Remembering home, p.2
Remembering Home, page 2
The boisterous tomboy was now all woman.
Her gaze honed in on him, a mix of emotions held suspended in one look. That was all it took to confirm what a coward and an idiot he had been. All that time lost, wandering, when paradise was here all along.
_____
Angel’s heels clicked on the checkerboard tile as she weaved between her mother’s beloved antique furniture, and the friends and family who had come to celebrate her daddy’s life. Stopping every now and then to make sure everybody had what they needed. She captured nostalgic retellings of his humor and generosity before the words drifted, gathering along the high ceilings, blanketing the room in love.
Another soft squeeze of reassurance on her shoulder was her cue to move on. With a sad smile, she wandered over to the pitcher of sweet tea. Angel gulped down the cool liquid, surveying the room, admiring how whitewashed wainscoting topped by powder blue wallpaper wrapped the room in class.
She moved to a window, her hand smoothing away the dust collected on a decorative pilaster. The view through the glass was obscured by an overgrown hedge. The parlor was a forbidden zone when she was a young girl covered head to toe in dirt. She’d stood at this window, nose pressed against the pane, hands cupped around her face to block the sunlight, admiring all the beauty that had accumulated over the generations.
With a weary sigh, Angel headed over to sit on a brocade sofa to await Aiden’s arrival. Her pulsing nerves rendered her legs unsteady on the cursed heels. The seat was firm, built for posture rather than comfort. How her parents had liked a nightly cuddle on it, she’d never understand. But she wanted what they had all the same. In her youth, she thought she’d found it, but it was snatched away by a brute. She could think of other names to call him, but she’d never utter them aloud. Okay, she’d never utter them in company.
He’d better not dare to show his face at her daddy’s wake. Angel’s face screwed up in anger, her eyes blazing at the remnants of her sweet tea, but unseeing of their physical target.
Laughter and exclamations were the dominant sounds in the room. She let them fill her with pride and thankfulness for being Hank’s daughter, erasing the stained memory from the past.
The last five weeks had been hard. Watching her daddy suffer had been excruciating. When he finally passed, it was an awful, unforgivable relief. She didn’t want him to die, but she couldn’t bear to see him suffering. A horrendous dilemma. Nothing could have prepared her for the experience of watching his coffin being lowered into the grave. The fact that his body was now an empty shell, shunted into reality before her eyes.
The pain of losing her father would always be a dull ache behind her breastbone. Loss seemed to be a theme in her life. First her mama, then Aiden, and now Daddy. But there’s no way she’d let it get the better of her. Daddy would be disappointed if she didn’t grab life with both hands and keep pushing through. She wasn’t made that way, anyways. Angel was damn good at making lemonade. Bring on the lemons and watch me juice those suckers.
Aiden’s back. If anything was going to test her lemonade making skills, this was it. Her speck of hope that he’d return had never perished, despite her malicious attempts to kill it. At first, she had twisted and mangled all her cherished memories of the boy she loved until, in her mind, he was a pitiful whimpering fool. Later, she had convinced herself that he had died. She hated that she had to do that to survive his loss. Finally, she conceded that he didn’t love her enough to return.
All the speculations vanished the moment she had set eyes on him again. He was very much alive and no whimpering fool. Lord, help me! She didn’t know whether to hug him or slap him. Apparently, she had chosen falling to pieces all over him. Ugh. She wanted to slap herself.
Angel’s skin started to prickle, her muscles thrumming from an invisible pull. She spotted Aiden just inside the entrance to the parlor against the backdrop of the winding, grand staircase. The pull towards him had always been a tangible thing. It was unwelcome right now.
He looked so tall and handsome in his black slacks and white shirt. At the funeral, he had looked at her through a stranger’s eyes. She registered the shock on his face now. It was obvious he had finally realized who she was.
Why did he have to come back now? She didn’t know if her heart could take the added torment.
His trimmed, honey colored hair was a little longer on top so it fell across his forehead. He wiped his hands down the side of his pants as he approached. She noticed his right hand, wrapped in a bandage.
“Angel? I didn’t recognize you before. I’m… sorry your daddy is gone.” He paused to take a deep breath, his expression pained. “I’m s—” He gripped his jaw, pressing into his cheeks as if he was trying to push the words back in. “You’ve all been through hell.” He bent to kiss her cheek. Instead of moving away, he folded himself into the space beside her and took her hand. “It’s so good to see you again,” he added, with sincerity and apparent relief as he expelled the words.
Was it really? Why did he wait so long to come back if he had missed her? How did he feel about being back here? She wanted to fire the questions at him like bullets, but the feel of his hand feeding a low hum of electricity into hers was distracting. Stupid hand.
Aiden’s eyes roamed her face, taking in her transformation. “You’ve changed so much.”
“So have you, but I still see the boy I used to know.”
She couldn’t resist reaching up to run her finger down the slight bend in his nose where it had been broken. His skin was warm and smooth. It felt so right to be in contact with it. The path of her touch continued across the scar on his cheekbone from a baseball incident years before. He made a sound as his breath caught, and she let her hand drop.
Angel sat compelled by his whiskey eyes, letting his spell weave an intricate net around her once more—just for a second. Variations of this exact moment had been in her dreams for years. Never did she imagine seeing him again under these circumstances. She couldn’t deny her wish to be captured by him, but he had the worst timing known to man, and he wasn’t here for her, anyways.
Seeing him at the funeral had nearly bowled her over. She had to touch him to know he was real, allowing his presence to ground her. The uncertainty surrounding his arrival meant it was more likely she would have to survive without it, as she had done for years. She’d done a damn good job of it, too.
“Daddy would have loved that you’re finally back. He went a bit far in his efforts to get you here, though.” Dark humor. She cringed at Aiden’s expression, a mix of mortification and amusement, obviously struck dumb.
She was torn. So many questions weaved convoluted paths through her thoughts, confusing and frustrating her. “Why…” She shook her head and licked her lips. Nope. She couldn’t do this here. “Would you like a drink, or somethin’ to eat?” Manners, she reminded herself. Mama was always on about manners. Advice that she had totally ignored until her sudden catapult into womanhood.
Aiden blinked, taking a moment to reply. “I’ll get it. Do you want a refill?” He nodded towards the empty glass on the coffee table in front of them.
“Just some water. Thanks.” She smiled and pulled her hands away, although a part of her was reluctant to let him go, she knew putting her guard up was necessary.
The smell of fried food churned her gut, mirroring her emotions. How much longer would she have to bear this? Her eyes darted around the room, scanning for an excuse to escape.
He watched her a beat longer, clearly perplexed. She knew she was being standoffish. What did he expect? Lordy!
“Aiden! C’mere and get some purdies,” Harvey’s voice boomed from the adjacent dining room. Good ole’ Uncle Harvey.
Aiden’s brow remained crinkled in confusion. “He means potatoes,” Angel explained.
Understanding dawned on his face, and the smile that always made her melt, came out to play. “He hasn’t changed a bit. If potatoes are purdies does that mean tomatoes are turdies?” An inelegant snort burst out before she could stop it. He was trying to defuse the awkwardness. She appreciated that.
Aiden’s face split into a wide grin. “I’ll be back. Don’t go anywhere. We have a lot to catch up on.”
“Mm hmm,” she murmured to his retreating back. More than you know.
Normal
He still moved the same. She had always loved the way he moved. Angel shook her head. It was no good letting her thoughts wander in that direction. He’s not here to stay, only to pay his respects.
Angel’s friend, Chelsea, dropped onto the sofa beside her, blonde hair bouncing. “Don’t go there.” Her tone was stern, her eyes beseeching.
“No. I know. He’s not stayin’,” Angel’s eyes dropped to watch the way she twisted her fingers together. “That’s probably for the best.” Her shoulders sank in defeat, and probably a little from relief. The situation was so complicated it gave her a headache.
“Are you gonna tell him?” Chelsea laid her hand on Angel’s arm, a subtle prompt to stop her nervous twitching.
“He should know, but… I don’t want him to feel—”
“Here you go.” Angel’s head popped up at the interruption. “One water, as requested.” Aiden smiled at the two women, and placed the glass in front of Angel. He turned to Chelsea, holding out his hand. “Hi. I’m Aiden Thomas. I used to live down the road.”
Angel frowned and her hands started twisting more violently. ‘I used to live down the road’. Not, ‘Angel and I used to date’, or ‘I used to love Angel, once’. Oh Lord, would ya listen to me. Let the nit picking begin.
“Chelsea. Best friend and wing woman.” She grabbed his bandaged hand firmly, and gave it one pump. Angel snorted at her friend’s intimidation tactics. Chelsea tilted her head towards Angel, with an impish grin.
The most valuable friend is the one who can cheer you up when life turns to cow dung. She would forever be grateful to Chelsea’s mama for deciding to move her teenage daughter away from Montgomery at a time when she needed her the most.
“What did ya do to your hand?”
“Oh.” He flipped his hand over, carefully spreading his fingers. “I had a disagreement with a mirror.”
“Hmm.” Chelsea’s lips puckered, her eyebrows raised. “So, where do you live now?” Typical Chelsea, she wasn’t wasting any time getting to the point.
Aiden sat in a wingback chair opposite Angel, and placed his own glass down. He didn’t use a coaster. She had to bite her tongue. Pick, pick.
“I don’t really have a home base. I live out of my suitcase.” Angel reached for her water. She needed to wet her parched throat and occupy her hands. Fidgeting was so unladylike, her mama had told her a thousand times.
“That could get old real quick.”
“I never thought so, until very recently.” His eyes flickered over to Angel. She bit her lips to stop herself from speaking. She might say something stupid. Lack of a verbal filter was Chelsea’s deal, not Angel’s.
“What are ya doin’ all that traveling for, anyways?” Chelsea was frowning at him as if he was stupid.
“I’m a freelance photographer. I go where the work is. I have several publications that request for my services, so I end up all over the place.”
“Ooh, you’ve hit the bigtime. I guess you would never live in a Podunk place like this?” Chelsea peeked at Angel out of the corner of her eye.
“I loved growing up here. Never wanted to leave, actually.” Aiden’s intense gaze traveled over Angel’s face. A warm blush trailed in its path, across her cheeks, and down her neck. Her nipples pebbled, awakening. As far as her body was concerned, Aiden Thomas was irresistible, and she had waited a long time to have him this close again. Not close enough. Worst timing ever.
Angel stared at him intently, searching for signs of truth in his statement. She used to be able to read him so clearly. She swallowed the bitter realization that he had changed. She didn’t know him anymore. The Aiden she knew would never have punched a mirror. The Aiden she knew wasn’t so… detached. Even his accent was different. The southern twang long erased. The thing was, he didn’t know her either. Angel had lived a lifetime while he was tripping around the world.
She tuned back into the interrogation at the tail end of Chelsea’s next question. “… you leave, then?”
“My parents moved us to Chicago for work. They’re still there. I see them every now and then.” The underlying strain in his voice making it clear that he’d rather poke a stick in his eye than visit his folks. Just the mention of his family formed an ice crystal trail down her spine. It seemed he’d managed to distance himself from them, but not break off completely. She sat up straight, wrapping her arms around her ribcage to protect herself against the foreboding infusing her bones. Chelsea sensed her distress and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
He ran his thumb over his eyebrow, taking the break in questioning as an opportunity to address Angel with one of his own. “Do you still live here?” He sounded incredulous. She bristled at his rudeness. Well, he’s still good at putting his foot in his mouth.
His eyes widened, and he slapped his hand across his eyes. “No!” he groaned. “That’s not what I meant. I meant, I’m glad you’re here. I know you love it here. You’re probably happily married with kids.” His eyes dropped to her bare ring finger.
“Not married,” she croaked. Suddenly she felt like she’d wasted her life, holed up in Nowhere Alabama.
No. She shook her head in denial. She hadn’t been wasting her time. She had been doing important things, and she loved being near her family. They had saved her sanity when Aiden left.
“Are you happy?” he asked tentatively.
Tears welled in her eyes, and she started wringing her hands again. She had been happy before her father became ill.
“Oh, very smooth. Way to go, douche.” Chelsea popped up and jammed her hands on her hips. “Now you made her feel sorry for herself, days after losing her father. You’d better apologize, or I’ll have to kick your ass.”
“Chelsea,” Angel admonished, sending her friend a look that said, ‘Please do not cause a scene at my daddy’s wake’.
“What? He’s eatin’ his boot right now.” Her southern twang getting more pronounced as her ire rose.
Aiden gripped his cheeks and chin in one hand, pulling them down before dropping his hands to rub across his knees. “I am sorry. More than you know. I don’t know anything about what you’ve been through, but I’d like to find out. How you’ve been. What’s happening in your life. What you want for the future. Could we…” He blew out a harsh breath. “I know this isn’t the right time, but would you like to visit with me, soon? Whenever you’re ready?”
Her heart sped up at the look of hope and desperation on his face. She needed to settle down. He didn’t mean it that way. Her emotions were so close to tipping her off the ledge, she couldn’t see straight. She didn’t know if this was a good idea at all. He was drawing her in again, eroding her bravado and stepping over the line she had drawn between them. She didn’t want to blow her life apart, only to have him leave again.
Angel squeezed her eyes shut. What am I thinking? He wasn’t asking for forever. He was asking for one visit before he left again. She could survive through a couple of hours. Right?
“They’re converting the old Thompson place into a B and B, but it’s not open yet. Are you stayin’ above the hardware store?” She blinked up at him.
“I was hoping to ask Mr. Saunders. That is, if he still owns the place.”
“He does,” she affirmed with a nod.
“Good to know some things never change.” His gaze seemed to search for some answer from her. “Can I get your number and let you know where I’ll be?” He stood up to retrieve his cell from his pocket.
“You can ring here at the house. The number hasn’t changed in fifteen years.” An unintentional sliver of bitterness cut at her tone. She had let that go a long time ago, but something inside her wanted to make him suffer just a little, for breaking his promise and not coming back for her.
He scratched his cheek. “I never needed to know the number when I was a kid because I practically lived here.”
“So, look it up,” she blurted, losing her control. She immediately bit her lips, and tucked her chin down.
Chelsea rolled her eyes. “Oh, for God’s sakes! Talk about it tomorrow when I’m not within earshot.” She rattled off the number for him, and he diligently added it into his contacts. “Did y’all used to fight when you were kids?”
“Yeah,” they said in unison, making each other laugh and draining the tension.
“Okay.” Aiden returned his phone to his pocket and picked up his untouched drink. “I’d better go and find Mr. S. Talk to you later?” He bent to kiss Angel on the cheek. She took a deep, quiet breath in. He wore cologne, but underneath was pure Aiden. His woodsy smell burrowed into her buried memories. Good and bad. The kiss lingered on her cheek even after the contact was broken.
Aiden leaned down to shake Chelsea’s hand again. “Lovely to meet you, Chelsea.”
“Oh, for sure. Things are gonna get interesting ‘round here. You best mind me.” Chelsea’s handshake was overzealous at best, her eyes fierce.
“Mmm.” Aiden’s head reared back. “I think you’re under the impression that I’m going to hurt Angel. You obviously know how we parted ways. While I think it’s none of your business, I can see that you’re very close, and Angel respects you a lot. I just hope that you return the favor, and let her make her own decisions about the company she keeps.” Aiden detached Chelsea’s grip, and flexed his hand as he walked away to find Mr. Saunders.
Chelsea watched him walk away. “I think the boy has finally grown up. Damn, I’ve gotta admire anyone who can put me in my place.”
