Joan Kilby - Homecoming Wife

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.”

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