Oceans Apart by Karen Kingsbury Page B

Asthma was only one of them, and each was a reminder that Max had no one.
    Short of becoming a ward of the state, whatever plan Kiahna spelled out in her will wouldn’t be one of many options for the child.
    It would be his only hope.
    53

    FIVE
    Tuesday was Michele Evans’s favorite day.
    Though a new schedule came out each month, the airline had been giving Connor a series of short flights that started Tuesday at two o’clock in the afternoon, home again Wednesday night, out Thursday by seven in the morning, and home late Friday. The schedule allowed him weekends at home—time for yard work and backyard projects and outings with the girls.
    But most of all it gave him his Tuesday mornings with Michele.
    A routine had developed, one she looked forward to all week.
    Each Tuesday they’d get up with the girls, share hot pancakes and sausage, take Elizabeth and Susan to Lakewood Elementary School, and return home by eight-thirty. At that point they’d unplug the telephone, climb back into bed, and share the next three hours pretending time didn’t matter.
    A mini-vacation in the midst of a mundane week.
    On Tuesdays they could be intimate without fear of the girls needing them, they could talk about the past week without interruption, and once in a while they even had time for a dip in the hot tub.
    Already this Tuesday morning had been fantastic. Sunshine warm enough to leave the windows open, lovemaking that would keep a smile on both their faces at least until Connor came home Wednesday night, and a conversation that was only just getting started.
    “So what exactly happened at the fair? Tell me about Elizabeth’s science project.” Connor rolled onto his side and studied Michele.
    She was propped up on two pillows, flat on her back and still beneath 54

    – Karen Kingsbury –
    the covers. Her knees were pulled up, and as she grinned at him she felt a decade younger than her thirty-nine years.
    “Okay”—she angled herself onto her side so they were facing each other—“remember the idea? Prove which kind of junk food ants liked best?”
    “Right.” He slid a few inches closer and ran his fingertips through her bangs.
    “We put out ant-size piles of Oreo cookies and Butterfingers, chocolate cake and marshmallows.” She raised her eyebrow at him.
    “Guess what happened?”
    “Butterfingers?” His voice was low, soothing. The way it often was hours into their Tuesday mornings.
    “Nope. They hated all of it. Elizabeth brushed strawberry jam on the cardboard so the ants would get stuck, but as of yesterday, she didn’t have a single ant.”
    “Maybe they don’t like strawberry jam?” She grabbed a pillow and gave him a soft whack across the face.
    “Stop.”
    This was her favorite part, the moments of laughter and silliness. In some way, these times made their marriage strong, kept her more in love with Connor Evans every year. If they could play together this way, they would always be okay.
    The conversation drifted from the kids to the house and finally to her hair clients.
    “Renee Wagner came in yesterday.”
    Renee was married to a pilot who worked for Connor’s airline.
    The two couples had been close five years ago, but over time the men took on different schedules. Renee’s husband, Joe, worked international flights, so his hours almost never coincided with Connor’s. Renee spent most of her hair appointment crying.
    Connor stroked the day-old growth on his chin. “I haven’t seen Joe in months.”
    55

    – Oceans Apart –
    Michele sat up and leaned against the headboard. “Then you don’t know?”
    “Know what?” Connor’s eyes told her he had no idea.
    A sigh slipped from Michele’s throat. “They separated two weeks ago.”
    Connor pushed himself into a sitting position, never taking his eyes from hers. “You’re kidding? Renee and Joe?”
    “She was pretty broken up. I figured you would have heard at work.”
    He raked his fingers through his hair and shook his head.