When You Make It Home (4 page)

“I didn’t forget.” I heard Theo walking through the storeroom, and I swiveled in my chair to wave him in when he appeared in the door. “I’ll pick you up at nine. Promise.”

I hung up and went to close the office door. The lock let out a satisfying click as Theo shot me a questioning look.

“So I can take my jacket off.” I tried to ignore the fluttering in my chest. “I can’t have anyone charge in here and catch me pregnant.”

“No, you certainly can’t risk that,” he said with a clear note of humor in his voice. He lowered himself onto the one non-office-like piece of furniture in the room: a gingham-upholstered loveseat.

He scrutinized me while I undid my scarf and hung up my jacket. I wore a thin black camisole. Goose bumps rose along my arms.

“Do you always wear black?”

“No, but it works when I want to minimize.” I slipped off my shoes and sat next to him. He always managed to end up facing me with his good side, and I had to wonder if this was deliberate.

“What’s this?” He picked up a framed photo of Ellie, Steve, and me.

“I have a mild obsession with fairy tales.” I gestured toward the framed illustrations that hung all around my office. “That photo was taken on our annual Fairy Tales Forever Day. Steve and I were Hansel and Gretel, and Ellie was the witch.”

“She’s not a scary witch,” Theo said, inspecting the photo closely.

I smiled. “She’s not. She should’ve dressed like Sleeping Beauty or Little Red Riding Hood.”

Theo set the photo back on the short file cabinet next to the loveseat that I used as a side table and glanced around my office, taking in the artwork. “I thought fairy tales were for children. You have a gloomy collection.”

“Gloomy? Philipp Grot Johann did these for the original Grimm Brothers. They’re beautiful. Haunting and dark, yes, but also hopeful.”

“You have so many of them,” Theo said. “Have you been collecting for a while?”

“No.” I grinned sheepishly. “I cut them out of the book.”

“You cut up a book?”

“Sure. Books are meant to be used.”

“What did you do with the rest of the book? The pages of words?”

“I saved them for art projects and displays. Don’t worry. I’ll get the most out of that book.” I pointed to the bag in his lap. “What’d you get?”

Theo took out
The Complete Poem Collection of e.e. cummings.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for the poetry type.”

“I’m not. My dad was.” He smoothed his hand across the cover. “He read poems to Mom after dinner when I was a kid.” Theo laughed but sounded sad. “I’d think about those nights when I was over there, trying to remember some of the lines.”

His pain was palpable, and I desperately wished I knew him well enough to give him what he needed. Maybe a hug or a bad joke. But everything I thought of seemed too pathetic to offer.

He cleared his throat. “But I’m not going to slice out pages of this and go frame them.”

“That’s okay.” I laughed. “You can still have a greater bond with that book than the words on the pages.”

“Yeah?” He looked at me skeptically.

“When you find the poems you remember, mark them. People can be so uptight about writing in books, but trust me. There’s something special about coming back to a spot you cared for and seeing a thought or memory you left behind.”

“Are you familiar with e. e. cummings?” Theo asked, and when I nodded, he handed me the volume. “Show me. Mark it however you wish.”

I searched the contents and found the page for my favorite e. e. cummings poem, “[love is more thicker than forget].” I reached for a pencil from my desk and held the tip an inch from the page.

“What are you waiting for?” His voice was low. “It was your idea—write something.”

“Are you sure? I’ve never messed with anyone’s books besides my own.”

“I insist.” His face reflected the same curiosity I felt about him.

Placing my palm over the poem, I traced my hand. The lead made a scratching sound as I followed the path of my fingers. With tiny, precise script, I jotted down the date and a message along the outline of my hand:
Remember these words. Your friend, Meg
.

“Thank you,” he said, reviewing the message. He closed the book and returned it to his backpack.

A comfortable silence settled between us. I may not have known what to say, but for once, I was fine not saying anything. My quick glances progressed to an obvious stare.

Theo was even nicer to look at up close. I shifted my sights higher and met his calm eyes, surrounded by thick, dark lashes. “So… you hit it off with that girl back at the bar.” I wasn’t even sure where I was going with the line of conversation.

“Huh?” He rubbed his chin. “Oh, the girl with the abs? You think she was into me?”

I cringed at the word “abs.”
I’m going to miss mine.

“Is there anyone special in your life?” I asked.

“You mean a girlfriend? Not lately.”

“Did you date when you were deployed? Is that even possible?”

“Sure, sure. I’ve dated a soldier or two.”

I gave him a doubtful look.

“What? I’m not scared of a strong girl. Women with guns are hot.”

“So that’s what you’re into: chicks that pack heat. That might be harder to find around here.”

He held my gaze. “Actually, fraternization is in violation of General Order Number One.”

“That sounds serious.”

He nodded. “Oh, it is. Anyway, find me a nice, soft lady who’s scared of spiders, and I’m there. No guns required.”

“When’s the last time you went out with someone seriously?”

“College. We were together for almost three years when I left for Iraq.”

“Can I ask what happened?”

His mouth tightened. “I guess it’s my turn after all. Home didn’t quite feel like home after fifteen months in Iraq. I didn’t anticipate that.” He chewed on the corner of his lip. “When I was growing up, we had this gigantic oak tree that would spit acorns all over the front yard. Jake and I would battle with the acorns. He’d peg them so hard I’d get bruised. When I was gone, a storm came through and ripped the tree right out of the ground. So every time I pulled up to the house, I felt like I was at the wrong place.” Theo turned to me and seemed to realize he’d skirted the question. “Apparently, that’s how my girlfriend felt about me.

“They needed more guys in Afghanistan, and that’s where I wanted to go all along, so I stepped up. That’s it, really. And if you want to know the truth, she dumped me after I shipped out.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Nah. People drift apart.” He shrugged. “It happens. We were young.”

“How old are you?”

“Take your best guess.” He tilted his head, his expression serious.

“Maybe… twenty-one?”

“I’m twenty-five.”

“Not quite a baby anymore,” I teased.

“Not quite. Speaking of babies…” His hand hovered above my belly. “May I?”

For a split second, I didn’t know what he was asking. Then I nodded.

He placed his hand on the slight curve of belly. Meeting my eyes, his smile erupted with pure joy. “Wow,” he whispered, his hand circling my stomach. Theo’s caress sent heat racing through my body. It was the first touch I’d received from a man since the day my baby had been conceived, and I craved more of it.

“My turn?” I raised my hand.

“What, you want to touch me?” he asked, his voice a low rasp. “Go ahead. Put your hands anywhere.” He spread his arms, palms up.

The look in his eyes pulled me closer to him, to the welcoming heat that swirled around him. With his invitation, I reached for the top of his head, sliding my fingers through his dark hair. It was cut short, close to his head, and felt like velvet. My hand trailed down the side of his face to the rough scrape of stubble. Our shoulders brushed and my every nerve quivered, achingly aware of him. I leaned into him. My palm skimmed down his neck, my gaze dropped from his eyes to his wide mouth with those delicious-looking lips, and I knew I was in trouble. Especially when I saw that he, too, was eyeing my mouth.

But instead of a kiss, he encircled my wrist lightly with his massive hand, pushed it away from him, and dropped it onto my lap.

“You need a TV in here.” He shifted away from me and focused on the wall across from us. And with that, the mood screeched to a halt.

I looked away, overwhelmed and tired. “A TV would be nice, except I’d never get any work done.”

“I get the feeling you work too much.”

“Yeah, I’m ready to call it a day.” I stood and moved to shut down my computer.

Theo zipped up his backpack and adjusted it on his shoulders. He clenched his teeth, making a muscle on his neck pop out as he struggled to stand. He teetered momentarily before stabilizing himself with his crutches.

“Can I give you a ride home?” I offered.

“Sure, why don’t you come hang out and watch TV with me?” He sounded casual, but a wariness had settled between us.

“Maybe some other time.” I pushed my tired feet into my heels, shrugging into my jacket. “I’ve got to get out of these clothes.”

“We’ll swing by your place so you can change. It’s not even nine o’clock. Live a little. My mom’s friends stocked the fridge. You can catch up on your eating and relax.”

Why did he keep pressing for more time with me? Maybe he was lonely. I knew I was. But I didn’t really care
why
he wanted to hang out with me because I knew that, regardless of his reasoning,
I
found him more and more captivating. I picked up my bag and took a deep breath.

“Okay, let’s go.”

Theo waited in my car while I ran inside to change. Stacks of boxes crowded my condo, even though I’d moved back in months earlier. When Bradley and I had moved to our house, I had meticulously unpacked, and kept at it until I had every little thing right. Six months later, when I moved back alone, I was sick of the whole process. I’d eventually get to it, so why hurry? Instead, I made my bedroom a haven and didn’t pay attention to the rest. I hardly noticed the boxes anymore.

Rushing to my room, I considered what to wear. Sweatpants—that wouldn’t be overdoing it, and my pink ones were pretty cute. Nothing felt as good as cotton and elastic at the end of the day. I pulled my hair up into a ponytail and slipped on my favorite black hoodie that also helped to veil my condition, in case I ran into anyone in the parking lot. Finally, I was comfortable.

I practically skipped on the way back to the car.

“You ready?” Theo asked, when I bounced into my seat.

His glorious smile made me shiver from head to toe. Oh, I had other things to focus on than a man with his own troubles, but I grinned back at him and said, “Absolutely!” Then I threw the car into reverse. We drove in silence, me lost in thoughts about him, and him lost in thoughts about who knows what. My sidelong glances uncovered no clues; however, his presence was comforting.

The lights blazed behind every one of Melinda’s windows.

“Is your mom home?”

“No, if I’m not here when she leaves for work, she turns on every light. It’s annoying, but she ignores me when I tell her I can find my way in the dark.”

“Oh, your mom is great. She’s thrilled to have you home.”
Instead of dead.
I shuddered.

Theo struggled to get out of the car. I leaped from my seat and rushed to his side. With one hand on the car door, I reached out to him. “Let me help—”

“No.” He twisted away from me and then stumbled, bracing himself against the car. He bowed his head. “I got it.” A muscle stood out on his neck.

I stalled by digging through my purse for a stick of gum I knew I didn’t have until he gathered himself and led the way. All Theo’s injuries ran down the left side of his body, so he favored that side. He moved unsteadily on his crutches because the bandages on his hand prevented him from fully gripping his crutch. He wore knee-length khaki shorts, revealing one leg that was tanned, well defined, and perfect in every way. But I couldn’t see any sign of what was left of his other leg.

He clambered up the one step, unlocked the door, and trudged into the house. Theo dropped his backpack inside the door, sat in a ladder-back chair next to the entrance and removed his Nike and sock. He ditched one crutch by the chair and set off with the other, making up for the reduced support by leaning on furniture or bracing against the wall as he bounded around, more agile in his home than out in the world.

With the blinding lights on, the silence was oddly crushing. I studied the vast expanse of dark hardwoods, varnished crown molding, and oriental rugs tossed in every direction of travel. A faded floral sofa sat in the middle of the living room, facing a large flat-screen TV that was too modern for its surroundings. A newspaper lay open on the coffee table next to a stack of magazines and a nearly full cup of tea stained with a half-moon of lipstick. The walls were lined with photos of the brothers—Melinda’s handiwork, I guessed—arranged in a timeline. Soccer, baseball, and football pictures alternated with class and holiday photo collages. I meandered along, past Jake’s and then Theo’s college graduation photos, to a break in the pattern—a missing frame, highlighted by the bright square of wallpaper left exposed, next to a wedding portrait of Jake and Ellie.

“Come on back.”

I stopped to touch the lone exposed nail before following the sound of Theo’s voice to the kitchen.

Theo limped to the fridge and removed covered dishes, sliding them onto the counter.

“What is all this stuff?” I peeked under a turquoise Fiesta Ware lid, breathing in the aroma of fresh herbs, onions sautéed in butter, cream, and roasted poultry.

“A casserole smorgasbord from the old ladies at Mom’s church. They’ve taken on the project of fattening me up. To them, eating equals healing, and Mom’s keeping tabs on me. So the more you eat, the more you help me.” Theo winked at me, but he seemed uneasy with the effort they’d undertaken on his behalf. “So this week’s special is Mac and Cheese Hotdog Surprise, Tuna Egg Noodle Dream, and what you have there, my favorite: Chicken Pot Pie. I’m willing to share even that.” He retrieved plates from the cabinet. “What’ll you have?”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.” I tried to take a plate from his hand, but he held them out of my reach. “Can’t I help?”

“Nope. You’re my guest. Go sit down.” He gestured to the round, copper-topped table nestled in a cozy nook off to the side of the kitchen. The inky night turned the curtainless, white-trimmed bay windows into a mirror.