rubbing my hands together, “thank you, though. See you guys next week.”
“Bye.” Eric slides inside and shuts the door, where I can hear glee streaming from the boys’ mouths.
Things aren’t strained between Eric and I after our awkward exchange the day he moved in; but whenever I leave after dropping off the boys, he watches me through the door or window until I’m out of sight. Tonight’s no different as I back down the driveway. Sometimes I wonder if he thinks one day I’ll turn around, but maybe that’s just my guilt coming up for air.
The roads are empty, my car is quiet, and I’m starting to feel the beginnings of the loneliness I’ve been working to keep at bay. Realizing that Christmas night is not the best time to try to play “hero” with myself, I turn left at the intersection and head for South East St. to Bill Manning’s house.
Bill and I haven’t spoken since the night I had dinner with him and Ryker at his house, but I know I’m always welcome. Pulling into his driveway, I’m thankful to see his car parked and living room light on. I nervously wait a few seconds after I knock on the door.
Bill answers the door in jeans and a Christmas sweater. “Natalie? This is a pleasant surprise!”
“Merry Christmas, Bill, can I come in?”
“Of course, of course!”
Stepping into the always-cozy house, I’m surrounded by the sights and smells of Christmas. Fresh-baked cookies sit on a plate in the kitchen, a pine-scented candle is burning in the entryway, and the Christmas tree is fully decorated. Bill spent a lot of Christmases as a single father, so it’s no surprise that even as a sixty-year-old bachelor, he knows how to make his house feel homey.
“You didn’t have your boys today?” Concern fills Bill’s eyes as we sit on the couch next to the tree.
“I had them last night and this morning. I actually just dropped them off at Eric’s house . . . was feeling a little lonely, I guess.”
Bill gently grabs my knee. “I’m glad you came over.”
“Are you normally home on Christmas, with Ryker gone to Jackson Hole, and all?”
Bill shakes his head. “Ryker doesn’t usually go to Wyoming until mid-January.”
“Oh,” my face feels like it was just smacked with a wet towel, “he told me he goes for three months every year . . .”
“Oh, Natalie . . .” Bill seems to try to recover from some breech he’s created.
“No,” I put my hand up, “it’s okay. Ryker did tell me he needed a break . . . I just . . . it didn’t occur to me that he would need that long of a break if it was from me, you know?” Standing, I walk to the kitchen and help myself to water, thankful that I have always felt at home here.
“He’s scared, Natalie.” Bill follows me in with his hands in his pockets. “I shouldn’t be telling you any of this, but what do I have to lose?” He laughs a little.
“Scared?” I grab a cookie off the plate and sit at the kitchen table. “He could just join the club. He didn’t have to fly to Wyoming.”
“The day he saw you at Atkins as he was unloading his truck . . . boy, it was like he’d seen a ghost.” Bill sits next to me with cookies for himself.
“Tell me about it,” I snort.
“Anyway, over the last few months he’s talked to me a hundred times about if he should ask you out to dinner, or what.”
Picturing strong, sure, Ryker asking his dad for advice about something like asking me to dinner makes me grin. “Your son’s a gentleman, Bill . . .”
“I know he is, Natalie. I told him to go for it because, you know, I love you to death. But,” Bill rolls his eyes with a grin, “that boy knows something I don’t.”
“What’s that?”
Bill rests his hand on mine. “You. He knew you were struggling, and he knows how struggle feels, and damn it if he didn’t want to help you, Nat, I swear. But, I don’t think he trusted himself to be around you a lot, you know? He didn’t want to make a mistake he’d regret later.”
“So he runs away to Wyoming for three months?” I spit out sarcastically.
“Men.” Bill shrugs.
Keeping Bill’s analysis of Ryker’s actions in the back of my mind, I move on and talk to Bill about the last few months. He seems happy that I’m working