A Place Called Home (35 page)

Emilie looked over her shoulder and up at Mitch. He was standing with his arms folded across his chest, his head cocked, watching them. “Can I do that when we get home?” Then, before he could answer, she asked, “Can Aunt Thea come home with us?”

“Sure.”

“Oh, but—” Thea stopped because Mitch was shaking his head, the tiniest smirk shaping his lips and the glint of challenge in his eyes.
Just try and get out of this,
he was telling her. That was when Thea realized she didn’t want to get out of anything. Perhaps she had even angled a little bit for the invitation. “I’d like that,” she said softly, gratefully.

“We’re eating at my mother’s,” he told her. “Amy and Dave will be there. We wanted to take Mum and Dad out for dinner but she didn’t want to be bothered with the crowds and the service. Plus, in her own home, she’s the queen mum.”

Thea chuckled appreciatively. That sounded like Jennie Baker. “She won’t mind an extra mouth to feed?”

“You’re kidding, right? She lives for this.”

The twins arrived at that moment carrying a plastic pitcher of water between them. Emilie popped the cap and poured water into the vase. The solemn moments had already passed and when she was done, she and the boys started back to the cars. Mitch and Thea were the ones that lingered at the graveside.

“I hate it that they’re gone,” Mitch said quietly. “But sometimes ...”

Impulsively, Thea found Mitch’s hand, slipped her fingers through his, and squeezed gently. “I know. The kids ... they’re so ...”

“Yeah.”

Neither of them said it. It was still too painful to admit that they had been blessed by the misfortune of two people they had loved. Still hand in hand, neither of them particularly conscious or self-conscious about that contact, Thea and Mitch walked back to where Emilie, Case, and Grant were waiting for them. Under the keen interest of the children, they parted a bit awkwardly, aware of their clasp as they had not been before. Emilie rode back to Connaugh Creek in Thea’s car. The boys stayed with Mitch. They waved back and forth as they took turns passing each other on the highway.

Jennie Baker greeted Thea as though she were the distaff version of the prodigal son. When Jennie disappeared into the kitchen to throw another potato in the pot, Mitch whispered to his sister, “Great. Now she’s gone back to kill the fatted calf.”

“I heard that!” Jennie called from sink side.

Amy’s pixielike features grew slack with wonder. “How does she
do
that?”

“I’m the mother,” Jennie called again. “It’s Mother’s Day. I’ve got a synergy thing going.”

Groaning, Mitch collapsed on the sofa and pulled Thea down beside him. She had to give her skirt a tug to keep her thighs decently covered. Mr. Baker rattled his paper as he lowered it. “Nice gams,” he said. Then he glanced furtively in the direction of the kitchen, waiting to hear his wife announce she’d heard that, too. Everyone’s laughter was what brought Jennie back to the living room to see what she’d missed.

Dinner was a relaxed, sometimes raucous affair. Food passed in both directions no matter how many times Jennie suggested a clockwise rotation. Whatever someone asked for always seemed to be at the other end of the long table. Savory pot roast, mashed potatoes, carrots, and fresh string beans kept circling. There was a basket of rolls that never bottomed out and a gravy boat big enough to need its own tug to find a berth among the platters.

Amy had been in charge of dessert and brought out two warm, deep-dish apple pies, the lightly browned crusts sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar. Thea, who didn’t think she had room for another bite, found herself seduced by the aroma of hot apples and the sight of that flaky crust. When she was offered a scoop of vanilla ice cream to top it off, she didn’t even hesitate.

Mitch, looking askance at her generous portion, said, “Tweetie Pie to Big Bird in one sitting.”

“I heard that,” she said, taking her cue from Jennie and otherwise ignoring him.

Jennie chuckled. “You tell him, Thea. I think yellow is your color, though I’m not certain about the tennis shoes.”

Mitch spoke before Thea could. “She changed into them at the cemetery. You would have approved of her other pair. I certainly did.”

Thea shot him a surprised glance. It required no effort on her part to draw on the sensation of his lean fingers circling her ankle while he removed her shoe. Her cheeks grew hot.

Jennie caught Amy’s eye and rolled her own toward Mitch and Thea. Amy grinned and nudged her husband under the table when he looked as if he might comment. Smirking instead, he tucked into his apple pie.

Jennie excused the children to finish their dessert in the family room. They lined up single file to kiss her cheek and thank her for dinner. “At the little table,” she called after them as they fled. “And bring your empty plates back here.” Jennie smiled at Thea’s amazement. “Isn’t it sweet?” she asked. “Amy and Mitch used to do that after every meal. They got it from their father. When the kids were little, Bill never forgot to thank me for fixing dinner for him. He’s gotten in the habit again with Emilie and the boys around. Isn’t that right, Bill?”

Bill Baker was eyeing a carefully balanced piece of pie and ice cream on his fork. “Absolutely,” he said, and everyone at the table laughed because they knew he had no idea what he’d just agreed to.

Jennie waved her hand at him and let him get back to his wobbling fork. “Where is your mother today, Thea? Still traveling?”

“My parents are in Scotland. Edinburgh, I think. I can’t keep their itinerary straight. They’re doing a walking tour.”

“Oh, how wonderful for them. They’re what? In their seventies?”

Thea nodded.

“They must be vigorous.”

“My father would tell you they’re stubborn.”

“Sometimes that’s just as good,” said Jennie. “When are they coming home? It must be four months now that they’ve been gone.”

“Five and a half, actually. They’ll be back in June.”

Only Mitch knew Thea well enough to suspect there was something like forced cheerfulness in her tone. He gently nudged the conversation in another direction.

After dinner, Amy and Thea tossed a coin to see who would rinse and who would load. Jennie kept them company sitting at the kitchen table but wasn’t allowed to lift a finger except to point where something was supposed to go. Mitch and his dad turned on the Pirates doubleheader and catnapped. Emilie wandered into the kitchen and snuggled into Nonny’s lap while the twins went outside to play.

It was after five by the time Mitch herded them back home. Emilie hadn’t forgotten Thea’s offer to look through photo albums. She dragged her upstairs and into Mitch’s former guest room to find them. Mitch showed up a few minutes later with Thea’s grab-and-go bag in his hand. He winked at her. “Just in case you want to change into something more comfortable.”

Thea accepted the bag gratefully. Just in case. He’d remembered. Mitch ducked back out of the room humming something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like the Beatles’ “Yellow Submarine.” “You’re not going to get away with that, Mitchell!” she yelled after him. She heard him pause on the stairs, chuckle, then call back, “I’ll be in the garage!”

Emilie pressed the photo album she was holding into Thea’s midriff, not hard, but enough to get her noticed.

“Easy there, girl,” Thea said. “You’ll make me pop a big yellow rivet.” She put her arm around Emilie’s shoulders. “Let’s go in your room to look at these. Unless you think the boys will want to do this with us?”

Emilie shook her head. “No way. This book’s all about me.”

Mitch heard the breezeway door open and someone step into the garage. He was lying on an old quilted blanket on his back under the Chevy truck. He scootched himself forward as the footsteps neared. “Hey,” he said, smiling as he finally emerged. “Hand me one of those paper towels there, will you?”

He watched Thea as she reached for one of the heavy-duty blue towels on his workbench. She’d changed out of her mind-blowing canary yellow suit and into a pair of faded jeans and an Oxford shirt the exact cool color of lime sherbet with the Foster and Wyndham logo embroidered above the pocket. The tails were loosely tied at her waist and she had casually rolled the sleeves to her elbows. Her hair was ruffled as if she’d just run her hand through it and the left side of her face sported a pillow wrinkle from her temple to the corner of her mouth. Her green eyes looked vaguely heavy lidded and slumberous.

Uh-oh. Mitch accepted the towel she gave him and began wiping his hands. He sat up slowly, drawing his legs up tailor fashion. The grease-and-oil stained blanket bunched under him. “I’m afraid to ask,” he said. “What time is it?”

“Ten-oh-five.”

Both of his brows lifted. He used a relatively clean knuckle to push his wire rims up the bridge of his nose. “Case and Grant were just in here a few minutes ago,” he said. “I promised to go up and tuck them in.”

“That was at about eight-thirty,” she told him. “Don’t worry. All the nighttime rituals have been negotiated. I oversaw baths and prayers and read something called
Captain Underpants
to the boys. Emilie and I took turns with a chapter in one of the Harry Potters. Apparently I don’t do the voices with the same gusto as you.”

He shot her a brief, lopsided smile. “My stage training, don’t you know,” he told her in a credible Hugh Grant imitation, modest and self-effacing. “Mrs. Campbell’s senior year production of
The Importance of Being Earnest.
I had the plum role and a star on my locker.” Mitch got to his feet and tossed the paper towel in an empty bucket. “Listen. Don’t go anywhere. Give me ten minutes.” He had abandoned the accent but remained earnest. “I’ll be right back.”

A trifle bewildered, her smile fading slowly, Thea nodded. “All right.”

He took a couple of steps toward the door, stopped, and looked back at her. “Promise. I need to know you’re not going to drive away as soon as I leave.”

That had not even occurred to her. “I promise.” She made a crossing motion in front of her chest. “Really.”

Still, Mitch hesitated. His eyes grazed Thea’s face, making a quick study of her sincerity.

“Go,” she told him, pointing to the door. “I swear. I’ll be here.” This time she held up two fingers. “Swear.” Watching him finally go, Thea wasn’t certain if he actually trusted her or simply realized he had no choice. For her own part, Thea had always intended to find a few private moments to speak with Mitch. After spending almost an entire day in his company, it had come down to waiting until the children were in bed, not so different, she supposed, than what married couples experienced on a daily basis.

It was a bit longer than the ten minutes Mitch promised before he returned to the garage. He’d looked in on each of the children, not because he thought anything had been left undone but because he needed to do it for himself. They didn’t stir as he stood beside their beds and made good on his promise to tuck them in. The rest of his time Mitch used to spit and polish. He took the quickest shower he’d ever had, not counting his entire year as a nine-year-old when he’d tried to convince his mother he was allergic to water. He shaved, swished mouthwash, and ran a comb through his wet hair. Deciding the neat little furrows made him look completely geeky, Mitch mussed his hair again and raked it with his fingers. Better.

He was still tucking his shirt into the waistband of his jeans when he stepped into the garage. His first thought was that he shouldn’t have wasted a moment cleaning up because Thea had fled. The overhead fluorescent lights had been switched off, but there was still a glow under the truck from the work lamp he had been using. He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the semidarkness, and saw Thea sitting inside the Chevy’s cab. Her head was resting back against the upholstery and her bare feet were raised to the dashboard. He could hear the faint backbeat of an eighties tune coming through the closed window. Her toes were tapping out a rhythm, her lips parting softly around the words as she sang along.

Mitch walked around the truck to the driver’s side and opened the door. Predictably, Thea jumped. “Sorry,” Mitch said, climbing in. “Didn’t know how to warn you I was here.”

Thea let herself settle back again. Outwardly calm, her heart was hammering. He’d cleaned up, changed his clothes, and combed his damp hair with his fingers. Thea touched the side of her face and thought she still felt a pillow wrinkle on her cheek. Falling asleep in Emilie’s bed had been a mistake. “What happened to the grease monkey?”

“Left him upstairs.”

Thea almost flinched when Mitch closed the door. It was as though the Chevy cab had just been shrink-wrapped, squeezing the air out as space was collapsed. Physics had never been Thea’s strong suit but she was fairly certain there was a law of the universe to explain it. “You didn’t have to do it on my account.”

Mitch turned slightly in her direction, drawing his knee up on the bench seat. “Yes,” he said, his eyes grazing her profile. “I did. Fingerprints.” He watched her swallow hard. Good. She got the message that he meant to touch her. Mitch was perfectly willing to let her wonder about when. He rested his forearm along the back of the seat, against the glass. If he stretched his fingertips he could have brushed her shoulder. He didn’t. Thea was almost squirming now; he could sense it in her very stillness. “You want to tell me why you’re here?” he asked quietly.

“You made me promise to stay.”

“Thea.”

She reached for the radio knob and turned it off, then let her hands cup her bent knees. Her bare feet still rested on the dashboard and she allowed her neck to relax against the curved back of the seat. “It was something Joel said, actually.”

“Joel? You’re seeing him again?” It wasn’t what he wanted to hear. Not at all. Mitch’s glance dropped to Thea’s left hand. No ring. It didn’t necessarily mean anything, he remembered. For the first time he wondered if she was still carrying it around in her purse.

Thea looked over at him, a slight frown changing the line of her mouth. “I’m seeing him because he’s my friend. I suspect he always will be. It required breaking our engagement for me to realize how much I appreciate him in that way.” She spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, without apology.
Deal with it.