Marshmallows for Breakfast (48 page)

I snapped back from her, not comfortable with that kind of contact. Not by anyone, male or female; friend, relative or stranger.

“Sorry, sorry, shouldn't have done that,” she said. “OK, watch me.” She skated out to the empty expanse in the middle of the rink and skated in a few wide circles and then sped up, faster and faster, threw her arms out, and then she leapt up in the air, spun two and a half times and then landed on the ice, her back leg straight out behind her, arms out to balance her. I spontaneously broke out in applause. She was good at that. She was a bloody show-off, it had to be said, but she was allowed to be.

My one last hope?
echoed above the scrapes of her skates as she began her large circles again, faster and faster, quicker and quicker until suddenly she was spinning around on the tips of her skates, her arms went up in the air and she was twirling around and around, a long thin twisting blue and red and purple blur on the ice.

I closed my eyes; behind my eyelids I could still see the whirl of the light catching on her metal zipper.

My one last hope.
I thought of Will's unopened letter and the familiar anxiety didn't overwhelm me because talking to Gabrielle had brought up a new line of thought. Maybe finding out that it was too late and that Will's wife had died wasn't the only reason why I'd been scared to open the letter.
Maybe I hadn't opened it because it might also mean knowing if it was all over with the first man I've felt such a strong physical, emotional and mental connection with.

Maybe I hadn't opened it because it would tell me that I'd found true love and I'd lost it.

CHAPTER 44

W
ill's words lay flat on the page, flat and uniform and blue, but what he'd said was three- dimensional, and had filled up the room, filled up my mind, filled up my heart.

I'd taken several deep breaths and had five or six false starts before I finally tore the envelope open. Another ten minutes of deep, calming breathing passed before I could pull out the two sheets of paper. And then another twenty minutes had ebbed away before I could look down at the words.

She's fine. She changed her mind just in time, realized that there was nothing worth leaving the kids for and called her sister. They had to pump her stomach, but luckily she didn't suffer any permanent liver damage. She's fine, much better, and getting help.

Those were the words I read over and over, gratitude pouring unchecked and unhindered through my veins. She was fine. She was alive. I hadn't been partially responsible for…

They had started the counseling required for getting a divorce, he said, and had discovered that they didn't want to be together anymore. They probably should have split
awhile ago, he said, or gone for counseling, but now they wanted to move on. They were learning to be friends again and were still going through with the divorce.

The words that made me run my fingers over the page, as though trying to absorb his sentiments via the blue ink, said:

I love you, Kendie. If I could come to England, I would, I hope you know that, but I can t leave my kids. Would you think about coming back? I know it's a lot to ask, but I want to be with you. No matter when you get this letter, I know that won't have changed. Nearly two years I waited to be with you, I don't think how I feel will ever change. So, would you think about it? If you're scared your feelings may not stay the same once you get to know me properly, why don't you come for a holiday? Stay three months, think long term later on.

He'd written this letter a lifetime ago, but in the little time I knew him I had discovered a sense of who he was. He wouldn't have written it lightly. He would have taken his time over every word. He would have thought about what he was saying. He would have asked me to come back to him because he meant it.

I knew, as someone who loves another person does, that he wouldn't have changed his mind. Nothing would have changed between now and then. It hadn't for me, it wouldn't have for him.

He'd written this letter months ago so the time until they would be divorced was much nearer. We could be together now. I could go back to Australia, back to those moments of happiness that had been snatched away. I could go back and feel calm again. Safe. That's what I had when I was around
Will. A sense of safety. Normality. I was literally stepping back in time. To a time before I had flashbacks. Before I thought twice about everything people said to me. Before I had to hide huge chunks of myself. With Will, I didn't have to do that. I could tell him anything. Everything. I could go back to that now.

I picked up my mobile. Held it in my hand and then called up a blank text screen. I did a quick calculation as to what time it was over there. It was the middle of the night. He stayed up late, I knew that, but even if he didn't, he'd wake up to a message.

I tried to think of the right thing to say. I had to ask him if he still wanted me to come back. If he thought we still had a future. I wasn't rushing over there, I wasn't saying I'd go, but I had to know if he'd be there if I did.

Do you still want me to come back?

I typed and then sent it before I could think about it. I didn't sign it, didn't need to. Unless of course he had another woman in England whom he wanted to come back, in which case he'd get one hell of a shock at the airport.

Riinnnggg!
My mobile intoned less than thirty seconds later. I jumped. Was he calling me back that quickly? I glanced at the screen and found Summer, Jaxon and Kyle grinning at me.

“Hi,” I said into the phone, wondering which of the three it was.

“Kendra, it's Kyle.” His voice was stiff, formal. Something was wrong.

“Hi,” I replied.

“Can you come over? There's a problem with your direct debit; can you come over and discuss it?”

“Why? What's happened?” I asked, panicked. I was sure
there was enough money in my account to cover the rent. It's not like I did anything every month. Had someone stolen my identity and emptied my account?

“I'd rather do it in person. Can you come over now?”

“Yeah, sure,” I replied.

“Thanks.” He hung up without waiting for me to say good-bye. I stared at the phone, my mouth open in shock.
He seriously did not just hang up on me. How dare he! Who does he think he is?

I wasn't having that. If there was a problem, I would have literally missed only one payment.
One
payment.

I stomped down the stairs, the keys jangling in one hand, mobile gripped in the other, mouth clenched, eyes narrowed.
I'll give him direct fing debit.
I rapped briefly on the kitchen door and then, without waiting for an answer, swung open the door and stomped in.

“SURPRISE!” Kyle, Jaxon and Summer cried as I entered the kitchen.

My heart stopped as my body leapt back in shock. Someone as jumpy as me did not, in the main, go in for surprises. Even pleasant ones.

I looked around at their faces, all smiling, all focused on me. There were red, blue and green balloons tied in clumps of three onto the wall cupboard fronts. A red, white and blue tablecloth covered the wooden table, streamers had been pinned along the edge. In the middle of the table sat a huge—and I did mean huge—cake. It was layer upon layer of chocolate and chocolate wafer and chocolate cream and cream. The top had been customized with pink and white marshmallows, carefully placed on each peak of chocolate icing. In the center was a forest of candles—as many as they could cram onto it—all lit.

My bewildered face, after taking in the party scene in front of me, went to their faces.

“One, two, three …” Jaxon counted and then the room was filled with their version of “Happy Birthday.” They sang in tune, Kyle's rich, smooth baritone underscoring the younger, higher voices. With every word they sang to me, my eyes pricked with tears. “YEAH!!!” they cried at the end of it and clapped at me. I put a hand on my mouth, swallowing back the emotion that was jammed in my throat.

I shook my head at them. “It's not my birthday,” I managed between great gulps of air.

“We know,” Kyle said.

“You said it was in August,” Jaxon began.

“But we were in Corn'all in August,” Summer continued.

“So we're having a party now. It couldn't be a bigger surprise than now,” Kyle finished. “Now, blow out the candles on your cake.” He waved his hand at the cake with its forest of flames and slowly melting marshmallow topping.

“You couldn't fit any more candles on the cake, no?” I joked.

This was so sweet. Not only because of what they'd done, but it showed so much. It meant they'd finally done it. They were finally a melded family. They worked together to do this. They explained stories together. They felt secure. Jaxon could talk because he wasn't scared that something he said would wreck everything. Summer didn't need to throw tantrums regularly because her normal behavior got her dad to notice her. Kyle was back with his family. Jaxon and Summer had their dad back. In some respects, Ashlyn leaving was the best thing she could have done for Kyle's relationship with his kids.

I stepped forwards, went right up to the table and leaned forwards.

“Make a wish!” Summer reminded.

I looked up, caught Kyle's eye. Our eyes stayed locked together for a few moments. I knew what I had to wish for. I
closed my eyes, made my wish, took a deep, deep breath, pursed my lips and blew. Hard. I opened my eyes as the breath came out of me in one long, steady stream and I moved around, making sure to put out all the candles in that one blow. This wish
had
to come true.

“We got presents!” Summer said and dashed out of the room, Jaxon hot on her heels, before I could call out that I didn't need presents as well as the cake.

“She'll like my present better than yours!” Jaxon yelled after her, taking the steps right on her heels from the sounds of it.

“No she won't!” Summer screamed back.

They were arguing. Summer and Jaxon were actually arguing. It was only a little spat, but only a few months ago that would have seemed impossible. They used to cling to each other, desperate, unable to exist without the other one to show the other side of their personality. Now, that twin stranglehold they had on each other had been loosened enough for them to have a little rivalry.