Homecoming Wife. Joan Kilby

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      Casually, she added, “It’s odd Nate never hooked up with anyone else even though we both agreed years ago we could go out with other people. Has he had any serious relationships?”

      “I’m always trying to give you the gossip on Nate but you barely listen to a word about the man.”

      “When I was three thousand miles away I didn’t want to know who he was dating or be reminded of what I’d left behind.”

      “Nate doesn’t exactly confide in me about his love life but I’ve seen him with quite a few women over the years,” Janice said. “He’s an attractive guy, Angela. You shouldn’t have let him alone so long.”

      “Never mind that. Who’s the latest?”

      “Kerry Martin, Tim’s mom. Nate went out with her for over a year.”

      “Kerry Martin. Wasn’t she the girl in high school with horn-rim glasses and greasy braids?”

      “That was then. Now she’s got contact lenses, changed her shampoo and looks like a million bucks. She and her husband divorced a couple of years ago. After he moved out she turned their chalet into a bed-and-breakfast.”

      “So is Nate still seeing her? He told me he didn’t have a girlfriend.”

      “According to my friend Phyllis, who cuts Kerry’s hair, they called it quits by mutual agreement. Kerry was angling for a wedding ring and Nate wasn’t free to commit.”

      “Yet he didn’t get in touch with me to ask for a divorce. Interesting. Although,” she added hastily, “that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

      “What would you like it to mean?” Janice teased.

      “Don’t be annoying, little sister,” Angela said. “Anything else I should know?”

      “I forgot to mention, there’s a trunk full of your things in the garage Nate dropped off years ago. You might want to go through it.”

      “I will. Hang on, Ricky’s done. Give my love to Bob.”

      While Ricky chatted to his mom and dad, Angela finished her lasagna then went out to the garage. Behind the gardening tools and spare car parts was a stack of cardboard cartons full of Christmas decorations and Halloween costumes. On the bottom was the old steamer trunk Janice mentioned. Angela moved the boxes aside and dragged the trunk into a clear spot.

      The latches were rusty but she managed to prize them up and lift the heavy lid. Inside were clothes—had she really worn that awful blouse?—books and a shoe box full of bundles of tissue paper. Curious, she started to unwrap them. Oh! Her eyes filled with tears. It was the set of china horses she’d collected as a girl.

      One by one she pulled out the little bundles and unwrapped her precious figurines. There was the rearing black stallion, the gentle bay, the prancing chestnut, the palomino and her favorite, the dapple gray with the silver mane and tail. During their marriage Nate had teased her about her beloved horses. When she’d left she’d wanted to send for them but she’d been too embarrassed, and presumed Nate would have disposed of them as junk.

      Instead, he’d wrapped them individually in tissue paper and stored them carefully. Gratefully she kissed the gray on the nose and tucked it back in its place.

      Next she found a plastic bag full of brown-and-cream wool and the half-knit Nordic style sweater she’d started making in secret for Nate’s birthday. Digging through the balls of wool she found the pattern and circular knitting needles. It seemed a shame to waste the effort that had already gone into the sweater; she might as well finish it for him. Tie up loose ends, so to speak.

      Piling everything else back into the trunk she carried the shoe box and the sweater back to the house. She was arranging the little horses on the table, her back to the door into the hall when she heard the sound of the front door opening. “Ricky?”

      “No, me.” Nate appeared in his bike shorts and shirt, his helmet tucked beneath his arm. “Ricky let me in. I’ll only stay a minute.”

      Instinctively Angela spread her arms in front of the table where her horses stood. “It’s okay. Where is Ricky?”

      “Out front, riding his bike. You should be practicing, too. It’s important to master the basics before you get on a tech trail.”

      “Oh, please. Do you realize how silly I feel attempting a maneuver called a ‘wheelie’? Imagine what I’d look like cavorting on the street like a kid on my bike.”

      Nate’s gaze traveled past her to the china horses with a faint smile. “Since when did you care what anyone thought of you?”

      She felt her cheeks grow warm. “I was going through my old trunk. Thank you for saving these. It means a lot to me.”

      He shrugged, as though it was nothing. She pushed the bundle of knitting spilling from the plastic bag back inside and hung the bag over the back of the chair before he could ask what it was. “Do you want coffee?”

      “No, thanks. I really can’t stay. I only came to give you this.” Nate ripped open the Velcro tab on his shorts pocket and removed a slightly bent card with a computer-generated color picture of balloons and streamers floating above clinking wineglasses. “My mother wants to invite you to her birthday party this Sunday. She said to apologize for the short notice. You can bring Ricky, if you want. There’ll be other kids.”

      “I’d love to come,” Angela said, accepting the card. “Did your mom mention I ran into her on the Valley Trail the other day?”

      Nate nodded. “She seemed to think she wasn’t very welcoming. She didn’t want any hard feelings.”

      “I appreciate that.”

      The silence grew a little awkward. Nate glanced out the window. The sun had gone below the mountains and the luminous blue sky was fading to dusk. “I’d better go. It’ll be dark soon.”

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