Coming Home(4)

Leah turned to look at her then. She was still smiling, but her happy expression belied the unmistakable sadness that infused her last words. And for some inexplicable reason, she couldn’t tolerate the thought of this woman being sad, even for one minute.

“Okay,” Leah said, taking a tentative step forward. “But I really can’t stay long.”

“One cup,” the woman promised, her eyes disappearing amid a mass of wrinkles before she turned and shuffled up the short driveway, unlatching the gate that led to the side yard.

Leah followed, stepping into the yard behind her, and without warning, her eyes welled with tears.

It looked so small. How could it be this small? Leah could distinctly remember playing tag with her brother and sister in this yard, the three of them running back and forth until they were gasping for air. Now, she could probably walk across it in four long strides.

She glanced around, her vision blurred from her unshed tears. The yard had been repaved as well. The block of concrete, the one they had imprinted with their handprints and initials, was gone. Her chin quivered slightly as she lifted her eyes, looking at the opposite end of the yard. The tiny garden where her mother had grown her tomato and basil plants had been blocked over with pavers. A barbecue sat above it.

Leah hadn’t realized the tears had spilled over until a gust of cold wind amplified the trails of warmth on her cheeks, and she wiped at them hurriedly before glancing up to see the woman standing in the doorway, holding it open with a sympathetic look on her face.

“You’re okay, honey,” she said softly, and Leah forced a smile as she walked past her and into the house.

It felt like being transported back in time, and she placed her hand on the wall beside her, feeling completely disoriented.

The furniture was all wrong, of course, and the walls were a different color, but the layout was still the same, so that if she stood there long enough, she could see the house as it was when she lived there. Her eyes traveled to the half wall that separated the kitchen from the living room, where two small vases of daffodils sat. She could remember her mother leaning on it with her elbows, peeking out at them with a smile while she fixed dinner.

The sharp whistle of a tea kettle brought her back to the present, and she blinked quickly, dropping her hand from the wall.

“Sit, sit,” the woman said, gesturing to the small dining area past the kitchen. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Leah walked through the kitchen and over to the table, unzipping her coat and hanging it on the back of one of the chairs.

“Can I help you with anything?” she asked, watching the woman disappear in the nook of the kitchen.

“That’s okay, thank you. Just tell me how you take your tea.”

“Two sugars, no milk, please.”

Leah heard the clinking of glasses and spoons before the woman turned the corner and approached the table with a steaming teacup in each hand. She placed one in front of Leah and patted her hand before she sat across from her, wrapping her frail hands around her own cup. Without her enormous jacket, she looked even tinier, wearing a thin white sweater and gray slacks. Leah’s eye was immediately drawn to her neck, where a bulky-looking ring was hanging from a thin gold chain. It looked like a man’s class ring.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even introduce myself, did I?”

Leah lifted her eyes from the incongruous piece of jewelry to see the woman extending her hand.

“I’m Catherine.”

“Leah,” she said, clasping her hand gently.

“Well, Leah, thank you for agreeing to have tea with me.”