Danielle Steel: The House on Hope Street

She went to bed alone that night, just after midnight. Jamie was sleeping in his own room. He had slept in hers once since he got the cast, turned over in the middle of the night, and accidentally hit her with it, and she still had a bruise on her shoulder to show for it. After that, they'd agreed that it would be better if he slept in his own bed till he got the cast off.

“You okay, Mom?” Peter stuck his head in her room when he came upstairs right after she went to bed, and she told him she was, and thanked him for checking. They had stayed close to each other all day, like survivors in the water, clinging to a single life raft. It had been a Christmas they would always remember, not as bad as the last one, but nearly as painful in its own way. All she wanted to do now was go to sleep, and wake up when the holidays were over. But as usual now, sleep eluded her for hours, and she lay in bed, awake, thinking of Jack, and Bill, and her children. And finally, shortly after four o'clock, she drifted off, and thought she was dreaming when she heard the phone ring. She was in such a dead sleep as she reached out for it, that it took her a while to find it, but no one else in the house answered either.

“Hello?” Her voice was muffled by the sheets, and she sounded groggy, and the person who had called her hesitated for a long moment. She was about to hang up when he finally spoke. She didn't recognize the voice at first, and then she knew it. It was Bill, and she had no idea why he had called. He was probably working. It was still dark outside and she squinted at the clock. It was six-thirty in the morning.

“Hi there,” he sounded painfully cheerful, and she felt like a rodeo rider who had been bucked from here to Kentucky after the agonies of the day before. She was exhausted. “I thought I'd call and wish you Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas. Wasn't that yesterday?” Or was she in the Twilight Zone and it was never-ending. A lifetime of Christmases every day forever. It would have been her worst nightmare.

“Yeah. I must have missed it. I was pretty busy. How's Jamie?”

“Fine, I think. Asleep.” She stretched, and made an effort to wake up, wondering why he had called her. He seemed pretty chatty for six-thirty in the morning. “You were very nice to him when he broke his arm. Thank you.”

“He's a nice kid, and I like him.” There was a long silence then, and she started dozing, and then woke with a start, wondering if she'd said something stupid. But she hadn't missed much. Bill seemed to be thinking. Then he asked her, “How was Christmas?” But he could imagine it. He had thought about her all day, and worried about her and the children, which was why he had finally called. That, and a number of other reasons, some of them clearer than others.

“Worse than I expected,” she said honestly. “Like having open-heart surgery without an anesthetic.”

“I'm sorry, Liz. I thought it might be like that. At least it's over.”

“Till next year,” she said, sounding grim. She was awake now, and the memory of the day before still made her wince.

“Maybe next year will be better.”

“I'm not in any hurry to find out. It'll take me all year to get over this one. How about you? What did you do?”

“I was working.”

“I thought so. You must have been busy.”

“Very. But I thought about you a lot.”

She hesitated and then nodded, lying in the dark, thinking about him. “I thought about you too. I'm sorry things got so messed up. I don't know, I guess I wasn't ready, and the kids were awful.”

“And I panicked,” he admitted. “I didn't handle it very maturely.”

“I'm not sure I would have either,” she said graciously, but she would have come back to try and fix it, and he hadn't. But she didn't say that to him.

“I've missed you.” He sounded wistful. It had hit him hard when he saw her when Jamie broke his arm, and she had haunted him ever since, until he called.

“So have I. It's been a long month,” she said softly.

“Too long,” he admitted. “We should have lunch sometime.”

“I'd like that.” She wondered if he'd ever do it. Maybe he was just lonely and tired, or a patient had died, or Christmas had gotten to him. She didn't have the feeling he wanted to come back, just to touch her, and drift away again. In the end, she had decided, he was a loner, and happier that way.

“How about lunch today?” She was startled when he asked her.

“Today? Sure, I …” And then she remembered. “I promised to take the kids skating. How about coffee afterwards?”

“I was really thinking about lunch.” He sounded disappointed.

“What about tomorrow?”

“I'm working,” he said firmly. She smiled as she realized they were negotiating dates at six-forty-five in the morning. “What about now?” He sounded matter-of-fact as he asked.

“Now? You mean now, as in this minute?”

“Sure, I happen to have a bag lunch in my car, we could share it.”

“Where are you?” She was beginning to wonder if he was drunk. He sounded a little crazy to her.

“Actually,” he answered nonchalantly, “I'm in your driveway.” She got out of bed, as he said it, with the phone in her hand, and peeked out the window. His old Mercedes was sitting in her driveway with the lights off.

“What are you doing out there?” She was watching him, as she said it, and he glanced up and waved at her, as she giggled. “This is crazy.”

“I just thought I'd drop by and see if you wanted to have lunch or something. I didn't know if you were busy, or … well, you know, since I was such a jerk for the last month, I wasn't sure if I'd have to hang around to convince you. Liz,” his voice sounded emotional, as she stood at the window and looked down on him in his car, and he looked up at her, holding his car phone. “I love you.” She could see him say it.

“I love you too,” she said softly. “Why don't you come in?”

“I'll bring lunch.”

“Just bring you. I'll see you in a minute, don't ring the doorbell.” She hung up, and ran downstairs to open the door for him, and she saw him get out of his car and wrestle something large and cumbersome out of the backseat, and it took him a minute. And then as he came toward her, carrying it, she saw what it was. It was the kite he had made, and he brought it inside with him. “What are you doing with that?” The whole thing was utterly absurd. His call, his lunch invitation, his visit, his kite. But she loved him, and she knew it, as she looked at him. She had known it for months, she just hadn't been ready before.

“It's for Jamie,” he said simply, setting the kite down in her hallway, and then he stood looking down at her, with everything he felt for her in his eyes. He didn't even have to say it. “I love you, Liz. And Megan was right. I was a moron and a brute. I should have come back the next day, but I was too scared.”

“So was I. But I think I figured it out faster than you did. It's been a hell of a long month without you.”

“I had to figure out how much I missed you, but I'm back now. If you'll have me.”

“I'll have you,” she whispered, and then looked worried. “What about the kids, can you stand them?”

“Some easier than others. I'll get used to the rest, and if Megan gives me a hard time, I'll put a cast over her mouth. That should do it.” Liz laughed as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. And they both jumped when they heard a loud voice just behind her.

“What's THAT?” It was Jamie, and he was pointing at the kite Bill had brought with him.

“It's your kite. I figured you had more time to use it than I do. I'll show you how to fly it.”

“Oh, boy!” He jumped right into Bill's arms, and nearly knocked his mother over. “Wow! Can I really have it!”