Rebecca Winters - One Winter's Sunset

He chuckled. “I am far from withered away, Irene.”

“You go entire days without seeing the sunshine. You’re here before me, stay long after those with common sense go home. You need to notice the world around you, not just the workload before you.”

Wasn’t that what Emily had said a hundred times over the years? She’d told him he worked too many hours, was home too few. He’d insisted the company needed him, but maybe it was something more, something deeper inside himself that kept him behind that desk day after day instead of with his wife, enjoying the life he had worked so hard to afford.

Irene had a point. If he took a few days off, then maybe the so-called lemmings he’d hired would step up to the plate and do what he’d hired them to do—lead in his stead. Rather than everyone looking to Cole because he was always there in the driver’s seat.

“I’m doing that now.”

“Are you? Because I’ll bet dollars to doughnuts that you haven’t heard those birds chirping in the background or the soft whistle of the breeze through the trees. How about the sun? Is it shining bright, or is it dimmed by cloud cover?”

Cole raised his gaze and squinted. “Bright.” His gaze skimmed over the pale blue sky, then down the trees, almost bare now that November was edging toward December. Birds flitted from branch to branch, determined to stay as long as they could before caving to winter’s cold. The breeze danced in the last few dangling leaves, waving them like flags. Through the trees, he could see the lake, glistening and inviting while squirrels dashed to and fro, making last-minute preparations for winter. He paused a long moment, letting the day wash over him and ease the tension in his shoulders. “You’re right. I never noticed any of that.”

“And you need to, Cole. Before it’s too late.”

“It might already be.” He let out a long breath. Irene was the only one who knew about his marital problems. As his right-hand person at WTD, she had seen the end of his marriage coming long before he had. She’d noticed that there’d been fewer and fewer lunches with Emily, more long days when he didn’t leave before dark and more weekends spent at the office instead of at home. He’d also given Irene a heads-up about the projects he was working on—both the one with the inn and the one with his marriage.

“Has she kicked you out of that inn yet?” Irene asked. “Told you to leave?”

“Not yet.” Though, given her reaction to their kiss, Cole wasn’t so sure Emily wanted him around anymore. She hadn’t said that out loud yet, but he’d sensed a distance, a wall whenever he got too close. Like when she’d felt ill and he’d asked her if she was okay—Emily had suddenly gone cold and distant.

“If she hasn’t kicked you out, then it’s not too late. Now get your head out of the office and pay attention to what’s around you,” Irene said. “I’ll handle things here. We’ll all be fine.”

He chuckled. “Is that an order?”

“You bet your sweet bippy it is. Now let me go so I can get some work done around here. Not all of us can sit around in the sun, listening to the birds chirp, you know.” Her words lacked any bite and held only affection and worry.

“Thanks, Irene,” Cole said, his voice quiet and warm.

“Anytime, Cole. Anytime.” Then she was gone. Cole tucked the phone back into his pocket.

He started to get to his feet, to get back to working on the fascia and soffits. He paused. Looked up at the sky, then sat back down, leaned against the porch post, closed his eyes and drew in the scents and sounds of the world he had missed for too many years.

CHAPTER SIX

EMILY STOOD ON the porch for a good minute, sure she was seeing things. Cole sat on the top step, his back against one of the thick posts, his face upturned to the sun. Asleep. Harper lay on the weathered boards beside Cole, eyes closed, tail tapping a slow, happy rhythm.

Emily smiled. Her workaholic husband, taking a break. Something she hadn’t seen in so long, she’d been half-sure he was a robot, not a man. In sleep, he looked younger, boyish almost, with his face relaxed, his shoulders untensed.

Like the man she used to know. The man she had fallen in love with.

Her hand strayed to her abdomen, and for a second, she allowed herself to picture Cole’s face when she told him about the baby. To imagine a future where he brought them home from the hospital, and they formed a little family of three.

Then Cole’s phone started buzzing, the screen lighting with yet another call. A dose of reality inserting itself before she got wrapped up in a fantasy.

Carol came out on the porch. “He’s asleep?” she whispered.

Emily nodded. “Doesn’t happen very often.”

Carol chuckled. “I’ve known men like that. Would rather work themselves half to death than admit they need a nap. Or a helping hand. I tell you, men are some of God’s most stubborn creatures.”

Emily laughed. “I agree with that.”

The buzzing at his waist finally roused Cole. He jerked upright, disoriented for a second, reaching for the phone with an instinct well honed over the years. Just before he pressed the button to answer it, he noticed Emily and Carol, and set the phone back in the holster. “Sorry, I, uh, guess I fell asleep.”

Cole ignoring a work call? And taking a nap in the middle of the day? That made for two miracles in the space of a few minutes—and two things Emily never thought she’d see.

“You’re human...sleep happens.” Carol smiled. “Either way, I’m glad you woke up. Dinner’s in the kitchen and just waiting for some hungry people to come along.”

Cole got to his feet and brushed the sawdust off his jeans. “A home-cooked meal? Can’t remember the last time I had one of those.”

“That’s because you have to be home to have one.” The words slipped from Emily’s lips before she could stop them. Sometimes it seemed the years of resentment lay in wait behind paper walls, waiting for any small opening.

“You’re right.” Cole paused beside her on the porch. His blue eyes met hers. “But I also have to have a home to go to.”

She shook her head and looked away before the familiar argument about their separation sprang up between them on this pretty fall day. She didn’t want to fight anymore. Not one more disagreement. She’d had enough of those to last her a lifetime.

“Let’s not do this,” Cole said, as if he’d read her mind. “It’s too nice of a day to argue about anything other than whether the sky is a cerulean-blue or cornflower-blue.”

She smiled. “Cornflower. Definitely.”

“I agree,” Cole said.

Carol put a hand on each of their shoulders. “There’s a home here, and a meal, and both of you are invited to the table if you promise to mind your manners.”

Cole grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

Maybe it was the way he said ma’am, or maybe it was the way he smiled, but Emily found her anger melting in the light of both, and she paused in the doorway to shoot Cole a conspiratorial smile. “That means no food fights, you know.”

“Too bad.” He leaned in toward her, smelling of soap and sunshine. “Because sometimes cleaning up afterward can be a hell of a lot of fun.”

“I remember.” The words whispered into the small space between them, the memory charging the air. They’d come home from their quick three-day honeymoon to the tiny one-bedroom apartment that had been their first home. She’d worked half the day on a dinner for her new husband, poring over a cookbook she’d got out of the library, fixing chicken and peas and baked potatoes, then attempting a chocolate cream pie because he’d once said that was his favorite. “I really messed that meal up, didn’t I?”