“Do … Do you want a coffee? We can talk about what needs doing.”
He grins, and in that moment, all I can see is our son. My head spins and I grip the bench.
“Are you okay?” He steps inside the open door and grasps my forearm. Blood rushes in my ears. This is insane. I’ve held onto this image of him for so long, spending years hoping we’d be reunited. But it’s too soon. I’m not ready.
But I also have to get this work around the house done and I’ve come too far to kick him out.
“I’m fine. Thank you.” I meet his concerned gaze. “It’s just been a long couple of weeks with moving and unpacking, and trying to get things sorted.”
He nods slowly. Is he married? Does he have a family? In that moment, I feel stupid for thinking about him all these years. Caleb has been my anchor to the real world and has no idea.
“I’m sure.”
“Take a seat at the table and I’ll put the jug on. How do you take your coffee?”
“Strong and black. One sugar.”
There’s a lump in my throat the size of a golf ball as I walk over to the jug and flick the switch on. I use the bench to keep myself steady as Caleb makes his way past me toward the kitchen table.
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath.
He used to smell of laundry powder—whichever one his mother used. Now he smells different, clean and fresh but it’s not the same. I kept that scent in my memory for years—saved it for when I needed reassurance.
He’s here. In my kitchen.
Noah won’t be home for a few more hours. He’ll be at work when the work’s being done here, so for the moment, I can keep the overwhelming thoughts at bay.
By the time I’ve made the coffee and returned to the kitchen table where Caleb’s made himself at home, I can’t stop my hand from trembling.
If he notices as I place his mug in front of him, he doesn’t say anything, but the heat of his gaze on me makes my cheeks flush.
We sit in silence for a moment, sipping our coffee that’s too hot still, but neither one of us will admit it. It keeps me grounded.
Caleb’s the one who breaks the silence.
“I was surprised to see you’d called. Usually, the job would go to one of my guys, but I had to see you.”
I grip my mug. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Really? After the way things ended, I wasn’t sure.”
I swallow hard. There are things I need to tell him—things that happened after I left.
“It was so long ago.”
His gaze is fixed on mine. “I know, but I never forgot.”
“It wasn’t my choice to go.”
He nods. “I know that too. But I thought you’d be back in touch. After everything.”
Closing my eyes, I draw in a deep breath. After all this time, I have to give voice to some of the things I’ve held inside for so long.
“There was no way for me to do that. Not for the first ten years anyway.” I open my eyes to see his furrowed brow.
“What? How?”
“Dad moved us to a remote church community. All communication was cut off, and all our family assets went to the church. I was trapped there.”
