Now and Forever 4, The Renovated Heart (12 page)

“No afterschool today?” he asked.

“Thursday.”

“Right!”

“I don’t think you should wear that in front
of me,” he said, rising from the bed.

“Why not?” She raised her eyebrows.

“I don’t think I can control myself looking
at you knowing you have nothing on underneath.”

She shot a saucy smile at him, watching him
retrieve his clothes.

“Then maybe I should take it off,” she said,
her eyes glittering.

“If you do, we’ll never get dressed in
time,” he said, giving her a sweet kiss before putting on his
boxers.

“Do you always have these control problems,
Dr. Caterson?”

“Only with you.”

They made the bed together, returning to the
computer, just in time to see Scottie and Laura coming up the front
steps.

* * * *

Five thirty on Monday, Wednesday and Friday
was pick up time. Sarah’s turn to retrieve the kids while Jim made
dinner.

“Spaghetti and meatballs?” Sarah fished her
car keys out of her overstuffed purse.

“Fresh pasta here, leftover meatballs in the
freezer?” Jim slapped a package of pasta on the kitchen counter and
raised his eyebrows in question.

“Yup. See ya,” She leaned over and kissed
him, then ran her hand over the day’s growth on his face.

“Sorry. No time to shave today.”

“Love you this way.”

He pulled her close for a better kiss then
released her. She heard him whistling as she closed the front door
on her way to pick up Laura and Scottie from dance and soccer
practice.

The children accepted Jim as part of their
lives. Scottie expected him to come to his soccer games. Laura,
drawn into the drama of middle school, seemed too preoccupied to
have an opinion.

Sarah straightened up, put things away
humming a tune before she climbed into bed.

As she went to turn off her computer, she
noticed a new email from Kit.

Sarah –

Tunney meets Zoe tomorrow. I’m terrified!
What if she tells him I’m divorced?

Hugs,

Kit.

Sarah typed…

Kit –

Maybe having Zoe tell him would be the best
thing. Off to bed. Goodnight.

Sarah pulled back the covers, ran her hand
over the pillow where Jim had rested his head. She lay down, turned
out the light, tried rolling onto her stomach, then bunching the
pillow under her belly but nothing helped. She lay, sleepless, on
her side with her legs pulled up, a position guaranteed to put her
out. At least it worked during her pregnancy.
Not tonight. The
bed’s too big. Too empty?
Sarah turned over and switched on the
light. She picked up her phone. Jim answered on the first ring.

“Hello?”

“Hi there.” She scrunched down in the
bed.

“Sarah?”

“It’s me. Were you asleep?”

“Not yet.”

“Are you in bed?”

“Yes, I’m reading some student essays.”

“What are you wearing?” Her tongue slid over
her lower lip.

“Nothing.”

“Wow…I didn’t know you slept naked. Sexy,
very sexy.”

She heard him chuckle on the other end of
the line.

“What about in the dead of winter?”

“I have a big down quilt…very warm,
cozy…plenty big enough for two.”

“Someday…” Her gaze fixed on the
ceiling.

“What are you wearing?”

“Nothing. I keep a nightgown on the
bedpost.”

“Oh, God. Naked again? Twice in one day.” He
laughed.

“I miss you.” She chewed on her lower
lip.

“I miss you too.”

“Funny…you’re only a short distance away…a
few feet actually, yet it feels like a thousand miles.”

“Maybe we can do something about that.”

“You think so?” she sat up.

“I hope so. Sooner would be better.”

“Agreed.”

“Good night, honey, sleep well.”

“Good night,…my love,” she said, shutting
off the phone closed and turning out the light.

* * * *

In the old Victorian on Bay Street

Kit stared out the window late on a Saturday
afternoon in October, watching leaves pile up on the tiny front
lawn. She tried not to think about the mess her life was when her
phone buzzed. Zoe.

“I want to come to the new house, Mom. Can
you pick me up?”

“Sure. When?”

“Tomorrow morning?”

“At ten?”

“Yeah. Wait! What color is my new room?”

”Your favorite color, pink.”

“Pink! Ugh. I hate pink. Black is the cool
color.”

“It’s expensive to repaint…especially when
you don’t need to. I can’t ask Tunney to repaint the room.”

“Who’s Tunney? Do you have a boyfriend
already?” she couldn’t miss the note of accusation in her
daughter’s voice.

“Tunney is…is…our landlord. He’s nice.
You’ll like him.”

“Are you sleeping with him, Mom?”

“What kind of question is that? Of course
I’m not sleeping with him.”

“Melissa’s mom is sleeping with her
boyfriend. He stays over at their house all the time…in her mom’s
room.”

“Do you even know what
sleeping with
him
means?”

“Means they’re having sex. I’m not a baby,
Mom. I’m eleven.”

“Pretty mature for eleven, Zoe.”

“Almost twelve.”

“Tunney and I are…are…friends. He owns this
house. So be nice to him or he won’t renew our lease.”

“If you move to Willow Falls permanently,
I’ll never see Dad! He comes back to New York; he’s not going to
come all the way out here.”

“He will. Or I’ll take you to New York.
You’ll see him when he’s on break from the tour at Christmas.”

“I have no choice, do I?” she said, hanging
up.

Were things with Zoe improving, or was it
one step forward and two steps back? Kit stopped cold on the
threshold to Zoe’s room when she spied the clothes.
Oh God,
the
husband
clothes are in Zoe’s room!
Tunney worked
away downstairs, to the beat playing on his CD player.
Those
clothes must go!

“Hey, Kit,” Tunney called up the stairs,
“dinner tonight?”

“Can’t. Zoe’s coming tomorrow. I have to
prepare.”

Tunney climbed the stairs carrying two mugs
of coffee. Plaster dust whitened his hair, paint smudged on his
cheek along with two days growth plus paint thinner on his work
pants made him look damn sexy.
Something about a working
man.

“You’re a vision, plaster dust becomes you.”
She took the mug then turned away, hiding her smile.

“Very funny. You can’t stay clean when you
renovate. You’re not exactly Miss Neat ‘n Tidy, either. At least I
haven’t put my foot in the paint pan!” He shot her his lopsided
grin.

“Thanks for reminding me.” She turned
away.

“Anytime.” He bowed, removing a pretend hat.
“Can I meet her?”

“You’ll be here working, won’t you?”

“Probably. Need to get things done
tomorrow.”

Tunney meeting Zoe…what if she says
something about the divorce? What if Tunney asks her a question
about Johnny?

“Maybe not…” Kit chewed the only fingernail
not covered in paint.

“Why?”

“She might get the wrong idea about…us, you
know? Might text her father something that…isn’t true…I mean about
us.”

“You’re worried she’ll think we’re having an
affair? How old is this kid?”

“Eleven going on twenty-two.”

“There is no reason to hide.”

“Zoe’s going through a phase…a pretty
hostile phase these days, so maybe it’s better not to…to…”

“To appear to be fooling around?”

“Exactly.”

“All right. I’ll be out of here by the time
you get back. But you have to have dinner with me tonight.”

“Deal.”

At six o’clock, Tunney returned with a brown
bag carrying the aroma of Chinese food into the kitchen. He set the
bag down on the kitchen table while Kit brought out plates and
utensils. Munching on a spare rib, he broached a sensitive
subject.

“About the green for the dining room…”

“You’re right, green isn’t reasonable,” Kit
admitted.

“Thank you! Can you pick something
else…something more neutral? Maybe not, not white…but…”

“Like cream?” She looked up after piling
Kung Pao chicken over her rice.

“Good choice.” He got the whistling kettle
off the stove and took down cups.

“How much are you asking for this house,
anyway?”

“About two hundred and thirty thousand once
I get done with the renovation.”

“If I sell my apartment, I’d have the money
to buy this place.” Kit spoke more to herself than him.

“You’d want this old dump?” He delivered two
steaming cups of Chinese tea to the table.

“Yeah. But I’d have to unload my apartment
first.” She shoveled the food into her mouth.

“Maybe someone looking for an investment
property?” Tunney made a pile of fried rice next to a mound of
pepper steak on his plate.

“Keep dreaming.” She added sugar to her tea
then took the last bite of her chicken.

“If you buy the house, you can paint
lavender polka dots on the dining room walls.” He finished the last
drop of tea and put his cup down.

She threw a pot holder at him. He ducked and
laughed before disappearing out the front door.

“See you tomorrow.” He called over his
shoulder.

“What time?”

“Early.”

She locked the door. Leaning against the
wall, Kit peeked out the window to watch him drive away.
Dump?
She fell in love with the old house as if the freshly
painted walls and comfy rooms were Prince Charming.
He didn’t
mean it. He grew up here. He’s taking good care of it. I love it.
Bet he does, too.

The nip in the air signaled a new season
beginning, causing her to wrap her arms around her chest. She
relished the opportunity to warm herself in front of the fireplace,
maybe with him.
Maybe with Tunney upstairs in the bedroom. Maybe
not.

After cleaning up the last of the dishes and
putting away the leftovers, she climbed the stairs. The same creaks
heard on her first night greeted her ears. Now they were familiar,
friendly creaks, not scary. She welcomed the sounds.

Kit had to figure out what to do with the
husband
clothes tonight. Tomorrow she’d have to find a way
to keep Tunney downstairs. The underwear and socks were back in the
dresser in her old room, out of Zoe’s sight. Tunney said he used
the third floor only for storage.

Kit took a flashlight along to help light
the way up the steep steps to the third floor. The cluttered space
had some dusty old furniture plus at least a dozen cardboard boxes.
Kit picked her way through the open space, looking for a place to
hide the
husband
clothes when she noticed a wooden box with
the name Daniel George Nichols carved in the top. Brushing off the
dust, Kit shoved the heavy box nearer to the dim overhead
light.

Inside she found a photo album plus five
large packets of letters, tied with ribbon along with his dog tags
from the Viet Nam war, a silver flask, a pocket watch and cigarette
case. Kit picked up the letters before calling Tunney.

“Miss me already?” She couldn’t tell if the
edge in his voice was sarcasm or hope.

“Not exactly. I got curious about the third
floor. I found a box of your father’s stuff. There are letters in
there. Do you mind if I read them?”

“Those old things? My parents are gone, I
doubt those letters will reveal anything of interest, so if you
want to poke around, go ahead. If you find out I was adopted, don’t
tell me,” he joked. Kit pictured his funny grin.

“Okay. I’ll keep it private,” she said. “My
father fought in Viet Nam, too, but he never talked about his time
there.”

“My dad didn’t say much either. He didn’t
talk much for almost a year after he got back. He was a POW. Took
him a long time to live a normal life. He was never a big talker,
but he came through when I needed him.”

Tears stung the backs of Kit’s eyes.

“This makes me miss my parents.” She sank
down onto the carpeted floor.

“Have they been gone long?”

“Seven years.” Kit leaned back against the
wall.

“What happened to them?”

“Dad died of cancer, Mom was killed by a
drunk driver.” She took a deep breath to steady her voice.

“Must have been rough.”

“It was,” she said, quietly.

“What about Staid’s parents?”

“They never liked me. They live in Arizona
and don’t have much to do with us, even Zoe. ”

“I can’t imagine anyone not liking you.”

She blushed. “I can be very bossy. I like to
be in control.”

“Really? You don’t say. I can handle you...”
He chuckled.

“Oh?” She raised her eyebrows then grinned
since he couldn’t see her.

“Well maybe, not handle exactly…before I get
into hot water…good night.”

“Good night.” The warmth of his voice
caressed her.

Kit looked at her watch only nine o’clock.
She went down to the kitchen for a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon then
toted it up to the third floor. Sitting cross-legged on the floor
and stationing the wine glass on a low table nearby, she opened up
the ribbon on the pack with the letter marked
number one
. It
read—

Dear Dan –

I just got word today you have been
captured…or at least I’m hoping you’ve been captured. You are
officially MIA, as of today. I don’t know what to do because I
don’t know anyone whose husband is MIA, just dead or alive. So I’m
going to assume you are alive. That’s the optimist in me you always
tease me about.

I’m going to write you a letter every week
and put it away. When you get home, you can read them all. You’re
so practical, Dan, you’ll probably think this is stupid, but I just
have to. I can’t stop writing to you. I have to believe you are
coming home.