Two Roads Home Read online

  Grant folded his newspaper and headed toward the kitchen. He stopped to kiss the back of Audrey’s neck. “What do you say we let our kids work out their own problems?”

  “I wasn’t trying to fix any problems. I was just . . . thinking.”

  “And haven’t we established that thinking usually gets you in trouble?”

  “Very funny.” But she reached behind her and pulled him close. “You’d better go see what rule Sadie has found to bend. And while you’re at it, would you check on Simone? She ought to be waking up from her nap any minute now.”

  She’d managed to change the subject, but Grant was right—they’d made it their policy to stay out of their kids’ business as much as possible, especially when it came to marital issues. Still, the whole situation with Corinne weighed heavy on her mind.

  4

  Corinne looked across the table at her husband. In the candlelight of the dimly lit restaurant Jesse’s tanned skin and chiseled features were more pronounced. He wore his fresh-this-morning haircut well, and it made his perpetual five-o’clock shadow look intentional and GQ.

  When had she quit noticing how handsome Jesse was? The man had practically made her swoon when they were dating, and even when Sari was a baby, she remembered how the mere sight of Jesse holding the baby had the power to move her to tears. But she’d stopped noticing. Except tonight she’d noticed, only because their server—a twenty-something blonde who’d introduced herself as Tiffany—was flirting with Jesse. As usual, he seemed oblivious. The girl came to their table and, ignoring Corinne, asked Jesse if she could take his salad plate.

  “Yes, thank you. I’m finished.”

  He was being his polite and friendly self, and Corinne couldn’t accuse him of flirting back the way he sometimes did. Never intentionally, but in a way that did encourage some women.

  This one didn’t seem to need any encouragement. “Be sure you leave some room for dessert,” Tiffany purred.

  “Are you going to want dessert, babe?” He looked Corinne’s way without meeting her eyes, which told her he was probably beginning to pick up on the girl’s vibes.

  The server gave Corinne an apathetic glance before turning back to Jesse. “Our Chocolate Avalanche is to die for. A dark cookie layer with vanilla cream filling and silky chocolate sauce topped with real whipped cream. I’ve never had a disappointed customer yet.”

  The girl sounded like she was describing something other than a dessert. Corinne resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Do you want to split that?”

  “Sure. Sounds good.” He turned his million-watt smile on the server. “We’ll take one of those. Two spoons, please.”

  “You can have all the whipped cream,” he said when the server left.

  “And you can have all the calories.”

  “Oh, no you don’t.” He patted his belly. “I’ve got enough problems with all the junk we’ve been eating on the road.”

  “Cut it out. You could eat your way across America and never gain a pound.” It was true, and it was a bone of contention between them, whether Jesse knew it or not. She wasn’t a blob or anything, but neither was she the one-hundred-and-twenty-pound waif Jesse had married. Three pregnancies had taken a toll on her figure, and though Jesse never said anything, she knew he’d be happy if she shed a few pounds.

  “Maybe that used to be true,” he said. “Not any more. I’m getting to be an old man.”

  She smirked and ran a hand through her hair—mousy brown hair that she never had time to do more with than pull up into a messy ponytail. She was frumpy and boring, and who could blame her husband if he enjoyed the attention this perky waitress heaped on him.

  “Hey, you in there?”

  She looked up and realized Jesse had been talking to her. “Sorry . . . What’d you say?”

  “I said, I might be getting old but I still love you.”

  She loved the words, but somehow they seemed forced and not altogether genuine. “I love you too.”

  The sizzle had gone out of their marriage. She was pretty sure that was what the expression on Jesse’s face said. But he didn’t understand how hard it was when he left her alone with the kids for days on end while he jetted all over the country being wined and dined, not to mention having someone taller than two feet to have an intelligent conversation with.

  He’d seemed distracted lately, and despite Corinne’s utter trust in him, she wouldn’t blame him if he found the intelligent, attractive women he worked and traveled with to be more interesting than she was. She blew a wisp of hair off her forehead and risked a glance across the table.

  Jesse started to say something, but just then the waitress appeared with their dessert and he turned his attention to Tiffany, as if she’d baked the thing herself.

  In the car on the way home, Jesse took her hand and made overtures she knew all too well. She shifted in her seat, scooting closer to the passenger door. She felt guilty for rebuffing him, but how could he think she would be in the mood when they’d drifted so far apart. And when he seemed to have more to say to the lovely Tiffany than to his own wife?

  “Everything okay, babe?” Jesse rubbed her shoulder in the first steps of a dance that was almost as old as their marriage.

  “I don’t know. Is it?”

  “What do you mean? Did I do something wrong?”

  She released a sigh she’d been holding all night. “Jesse . . . It’s not that you did anything wrong. It’s that you don’t—”

  “—do anything right? Like I haven’t heard that before.” He moved his hand back to the steering wheel.

  She knew she’d successfully fended off any romantic ideas he might have had, and an odd mixture of relief and disappointment battled with her emotions. “That’s not what I said.”

  “It’s what you meant though. I can see it in your face, Corinne.”

  “Jesse, I don’t want to fight. Not when you just got back. Can’t we just forget it?”

  “I don’t think you can.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means when you get like this, you’re going to fight to the bitter end.” He gritted his teeth and looked straight ahead.

  She could tell he’d gone beyond a point of no return. They were going to have a fight, and it was going to be a big one. She’d seen the pattern before. “No. I’m not going to fight at all.”

  He mumbled something she couldn’t understand, but she had a pretty good guess what he’d said.

  She didn’t ask him to repeat himself, and they drove without speaking the rest of the way home. They unloaded the car in more silence, and she could almost feel Jesse’s disappointment at “wasting” a night without kids.

  She took a quick shower, knowing he was hoping she’d have a change of heart by the time she got out. But she put on her nightgown—the shapeless one she knew he didn’t like, and by the time he crawled into bed, she was too tired for either finishing their fight or making up.

  He slept as close to the edge of the bed as he could have without rolling off. She lay on her side, watching the ceiling fan spin high above them, wondering if she’d have been better off just faking it. Except Jesse could always tell. And that was a surefire way to alienate a husband. Especially a handsome husband who had the attentions of a perky young coworker and a waitress named Tiffany.

  * * *

  Jesse rolled over and squinted through the early morning darkness. Corinne’s side of the bed was empty, the blankets pulled up over the pillows like she didn’t intend to crawl back into the bed any time soon. He listened for a minute and heard the sound of dishes rattling in the sink.

  He’d ended up on the far edge of the bed the entire night. Any normal husband would have gone to the guest room or slept on the couch, but early in their marriage, after the first time he’d exiled himself to the sofa after a fight, he and Corinne had agreed they would never sleep apart if they could help it—even if they were fighting. Especially if they were fighting.

  But this
morning it felt like he might as well be down on the sofa . . . or six hundred miles away in some nameless hotel.

  He eased his long legs over the side of the bed and steeled himself to go down and try to make amends with his wife. He hoped she’d have realized by now how petty she was being. But it seemed like Corinne held a grudge longer than usual lately. Still, he was determined to take the high road.

  He found her in front of the sink loading dishes into the dishwasher. Her hair escaped the ponytail holder, creating a wispy halo around her face. He went to her and put his arms around her from behind. “You sleep okay?”

  She shrugged beneath his embrace and scrubbed the bottom of a skillet—a little harder than necessary, he thought. “I got a few hours. You?”

  “My edge of the bed isn’t as soft as the middle.”

  She laughed in a way that let him venture a quick reconciliation. “Are we okay?” he whispered nuzzling the top of her head with his chin.

  She shrugged again, but quit scrubbing. “I think we will be . . . Eventually.” He recognized the hint of teasing in her voice.

  “I was coming down to do the dishes for you . . . thought I could earn a few brownie points. But you beat me to it.”

  “Don’t worry.” She poked her left hand under the faucet, then flicked her fingers behind her, spraying him. “There’s still laundry to do.”

  He gave her ponytail a tug. “I’m not that intent on making up.”

  She jabbed a playful elbow at his belly. “Careful buster. You’re skating on thin ice already.”

  He wrapped her tighter and planted a kiss at the nape of her neck.

  Without bothering to dry her hands, she turned from the sink and wrapped her arms around him, nestling her head against his chest. “I’m sorry I picked a fight.”

  “It’s okay. I’m sorry, too.” He decided against naming his offense since he wasn’t sure he’d get it right. He kissed her forehead, yearning to be back in her good graces, homesick for her in a way that didn’t fit with the fact that he was holding her in his arms.

  “I’m really sorry I wasted a perfectly good night with a sitter.”

  “We’ve probably got a few years to make up for it.”

  “A few years, my eye.” She glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the clock. “We’ve still got an hour before we have to pick the kids up from my folks’.”

  He pulled back, studying her face to be sure she was serious and loving what he saw in her eyes.

  She ran her hands down his arms and entwined her fingers with his. Tugging him toward the staircase, she wriggled her eyebrows comically.

  He laughed and followed her, feeling the weight of the past weeks roll off of him. Making love with his wife had always been a potent elixir for what ailed him. What ailed them.

  But he sensed this time it would only be a temporary fix. That it wouldn’t really settle things for Corinne.

  And it wasn’t just her. He was unsettled. Something inside him—deep inside—was uneasy. He was just beginning to understand the roiling disturbance within him. And he knew now that until he dealt with it, he and Corinne would find themselves on opposite edges of the bed so often that they might not be able to meet in the middle again.

  He had a hard choice to make: either he needed to decide he could accept his life the way it was, or he needed to make some changes. Changes that would rock the worlds of all the people he loved most.

  He wasn’t even sure it was possible to accomplish what he found himself contemplating—obsessing about—lately, without making a few people as miserable as he was in the process. Would it even be worth it in the end?

  5

  Your dad has to come in to town anyway. He can bring the girls home after lunch.”

  Corinne wedged the phone between her shoulder and ear and attacked a skillet with a bedraggled steel wool pad. “Are you sure, Mom?” But relief rushed through her at the offer.

  “I’m sure. The girls are heavy into a project with Poppa right now anyway.”

  Corinne smiled into the phone. “You just made my day.” She hung up and breathed a contented sigh. She so rarely got a few hours without the kids underfoot.

  “What was that about?” Jesse, still in pajama bottoms and T-shirt and looking sexy as all get out, looked up at her from the morning paper.

  “We don’t have to go pick up the girls after all. Dad’s going to bring them home after lunch.”

  “Really?” He looked disappointed. “Well . . . I guess I can spend time with them later.”

  “Oh.” She frowned. “I guess I should have asked if you were okay with that. I can still go get them if you’d rather . . .”

  “No, it’s fine. I’m home all next week so I’ll make it up to them.”

  “You sure?”

  He nodded. “And remember we have Monday off for Memorial Day.”

  “Oh, that’s right. Good.”

  Jesse went back to his paper without comment.

  Corrine poured a second cup of coffee, but she felt guilty about depriving him of the time with their daughters. And even guiltier that she was so happy about having a few hours without them.

  Her mom was practically pushing sixty. Why did she have more energy than Corinne did? And despite how much she’d mourned the empty nest, her mother seemed happier and more fulfilled than Corinne was in this supposed prime of her life. Something was wrong with this picture. She was living her dream. She had a beautiful home, three precious, healthy daughters, a handsome husband who made enough money that she could stay home with the girls as she’d always desired. Why wasn’t she counting her blessings?

  Feeling exhausted was to be expected when you were chasing after three children—and pulling double duty because your husband was on the road. But there was something else. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She wasn’t in a depression. At least she didn’t think so. But she felt a burden on her shoulders that hadn’t always been there.

  They’d struggled a little financially since buying the house—house poor, as Jesse always put it. He’d wanted something a little more modest, but she’d fought for this house, and it was worth it to her, especially since this was where she spent most of her time.

  Yes, they’d sunk most of their savings into the mortgage, but they’d only financed half the home’s price, so they’d kept their payments relatively low and built some nice equity. The new Nissan Pathfinder had pinched their budget further, but it was a necessity to safely transport the kids. And the sprinkler system they’d put in last fall had set them back several thousand dollars. Still, it wasn’t like they were on the verge of being homeless or anything. The truth was, they lived far better than most of their friends. All of them, actually. She sometimes found herself apologizing for the material things they had. Especially when she’d been able to stay home with the kids.

  Simone had grown up so quickly. Corinne could barely remember her youngest as an infant. And with Sari in school and Sadie soon to be, she sometimes wondered if they should have another one. But with one still in diapers, it was hard to think about having a tiny one again. Still, it went by so fast . . . And she did love being a mom.

  Yet, as much as Jesse adored his daughters, Corinne knew he’d like to have a son. Still, whenever they’d talked about it recently, they agreed three was probably enough. Just putting the trio they had through college was going to take a major financial miracle.

  Her friend Beth had confessed more than once that she still got baby fever once in a while—and the Hodges had five kids. All boys. “Especially if you could guarantee me a girl,” Beth said. “I’m not sure what it takes to get over that amazing feeling of holding a brand-new baby in your arms.”

  She smiled, remembering her mother’s reaction when she’d repeated Beth’s comment. “Turning forty did the trick for me,” Mom had said with a wry smile.

  Corinne had a ways to go before she hit forty—

  “So what are you going to do with the rest of your morning?�
�� Jesse’s voice broke into her thoughts.

  “Try to catch up with the laundry, for one thing. And maybe get a couple of Crock-Pot meals made ahead.”

  “Why don’t you do something fun? Something just for you.”

  She sighed. “Because the laundry and hungry tummies will still be waiting when I’m done with ‘something fun.’ I’d rather get caught up.”

  “Anything I can help with?”

  He didn’t meet her eyes. She laughed, knowing he was only offering to be nice and was silently begging her not to actually give him a to-do list.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Never mind. It’s sweet of you to ask, but you’ve been gone all week . . . working. I’m sure you have things you’d like to catch up on too.”

  “Well, I do need to check the oil in your car and gas it up.”

  “Right. Thank you.” She went to stand behind him and massaged his neck while he perused the sports section.

  “Mmmm . . . Feels good.”

  “I’m glad you’re home.”

  “Yeah, me too.” But he was already deep into page three.

  She gave his neck one last squeeze and headed to gather the dirty laundry from the girls’ rooms. But she couldn’t shake this . . . heaviness. Their house had been designed—and situated on the lot—to capture maximum light. Why, then did everything feel so dark inside these walls?

  * * *

  “Is there room in the fridge for this salad, Mom?” Corinne lifted up the fancy bowl that held a fruit salad—a new recipe she’d been wanting to try.

  Her mother paused and looked up from the pork tenderloin she was slicing. “Your sisters beat you to the fridge space. You’ll probably have to take yours out to the fridge in the garage.”

  Corinne rearranged a couple of shelves in vain, and finally heeded her mom’s suggestion and took her salad to the garage. These Tuesday night family dinners her dad had instituted were blessing or bane, depending on what she and Jesse had going on. But since opening the B&B, Dad insisted the whole family get together every week for dinner and games.