Coming Home(5)

“Of course. Thank you for inviting me,” she replied, lifting the mug and blowing gently on the steaming liquid. She took a careful sip, humming contentedly as the warmth spread down her throat and through her stomach, and Catherine smiled the smile that crinkled her face and made her eyes disappear.

“The house looks wonderful, really,” Leah said, looking around. “Especially the outside. You fixed it up beautifully.”

“Yes, well, my boy helps me with that,” Catherine said softly. She was quiet for a moment as she looked down, and Leah watched her shoulders rise as she took a deep breath, exhaling slowly before lifting her head. “So,” she said, taking a sip of her tea, “you’re here running errands?”

Leah nodded. “I come down here every year to get some things I need to make Christmas dinner. I live about an hour north, but no one makes homemade pasta like the Italian deli a few blocks over.”

Catherine quirked her brow. “Giovanni’s?”

“Giovanni’s,” Leah confirmed with a laugh, and Catherine nodded sagely.

“I can’t blame you. I can see driving an hour for the food there.”

“It’s kind of a Christmas tradition in my family,” Leah said with a shrug.

“Traditions are good. They help keep memories alive.”

Leah’s eyes flashed to Catherine, but she was looking out the window, her expression unreadable as she carefully sipped her tea.

“So,” Catherine asked after a minute, bringing her eyes back to Leah, “which room was yours?”

“Um, that one,” she said, gesturing to the room off the dining area.

Catherine smiled as she motioned toward the doorway. “Go ahead.”

Leah looked at the door before exhaling heavily. Seeing it made her chest ache. Why was she doing this? What was the point? Why did she continue to torture herself, year after year, by coming here?

She placed the cup on the table before she stood and walked the short distance over to the bedroom.

Leah took a few steps inside, trying to reconcile what she was seeing with what she remembered. The walls were grayish blue, no longer the lavender from her childhood. A single full-sized bed was pushed up against the wall where the bunk beds she had shared with her sister had been. She walked over to it and sat down, running her hand over the soft navy blue comforter.

Beside the bed was a wooden table with a small television and another vase of daffodils. As Leah leaned over to smell them, she noticed the far wall; the shelves that had housed all her dolls and stuffed animals were gone. Instead, there were several framed photos. The largest one was a close-up of two little boys, their arms thrown around each other, grinning from ear to ear. They were pointing at each other’s mouths, drawing attention to the fact that they were both missing their two front teeth.

Leah smiled, glancing around the room one more time. It was simple, neutral, and no longer hers.

“It’s my guest room,” Catherine said from the doorway, and Leah jumped up from the bed, rubbing her palms down the sides of her jeans. “My boy stays here from time to time when he—”

They both turned as the front door swung open, banging unceremoniously against the wall.

“Gram?” a voice called. “Do you know some stupid * parked in front of your garage? I had to park two blocks over and lug this thing all the way back here.”

Catherine glanced at Leah, smiling apologetically before she said, “Language, Daniel.”

“Sorry,” the voice said. “Just let me get your tree set up and I’ll have one of my guys tow it out of here.”