Читать книгу Homecoming Wife - Joan Kilby - Страница 9

“CAN I RIDE OVER TO TIM’S HOUSE?” Ricky asked after lunch. “I want to tell him I signed up for the bike course.”

Angela rose to clear the dishes off the table. “Where does he live?”

“Toad Hollow.”

This was the fanciful name given to a quiet court in the Tapley estate, the older part of town where Nate’s parents, Jim and Leone, lived, and only a short walk away along the Valley Trail from Janice and Bob’s house in Whistler Cay.

“I’ll come, too, and visit…friends.”

At least, she hoped Leone would still regard her in a friendly light. When Angela had married Nate, Leone had been like a surrogate mother to her, and after raising three boys, Angela became the daughter Leone never had.

They set off—Angela on foot and Ricky on his bike. White clouds hung over the mountains, obscuring the peaks, but the valley was bathed in sunlight. This section of the Valley Trail bordered the Whistler golf course and Angela’s gaze was drawn to a group of players teeing off. She should have thought to bring her clubs.

Ricky rode slowly at first, keeping pace with Angela until she waved him on ahead after extracting a promise that he be home by five o’clock. She was glad of a few minutes alone to prepare for meeting Leone. Maybe she shouldn’t just drop in but Wednesday had always been Leone’s day off from her job as a public-health nurse and Angela was counting on her being at home.

Angela strode briskly along, imagining all the things she would say to her mother-in-law—things she couldn’t say to Nate.

I’m sorry I hurt everyone, Leone. Running away was the biggest mistake of my life….

Leone would embrace her warmly. You’ll always be a cherished member of the Wilde family. Nate never stopped loving you….

Angela rounded a bend and encountered a middle-aged woman striding along in walking shorts and a royal-blue T-shirt. “Leone!”

After a moment of initial surprise Leone’s green eyes hardened. Her face was flushed with exertion and perspiration dampened her short auburn hair. There was no welcoming smile on her round face.

“I was on my way to see you…” Angela’s words died away as her idiotic fantasies turned to dust. Leone would offer no reassuring phrases or warm embraces. Angela had wounded this woman’s son. Had hurt her. For the first time Angela wondered how much of her decision to stay away from Whistler for so long had been to avoid facing the consequences of her youthful actions. “I should have called first.”

Leone expelled a forceful sigh. “You can walk with me if you want.”

Angela lengthened her stride to keep up with the older woman. “You’re looking well.”

“I’m still trying to work off the five pounds I gained during the Caribbean cruise Jim and I took last Christmas.” She cast a sideways glance at Angela. “I was shocked when Nate told me you were back in town. What happened all those years ago? Why didn’t we ever hear from you?”

“I sent a Christmas card the first year—”

“With no return address!”

“I’m sorry,” Angela said quietly. “I figured no one would want to contact me after I ran out like that. I never meant to hurt anyone.”

“I thought you and I were close,” Leone reproached her. “If you needed someone to talk to, you could have come to me.”

Angela gave Leone a troubled smile. “Nate is your son. You would have sided with him.”

Leone was silent a moment. “Possibly, but I would have understood. Sometimes Nate lets his pride get in the way of his good sense. I had no idea you two were having problems.”

A bicycle bell tinkled behind them and they moved to one side of the path to allow a pair of cyclists past. Angela was glad of the chance to collect her thoughts instead of blurting out the real reason she’d run away—her pregnancy.

“Maybe I should have come to you. You might have been able to give me advice on how to cope with being a cycling widow,” Angela said instead. “I know Nate’s made a success out of his biking, but back then it seemed as though the sport was more important to him than our marriage.”

“Anyone who loves Nate has to accept that cycling will always be a major part of his life. Don’t begrudge him his passion, Angela.”

While Angela was trying to think of an ungrudging response, Leone went on. “So after all this time you’ve come home to get a divorce.”

“Did Nate tell you that?” Angela felt her heart sink to the bottom of her stomach. Had she been wrong in thinking that the gleam in Nate’s eye as she’d signed up for his bike course meant he wasn’t indifferent?

“No, Aidan did. News travels quickly among the Wildes. But don’t worry,” Leone added, misinterpreting her expression. “We don’t spread gossip outside the family. Too much of that goes on in this valley as it is.”

“Nate and I are…” Her words trailed away as she tried to figure out exactly what they were to each other and ended up repeating what she’d said to Nate. “We’re not enemies.” It seemed a poor alternative to happily married.

They came to the railroad crossing and Leone paused to glance down the empty track. “It’s a blessing you didn’t have children although I doubt Nate would agree.”

Angela gave her a sharp glance. Leone was a nurse. Had she suspected her daughter-in-law had been pregnant when she’d fled? Perhaps not. Leone’s face gave no hint her remarks might refer to actual events. Angela should have relaxed but instead she felt even more troubled and again experienced an urge to confide in Leone. Until she recalled Leone’s own words. News spreads quickly among the Wildes. This was one piece of news she had to tell Nate in her own time. Which would be never.

Trees had given way to bushes and through gaps Angela could see the gentle currents of the River of Golden Dreams. River of Lost Dreams was more apt.

Her steps slowed. Leone’s eyebrows raised questioningly. “I…I think I’ll turn back,” Angela said. “I should do some work this afternoon while Ricky’s occupied at Tim’s.”

“Suit yourself.” Leone hesitated and Angela hoped she would unbend and give her a hug but the moment passed. “Have a nice stay in Whistler.”

As though she was tourist. “Thanks. I will.”

“SQUIRT THE LUBRICANT BETWEEN the sprockets, Ricky—not too much,” Nate admonished. “Wipe the excess off the paintwork.”

They’d ridden the chairlift with their bikes—a lesson in itself—to the mountain bike training area on a plateau partway up Whistler Mountain. Nate strode among the group of eight youngsters signed up for his course giving instructions on basic maintenance. He paused beside Tim, a red-haired freckle-faced sprite. “Try using the smaller wrench to tighten that nut.”

Nate went over all their names again, glancing at each in turn to commit them to memory. Besides Ricky and his friend Tim, there were Sean and Lee, two twelve-year-old boys from Squamish whose fees he’d waived because they were from disadvantaged homes. Cocky and at times belligerent, they’d been in trouble for minor offenses. Nate expected they’d settle down by the end of the course; these kids usually did once they got interested in something besides getting into trouble. Lisa and Jill were eleven-year-old best friends who dressed identically, right down to their puka beads and pink-corduroy overall shorts. Eleven-year-old David and his younger brother Mark were stocky and fair-haired, earnestly taking in every word Nate said.

And then there was Angela.

With her glossy hair and sleek figure she looked delectable in Lycra shorts and shirt. When she’d realized she had to hunker down and actually work on her borrowed bike she’d gone inside the ski hut and come out with sheets of paper towel. These she’d laid on the ground to kneel on.

“You’re going to have to get over your fear of dirt if you’re going to ride off-road,” he said, squatting beside her.

“I lived the first half of my life battling dirt, whether it was in that awful trailer I grew up in or other people’s messes I was paid to clean,” she replied. “Now I live in a brand-new apartment. My clothes are clean. My hair is clean. My fingernails are clean. Nothing will induce me to go back to being dirty. Not even you.”

“We’ll see.” He shifted his weight, one leg bent beneath him, his arm resting on his upright knee. “I’m surprised you’re going through with this. The day you came down to the bike shop I was just baiting you.”

“I know. You always did when we were together.” She paused, greasy rag pinched between two fingers, to appraise him. “Now that we’re apart I wonder why you bother.”

“You make it so much fun.”

“Well, knock it off.” She nudged him with an elbow, unbalancing him.

Nate righted himself with a smile he quickly wiped from his face. How was it he could be so angry with her on some levels yet still enjoy her company?

“Ricky is thrilled that I’m taking the course,” she went on. “I overheard him bragging to Tim that his aunt would be riding, too. Last night he was really sweet, telling me all the hazards I might run into and how to get around them. Frankly, he gave me nightmares with all his talk about doing ‘endos.’ Are those what I think they are?”

“Flipping end over end, or in other words, falling headfirst off the bike over the handlebars? Yep. So why are you going through with it?”

She shrugged, as if she couldn’t quite understand it herself. “I don’t want to let him down.”

“That’s as good a reason as any. By the end of the course you’ll be doing it because you love it.”

“Huh!” she said. “Don’t bet on that.”

When they’d completed a half hour of basic maintenance, Nate took them over to the training course, a series of small hills, obstacles and teeter-totters which were perfect for teaching the kids to develop balance and technique. Last night’s downpour had left puddles in several locations and low-lying sections of the track had turned to mud.

“Today I just want you to get a feel for off-road conditions,” Nate told the class when they’d lined up, ready to start. “Try to avoid mud. Your mothers will thank you and your bikes will thank you.”

“When are we going to do single track?” Sean demanded loudly. “I wanna get airborne.”

“By the end of the course you’ll be flying over moguls and navigating deer trails,” Nate told them. “Before you tackle anything like that, you need to build your skills and stamina. Today you’ll learn to ride in the ready position, as in ready for anything. Keep your butt off the seat and your arms and legs loose, letting your knees and elbows act as shock absorbers. Sean and Lee, you two can lead off but no hotdogging.”

The older boys shot forward with the girls close behind. Gradually the class strung out in a line with Sean way in front and Angela trailing behind. Nate rode back and forth along the trail, encouraging his students and offering tips on when to change gears and how to brake safely in loose dirt.

He noticed Angela toiling grim-faced up a slope and slowed his pace to accompany her. “Drop down a gear and you’ll find pedaling easier. No, the other lever. Push it the opposite direction—” He winced at the clashing metallic sound of gears being ground. “You’re supposed to stop pedaling before you change gears. Haven’t you ridden a bike before?”

“Not since I was twelve. My old Raleigh had one speed—slow.” She made another attempt but with no forward impetus her bike stopped dead, wobbled and fell over. She jammed a foot out but the chain scraped her calf, leaving a long red welt on smooth shapely legs that likely hadn’t seen a scratch or a bruise in years. She struggled to right the bicycle, swearing under her breath.

“Now, now,” Nate chastised as he backtracked around her. “Remember there are children present.”

“They’re all miles ahead.” She glared at him. “Are you going to circle like a buzzard waiting to pick me off, or are you going to help me!”

Nate tried not to smirk and didn’t quite succeed. “I’m afraid sitting on the bike and pedaling is something you have to do for yourself.”

She growled something under her breath but he could tell she wasn’t as angry as she was making out.

“Pardon?” he said. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

“Be quiet and let me concentrate. It isn’t easy balancing on uneven ground. Why can’t we ride on pavement to start?”

“Then it wouldn’t be mountain biking, would it? If you’re not up to it, you can still quit…”

“I don’t quit. Instead of harassing me you should be up ahead, looking out for Ricky. That kid’s liable to ride off a cliff just to see if he can do it.”

“I can take a hint. Careful of those gears.”

He surged ahead on the trail, counting helmets. Every child was upright and accounted for. The older boys were on their second lap with Ricky and Tim not far behind. “You’re doing great, boys. When you’ve gone around twice wait by those logs where the ground levels out and we’ll practice wheelies.”

One by one the kids finished the course and came to sit on the logs, their bikes beside them, drinking from water bottles and chattering about the ride so far. Angela still hadn’t joined them.

Nate rode back over the trail wondering how she could have gotten lost. The course was big enough that riders were occasionally out of sight but not so large she couldn’t find her way to the end.

And then he saw her, smack in the middle of a boggy dip off-trail. The bike was stuck up to its axles and Angela was trying to push it out, her shorts and T-shirt thickly splattered with mud.

“What the hell are you doing?” Nate demanded.

She glanced up and pushed back her hair, streaking her cheek with grime in the process. “I mastered the gravel and was looking for more of a challenge.”

“Bull,” he said, laughing. “You were so far behind you were embarrassed at being beaten by a bunch of kids and decided to take a shortcut.”

Planting muddy fists on her hips, she demanded, “Are you going to get me out of here, or what?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Give me one good reason why I should. You disobeyed my orders to stay on the trail.”

“You can’t just leave me here!”

“You, I could happily leave. My bike, I’m going to rescue.” He swung a leg off the Balfa, popped out the kickstand then strode into the mud. “Stand back.” Grasping the bike by the handlebars and saddle, he heaved it free.

He set the bike on the trail and went back to help her. Ignoring his extended hand she stalked to dry land with her chin in the air and her running shoes making a sucking noise with every dragging step.

Angela went to wipe mud off her cheek and noticed her hands were filthy. She rubbed them on her shorts and they came away dirtier. Gritting her teeth she tried using her shoulder to scrub her face but couldn’t reach the spot.

Nate suppressed his laughter and moistened a clean rag from the pouch on the back of his bike with water from his drink bottle. “Brown really isn’t your color,” he said, handing her the damp rag.

“Thanks.” She wiped her face, shuddering a little when she saw the mud that came off.

“You missed a spot.” With his thumb he dabbed at a smudge near the corner of her mouth and she tilted her face so he could wipe it more easily. Their eyes met. The dirt, the trail, even the bikes faded out as the air between them crackled. He had to admit, they still had chemistry. But what good was chemistry if they weren’t getting involved again?

“What’s this Albert character like?” he said, dropping his hand. The question had been bugging him for a long time.

She went over the spot near her mouth he’d just cleaned. “I told you, it’s finished.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“He’s a nice man who was supportive when I needed a friend,” she said.

That didn’t sound like grand passion. Nate hated to admit he felt relieved. “Then why did you leave him?”

“The relationship wasn’t working for either of us anymore.” She used the cloth to scrub at her fingers. “He’s…older than me.”

“How old?”

Avoiding his gaze, she said, “Fifty-two.”

“Fifty-two!” Nate exploded. “My father is fifty-two. That’s it, isn’t it? You were looking for a father figure. Security.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Her voice lacked conviction.

“Were you in love with this joker?”

“We were very fond of each other. There was mutual respect. Love is for teenagers.”

That last statement didn’t ring true; not for Angela. Despite the grinding hardship of her childhood she’d had a deeply romantic streak. Nate grasped her by the shoulders and drew her closer. “When did the passionate woman I married turn so cynical?”

Angela trembled beneath his hands. He watched her gaze travel from his eyes to his mouth. As he struggled to keep his own desires under control he realized she wanted him to kiss her, whether she would admit it, or not. Well, she would have to ask.

Instead, she drew back suddenly. “Passion doesn’t equal love.”

Nate snorted. “Did Albert know you didn’t love him?”

“Of course. I was completely honest with him. He didn’t love me, either. But he was good to me. He never hurt me.”

“I never wanted to hurt you, Ange.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you, either. Nevertheless, we did.” She spoke flippantly, as if the pain and loneliness he’d endured meant nothing.

“You ran away.”

“You let me go.”

When he made no reply to her counteraccusation, Angela glanced away again. If he didn’t know better he would have thought she was trying to hold back tears. But Angela was too tough for tears. A moment later, his assessment was confirmed when she turned back to him, her blue eyes dry and fierce. “What do you want from me? Anything?”

Yes, he wanted something. He wanted to not compare every woman he met with her. He wanted to not imagine her in bed with other men. He wanted her to admit she was wrong to run away so his heartbreak wouldn’t have been completely in vain.

But he couldn’t say all that so he got back on his bike. “The kids will be waiting to continue the lesson.”

He rode ahead, glancing back over his shoulder to check on Angela. She was pedaling so slowly Nate could have walked faster but she wasn’t giving up until she completed the ride.

His gaze veered west across the valley and beyond. Over the ocean the sky was clear and a balmy breeze was blowing in from the Pacific. Cloud patterns on the horizon promised continued fine weather ahead. Pity life wasn’t so predictable, or so temperate.

When he’d asked her about filing for divorce, at first she’d said if, not when. If. A little word with big implications. But he wasn’t sticking his neck out again, not without something more concrete to go on.

ANGELA HEATED UP two servings of frozen lasagna for dinner and because she knew kids should eat their vegetables, she popped some frozen French fries in the oven.

“You’re a really good cook, Angela,” Ricky said later, tucking in with gusto. “Mom hardly ever makes this kind of yummy stuff. She and Dad like stir-fries and vegetable soup.” He made such a gruesome face, Angela had to laugh.

“Glad you like it, kiddo.” Angela helped herself to a small portion of lasagna. “I’d love to make stir-fry. I’ve just never taken the time to learn how.”

The phone rang and Angela got up to answer it.

“Angela? It’s Janice.”

“Janice! Where are you?”

“Amsterdam. We’re having a great time. The weather’s perfect, the food is wonderful. We’ve seen the Van Gogh museum and today we’re going on a canal boat ride.”

“Do you want to talk to Ricky? He’s just eating dinner.”

“Let him finish. How are you doing?”

“I’m glad you called. Somewhat against my better judgment I signed Ricky up for Nate’s mountain-bike course. Mountain biking can be dangerous, Janice. If you say no, I’ll pull him out.”

“Aside from the expense…”

“I’m giving it to Ricky as an early birthday present.”

“Angela, thank you. You’re too good to us. I wish there was some way I could repay you.”

“It’s nothing, really. Don’t even think about it.” Angela took the cordless phone and wandered into the living room.

“Then as long as Ricky wears padding and a helmet, I can’t see why not. Nate’s great with kids. Plus, you’ll get a break from looking after Ricky.”

“Not exactly. I signed up for the course, too.”

“You’re kidding! What are you up to? Is this a ploy to get Nate back? If so, I predict he’ll crack in a week.”

Angela groaned and threw herself into an armchair. “He’s the most aggravating man I’ve ever known.”

And the most exciting. But their confrontation on the bike track had brought home to her that she couldn’t just ignore their unresolved issues and pick up where they’d left off even if she wanted to. What she didn’t understand was why he hadn’t kissed her when she was so sure he wanted to. That wasn’t like the Nate she thought she knew.

Casually, she added, “It’s odd Nate never hooked up with anyone else even though we both agreed years ago we could go out with other people. Has he had any serious relationships?”

“I’m always trying to give you the gossip on Nate but you barely listen to a word about the man.”

“When I was three thousand miles away I didn’t want to know who he was dating or be reminded of what I’d left behind.”

“Nate doesn’t exactly confide in me about his love life but I’ve seen him with quite a few women over the years,” Janice said. “He’s an attractive guy, Angela. You shouldn’t have let him alone so long.”

“Never mind that. Who’s the latest?”

“Kerry Martin, Tim’s mom. Nate went out with her for over a year.”

“Kerry Martin. Wasn’t she the girl in high school with horn-rim glasses and greasy braids?”

“That was then. Now she’s got contact lenses, changed her shampoo and looks like a million bucks. She and her husband divorced a couple of years ago. After he moved out she turned their chalet into a bed-and-breakfast.”

“So is Nate still seeing her? He told me he didn’t have a girlfriend.”

“According to my friend Phyllis, who cuts Kerry’s hair, they called it quits by mutual agreement. Kerry was angling for a wedding ring and Nate wasn’t free to commit.”

“Yet he didn’t get in touch with me to ask for a divorce. Interesting. Although,” she added hastily, “that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

“What would you like it to mean?” Janice teased.

“Don’t be annoying, little sister,” Angela said. “Anything else I should know?”

“I forgot to mention, there’s a trunk full of your things in the garage Nate dropped off years ago. You might want to go through it.”

“I will. Hang on, Ricky’s done. Give my love to Bob.”

While Ricky chatted to his mom and dad, Angela finished her lasagna then went out to the garage. Behind the gardening tools and spare car parts was a stack of cardboard cartons full of Christmas decorations and Halloween costumes. On the bottom was the old steamer trunk Janice mentioned. Angela moved the boxes aside and dragged the trunk into a clear spot.

The latches were rusty but she managed to prize them up and lift the heavy lid. Inside were clothes—had she really worn that awful blouse?—books and a shoe box full of bundles of tissue paper. Curious, she started to unwrap them. Oh! Her eyes filled with tears. It was the set of china horses she’d collected as a girl.

One by one she pulled out the little bundles and unwrapped her precious figurines. There was the rearing black stallion, the gentle bay, the prancing chestnut, the palomino and her favorite, the dapple gray with the silver mane and tail. During their marriage Nate had teased her about her beloved horses. When she’d left she’d wanted to send for them but she’d been too embarrassed, and presumed Nate would have disposed of them as junk.

Instead, he’d wrapped them individually in tissue paper and stored them carefully. Gratefully she kissed the gray on the nose and tucked it back in its place.

Next she found a plastic bag full of brown-and-cream wool and the half-knit Nordic style sweater she’d started making in secret for Nate’s birthday. Digging through the balls of wool she found the pattern and circular knitting needles. It seemed a shame to waste the effort that had already gone into the sweater; she might as well finish it for him. Tie up loose ends, so to speak.

Piling everything else back into the trunk she carried the shoe box and the sweater back to the house. She was arranging the little horses on the table, her back to the door into the hall when she heard the sound of the front door opening. “Ricky?”

“No, me.” Nate appeared in his bike shorts and shirt, his helmet tucked beneath his arm. “Ricky let me in. I’ll only stay a minute.”

Instinctively Angela spread her arms in front of the table where her horses stood. “It’s okay. Where is Ricky?”

“Out front, riding his bike. You should be practicing, too. It’s important to master the basics before you get on a tech trail.”

“Oh, please. Do you realize how silly I feel attempting a maneuver called a ‘wheelie’? Imagine what I’d look like cavorting on the street like a kid on my bike.”

Nate’s gaze traveled past her to the china horses with a faint smile. “Since when did you care what anyone thought of you?”

She felt her cheeks grow warm. “I was going through my old trunk. Thank you for saving these. It means a lot to me.”

He shrugged, as though it was nothing. She pushed the bundle of knitting spilling from the plastic bag back inside and hung the bag over the back of the chair before he could ask what it was. “Do you want coffee?”

“No, thanks. I really can’t stay. I only came to give you this.” Nate ripped open the Velcro tab on his shorts pocket and removed a slightly bent card with a computer-generated color picture of balloons and streamers floating above clinking wineglasses. “My mother wants to invite you to her birthday party this Sunday. She said to apologize for the short notice. You can bring Ricky, if you want. There’ll be other kids.”

“I’d love to come,” Angela said, accepting the card. “Did your mom mention I ran into her on the Valley Trail the other day?”

Nate nodded. “She seemed to think she wasn’t very welcoming. She didn’t want any hard feelings.”

“I appreciate that.”

The silence grew a little awkward. Nate glanced out the window. The sun had gone below the mountains and the luminous blue sky was fading to dusk. “I’d better go. It’ll be dark soon.”