but decided not to pick a fight about that tonight.

  While Warren was grateful for the support Lily had provided the family after April’s sudden death — agreeing to leave her secretarial job and care for the boys, who were just nine when their mom suffered an aneurysm — Warren insisted that he’d never seen her as more than a family friend. Yet Lily took every opportunity to prove to the twins that she was a much better partner for their father than Dayna, and as a result, much better for them. At least that’s how Dayna saw it. Warren stayed out of the fray by never agreeing or disagreeing, and while his maneuvering annoyed her, Dayna knew his goal was to avoid alienating Lily, because the boys loved and needed her.

  Dayna sighed. She certainly couldn’t fill him in on her dinner with Brent now; he had his hands full. But maybe this was for the best.

  “Meet me for breakfast in the morning, in the hospital café?”

  “First floor, eight a.m. sharp,” Warren responded. “Deal?”

  Dayna smiled. “Deal, babe. Get your son home safely, then call me back if you want.”

  “It’s already ten fifteen and we just left Patient First. Don’t stay up. We’ll catch up in the morning.”