As they approached the back door, the aroma of what he'd prepared wafted out at them.
God it smelled good, she thought. "I just want to wash my hands, okay?" She said after entering the kitchen.
He glanced at her over his shoulder, still working on something on the stove. There was classical music coming quietly from the CD player on the counter. "Yeah, of course, Andrew can you help me over here?" he turned back to what he was doing.
The child approached him, "You really need to give her a chance, please, for me?" he said as the boy reached him. "Make an effort, try to connect, reach out to her, please?"
"I'll do my best, Boone." He answered.
When Shannon returned, they sat down at the kitchen table, bowls of Bouillabaisse in front of them. He'd pulled a loaf of homemade bread out of a drawer and set it on the table with a board and a knife, along with a salad. She smiled at him softly, thinking about how amazing he was, and the gourmet food he'd prepared so casually. She loved him so desperately, she wondered again how she could possibly have left, knowing full well what the answer to that was.
"You guys work things out?" he wondered. Knowing there was something hidden between them.
"Yeah, I think we're okay now." She responded, looking at Andrew for confirmation.
"It's okay Boone," he shrugged.
She glanced at the clock, it was barely six, she was glad they'd gone for a ride after picking Andrew up at school. "You guys always eat this early?" she questioned.
"Andrew's got homework," he provided.
"Yeah, I can't concentrate if I'm hungry, so on school nights we eat early. We're more civilized on weekends and holidays, though." He smiled at her.
"So, what kinds of things do you guys do when it's not a school night?" she attempted to open a conversation with him.
They sat around the table, talking as if it was the most natural thing in the world, as if she hadn't just shown up yesterday, after six years.
"So, you want to help me with my homework?" He asked her after a while, remembering Boone's request that he try to connect with her, "You any good at math?"
Boone choked on a piece of food at that. Andrew looked, concerned, towards his father, Shannon just glared at Boone, exasperated.
'I'm okay,' he thought at them both, reaching for his glass of water.
"Uh, I guess you can take it from his reaction that obviously that'd be a no," she shook her head and rolled her eyes.
There was a knock at the kitchen door, the inside one that led to the store, then it opened. A teenaged boy stood there, obviously one of the stores' after school part timers, a piece of paper in his hand. "Boone?"
"Yeah, Terry…" he started.
"Terry," Shannon interrupted. "You want to wait 'til we say come in before you just barge into our home?" She was guessing that Boone probably had an open door policy for his staff, but she was going to put a stop to it right now.
The boy looked suitably chastised, "Sorry." Boone shook his head, she never changed.
"It's okay, you're in here now. What did you want?" she asked, not bothering to introduce herself.
"Boone, Joan left you a note." He held out the paper in his hand, walking over to hand it to him.
"Thanks. This, as I'm sure you've guessed, is Shannon, my charming wife." The kid just smiled at her nervously, nodded his head; then made a quick exit.
"Way to frighten the staff, sis," he snorted a small laugh. "Oh, no," he groaned reading what Joan had written.
"What?" Andrew asked.
He read the note out loud: "Mr. Perkins was in for some cinnamon buns and wasn't pleased you hadn't made any. Guess who's delivering them to his house tomorrow morning on the way to drop his kid off at school? BTW, your first guess doesn't count. Joan."
"Guess I know what you're back to doing this evening." Andrew laughed.
She smiled, remembering how he'd get things prepped the night before so they'd be freshly baked in the morning.
After dinner, Andrew headed upstairs to his room, school work waiting for him, while the other two found themselves in the commercial kitchen area Boone had added to the house in her absence. She watched while he moved efficiently around the space, measuring flour and other ingredients. They chatted easily while she sat on a stool and watched him work. "I can't believe he asked me for help with his math homework." She commented at one point, watching for his reaction. She had a feeling she knew exactly why Andrew had asked.
"He doesn't really need the help, but I know you already figured that out. He was just doing it because I asked him to try to connect with you. I just didn't expect it'd be with something so patently absurd." He waited for the fallout to his last two words, he loved sparring with her.
"Patently absurd!" she echoed, indignantly.
"Well, you barely made it through high school, and…" he started.
"Don't you even go there, shithead, you know very well that I could have done well in school. I just didn't want to. Who the hell cares what the rainfall in the Serengeti is, or the value of pi!"
"The Serengeti? It's like, 20 to 40 inches, and pi is 3.14159." he answered smugly. He pulled the dough out of the mixer.
"You are such an asshat, Boone. Tell me exactly what that information's going to get you?" she demanded.
"A rise…out of you." He smirked at her.
She couldn't believe she'd fallen for it so easily. She laughed softly, and shook her head at her stupidity. "Andrew's studying Watership Down in school?" she changed the subject, wanting to put her humiliation behind her. "It seems a little advanced for, what, grade 3 or 4?"
"He's actually in grade 6 Advanced English. They wanted to fast track him, and I agreed. He was so bored in his regular grade, that I let them skip him a few times. They actually wanted to do it again, but I said no. He's already so very different from his classmates, though they don't know the half of it, what with his strange parentage, and my problems, and the stupid ESP, and the crash and everything else, I didn't want his age to add to it. I might let them do it again in a couple of years, I'll have to see."
"We," she reminded him.
"Sorry, of course, we'll have to see." He amended. "I thought about enrolling him a private school, one that'd better cater to his needs, but the only ones I could find that I thought were suitable were so far away that it would have meant I'd have to send him away. I couldn't see myself doing that, not having him here, he was all I had. I know it's selfish." He hung his head, a bit ashamed.
"Boone, the last thing you are is selfish. You were all he had too. It would have been just as hard for him to leave you. But why didn't you just move?" she thought it seemed like a perfectly sound alternative.
"And what if you came back, like you've done? Where was the first place you came? I'm sure you just got off the plane, rented a car and drove directly here, didn't you?" he explained his reason for staying. "What if you'd arrived and we were gone?"
"I would have called our lawyer to find out where you were." She replied.
"Would you? Or would it have given you second thoughts, like maybe because we were gone, it was a sign that meant we weren't supposed to be together. I know it sounds stupid, like some mystical island crap, but I was so afraid to make any changes that might chance our never connecting again, in the event that you decided to return." He tried to legitimize his decision. "Anyway," he shook his head, dismissing it, "it doesn't matter, he's doing really well, it's a small school and they're giving him lots of special attention."
"I can't believe he's that smart. I know you were no slouch academically, but I just didn't care." She thought back to his university degree, obtained a couple of years sooner than normal, and her almost botched attempt at finishing high school.
"Just because you didn't care, doesn't mean you're not intelligent. I think you've proven that." He finished rolling out the dough and started sprinkling spices over it.
"Thanks, I think," she smiled at him.
"Hey guys," Andrew came in through the door. He'd finished his homework and was going to read a while before going to bed, he'd just come down to say goodnight. Boone gave him a hug, and kissed the top of his head. He moved awkwardly to Shannon. She was just as uncomfortable as he was; both so unused to the situation. She smiled sadly and leaned down and kissed his cheek, he looked up at her, startled. They locked eyes for an instant, then he smiled as well. "Night Shan." He gave her a quick peck.
Boone watched the whole exchange intently, smiling at Andrew's retreating back as he left for bed. He hid his expression and returned to what he was doing; not wanting to make her any more uncomfortable than she already was by making a big thing of it.
"You finished feeling smug yet, asshole?" She looked at him, knowing exactly what he was trying to hide.
When he was done and had put the finished product in the oven, setting the timer for the morning, he suggested they go out to the yard, and have a glass of wine. They sat quietly as night fell, just enjoying each other's company. There would be plenty of time to talk in the days, and years to come.
Upstairs in the bedroom, after closing the door, he spoke "I have something for you." He crossed to the dresser. Opening the bottom drawer he reached under some t-shirts and pulled out a packet of papers, holding them out to her.
They were letters, his return address in the upper left corner, her name and various addresses written, carefully, in his neat, precise handwriting in the centre. She realized, startled, that she recognized the addresses as places she'd lived over the intervening years. She looked up at him. He'd known exactly where she was all that time, and had never tried to interfere or intrude, never tried to contact her. She felt the tears start immediately. "Christ Boone, Jesus…." It was all she could get out. She counted them slowly: eighteen.
"I wrote one on each of our birthdays, yours, mine, Andrews', and one on our anniversary. You left after he turned three; I was in no condition to write one on my birthday that year, so they start on our anniversary, the last one's dated a little over two months ago. I don't think I ever really intended to send them; they were more of a catharsis for me. I still got your addresses though, just in case. Our lawyer knew where you were. I knew you'd have to keep him informed of that. I paid our credit card bills, so I knew generally where you were, but he kept you supplied with cash. I told him to give you whatever you wanted. I got the addresses from him, don't blame him, you didn't ask that it be confidential."
She pulled off the elastic and started to open the oldest one, he put out his hand to stop her. "Don't," he said shaking his head. "I can't watch you read them, please."
"Okay, honey, I'll wait." She put them in the drawer of her nightstand. She reached her hand up to brush the hair off his forehead, before resting her palm, briefly, on his cheek. "Why didn't you mail them?"
"For the same reason I never tried to contact you by phone. The decision to leave wasn't mine, it was yours, and I didn't want to make you feel like you had to come back sooner than you were ready, or," he paused, "even at all."
She shook her head, amazed at how selfless he was, "I…I don't know what to say. I guess," she shrugged, "thanks for that. I can't imagine what it cost you."
"My sanity for a while, then, I don't know…I guess I was just numb, until I got used to the emptiness." He reached out and unwittingly imitated her gesture, slipping his fingers through the hair on her forehead, then cupping her cheek, "I missed you so much." He pulled her against him, burying his face in her hair, breathing the wild, musky scent of her.
They were soon naked, and she was leading him to the bed.