Chapter Twelve – THEN

 

“I feel like a kid on Christmas morning.  I’m so giddy with excitement I could almost climb out of my skin,” Celia tells me.

“I can see,” I mutter as I watch her flitting around the house, dusting what’s already been dusted, wiping what’s already been wiped.  She checks on the roast in the oven for the umpteenth time.

“Almost done,” she sings.

“It smells delicious.”

“Tyle! Tyle! Silly! Momma!”  At the sound of Matilda’s excited toddler shrieks, Celia goes running through the house and outside to greet Kyle with Matilda.  I stay inside, admiring him from afar as he walks up the path, still in his Army uniform.  Heavy boots on his feet, camouflage pants, and top with a beige T-shirt underneath. His five o’clock shadow is thicker and longer now.  As good as it looks on him, I prefer the day old growth he usually has. 

He looks rugged, tired, and fierce.  The epitome of a heroic warrior.  My heart skips a beat and an overwhelming feeling of relief washes over me. 

“Thank God he’s home safe,” I murmur to myself.  “Thank God.”

A duffel bag is slung over his shoulder and he promptly drops it to catch Matilda when she launches into his arms.

As I watch them, I can’t help but marvel at the intense bond he has with my daughter.  Even from the first time he met her when she was six months old, she was always content in his secure arms.  If she was crying and he held her, she would stop right away.  If he was in the same room, she was staring at him.  If she heard his voice, she turned in that direction.  In the past eighteen months, their bond has only grown in strength and depth.

He walks inside, Matilda tucked under his left arm, Celia under his right.  His eyes meet mine across the room and he takes me in, his gaze moves from my face to my toes and back up again in one lazy sweep.  His large frame instantly makes Celia’s family room shrink in size.

“Hey, Liv.”

God, I’ve missed his voice.  To my surprise, a sob escapes my lips as I move across the room to him.  He releases Celia and wraps his arm around me, pulling me tight against his chest.  Matilda giggles beside my head from her content position in his arms, but I focus on the reassuring scent of his cologne and the familiar buzz of energy that pulses through my veins whenever he is near.

“Glad you’re home safe,” I tell him, blinking away the emotional burn in my eyes.  My throat squeezes as I pull away from him.  I take a deep breath to control my overwhelming feelings.  “Right,” I announce with a clap of my hands.  “Celia’s got a delicious roast in the oven that’s about done, and I, for one, need wine.  I’m guessing you want a beer?”

He nods, just once.  Sharp.  Sure.

“Cel, would you like some wine?”

“Thanks, love.  I’ll start dishing up.”

“Tyle, tickles,” I hear Matilda say as I move into the kitchen.

“You like my beard, sweet pea?”

“Tickles,” she says through a giggle.  I glance out into the family room and find him rubbing his beard on her neck.  She’s squirming and laughing in delight.

 

“You’re home for good this time, aren’t you?” Celia asks, her hopeful undertone not unnoticeable.

“Yes, Aunt Silly.  You don’t have to worry about me going into combat again.”

“Oh, good,” she sighs in relief.  “I know it’s what you love, but it’s no good for my heart.”

“I’ll probably annoy you so much through my boredom that you’ll soon be begging me to go back,” he teases.

She leans across and squeezes his arm.  “Never,” she responds, her eyes shining with pure love.

“The food’s delicious,” I say, before taking my last bite.  “Thanks so much for having us over,” I tell Celia.

“Nonsense. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”  She turns her attention from me to Matilda.  “Now, little miss, shall we have some ice cream?”

Matilda nods eagerly.

“Well, come on and help me serve.”

I smile as I watch them walk into the kitchen.  Matilda’s chubby toddler hand held securely in Celia’s.  Their steps in sync.  Both with short blonde hair.

“You’re doing a great job with her, Liv,” Kyle says, breaking the silence.

“Thank you.  She’s such a great kid, she makes it easy.”

“Because she’s got a great mom.”

My heart swells at his words.

“So, you’re staying with Celia for a while?”

“Yeah, just until I find a place.”

“Do you plan on sticking around, or moving elsewhere?”  As I ask the question, my throat constricts with the unnerving thought that he may leave Greenwich to live somewhere else.

“Think I’ll hang around.  Got plenty of incentive to stay,” he answers cryptically.  Before I can ask what exactly he means, Matilda and Celia return with bowls full of ice cream.