Long Way Home (3 page)

On the plus side, it was a relief not to wrap up warm and brave the damp, cold wind. Although she despised English weather, walking was still her way of life in London just as it had been on the island. Even when taking the Tube, she ended up walking blocks at either end of the journey.

She recognized the name of Betsy’s street, although she couldn’t recall which of her friends had lived there. No one she was in touch with. Then again, Alexis hadn’t been in touch with anyone. She didn’t belong to Facebook or Instagram or any of the other sites that involved reaching out to people you didn’t actually see anymore. Alexis detested the whole concept.

Ahead of her, a little girl in a light blue jacket busily drew with colored chalk on the empty street.

“Hi,” the girl called with a wave.

Alexis turned away from her, unwilling to give her attention. It took ten minutes to walk to Betsy’s. She gave the house a cursory glance, all red bricks and cheap white trim. It was the future that Alexis had been desperate to avoid.

She rang the doorbell and immediately heard voices spring to life on the other side of the door. The door flew open and there stood Betsy or, at least, a version of Betsy. This girl was a woman, as well as a good forty pounds more than the sister Alexis had left behind. Her brown hair was the same shade as Alexis’s, but the cut was short and spiky.

“Well, well. An early frost,” said Betsy, folding her arms across her ample chest.

“Wow, let’s do the time warp again,” said Alexis, giving her sister the once-over. “How many washes can one outfit endure in a lifetime?” Betsy’s fashion sense hadn’t changed much at all; she still sported all black attire with loud, chunky jewelry.

“Do you seriously think I could fit in my clothes from when I was twenty?” Betsy asked incredulously. “You’ve heard about my three kids, right?”

“Only three? I expected a village.”

Betsy’s brown eyes narrowed. “How many hard-working small businesses have you put to death since I last saw you?”

“How many innocent beads had to die to make that necklace?” Alexis sniped.

“Better beads than children in sweatshops,” Betsy remarked, eyeing Alexis’s designer duds. She unfolded her arms, indicating a ceasefire. “So are you coming in or do I need to invite you?”

When she turned to lead Alexis into the house, Alexis spied a rose tattoo on the nape of her neck. She suspected there were a few more of those in less obvious places. As Alexis stepped inside, her attention immediately shifted to the home’s interior. She nearly laughed out loud at the country style décor, complete with wooden chickens on the wall and red gingham curtains. No doubt Betsy had left the previous owner’s style intact.

“Don’t even mention the chickens,” Betsy snapped, reading her sister’s mind. “I haven’t gotten around to redecorating.”

“I don’t think black walls would really work in here anyway,” Alexis said, remembering Betsy’s teenaged experiment with design.

A small boy appeared at the bottom of the stairs, clad in Star Wars pajamas. His hair was so light that it appeared almost white, and had the effect of making his brown eyes look even darker.

“Owen, this is your Aunt Alexis. You be polite, okay? No weird questions.”

“Hi,” said Alexis.

“My aunt’s name is Kelly,” Owen said.

“Well, this is your other aunt. Kelly is Daddy’s sister and this is mine.”

“Why haven’t I met her before?” he asked.

Betsy gave him a pointed look to indicate that the question was off-limits. Owen nodded silently with his large, solemn eyes. His gaze flickered to the mysterious aunt and back to his mother.

“Why didn’t you hug her?” Owen asked.

Betsy looked taken aback. “I did.”

“No, you didn’t. You sounded angry with each other and then she came in. No hugs.”

“Your mom was surprised to see me is all,” Alexis jumped in. For Owen’s sake, she gave Betsy a friendly pat on the back.

“That’s just our way of communicating, honey,” Betsy explained. “Like when you and Brian fight.”

“I don’t fight with Brian. He fights with me.”

“This is Owen, my youngest,” Betsy said.

“I’m four,” he told Alexis proudly.

“The other two are at school,” added Betsy.

“When do they finish for Christmas break?” asked Alexis.

“Too soon, if you ask me. I need to get on the ball before then. I’m so behind schedule.”

“Joey’s not on the island,” Owen informed his aunt. “He goes to a special school on the mainland.”

Alexis gave her sister a quizzical look.

“Joey is autistic,” she explained. “The school is for autistic kids. He lives here, but he’ll attend school there full-time until he’s twenty-one.”

“Is Joey the oldest?” asked Alexis.

Owen nodded. “Why don’t you know that? Don’t you have e-mail? The island has internet, you know, even if it’s too slow for some of my games.” An idea occurred to him and his face lit up. “Do you live on a deserted island?”

“Unfortunately not,” Alexis said.

His tiny mouth drooped in disappointment.

“Owen, why don’t you bring Aunt Alexis into the family room and I’ll get us something to drink?”

“I want milk with a lid and a straw.”

“Please,” Betsy reminded him.

“Pleeeease,” Owen said with enthusiasm.

Alexis followed him into the family room. A Christmas tree stood in the corner trimmed with colorful wooden decorations. Alexis touched one of a gingerbread man.

“We used to have shiny ones,” Owen said, “but Joey kept taking them down and breaking them. Not on purpose. He just likes shiny things.”

“And what’s Brian like?”

Owen scrunched up his face, thinking. “He’s seven. He likes to win. Do you think Santa Claus dies like people do?”

The change in topic was so abrupt that Alexis thought she misheard him. “Sorry?”

“Santa Claus is a human, right? So do you think he dies? Because all humans die or don’t you know that either?”

Betsy hustled in with a tray of drinks. She handed Owen his cup.

“Owen,” she said sharply. “What did I tell you? You can’t talk to just anybody about stuff like that. Not everyone is child-friendly.” She turned to Alexis. “Don’t mind him.”

Although Alexis bristled at the child-friendly comment, she simply replied, “I don’t mind.”

Betsy changed the subject without regard for subtlety. “So are you still at a fancy pants law firm?”

“I tend to wear fancy skirts.”

“Guess that doesn’t leave time for much else,” Betsy surmised. “Not that you ever wanted much else.”

Alexis cocked an eyebrow. “I think it’s fair to say I wanted more out of life than endless paperwork and clients who act like spoiled toddlers.”

“Do you have kids?” Betsy’s expression brightened momentarily, as though Alexis’s willingness to reproduce would change everything between them.

“No, sorry, I don’t have kids.”

Betsy moved her gaze straight to Alexis’s left hand and Alexis could tell exactly what her sister was thinking. No ring. Guess she’s not marriage material either.

“What have you brought me to drink?” Alexis asked, hoping to shift topics.

“I hope you still like tea,” said Betsy and handed her a cup.

“I do.” She didn’t mention her preference for coffee.

“Hard to avoid it, I guess, living in England.”

“Where’s England?” Owen asked.

Alexis glanced down at him. “A bigger island across the Atlantic Ocean.”

Owen’s eyes widened in amazement. “Wow, the ocean.”

“So how’s Joe?” she asked Betsy. Joe and Betsy went to high school together so he wasn’t completely unknown to Alexis.

“Busy. We’re always busy. Joe finally joined the union a while back and that’s been good for us.”

“My dad’s an electrician,” Owen said proudly.

“She knows, sweetheart.”

Owen crossed his arms over his chest. “I thought you said she didn’t know us at all.”

Betsy and Alexis shared an awkward silence.

“How old did you say you are, Owen?” Alexis asked.

“I’m four. I’ll be five in August. Supposedly, that’s not a good month to be born if you’re a boy.”

“Why?”

“Because you have to start school right after your birthday and most of the other boys will be bigger and play sports better.”

Alexis glanced at Betsy for confirmation. “He’s worried about sports?”

“I’m not,” he interjected. “I don’t like sports.”

Alexis immediately warmed to him. “What do you like?”

“Space. Dinosaurs. All kinds of books, but I can’t read yet.”

“He goes to preschool on the days I work,” Betsy said.

“They have story time. And lots of toys,” Owen said brightly.

“Sounds like a great place,” Alexis told him.

Betsy turned the conversation back to her sister. “So Mom says you’re here for the holidays. No skiing in the Alps or yachting in France?”

“I’m not James Bond.”

“Just as secretive though,” Betsy mumbled, then more audibly. “I’ll go get some muffins.”

“I’m surprised you find time to bake.”

“You can always find time for the important things,” Betsy said, never failing to miss an opportunity to remind Alexis of her failures as a sister and MacAdams family member.

Betsy returned to the kitchen and Owen sat on the couch, his dark brown eyes fixated on Alexis. She smiled as he continued to stare at her without blinking.

“How do you know when you’re dead?” he asked.

Alexis’s job often required her to think on her feet, especially when dealing with clients, but she found herself completely unprepared for this four-year-old.

“Well, uh, I think that depends on your religious or philosophical viewpoint.”

“What’s yours?”

Alexis shifted from foot to foot. “Um, I think you don’t know when you’re dead. You die and your brain switches off and you’re gone.”

“Like a computer.”

“Something like that.”

“My mommy says you go to a place called haven.”

“I think you mean Heaven.”

“Why don’t you think you go to Heaven?”

“I certainly like the idea,” Alexis said quietly. “I hope your mom is right.”

Owen leaped onto the floor and picked up a plastic T-Rex. “Do you wanna play dinosaurs? They’re extinct, you know. That means they all died and there are none left. Not one single one!”

Betsy returned with muffins in a basket and paper plates. “Owen, Aunt Alexis doesn’t want to play dinosaurs. She wants to have her muffin and then I’m sure she has important work to check on.”

Alexis shook her head as she bit into her muffin. “You’ve gotten even better,” she said, still chewing. “This is delicious.”

“Mommy, she’s talking with her mouth full.”

“Don’t worry about it, Owen.”

“But it’s against the rules.”

“Aunt Alexis has her own rules.” Betsy handed Owen his own, smaller muffin.

“I want my own rules too,” he demanded.

“When you’re older, you get to be in charge. Make your own decisions. That’s one of the advantages of being a grown-up,” said Alexis.

“Yes, that and all the responsibility that flows from those decisions,” her sister added meaningfully. Alexis ignored the jibe; she figured she deserved it.

“Will you come to my play?” Owen abruptly asked.

Alexis looked to Betsy, her child translator, again.

“His preschool is run by the church and they’re putting on a Christmas play. Owen has a speaking part.”

“I’m a Wise Man,” Owen said proudly.

“I’ll bet you are,” Alexis said.

“Don’t feel obligated…” Betsy began.

“I would love to come,” Alexis said truthfully. She was charmed by her nephew and wanted to show her support, no matter how uncomfortable she felt.

Owen smiled happily and sang to himself as he chewed his muffin.

“Great,” Betsy said and Alexis could tell she was pleased.

“So three boys, your own salon, Joe’s in the union. Anything else I should know to be all caught up?” Alexis asked.

“If I didn’t have little pitchers with big ears, I’d give you the local gossip.”

“Another time,” Alexis said.

“Will there be another time?” asked Betsy, without her usual ire.

“I have it on good authority that there will be.”

“When are you going back?”

“Sometime after the first,” Alexis said vaguely and left it there. She had no desire to get into details.

Although Betsy generally erred on the side of brash and brutal, she took the hint. “Well, it was nice of you to come and see us. I’d like you to meet the rest of the family soon. And maybe you could come by the salon one day so I can show off my place.”

“I may be in need of an eyebrow wax soon,” Alexis said, tracing her finger over a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

“I can think of better ways to cause you pain,” Betsy joked. “So did Dad nearly lose his liver when you showed up?”

Alexis laughed. “They were both pretty shocked.”

“You’re so lucky. Nothing I do shocks them.”

“Not even the tattoos,” Alexis remarked.

Betsy waved her off. “Oh please. It takes more than body art to annoy them.”

“No, I guess the things you do don’t annoy them.” Her smile soured.

“I want to live in Antarctica,” Owen said.

“Do you like the cold?” asked Alexis.

“No, but I like that no one else lives there.”

Alexis contemplated this. “A lonely, old soul, huh?”

“He also likes penguins,” Betsy said.

“I love penguins,” he declared, jumping up and waddling around the room.

“I’ve heard lesser reasons to move somewhere.”

“I’ll bet you have,” Betsy said.

Alexis held her hand out to Owen. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Owen.”

He gripped her hand and shook it. “Same here.”

“I’ll see you soon,” Alexis promised. It was a promise she intended to keep.

That evening, Alexis joined her parents for dinner and shared the day’s events. Alexis talked more than she ate, which didn’t escape her mother’s notice. In light of her daughter’s previous declaration, she’d deliberately cooked chicken parmigiana instead of the beef lasagna she’d originally planned.

“You’ll get to meet the other boys this weekend,” her mother said. “They’re very jealous that Owen met you first.”