Joan Kilby - Homecoming Wife

“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.”