Long Way Home (2 page)

Alexis took off her jacket and hung it on the hook in the hallway. She didn’t need to look around. The jacket hung in exactly the same place as it had seventeen years ago.

Tilly looked at her hesitantly, not wanting to assume too much. “Are you here for Christmas?”

“I thought I might, if you don’t mind. I have confidence that you haven’t turned my room into a gym or a library.”

“No, no. It’s usually for when the boys stay over.” She paused awkwardly. “Your nephews.”

Alexis didn’t react. Instead, she scanned the rooms of the house for signs of familiarity. She didn’t need to look far.

“Even the Christmas tree is in the same spot,” she commented.

“Well, where else would it go?”

Alexis gestured to her suitcases. “I’ll get these out of your way. Smells like you’ve got a pot roast on your hands.”

Tilly smiled ruefully. “You know your father. Dinner on the table when he gets home.”

Alexis walked upstairs with the suitcases and passed two high school graduation photos, one of her and one of her older sister, Betsy. She only glanced at them out of the corner of her eye. No desire to meet them head on.

Alexis continued down the hallway to her childhood bedroom. Unsurprisingly, nothing in the room was hers. Winnie the Pooh characters adorned the walls. Denim blue bedding. For the nephews,
her
nephews. A simple wooden chest of drawers stood against the wall.

Alexis placed her small suitcase on the bed and unzipped it. She stared at the contents, all encased in clear, plastic bags and neatly labeled. Her eyes burned with fatigue and she abandoned her immediate plan to unpack. Instead, she rifled through her purse and fished out a black velvet ring box. She cupped the soft box protectively in her hand. Opening the bottom drawer of the dresser, she hid the box under a folded blanket. Next, she removed a folded red cloth from her suitcase and placed that beside the ring box. With great effort she closed the drawer and her fingers hovered in front of the handle for a moment longer, resisting the urge to reach back in and hold the items once more. Pulling herself together, Alexis stood up and quickly ran a brush through her hair before heading back downstairs.

In the kitchen, Tilly had dinner under control and was pouring the requisite pint of beer in anticipation of her husband’s arrival when Alexis entered.

“Anything I can do?” she asked, trying not to gawk at the change in her mother’s appearance since she last saw her. Her hair was streaked with grey and the lines on her forehead had deepened into a perpetual frown.

“Do you still know how to set the table or does your butler do that for you?”

“You know very well my butler is too busy supervising my chef to do that. I have a wench for chores.”

Tilly handed her daughter a small stack of plates. “It appears I do, too.”

Alexis turned to the table to set down the plates. “Are you going to warn Dad ahead of time?”

Tilly pulled cutlery from the drawer. “I should, really, because I haven’t renewed his life insurance. Too costly at his age.”

The sound of the front door made them both stop in their tracks. The women exchanged uneasy glances. Greg MacAdams’ booming voice came through the entryway before he did. “Tilly, I am so hungry I could eat the ass off a skunk without any salt.”

He appeared in the kitchen doorway, filling it completely with his height and breadth, and his gaze fell immediately upon Alexis. His dark hair was thinner than she remembered and he’d gained weight around the middle. She easily read the range of emotions in his clear, blue eyes. First shock, followed quickly by anger, and then something akin to relief.

Alexis found her voice. “Hi, Dad.”

“Your yacht must’ve sunk. Do you know you’ve washed up on Mangrove Island?” He examined her from head to toe. “You’re too thin for a woman your age. Do they not let you stop working long enough to eat at that big law firm?”

“Depends on whether I’ve hit my billable hours that day.”

Tilly brought his beer to the table and Greg moved to kiss his wife’s cheek. He sat down at the head of the table while Tilly and Alexis brought over the food.

His eyes still on his daughter, Greg gestured to a chair. “Well, sit down. You clearly need dinner.”

Alexis sat down dutifully. Tilly removed her apron and joined them.

Tilly’s brow wrinkled. “I should’ve called Betsy.”

“I’m sure Alexis will make time to see her sister.” Greg turned his attention to his daughter. “So why does work need you in Florida? Some big company coming to wipe out a mom-and-pop store?”

“I’m not here on business.”

Although Greg didn’t comment, Alexis could tell he was surprised.

“I just thought I would spend the holidays here,” she continued.

Greg chuckled. “What are we, the Ghosts of Christmas Past?”

Tilly tapped her husband’s leg under the table and he grunted in response. Alexis took it in stride. She hadn’t expected a welcome mat.

Greg tried again. “Nice of them to unlock your chains for that long. Lucky you. Must’ve made them a lot of money this year.”

Alexis changed the subject. She didn’t want to talk about her job. “I’d like to see these nephews of mine.” She took a small portion of carrots without any pot roast and passed the serving dish back to her mother. The small act didn’t escape Tilly’s notice.

“I should think so,” Greg said. “They won’t even know you.”

“Greg.” Tilly used her warning tone that Alexis knew so well. “Alexis said she’d like to see them.”

“That’s one of the reasons I’m here,” Alexis said carefully.

Her parents fought the urge to ask about the other reasons. They rightly sensed that Alexis wasn’t ready to tell.

“Do you not like pot roast anymore?” Tilly asked, unable to hold her tongue.

“I never liked pot roast.”

“Who doesn’t like pot roast?” Greg thundered. “Too working class for you?”

“I don’t eat red meat anymore,” Alexis said.

“No cheeseburgers?” Tilly asked, her brown eyes wide.

“No. Can’t say I miss them either.”

Tilly scratched her head. “Well, that will make planning Christmas meals challenging.”

“You eat cheeseburgers for Christmas now?”

“Well, no,” Tilly admitted. “We do a nice roast beef. It’s a wonderful recipe from one of my magazines.”

“I’m happy with a good salad,” Alexis said, “so no need to make a fuss.”

“Nobody’s making a fuss,” Greg interjected, quick to his wife’s defense.

“More carrots?” Tilly asked her husband.

Greg held up his plate so his wife could drop another heap of carrots onto it. Alexis chewed slowly, trying to figure out how she could survive this visit and retain her sanity.

After dinner, Tilly and Alexis cleaned up while Greg retired to the family room to watch a football game. It didn’t matter which game or team. If it was football, it was on. Nothing new there.

Alexis washed dishes while Tilly dried.

“You probably have a dishwasher now,” Tilly said.

“I don’t use it often.”

“Do you use it to store pots and pans?” she asked. “I’ve seen that on TV. People in cities with limited storage.”

“I don’t use it for storage.” Alexis wasn’t a fan of clutter.

“I’ll give Betsy a call and you can go see them tomorrow. I work until three, but it’s her day off. Did you know she owns her own hair salon now?”

“No, I didn’t. That’s great.”

“She’s worked real hard.”

Unlike me, right? Alexis thought bitterly. Her parents had always treated her accomplishments as less impressive than Betsy’s.

“Are you still working for Morris?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Oh, yes. I’ve had to do a lot of computer training these last few years. Everything is computerized nowadays. Morris still insists on dictation, though. And he never answers his own phone.”

“Some people don’t like change.”

“He thinks it’s a real hoot that my daughter joined his ranks.”

“I’ll bet.” Alexis snickered, remembering Morris and his orange and green striped ties and suspenders. Morris was a solo lawyer, one of the few on the island, who took any case that walked through his creaky door. Even as a child, Alexis detested his threadbare carpet and dusty shelves. As far as she was concerned, he did nothing to inspire a future generation of lawyers. Rather, he served as a red, flashing warning sign.

“Dad looks a bit beat up,” she said in a low voice. “How’s his health?”

Tilly shook her head dismissively. “Nothing wrong with that one. Outdoor living takes its toll on your beauty is all.”

“Is he talking about retirement at all? I mean, at some point it’s just unsafe for a man his age to do a job like that.”

Tilly chortled. “Your father has been a maintenance technician from the time he left school. He won’t know how to do anything else.”

“You could retire together. Do some traveling. There must be somewhere you’d like to go besides your own backyard.”

“I think you’ll find that Dorothy Gale learns a valuable lesson when she strays from hers.”

“Wizard of Oz aside,” Alexis huffed, “there’s something to be said for getting away from it all.”

“That’s why people come here,” Tilly reminded her.

“But don’t you get sick of it?”

Tilly stopped drying dishes and gave Alexis a pointed look. “We don’t all have a strong urge to run away from our lives, Alexis.”

Alexis longed to say something in her defense, but decided to fight her natural instinct and keep her mouth shut. Instead, she resumed washing dishes with vigor. After all, she was here to reconnect, not to bicker.

“I’m still on London time,” she said, stifling a yawn.

“No one will object if you turn in early,” her mother said.

Alexis was unsure whether to take the comment as a slight. Despite the air of hostility, she chose not to. “Okay, then. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I’ll finish up here. Goodnight, Alexis.”

She poked her head into the family room to say goodnight to her father.

“Already?” he asked, without taking his eyes off the television.

“I’m exhausted,” she said. “We’ll have plenty of time to catch up.”

“If you say so.” He yelled in response to something happening on the screen.

Alexis never had much interest in American football, even though she had grown up surrounded by rabid fans. In her adult life, she’d been surrounded by rabid fans of English football. She’d traded one irrational group of people for another and she didn’t feel a part of either one. Sports never held much interest for her unless she was the one playing and she hadn’t been part of a team since high school.

Alexis moved her suitcase to the floor and changed into her Natori satin pajama set. She barely had the energy to wash her face and brush her teeth before sliding beneath the sheets. She wondered what the partners at her firm would think if they could see her now, draped in denim bedding and Winnie the Pooh sheets.

Despite her fatigue, she stared into the darkness, unable to close her eyes. She tried to conjure up the memory of what it felt like to sleep in this room, night after night. The only thing she could remember was not wanting to sleep in this room one night longer than she had to. Mangrove Island hadn’t fit into her grand plans. And now she was back, voluntarily. She pinched her arm to make sure the moment was real and winced as she felt the squeeze of skin. Alexis had done a lot of pinching these past eighteen months. Most people pinched themselves in happy disbelief. Not Alexis.

When she finally gave herself over to sleep, it was a restless night full of position changes and clock glances. She awoke still exhausted. Although she blamed the time zone change, deep down, she knew that this trip would be much more difficult than she had anticipated. How could she expect to turn up unannounced after all this time and not get questioned by her family? Of course they’d be curious about her life. She thought she’d mentally prepared herself, but she recognized now that her efforts had been minimal to non-existent.

Alexis remained in bed until she heard the sound of the front door opening and closing. Her father going to work. Must be six o’clock. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, cursing the jet lag, and urged herself forward. She padded down the hall to the shower. She wanted to be refreshed, cleaned, absolved. Sadly, she wanted more than a simple shower was able to give.

Chapter Two

By the time Alexis came downstairs, fully dressed and hair blown out, the house was empty. A small stack of pancakes waited for her on the counter, covered with a paper towel. She put the plate in the microwave and scoured around for a coffee mug. Since she was generally a healthy eater, she’d tried to be one of those people who started the day with hot water and lemon or a green tea, but she couldn’t manage it. She liked her coffee the way she liked her whiskey, the stronger the better. London was a great place to indulge that need for a caffeine perk. It wasn’t quite Paris, but the people there certainly liked their coffee.

She was relieved to see coffee still left in the pot. It wasn’t as though her parents knew she was a coffee drinker. They didn’t know anything about her adult habits. It seemed odd, yet there were so many other things they didn’t know. Coffee seemed the least of it.

Alexis plucked a note from the kitchen table. Betsy’s address. Within walking distance, she noted wryly. Betsy wasn’t foolish enough to stray from her fan base.

She chewed her pancakes slowly, savoring each bite. It had been years since she’d enjoyed American pancakes. English pancakes tended to be thinner and less sweet. Alexis eventually gave them up completely after deciding that the bland taste wasn’t worth the calories.

She sipped her coffee and wandered into the family room. She saw herself as a child on the same brown sofa, sipping hot cocoa and watching Christmas specials. She’d loved Rankin and Bass and Charlie Brown. For her, they’d brought a sense of magic. She wondered if they still played shows like that during the holidays. She hoped so.

After lingering by the front window, Alexis knew it was time to drop in on her big sister. As much as she wanted to, Alexis couldn’t put it off any longer.