Coming Home to You (5 page)

I
knew the answer to that, but she was showing faint shadows of doubt.

“Don’t worry, Kate. I’m at the movies,” I said, hoping my words would allay any amount of fear she might have. “And I’m not alone. Ray was here, so we decided to see a movie together.” I realized, as soon the sentence left my mouth, what question might follow.

“Together? A
date
?” Kate asked, never one to disappoint.

“
No
,” I snorted.

Maybe I was a little too insistent to be convincing, but I was slightly annoyed at the assumption.

Couldn’t men and women go to the movies together without everyone automatically jumping to the conclusion that it was a date? Why were people so anxious for me to start dating again, anyway? What if I wasn’t ready? What if I didn’t feel any desire for this to be a date?

I darted a glance at Ray, who seemed to be studying the movie posters on the wall with an intensity that suggested he was trying not to overhear.

Was there something wrong with me?
I couldn’t help but wonder as I looked at him. He was perfectly pleasant-looking, and he was such a sweet guy. Any reasonable woman would be happy to have him as a date.

Did that mean I was unreasonable? Great. Not only was I damaged, I was unreasonable in my expectations.

I was going to die alone.

All alone
.

I was right back where I’d started, when I’d first taken my place in line at the theater earlier that evening.

Alone, alone, alone.

“Zoë?” I heard Kate say.

How long had she been talking? What had I missed?

“I’m sorry, it’s hard to hear you,” I replied, hoping I was doing a sufficient job of recovering. All I really wanted to do was go home and crawl into bed with the covers pulled over my head.

“I said I’m leaving work now—they needed me to stay late—but I was hoping maybe I could talk you into meeting up with me for dinner?”

“Dinner?” I repeated.

Ray seemed to straighten his spine at the word. I wondered what might be going through his mind, if he even registered the movement. There was no hiding the fact that he’d been listening to every word.

“Yes, dinner,” Kate said. “You know—
food
. Restaurant. You in?”

“Well,” I hesitated, unsure of what she might say to the suggestion that was forming on my lips. “Would you mind if Ray came along?” I asked.

All pretenses had been dropped, and Ray was now facing me, his eyes searching my face for anything hinting at Kate’s answer. He looked hopeful, like a little boy waiting to hear whether his playmate can come out and play.

“No, no. That would be fun, actually. Drag him along. We can get barbecue at Billy Bob’s,” she said.

Ah, Billy Bob’s. Purveyor of the smoked-meat equivalent of crack.

I felt my stomach rumbling appreciatively in anticipation.

“Meet me there in half an hour?” Kate was clipping out her words now, and I could tell she was trying to wrap things up at the office and get out of there in as little time as possible.

There were a few voices in the background, snippets of words that I caught being sent her way, attempts to get her attention one last time before she stepped out the door.

“See you there,” I said, a small twinge of worry scratching at the happy glow that had started to wrap its way around me.

Would she be able to slow her brain down enough to really
be
there when she was there—or was she starting to leave already? The time Kate had left with me before she went to start her new life in Atlanta was quickly dissolving, like an Alka Seltzer tablet in a glass of hot water. It seemed to be going at an accelerated rate. Much as I hated to admit it, I was getting more and more afraid that I wouldn’t be able to cope with her leaving.

Ray stood mutely at my elbow as I shut my phone and stared at it, in a silent trance, as though its plastic form might encase the answers to questions that tumbled over one another on the static-filled lines of my brain.

“So what’d she say?” Ray asked after a respectable number of beats.

I blinked my eyes rapidly, wrenching my thoughts and focus back to where I was standing, right here with Ray in front of the theater.

In a present reality that had cast me as a young woman grieving the loss of love and wondering what the next scene would bring. Every moment of every day unscripted, fed to me line by blind line.

“Who, Kate?” I asked, realizing the stupidity of my question only after it was too late.

Yes, Kate. Of course. Who else would he be referring to?

Ray nodded, kindly sidestepping the opportunity to point out my obliviousness.

“She’s leaving work and wants to get some dinner,” I said, self-consciously tucking my hair behind my ears before dropping my phone into the deep recesses of my purse.

“Have you ever been to Billy Bob’s?” I asked, not sure that I should be hoping he’d want to come along.

Every fiber in me knew that I would never feel anything more than friendship for this man who’d unexpectedly shown up in my life, but I still wanted him there. Even after such a short time of knowing him, something told me that he was important somehow. That he would become more than just temporary. There was a bond, an indefinable network of connection that seemed to be growing between us, like roots creeping along the ground.

“What’s a Billy Bob?” Ray was grinning now, enjoying some game of his own making.

I raised an eyebrow at him, shaking my head sadly as though I was lamenting his ignorance.

“Poor, dear, Ray. How empty your life must have been up to now, if you are so unschooled in the wonders of Billy Bob’s. You’re coming with me,” I said, taking him by the sleeve and tugging him on, toward the parking lot and our cars.

“Have you had any luck convincing her yet?” Kate asked Ray as we slid into our booth at the restaurant.

She’d never been one to waste time or words tiptoeing around delicate subjects. Which made any rare attempt she made at it that much more noticeable and, consequently, that much more unsuccessful. She hauled out the big guns almost right away, without even making a minimum effort at paving the way with small talk.

Ray smiled at her—a smile, I noticed, that was not the same kind he beamed at me. This was something else. Something
more
. Something that telegraphed interest more than brotherly affection or simple friendship. Even in my half-blind state of grieving, I could still see that, still feel the electric current that hummed off of him when he was around her.

I looked from Ray’s face back to Kate. Did she see it? Did she feel it?

“You’ll have to forgive her, Ray. She’s about as subtle as a two-by-four,” I said, casting a baleful glance at Kate as I spoke.

“Life’s too short for subtlety, Zoë,” Kate replied, smiling unapologetically as she batted her eyelashes and turned back to Ray. “
So?
”

Ray didn’t look like he knew whether to blush at the attention or run away in fear. He’d never really been caught in the middle of one of our “discussions.”

Yet.

Sure, that first day at the coffee shop had given him a small taste, but Kate and I had been close enough for long enough that we weren’t afraid to tell one another what we thought. About anything, no matter how painful. Now they were both convinced that I should move into Neil’s house, but Ray seemed to think that easing into things was the most effective way of winning me over.

“Not yet, but now that you mention it,” he began, a slight hesitation in his voice. “I think Kate and I both agree that this is a really good idea for you, but you’re the one that needs to be convinced.”

I sat silently, feeling his gaze on me as he waited for my response.

How could he possibly understand everything that went along with this decision? How could he
ever
understand, really? It wasn’t a feeling that was communicable to someone who had never been through this before.

From where Ray was sitting, he knew nothing. He still didn’t know details. Maybe he’d been able to piece a few things together, but I had never told him the story, never told him about the life I’d lost.

Part of me was afraid of the pity, afraid that he would start to look at me differently. That was one thing I couldn’t handle, I knew. He was one of the few people who didn’t treat me like the un-merry widow.

Kate’s voice broke my reverie. “As you know, I have a million reasons for thinking you should take Ray and Neil up on the generous and ingenious offer. I can recite my litany again, if you’d like,” Kate offered gamely, taking a deep drink from the iced tea that had been delivered to our table.

“Not necessary,” I said quickly, shooting her a meaningful look. I didn’t want Kate to be the one to tell Ray my tale of woe. Not now, not yet. “I’m still thinking about it.” I was hoping to shut the conversation down and move on to other, less heavy topics.

Thankfully, the waitress came, distracting us with her tray of food. I knew I had things to think about, and time for decision-making was running out. Right now, though, I was savoring my few moments of happiness—stolen time that made it easy to pretend I was someone else, someone normal whose life had never been touched by death.

Chapter 5

“She thinks I should move out of my apartment,” I said into the phone. “What kind of lunacy is that, Mom?”

I was sitting cross-legged in the grass, under a tree in the park across from my office in the business district of Pensacola. It had been a week since Kate had given me her diagnosis of the situation, a full week for me to mull it over and digest.

Unfortunately, I still hadn’t been able to mull or digest to the point of decision.

People were walking by slowly, enjoying the beautiful weather, drinking in the scenery as the sunset painted a picture across the sky in a wash of bright pinks and oranges. I heard the falling water of the fountain to my right, muffled conversations of people sitting on nearby benches.

What I didn’t hear was any kind of response from my mother.

“Mom?” I said again, more urgently.

“Would you hate me if I told you that I agree?” she asked finally. “Actually, it’s something I’ve been thinking for a while now, but I never knew quite how to say it.”

“
What?
” This was not the response I was expecting at all. I was expecting something more along the lines of,
Oh, no, honey. Kate’s absolutely wrong. There’s no reason for you to move.

“Wait a minute. You
agree
with her?” I heard the shrillness in my voice.

Mom hesitated again, but when she finally spoke, her voice was firm.

Decisive.

“Yes, I do. I think that being in that apartment isn’t good for you because it reminds you so much of Paul. I’m not saying you need to forget about him, so please don’t feel that way. But you need to remember something: you and Paul were never married. You still have a chance to have that kind of happiness with someone else, to start a life with someone. I know how much you and Paul loved each other, but you have to open yourself up to the possibility that there will be someone else. You can find that kind of love, or even better, again. Your book isn’t finished yet.”

The blades of grass under me melted into a dark green blur as tears pooled in my eyes and dropped onto my jeans, making dark spots as they landed.

How do mothers always know where your weak spots lie? It was a concern I hadn’t spoken aloud; but one that was constantly there, just under the surface. Almost like a low-grade headache.

I was only twenty-four, but I felt as though I’d had my one chance at true happiness ripped from me. As if I was never going to move beyond this, and I would be alone forever. That no one was going to want me.

The individual drops on my jeans had enlarged into puddles as I sat there crying silently, the sounds of the people around me and the noise of the waterfall competing with all the thoughts racing in my head. So many thoughts that I couldn’t control, so many emotions that I couldn’t explain. So many fears that I didn’t want to voice because I was afraid that expressing them might make them a reality.

“Zoë? Honey? Are you still there?”

I nodded.

“Sweetie?” she asked again.

“Uh-huh,” I managed. It came out more like a squeak than an actual word, but it was acknowledgement enough that she knew I was still on the line.

“Are you okay?” Her concern translated over the line as clearly as though she was in front of me.

“Not really, Mom,” I closed my eyes and breathed. “Mama, how do you know I’m not finished?” The tears that before had just been passive became violent, choking ones.

“
Finished
? Zoë, baby. You are
far
from finished. You’ve just started,” she replied, her hushed voice telling me that she was crying by now, too.

“But how do you know?”

“I just
know,
” she said firmly. “You have so much life ahead of you, my beautiful baby girl. Remember that.”

The sure sound of her voice gave me a flutter of hope, even though she was so many miles away.

“Are you coming down for a visit anytime soon?” I asked hopefully.

“I’d like to, Zoë,” she said. “I’m trying to convince your father to take a week off from work so that we can come see you, and see Kate before she leaves.” The pointed tone in her voice hinted that my father was near enough to hear her end of the conversation.

“She’d like that,” I replied. “And so would I. I miss you.”

It was a frequent refrain, and it was true. My mother and I had always had a close relationship, but she and my dad had had to move to Birmingham—a full state away in Alabama—for his work with the University there. It was a position he’d applied for without ever expecting to actually get; but in a happy fluke, the instructor who’d originally been granted the job in their Air Force ROTC program had decided he would rather open his own food truck serving gourmet sandwiches made with doughnuts in place of bread.

The man was doing a booming business.

Meanwhile, my father had found his happy place, guiding his students along as they began their bright futures in the military life.