Flying Lessons Read online

  “He had to come down for a conference in Pensacola, so I decided to bring Bonnie over here. He’ll join us Tuesday, if that’s all right.”

  “Of course.”

  I try to read between the lines and see the state of her marriage, but all I see is a beautiful young woman with a smile on her face. A good sign, I think.

  “I have something I want you to see. Bonnie, sweetheart, stand up and let Nana see your dress.”

  It’s pink batiste with tiny tucking along the bodice with delicate lace, feminine and Victorian-looking.

  “It’s my design. I’m launching Kate’s for Kids in October.”

  She grew wings after all. I am overwhelmed, and Howard steps into the breach.

  He puts his hand on Kate’s shoulder, a solid, capable hand with squared-off fingers and a sprinkling of hair along the back.

  “I’m proud of you, Kate. You’re talented, like your mother, and I’m glad to see you stepping out and taking risks.”

  A part of me that has been standing back for months holding its breath suddenly relaxes. I’ve always loved Howard’s hands. Maybe I’ve always loved him, even when I wanted to strangle him with one of his ultraconservative, ugly pinstripe ties. If it took leaving home to make me see that, the flight was worth the drama.

  We have supper on the porch, and afterward walk along the beach, Rufus trailing along, barking, and Bonnie laughing in Howard’s arms until she falls asleep.

  It’s one of those moments you want to press between the pages of an album and keep until the faded yellow pages fall apart.

  When we go back inside, Kate says good-night and goes to my old bedroom while Howard and I stand shoulder to shoulder beside the baby grand piano.

  “I can sleep on the cabbage roses,” he says.

  “No.” I take his hand and lead him to my bedroom.

  “It was quite a day, toots.”

  “It was.”

  Amazing, really, when you consider how far we had to travel to find each other again.

  The chili peppers are flung across the bedspread where I left them. When I reach to move them so I can turn back the covers, Howard stops me.

  “Let me.” He hangs them on the bedpost, while I watch, suddenly shy.

  “Did you bring your pajamas?”

  “No. I don’t need them.”

  I have to tamp down my elation. After all, it’s only a pair of pajamas, a small concession. There are still lots of unresolved issues between us, including Jenny.

  We climb into bed on opposite sides, and he reaches out and draws me into his arms. Everything about him is familiar to me—the smell of his after-shave, the feel of his beard stubble against my cheek, the angle and fit of his bones between his neck and shoulder—familiar and yet brand-new. This time he’s present in the bed really holding me, finally seeing me.

  And I hope I see him, too. I really do.

  Howard reaches between us and links his fingers through mine.

  “Does this mean we’re okay, Elizabeth?”

  “I don’t know, yet. But it’s a good start.”

  FLYING LESSONS

  Copyright © 2006 Peggy Webb

  ISBN: 978-1-4592-4427-6

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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