Coming Home to You Read Free Page A

far-flung universities that would strain both our finances and our relationship. Despite the fact that we knew life might eventually send us off in different directions, we were determined to walk the road side by side as long as we possibly could.
    The year after graduation proved to be the beginning of our diverging paths. Kate enthusiastically signed on with Oxfam, while I fell into a job at an area accounting firm. She was active while I was complacent. She had a passion while I had a job, and I would have been lying if I said there wasn’t part of me that was more than just a little bit jealous that she knew what she wanted from life and wasn’t afraid to go after it.
    Kate was everything I wanted to be when I grew up.
    Just without the running off to third world, impoverished, and war-torn countries part.
    I was a little too fond of indoor plumbing and other modern conveniences.
    Kate had loved Paul the minute she met him, nicknaming him “Six” and telling everyone he was the sixth brother she’d never known she always wanted. Her work with Oxfam and various other programs kept her traveling, so she didn’t have much opportunity to spend time with us; but the time we did share, no one seemed out of place or ill at ease. Everyone fit together as seamlessly and easily as though they had known each other for years instead of the brief period that it truly had been. Even Paul’s best friend Sam had met with her approval, and I’d briefly entertained the thought that the two of them might one day end up together, making us all one big happy family. A relationship like that, though, would have needed more of a foundation than merely the week-long visit she’d had with us during the two years Paul and I had been together.
    Despite the miles and the time apart, though, Kate and I had kept our friendship as strong as possible, never allowing contact to lapse—even when we had to resort to book-length letters sent through the slowly moving channels of regular mail. Paul’s death had been a devastating shock to Kate, as well, since the two of them had become close through their own exchange of letters.
    And now, she was finally coming home.

Chapter 2
    I woke the next morning to the sound of my alarm clock, a wretched, wrenching, jarring sound that seemed to be a cross between a school bell and a fire alarm. It was the first of my five alarms to go off, each set at three-minute intervals so that oversleeping was made nearly impossible.
    I opened my eyes to glare at the glowing digital numbers and smacked the snooze button.
    It was Saturday, not that it really made that much difference to me anymore. Saturdays were just another day to survive like all the rest.
    I rolled out of bed, barely managing to escape landing in an ungraceful heap on the floor, all tangled up in my sheets. I hadn’t slept well last night, though that hardly proved different from any other night. There was a decided difference in things, though—
I
felt different. I felt tired of it.
    I shuffled into the bathroom to grab my morning handful of vitamins and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked like death.
    “Good morning, beautiful,” I said sarcastically to the unrecognizable face I saw staring back at me. I looked haggard. My skin was dull, my eyes were puffy, and I was desperately in need of a haircut. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d had one. What had happened to the woman Paul had fallen in love with? I wondered if maybe she had died with him.
    I felt as though she had.
    I felt as though I was an empty shell, completely unsure of what to do and who I was anymore.
    I was still standing in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection but not really seeing anything, when the buzzer sounded. I was startled out of my near-catatonic state and propelled myself out of the bathroom, away from the image of the pathetic woman in the mirror.
    “Yes?” I asked into the little white intercom box by my front door.
    “It’s