Page 72 of Perfect Assumption

“Wait. I thought you two lived in New York your whole lives?”

David approaches, holding Ben as Carys and Ward unload every possible contraption necessary for a day with a two-year-old. “They did, Angie. But their parents would rent a house very similar to this one to escape the city for weekend trips. Next time you’re over, we’ll show you the photos,” he muses.

“It’s true. Rhode Island in the summer, Berkshires in the fall.”

“I notice you’re leaving out New Hampshire for skiing. Could it be because you spent more time in the snow than skiing on top of it?” Ward drawls.

Carys rolls her eyes before announcing, “I’m not very coordinated.”

Ward coughs in his hand. “It sounds an awful lot like you just said ‘understatement,’” I call him out.

“Maybe because he did.” Carys starts toward him and trips over a bag in the driveway. “Oops.”

Ward stabilizes her and Ben. “Some things never change.”

We all laugh. “Why don’t we drop everything inside, and then we can go check out the leaf pile?” I suggest.

“Leaves!” Ben flings his hands in the air, almost clipping Carys in the jaw. All the adults laugh.

While the laughter dies down, Ward apologizes. “We really should have called along the way to let you know I was tagging along. I’m sorry. I promised you I wouldn’t come here without you knowing about it.”

If I had a chance to think about Ward at my home, I’d have panicked. But am I sorry to see him so relaxed amid his family where I can learn another new facet to his personality? “I’m not. Sorry you’re here, that is,” I blurt out in a rush. My cheeks flame even in the cool air.

His eyes crinkle in the corner. “Good. I’m glad.”

Carys screeches like a banshee, breaking our moment. “Okay, Ben. I’ll put you down. Stop pulling Mommy’s hair.”

“Leaves, Mama. Go to leaves. Jump, jump, jump!”

I really try hard not to snicker, but when first David, then Ward succumb, I’m helpless not to join in.

“If one of you dares to say he sounds like me on a bad day at the office, I’ll figure out a way to assign you to Becks for the next month. And remember, it’s his favorite season—Christmas,” Carys threatens.

None of us can hold back our guffaws. But we do make our way inside the house before we immediately head out the back so Ben can do what he came to do—jump in a pile of leaves.

And inside, every time he does, a small part of me which has been chained to the past starts to jump right along with him.

Twenty-Seven

Ward

Conversation starter: What is the one thing you wouldn’t do no matter how much money you were offered?

— Viego Martinez, Celebrity Blogger

“Again!”

Angie calls back to my nephew, “Are you sure?”

“Puhlease?” Ben begs.

Angie takes off running, her long auburn hair flying out behind her. Just as she takes off to land in the pile of leaves, she lets out a war whoop. My body jerks when her head disappears until the sky rains down with her laughter and leaves. “How was that?”

“You easily outjumped Carrie on that one,” David proclaims.

Carys, who pulled herself from the massive leaf pile before Angie took off and was still plucking them from her clothes, turns and sticks her tongue out at her husband. “I’m sure Angie gets more practice.”

“Nah. I normally just bag them for recycling.” Angie emerges from the leaf pile.