A Place Called Home (34 page)

Taking one day at a time carried Thea through March Mayhem and into April. Family court in the middle of the month was every bit as anticlimactic as Mitch had warned her it would be. The judge’s decision came swiftly and without any admonitions or advisories. The judge was satisfied with the report from the children’s court-appointed guardian ad litem, which included a home study and a summary of individual interviews conducted with Mitch and Thea, the people they provided as character references, and all three of the children. Mitch and Thea were granted joint legal custody while the children would remain in Mitch’s home. The matter would only come before the court again if someone petitioned for a change in the arrangement. Thea’s attorney explained to her privately that Mitch understood it would fall on him to take legal steps if he believed at any time Thea’s judgment as it related to the children was impaired by substance abuse.

Thea accepted this, relieved only that it was over and that she had been allowed to have a substantially large toehold in the lives of her best friend’s children. It was an obligation she accepted as a gift from Gabe, a responsibility she had come to cherish.

She returned Joel’s ring to him the day after the court hearing. He accepted it reluctantly, not because he held out hope that he could change her mind, but because he had always meant for her to keep it. She had other things, she’d told him, that he had given her that she had no intention of returning: the signed program from the James Taylor concert at Heinz Hall; the little elephant pendant on the gold chain from their Saturday at the zoo; the platinum-and-diamond circle pin from Tiffany’s. He’d chuckled about the Tiffany piece, but she could tell he was genuinely touched that she had remembered the others.

He invited her to join him for dinner that evening, and they returned to the same place they had had their first real date more than two years earlier. They just laughed about it; it was still a favorite spot for both of them. Thea could not remember that she had ever been quite so relaxed with Joel as she was that night. He, too, seemed different. At some point that evening it occurred to them that they really could be friends and they talked and joked and reminisced and it was two in the morning when Joel finally dropped Thea off at her home.

They chatted about twice a week after that. He never seemed to mind that her conversation often involved something Emilie, Case, or Grant had done. Thea realized he was no longer jealous of her attention to the children because they did not figure in his own life. He shared more anecdotes about his grandchildren, and she was reminded anew of what a warm and loving man he was.

“So, are you going to ever tell me about her?” she teased him. Thea was standing in her kitchen, stirring vegetable soup in a stockpot, while she spoke to Joel on the phone. “Don’t pretend you didn’t hear me. I know you’re seeing someone. Who is she?” Her question was met with silence and both of Thea’s brows lifted. “Oh, it’s that serious, is it?”

“She’s pretty special,” Joel admitted. “We’re having a bit of ...” His voice trailed off as he began to have second thoughts. “Do you mind if we don’t talk about it?” He sighed. “You know, Thea, when I fell in love with Nancy, I swear it wasn’t so complicated. I knew. She knew. I never doubted for a moment when I asked her to marry me that she would say anything other than yes.”

Thea paused in her stirring, hitching her hip as she considered this. “Were you so certain of me?”

Joel laughed. “I was
never
certain of you. Not once. What about you?”

“I’ve never been certain about anything,” she said. But she knew what he was asking and he deserved something better than a flippant answer. “No, Joel, I wasn’t certain either. I suppose I thought it was time.”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “For me, too.”

She smiled and began stirring again. “So you didn’t love me quite as much as—”

He cut her off. “I loved you, Thea. I still do. But I know you were right to end it. It wouldn’t have worked for us. This woman, the one I’m seeing now, it feels a lot like it did with Nancy, only ...”

Thea waited. “Only what, Joel?”

“Only even better.”

“Oh, Joel,” Thea said. Her widening smile touched her voice. “That’s wonderful.” When he didn’t answer immediately, she asked, “Isn’t it?”

“We’ll see,” he said enigmatically. “Tell me about the kids. When are you getting the kids again?”

Thea allowed him to change the subject. “I’m taking Emilie horseback riding on Saturday afternoon. Sunday is Mother’s Day. I’m not sure how we’re going to get through that.”

“You’ve been talking to Mitch about it?”

“A little.”

“Did you offer to go up there? It might help if you were around.”

“I wasn’t invited, Joel.” She had not been in Mitch’s house since the day after her car accident. They communicated by phone, sometimes email and texts, and occasionally through his mother or the children. She saw him when he dropped the kids off or when she came to pick them up. He was invariably cordial and always a little amused, while she was wary and skittish around him. “I suspect that Mitch’s mother will be the grande dame of the day. That should provide some diversion.”

“Thea,” Joel said gently. “Whose pain are you trying to divert?”

Chapter 11

Thea got out of her car when she saw Mitch’s SUV appear in her sideview mirror. She followed its slow progress along the cemetery’s circular drive until it finally reached her. The children jumped out first, all of them hurrying toward her. The twins had pictures they had drawn in Sunday school with them. Emilie was carrying a spray of pink, yellow, and white carnations, Kathy’s favorite flower. Thea managed to kiss each one of them, fuss over the pictures they only waved in front of her, and compliment Emilie on her new straw hat before Mitch came up to them.

She lifted her eyes to meet his, uncertain of her welcome. This was not something she had planned with him, or even in her own mind. Joel’s pithy observation was what had prompted her to come to the cemetery this Sunday.

Mother’s Day.

Thea had only made the decision this morning, but her instincts were good. She suspected that Mitch or his parents would be bringing the children here after church and she timed her arrival accordingly. If she had been wrong, it would have been okay, too. She wasn’t here just for the children, but for herself.

“You don’t mind?” she asked Mitch.

“No. Not at all.” He did something surprising, then. He leaned forward, cupped Thea’s elbow, and brushed her cheek with his lips. Mitch felt her startled response in the slight stiffening of her body, but she didn’t pull back. “You don’t mind?” he asked.

“Ah ... no.” Thea’s smile was tremulous at first, then more certain. “No,” she repeated. “I don’t mind.” She heard the twins giggle, Emilie telling them to shut up, and the thudding of her own heart. “I need to change my shoes,” she said because she needed to fill Mitch’s silence. “I’ll sink in the grass in these.”

Mitch looked down. Following the line of Thea’s slender, shapely legs, it seemed a long way to the ground. She was wearing a pair of canary yellow strappy sandals on her feet with at least three inches of heel. “Nice Manolos,” he said.

Thea’s eyes widened. “How on earth could you possibly know my shoes are Manolos?”

Mitch shrugged. “I’ve been studying.” He tapped Emilie on the crown of her pink straw hat. “Who do you think picked this out?”

Emilie rolled her eyes. “I did, Aunt Thea. Nonny helped me. Uncle Mitch took Case and Grant to the arcade so they wouldn’t have to hold purses.”

“Traitor,” Mitch whispered out of the side of his mouth. To Thea he said, “I suppose you have a pair of more practical shoes in your car?”

She nodded. “In the backseat.”

Mitch opened the door and took the sneakers out. He eyed the Volvo critically, making certain it was clean enough for Thea to lean against. Her canary yellow suit wouldn’t tolerate much dirt or dust. She’d look like Tweetie Pie after a fight with the putty-tat. “Here,” he said, dropping to his haunches. “Give me your foot, Cinderella.”

“You don’t have to—” She had to catch her balance and her breath as Mitch’s fingers wrapped around her ankle and lifted her foot to his thigh. “I could do this, Mitch.” Thea made an apologetic smile in the direction of the kids but Case and Grant were more interested in a bug they’d found scurrying along the curb and Emilie was admiring her reflection in the Volvo’s window, cradling the bouquet of carnations in her arms like a beauty queen. No help there.

Mitch slid the thin leather strap down Thea’s silky calf, shimmied the sandal off her foot, and replaced it with a white canvas tennis shoe. It made him smile. The sandals had easily cost her more than five hundred dollars and the sneakers ran about fifteen. They weren’t just throwaway shoes, either. They were scuffed, comfortably worn, and in spite of having been washed a dozen times, smudges of garden humus and mulch still marked the creases. The canvas threads were stretched thin exactly where her big toe pressed against the fabric.

Mitch replaced the second sandal. His fingers lingered on Thea’s ankle a moment before he released her. “There you go.” He stood, brushing off his charcoal gray slacks at the knee.

“You missed a spot.” Without thinking, Thea reached over and dusted off his thigh with her fingertips. When she realized what she was doing, she stopped cold and glanced up at him. “Yes ... umm ... well, you can get that yourself, can’t you?”

Mitch was grinning. “As soon as you remove your hand from my person.”

Thea’s fingers flew back with the quick reflexes of someone burned. Her cheeks went rosy. She was further disconcerted to notice the twins were no longer engaged in their nature study and Emilie had lost interest in her own image. Three pairs of eyes were watching her; four, if she counted Mitch. All of them curious and just a little slyly amused. It lasted only a moment, then the spell—if that’s what it was—was broken. The skittering bug reappeared, sunshine glinting on the car window cast Emilie’s reflection in a new light, and Mitch attended to the heel print on his trousers.

Mitch reached around Thea to tap Emilie on the shoulder. “Let’s go,” he said. “Case. Grant. Leave that poor insect in peace.”

At first the boys ran ahead, but Thea saw as they approached the twin graves of their parents, they slowed and finally stopped, waiting for the rest of them to catch up and cross the last thirty feet together. They were silent as they walked. When they reached the bronze marker set in the ground, Emilie read the raised gold lettering aloud: “
GABRIEL
L
.
REASONER
.
KATHRYN
A
.
REASONER
.
PEACE
ETERNAL
.”

Case’s paper fluttered in his hand. He caught it close, smoothing it across his stomach so the wind wouldn’t tear it. “It’s a picture of us, Mom.” He pointed out the figures he had drawn. “Here’s me and Grant. And Emilie. I colored her hat purple ’cause Jessica Swanson was hoggin’ the pink crayon. And here’s Uncle Mitch and Anthea.”

Thea was surprised Case had included her in his picture. She tilted her head to get a better look at it, though why she thought she could see through the wash of tears was beyond her. It looked like she and Mitch were sharing a hand. She blinked, startled, but then Case’s fingers covered up that portion of the drawing and he was explaining the three figures hovering at the level of the sun.

“This is you and Dad,” Case said. “And Jesus. I gave you and Dad wings but not Jesus, because he can walk on water and stuff and I figured he don’t need wings to fly.” Case looked up at Mitch. “That’s all I got.” Then he remembered the reason they’d come. “Oh, ’cept Happy Mother’s Day.”

Mitch put his arm around Case’s small shoulders and gave him a gentle squeeze. “That was great.” Still protecting his picture, Case leaned into him. “Grant? You want to say something about your drawing?”

Grant unfolded his. “I drew a map. Mrs. Templeton helped. It’s like the road rug we have for our cars ’cept this is our real town. This is our house now. And the church. Here’s our house with you and Dad. This is the park and the swimming pool. This is the store. Nonny and Pap’s house is here. I drew in some other houses ’cause Uncle Mitch says we might move, and I want you to know where we are. When he tells us which house Miss Sommers picks, I’ll come back and show you.”

“They’ll
know,
” Emilie said a trifle scornfully.

Mitch gave her a quelling look and said to Grant, “I think it’s a great idea. We’ll keep the map in the car so when we come back we’ll be sure to have it. Em? You need help with the vase?”

Chastened, Emilie bent and gave the dial inserted into the grave marker a twist. She pulled hard and the vase lifted. She set the carnations in it and spent some time arranging them just so. “I forgot the water. I left it in the car.”

“Case and Grant will get it,” Mitch said. The boys thrust their drawings at Mitch and raced back to the SUV. “You okay, Em?”

She nodded, but didn’t glance up.

Thea looked at Mitch, a question in her eyes. His encouragement and approval was in the faint lift of his chin in Emilie’s direction. Thea hunkered down, disregarding the way her tight skirt rode up her thighs. “Did you pick these out?” she asked gently.

Emilie nodded again. “Mum liked carnations.”

Thea smiled. Emilie had adopted calling Kathy Mum, just the way Mitch called his own mother Mum. “She sure did. And yellow and pink were her favorite colors. Look at us.” She pointed to their clothing. “Yellow and pink.” Thea touched the flowers again. “These white ones were a good idea. They accent the others. Did you think of that?”

Emilie glanced at Thea. Her smile was watery and tears glistened in her eyes. “Yeah, I thought it looked nice.”

“Well, it does. You have a good eye.” She said it because it was true, not because she wanted to lift Emilie’s spirits. “Your mother let you pick out your own clothes as soon as she realized you had an opinion. I think you were not quite two. For a while, everything you wore had to sparkle. Do you remember?” She watched Emilie try to think back. “It’s all right. There are pictures. Lots of them. Maybe Mitch will get them out and you could look at them later.” There would be photos of Kathy, too. Gabe had loved taking pictures of his wife and daughter together. If Emilie was still too young to see how much of her mother still lived through her, Thea wasn’t. Poring over Gabe’s meticulously kept photo albums could be a good thing for both of them.