Coming Home

by Stacy Hawkins Adams

  Dayna knew he wouldn’t tell her he loved her with his sons and Lily in the car, so she made a kissing sound. “Take that, then. See you in the morning.”

  “Ditto.”

  When the lights were out, however, she couldn’t sleep. The revelations shared over dinner looped through her mind again and again, specifically Brent’s diagnosis and his efforts to convince her to help with the foundation. She thought about how years ago the sight of Tamara, or even the mention of the woman’s name, had caused her to weep or rage with anger, and how tonight she had been able to hold a conversation with her. They would never be friends again, but they had both matured and found a way to leave the past in the past.

  Dayna’s thoughts turned to Warren and why she hadn’t been able to reach him — because Lily couldn’t deal with reality. Despite Warren’s repeated reminders to Lily that he was in a committed relationship with Dayna, she clearly hadn’t given up the fantasy of herself, Warren, and the twins someday becoming a family.

  Michael’s injury seemed to have given her a convenient opportunity today to show how she, and the boys, needed Warren. Dayna closed her eyes and rolled onto her side with Lily on her mind. Her green eyes, petite frame, and soft voice cast a spell on men and women, but Dayna had managed long ago to see through Lily’s Southern-belle charm into the soul of a woman who did whatever was needed to get what she wanted.

  Lily’s wish list clearly included Warren, and if Dayna needed to put her boxing gloves on this time around, so be it.

  fifteen

  “What time did you get home last night?” Dayna asked.

  Warren grinned at Dayna before taking a swig of coffee. The tiny hospital café, with mint green and chocolate walls, was bustling this morning. She and Warren sat in a corner opposite the door and waved as colleagues entered and approached the counter.

  “You checking up on me?” he asked. “You had a date with your ex last night; why couldn’t I hang out too?”

  “Ha ha — very funny.”

  He pinched her cheek. “You’re cute when you’re annoyed, you know.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Stop trying to butter me up and answer my questions. What time did Lily release you? Did you have to tuck the thirteen-year-old twins in bed?”

  Warren laughed. “They wouldn’t want to call it that, but yes, I got them settled into bed. Michael will be okay, but he was in a lot of pain last night. I called this morning on the way here, and he was getting ready to go to school.”

  “Poor thing. I know he’s disappointed about having to sit out the rest of the season.”

  Warren cocked his head. “You know boys. More than anything he’s embarrassed that he caught the ball the wrong way. Getting injured in a game might have been worth it, for the cool points he would have scored with sympathetic girls.”

  Dayna laughed. “That sounds about right for middle-school logic.”

  “Now, tell me about your night.”

  Dayna suddenly felt queasy. “It was surprising and interesting,” she said. “I guess those are the best words to describe it.”

  Warren raised an eyebrow. There was no reason to give him the long version; he’d just want the facts.

  “Brent’s dying, Warren. He has end-stage prostate cancer. Apparently by the time it was caught, it had already spread, so they’ve told him there’s little they can do.”

  Warren sat back in the café chair. “Whoa. Didn’t see that coming. How old is he?”

  “He’ll be forty-one in August,” Dayna said, remembering that he shared a birthday month with her mom.

  “Is he doing okay? I mean, is he in pain? Getting treatments?”

  Dayna shook her head. “Apparently not. He says it’s too far gone for the treatments to do any good, so he’d rather spend this time clear-headed, doing what he wants, instead of sick from chemo or radiation, or foggy from too many pain meds. I don’t know how much pain he’s in, but he seemed okay last night at dinner.”

  “It may come and go,” Warren said. “My dad died of prostate cancer, remember?”

  Dayna reached for his hand. “I remember.”

  “Guess that’s why Mr. Brent wanted to make amends so badly, huh?” Warren said.

  Dayna nodded. “Guess so. And there’s more.”

  “Yeah?”

  “The longer we talked, the more he started sharing his plans for the time he has left. He wants to establish a foundation to help injured college athletes regroup, maintain their grades, and formulate a career plan so they won’t drop out and miss the great opportunities that college offers. He’s had the idea since his Alabama U days, when he was injured and unable to play.”

  “That means you were part of the dreaming process,” Warren said.

  Dayna nodded. “I was.”

  “Did he lose his way after his injury?”

  “Obviously not — he’s working for NASA,” Dayna said and smiled. “Fortunately he was academically strong and a great athlete. Brent graduated with honors and a computer engineering degree. But a few of his buddies found themselves injured, out of athletic scholarships, and on academic probation because their grades weren’t up to snuff. That hurt Brent to his core, and he always vowed that he’d make a difference someday.”

  “I guess someday has come, huh?”

  “Looks that way,” Dayna said, and gripped Warren’s hand tighter. “And he wants me to help him.”

  “Come again?” Warren remained expressionless but pulled his hand away.

  “He asked me to help him figure out the best way to set up the foundation and get it off the ground, so that when he’s gone, it will be ready to roll.”

  “Why? You’re a hospital executive.”

  Dayna shrugged. “I started rattling off all I know about how foundations work based on what Carmen shares in our weekly executive meetings, and before I knew it, he was begging for my help.”

  Warren took another swig of coffee. “And you couldn’t say no.”

  Dayna hoped her puppy-dog expression would help.

  “He’s your ex-husband, Dayna, come on.”

  “He’s dying, Warren. What was I supposed to do?”

  “Where was his wife when all of this was going on?”

  “She was sitting right there. She didn’t say much, but she looked uncomfortable with the idea.”

  “I bet she did,” Warren said. His jaw clenched and Dayna wanted to stroke it, but she was mindful that they had an audience.

  “Actually, I didn’t say yes, either. I told him I wasn’t sure, and he took that as an open door. Don’t be mad, babe,” she said softly. “I’m going to ask Carmen to give me some websites and other information to share with him, so that I can at least give him some resources before sending him on his way.”

  Warren looked skeptical. “I’m not mad that you feel compelled to help him, Dayna,” he said. “I’m just wondering if this is about more than wanting to create a foundation for him.”

  “Brent is married, Warren. And he’s dying.”

  “Do you still love him, Dayna?”

  Now it was her turn to be flabbergasted. She sat back in the chair and stared at him. “Where did that come from?”

  “I’m just asking.”

  “Why? Have I given you any reason to think I have feelings for him?”

  “You haven’t given me any reason to think you don’t. First you accept his invitation to dinner after much protesting, now you’re talking about ‘semi’ helping him with a special project, even as you say you don’t want to. I’ve never seen you quite this wishy-washy about anything in the time I’ve known you.”

  Dayna stood up and pushed her chair under the table. “Let’s discuss this later, when we have more privacy.” She gathered her paper coffee cup and the plate that held her bagel. “Want me to take your trash?”

  “No, thanks. I’ve got it.”

  Warren looked like he wanted to say more, but he didn’t. He stood and grabbed his coffee cup and headed out of the café. He turned and wave
d at her before walking to the bank of elevators that led to his seventh-floor office, but the faint smile on his lips didn’t reach his eyes.

  sixteen

  Tamara kept vigil in the doorway of her tan stucco home until Brent’s car was out of view.

  He usually worked from home but had insisted on driving himself to Cape Canaveral this morning to attend a quarterly Tuesday staff meeting. She had taken the day off to have some time to herself and wrap her brain around all that had happened over the weekend and last night. Dinner with Dayna hadn’t been as strained as she anticipated, but she still was emotionally drained.

  She strolled into her family room and found Mom glued to the TV, watching the last half hour of Good Morning America. Mom had stopped by just before Brent left to lure Tamara into a shopping spree. Tamara checked the clock on the DVD player. It was 8:40. Her massage and manicure were booked for eleven, which gave her just enough time to catch up on laundry and relax.

  “I know the mall is open early today for some reason, but I don’t think I’m up for it, Mom,” Tamara said, and plopped on the sofa next to her. “Thanks for coming by, but I’m really tired.”

  Her mother put a hand on her plump hip. “I move all the way to Florida and don’t get to spend any more time with my baby girl than when I lived in Michigan.”

  Tamara couldn’t contain her frustration. “If you were still in Michigan, Mom, you wouldn’t be sitting here on my sofa watching TV, now would you? We see each other just about every day. Besides, what special event at the mall has you all excited? You don’t need another thing.”

  What Tamara didn’t have the strength to articulate this morning was that spending time together didn’t require them to spend money. Brent’s medicine and doctor visit co-pays kept her mindful of their budget. Plus, she would have appreciated some motherly concern about how she’d survived the meeting with Dayna rather than this oblivious eagerness to catch the next big sale.

  Tamara eased off the sofa and headed to the adjacent laundry room to sort clothes. Mom joined her.

  “I’m talking about the early-bird specials that started in January,” Mom said. “Millcrest Mall opens an hour early on Mondays and Tuesdays so shoppers can take advantage of extra discounts in every store. Come on, let’s go have some fun. You need to take your mind off everything.”

  “So in other words, today’s sale isn’t a one-time event? I’m going to the spa in two hours, Mom. How about you join me? I’ll call now to book your appointment.”

  Mom plopped her petite, pudgy frame in the cushioned chair near the laundry room entrance and pouted. “I’ve been wanting a new purse …”

  Tamara chuckled in exasperation. “Mom, please. I have a lot on my mind and on my plate right now. I’m just not up to shopping today. I’m not in the mood.”

  Her mother’s face contorted into a familiar frown. “But —”

  Before she could continue, a Holmes Regional Medical Center commercial filled the TV screen, assuring Space Coast residents that state-of-the-art care was available, specifically in the newly renovated cancer unit. Mom paused and looked at Tamara.

  She left her seat and encircled Tamara in a hug. “It’s going to be okay, baby. I heard you and Brent talking this morning about Dayna helping with the foundation, and he said he understood your concerns. What’s the problem?”

  Tamara sighed for what felt like the hundredth time since the dinner with Dayna last night. What was the problem? Other than the fact that the love of her life was dying? Or that he wanted her to “bond” with his former wife?

  Tamara wished she could express what she was going through, but Mom usually heard only what she wanted to hear — much like Brent these days. He told her last night, and again this morning, that he would explore other avenues to launch the foundation. But she knew Brent. When his mind was made up, he couldn’t be deterred.

  He would formulate a plan to turn her no into a yes. That was his pattern, and Tamara felt like a kettle about to blow. Had it been for any reason other than one that would require her to work with Dayna, she might agree. This time, she wasn’t sure she’d budge.

  Tamara leaned into Mom’s embrace and closed her eyes. Trying to explain her husband to her mother would give her a headache. It was easier to relent.

  “Give me twenty minutes, Mom, and I’ll be ready to go.”

  Mom grinned and planted a wet kiss on Tamara’s cheek. “Thank you, baby,” she said. “You’ll see — once we get there, you’ll feel better. Go ahead and book my spa appointment. We’ll leave my outing and wrap up the day at yours.”

  Tamara peered out of a window, in the direction Brent had driven a short while ago. One day he might drive down that palm tree-lined street and never come back. Shopping wasn’t going to heal the dull ache that had become as familiar as breathing, and with Brent now longing to spend more time with his former wife, the ache was only growing sharper.

  seventeen

  By the end of the business day, Dayna had collected a volume of helpful information to appease Brent when she backed out of his project.

  She filled a Word document with website links, important terms and their definitions, and information about the pros and cons of public foundations versus private foundations. She also called Carmen Vargas, head of Chesdin Medical Center’s foundation, to ask if she’d be willing to talk by phone or over lunch with Brent about his plans — her treat. Carmen had agreed.

  Now all Dayna had to do was send the file to Brent. She’d email it, then work late to catch up on the tasks she’d set aside to do all of this research.

  Her first call was to Warren.

  “I’ll be here ‘til 7 or so tonight. We’ll miss salsa, but want to join me for dinner?”

  “Sure,” he said, with no hint of lingering frustration from their chat this morning. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Your favorite place,” she said and smiled.

  Since his first visit to Bennie’s Rib Shack, Warren had been hooked. They only went occasionally, and every time was a special treat.

  “Good thing I had a light lunch. I’ll meet you at your office when you’re ready.”

  “See ya then,” Dayna said.

  “See ya, babe.”

  Dayna fingered the business card Brent had pressed into her hand last night and scanned it for information. He probably wouldn’t want her sending the foundation correspondence to NASA; she needed a personal email address.

  She grabbed her office phone and tapped the digits of his cell.

  “Brent Davidson.”

  His silky smooth voice still impressed her.

  “Dayna Wilson here,” she said. It felt awkward using her maiden name with the man whose surname she had once assumed and uttered with great pride.

  “Hi, Brent,” she continued. “I’m calling because I’ve done some research on the foundation idea we discussed last night, and I wanted to email it to you. It should help you figure out how you want to move forward. What’s the best email address to use?”

  When he didn’t respond, she called his name again. “Hello? You there?”

  “I’m here,” he said.

  “Did you hear my question?”

  “I heard you, Dayna,” Brent said. “Does this mean you’ve decided not to help set up the foundation?”

  She sighed. He wasn’t going to let her off the hook. “Brent, I’m so sorry about your illness. But I’m extremely busy with work right now and with …”

  “Warren. That’s his name, right?”

  She frowned. “Yeah — what’s it to you?”

  “Nothing, Dayna,” he said. “I just thought he might have something to do with you wanting to send the information instead of giving it to me in person. But whatever works best for you will be fine. I appreciate your help.”

  Brent recited his personal email address and asked her to also send a copy of the information to Tamara. “That way, we’re both in the loop.”

  “Do you have someone who can guide you through
the process, or maybe take over this when you’re … when you’re ready to hand it over?” Dayna asked.

  “I thought that was going to be you,” he said. “But I’ll give it some more thought. Maybe Winston can help.”

  “Didn’t you say last night that he still lives in Jersey?”

  “Yep,” Brent said. “Still in Jersey, married to Belinda, with five kids. Can you believe it? That brother needs his own foundation to fund college tuition.”

  They both laughed.

  “You may be right,” Dayna said.

  Of Brent’s three siblings, Winston had been her favorite. He was the big brother who mentored them on marriage when they were newlyweds and tried to talk sense into Brent when he asked for a divorce. He was the brother who told her he’d always be her brother, no matter what. She hadn’t talked to him in years, but it was nice to know that he was doing okay. She wondered if he’d have time to help with the foundation though, given his busy family life and the fact that he traveled often with his work as a conference planner for a major ministry.

  “Can he take this on?”

  “Haven’t asked him yet, but he won’t tell me no,” Brent said.

  Dayna wanted to feel relieved, but instead felt guilty. “How was Tamara feeling about my possible involvement in this project, by the way?”

  His lengthy hesitation told the truth.

  “She’ll be happy that you’re emailing the information instead of hand-delivering it, but don’t take it personally,” Brent finally said.

  “I won’t,” Dayna said and chuckled. “Look, Brent, I know what you’re trying to do, and I commend you. I just think it might cause additional stress for everyone if I’m involved. Whoever helps establish your foundation will probably need to see it all the way through, and I understand why Tamara would be uncomfortable with me being that person. I’d be uncomfortable as well.”

  There. She had said it. She wished she could see Brent’s reaction.

  “And?”

  Dayna frowned. Did he just dismiss her concerns, and his wife’s, with an and? Brother man said he wasn’t on serious medication for his cancer, but something clearly had him showing contempt. Before she could respond, he continued.