His Ordinary Life by Linda Winfree Read Free Book Online Page B

slammed the door behind her. The sharp bite of charcoal smoke lingered in the air, mixing with the sweetness of her roses. The neighbors loved to grill; she doubted they ever used their state-of-the-art kitchen. Somehow, the idea of cooking seemed as heavy as her bag, laden with research papers to be graded. It pulled on her shoulder and she adjusted it, fumbling with her keys as she approached the front door. It swung open before she reached it.
    Del reached for her bag. “Let me get that.”
    She shrugged off his hand. “I’ve got it.”
    The tempting aroma of grilled meat hovered in the air. She glanced at him, refusing to dwell on how his faded jeans hugged his lean hips. “You cooked?”
    He nodded, a small ironic smile playing about his mouth. “You didn’t think I expected you to do it, did you?”
    Actually, she’d never entertained the idea that he would have supper ready and waiting when she arrived home. Half the time during their married years, he hadn’t been home for supper, had eaten leftovers long after the children were in bed.
    She dropped her things by the couch and brushed her hair from her face. “I didn’t think about it at all.”
    Quiet reverberated through the house, all the noise of teenage interaction missing. Even the television stood silent. “Where are the kids?”
    “Their rooms, avoiding me.” His laugh emerged forced and uncomfortable.
    “What do you mean?” Frowning, she walked to the kitchen. Five place settings graced the table along with a large salad. Foil-jacketed potatoes waited on the counter next to a platter of steaks grilled to exquisite perfection. A ridiculous lump of tears gathered in her throat. It was just grilled steak. Why did she feel like crying?
    He followed and leaned in the doorway. “I think Blake would cut off his pitching arm to keep from having to talk to me. Lyssa is ticked because I made her do her homework instead of talking on the phone, and Anna…”
    His voice trailed away in a rough clearing of his throat. Barbara eyed the tight line of his jaw. “Lyssa shouldn’t be upset. She knows the rule is homework first. It’s just because you’re in a different role. She’s used to the weekend you, the guy with the fun activities and the relaxed rules—”
    “Yeah.” His collar stood open, revealing a vee of tanned skin and a dusting of dark hair. Her fingertips itched for the feel of that smooth, warm skin and she clenched her hands into tight fists. He gestured at the platter of steaks. “We should eat before it gets cold.”
    She wondered at the way his face closed, but nodded. “I’ll call the kids.”
    All through dinner, the strange silence weighted the table. Odd looks passed between Lyssa and Anna, and Blake sulked, pushing his food around his plate but not really eating. A hard knot formed in Barbara’s stomach. Too many memories of other family meals, filled with laughter and conversation, flitted through her mind, a reminder of what they’d had once upon a time.
    After dinner, while the children cleared the table, she and Del walked outside. Barbara’s melancholy lingered and she avoided looking at Del. She settled into a sling chair, a green market umbrella blocking the late evening sun.
    “Tick brought up something I hadn’t thought of.” Hands shoved in his pockets, Del leaned against the railing. “We need a way to make sure he doesn’t sneak out again.”
    “We can’t exactly nail his window shut.” Although she’d seriously considered it once or twice during the long day.
    “I know. But I think I have an idea.”
    “Okay. I’m listening.” She was glad one of them had an idea. She was all out.
    Freeing his hands, he rubbed his palms down the outside of his thighs, a nervous gesture she recognized. “I should stay until he gets the message that we mean business.”
    That was his idea? Hadn’t they already agreed he wasn’t going back to Atlanta yet? “That’s great, but we need more of a plan than that. So