The Return Page 9

  “And you’re a believer.”

  “In many ways. Yes, I am.”

  Phillip dipped his head, claimed her lips without warning, without pretense, without apology. He craved her desperately. He drank from their kiss like a parched man, drawing his fingers softly through her hair, sinking, spinning, allowing the flood of rightness…of completeness…to overwhelm and connect. Within the moment, Phillip tasted the promise of the future, the contentment to be found in the arms, and care, of someone who loved him, shared his life, and filled his spirit.

  The distance between this moment and everything else in his life became meaningless debris blowing away against the love that flooded his senses and unlocked the depths of his heart.

  At last they tempered the moment, drawing apart by slow, steady increments that banked the flames rather than burying them.

  Phillip came to rest in the steadiness of her gaze, cradled her face between his hands like precious treasure.

  Mila slipped her hands against his forearms, never flinching from the intensity of the moment. “I believe in you, Phillip.”

  ~*~

  Don’t do it. Don’t. Do. It. Sneaking off is wrong.

  The refrain played repeatedly through Phillip’s mind, forming a repeat cycle he tried—and failed—to ignore.

  He wasn’t sneaking off. Attending a meeting with his former employer in Indianapolis today was nothing more than a case of exploration. Besides, there was something poetic about having a chance to traverse a road he had thought broken and irreparable. No question he was a different man now. Changed from the core. All the same, he wanted—no, he needed—to explore the opportunity at Millenbech, Incorporated.

  After Mila left his apartment the other day, he had promptly called Matt Hobbs and discussed the details of a job offering that would put him back in charge of a business portfolio for a tech firm headquartered in Indy the likes of which he had dreamed of for years. Meanwhile, the time in Antioch had helped him grow up. He had learned from the mistakes of the past. Perhaps he could convince Mila to pursue a life in Indianapolis? Wouldn’t she be just the type to embrace a new opportunity in an opportunity-driven city like Indianapolis?

  He prepared for the two-hour drive south, knotting his blue silk tie, arranging the collar of his white dress shirt and double checking the fall of his suit coat. All the while, doubts slid into place with the neat, expert precision of chess pieces being maneuvered across a board. There wasn’t a chance she’d move to Indianapolis. Not after she had scored a major account for Sundae Afternoon.

  But that was part of the point. Didn’t he deserve the same chance to explore a growth opportunity of his own? To Phillip’s mind, chances hovered at the fifty-fifty mark as to whether this day trip would amount to much more than a swan song to his former life. No harm, no foul.

  Don’t do it without telling her—or telling them. Pop and Aaron especially.

  The voice of truth niggled, prodding at him, and Phillip battled. This meeting carried with it all the undercurrents of clandestine intrigue, and from his perspective, there was no reason for that to be the case.

  No reason at all.

  ~*~

  “Phil!”

  Phillip looked up from the current edition of a popular money magazine he held and then tossed it smoothly onto the glass reception table. Standing, he greeted the arrival of Matt Hobbs with a smile and a nod.

  “It’s great to see you, man, come on back.” Matt whapped Phillip on the back and offered an enthusiastic handshake before leading the way to his office not far beyond. “So, it looks as though the sabbatical agreed with you. You’ve even got a tan going.”

  Phillip blanched. The tan Matt alluded to dawned as the result of hard work, sweat, and toil. “The sabbatical? Matt, I wasn’t on any kind of sabbatical. I was let go.”

  Matt crossed the threshold of a glassed in eight by ten room that was so typical a space for the up-and-comers at Millenbech. Phil’s business residence had been just a few doors down. Easy come, easy go…

  “OK, OK. You were let go, but you were never far from mind. We knew we’d be pulling you back in before long.” Matt gestured toward a nearby chair. “Have a seat. We simply needed to let the dust settle as that whole ‘right sizing’ episode played out and economic conditions stabilized.”

  Economic conditions, weather conditions, soil conditions, what was the difference, really, between this world and that of the farm? The flood of insight left Phillip silent for a moment. The difference was love, and heart. He sat, crossed his legs, and opted not to offer a comment on corporate machinations, and politically correct descriptives.

  Matt continued. “So, let’s make this short and sweet. As I explained to you the other day, we need your strengths at market reads and strategy. The portfolio we landed from Symbiotic Tech is tailor-made for you because the last thing on their radar is what you can handle for them—financial structuring, debt, and income strategy. It’s a slam dunk.”

  “I’ve been interviewing elsewhere and unearthed a few opportunities that are just as appealing, closer to home and my family.”

  Matt stretched back in his chair, swiveling slightly. A Cheshire-cat smile bloomed. “My cue to discuss salary—”

  “Ah, no. Not at all.”

  “We want you back at a ten-percent pay increase with bonus options based on revenue savings to Symbiotic Tech.”

  Phillip moved to interrupt. A disagreeable flavor bloomed against his spirit.

  Matt, however, plowed ahead. “Additionally, there’ll be no more chasing your tail riding out month after month of going after sales and accounts. You’ll be head of strategic development for their investment portfolio, and we’re contracted for a five-year term. Your strength has always been reading trends, market fluctuations. You never signed on for business development, and it was unfair of the firm to expect it of you and add so much pressure.”

  An epiphany didn’t just occur, it dazzled and overwhelmed in a conclusive silence that built and then crowded the air. The life he had vacated, with its frantic do-or-die-right-this-very-second vibrations left him empty and cold—longing for green earth and slow, steady nourishment.

  Longing for Mila.

  “Matt, I appreciate the vote of confidence.” And Phillip meant it. This meeting, this chance, gave him clear definition, closure, and more confidence than ever in a future built around the woman he loved, in the town he loved, in concert with the family he’d never again forsake. Phillip leaned forward. “I’ll be equally frank and tell you I’m not sure this is what I want anymore. Your interest, our history, warranted this meeting, and I’ll admit beyond that I was curious to hear the details of your plan and see if I was authentically finished with the world I inhabited here.”

  Matt frowned, openly puzzling. “And?”

  “And my answer is: Thank you. Thank you, but no thank you. I don’t think this”—Phillip encompassed the office they occupied, the wide-open desk spaces and floor to ceiling windows of the bull pen just beyond that hummed with the buzz and conversation of young lions at work— “is what I want any longer.”

  “You can say that after only a couple months away?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I can.”

  10

  Mila closed the door and turned the locks on another day at Sundae Afternoon, chiding herself soundly for checking the darkened outer stairwell leading to the upper floor apartment. Sure, Phillip lived just above her store. Sure, Phillip was a paid tenant of the property owned and operated by her and her family. Those facts didn’t allow her to check up on him, though. Those truths didn’t give her license to be a…what was the best word? Watchdog? Beyond-interested-bystander? She chuckled under her breath and pocketed her keys. She had joked with Phillip about being a quasi-stalker. Maybe that comparison wasn’t too far off the mark.

  Still…where was he? The farm? Another interview? Mila checked her watch. It was getting late, past six o’clock actually, and he hadn’t mentioned any new job ops since the p
romising exploration that took place last week with Maddox Ag. Mila stared at the darkened kitchen window that overlooked the stairwell, nibbled at the corner of her lip.

  Phillip. In Antioch. For good.

  The flood of pleasure no longer took her by surprise. The attraction had also become as familiar as the touch of his fingertips against her cheeks, the underside of her jaw, the slide of his lips against hers. Fighting a quiver, Mila turned, resolute now about walking away from her shop…and his empty apartment.

  “Ooof!”

  Mila absorbed the exclamation and shock of running smack-dab into the broad chest and steadying hold of Aaron Fisher.

  “Aaron—I’m so sorry.”

  “No worries. Sorry for startling you.” They exchanged sheepish grins.

  “I was distracted. You here to see Phillip?”

  “I was hoping to, yeah. Some reps from the USDA stopped by the farm and met with Dad. I’ve tried reaching him with no luck. Starting to wonder where he is.”

  “He wasn’t at the farm today?”

  “No.” Aaron shrugged. “Not to be my brother’s keeper or anything, but I’m getting a little concern—”

  “Not to worry. Your brother is both present and accounted for, Aaron.”

  Mila and Aaron whirled in unison toward the sound of Phillip’s voice.

  He had stepped toward them from behind, on a sidewalk in front of the shop just now glazed by the pearly grays and rich shadows of sundown. Unheard and unannounced, with his suit coat draped neatly across his arm, Phillip presented a polished and very business-like image. His tie was fixed precisely in a splash of royal blue color against a crisp, white shirt. Gray silk slacks, dress shoes and a vibration of easy confidence left Mila to catch her breath. He looked amazing—dressed to impress. In addition, the quick grin he flashed at his brother—so full of teasing and affection—caused her pulse to react. Phillip was such a gorgeous, charming specimen.

  But just as quickly as that thought bloomed, questions mounted. Silence stretched, all but demanding the question that burned through Mila’s mind. “You were missed today, it seems. Everything OK?”

  “You bet.” Phillip’s expression went from easy to guarded, but still he smiled.

  Mila, however, had not mistaken the veil that crossed his features.

  “So, you two were looking for me. Want to come up for a few?”

  Aaron seemed to sniff something in the air; Mila watched in silence as he scowled, and agreed to Phillip’s offer with a nod. “Yeah. Sure.”

  She followed the two men, marching up the stairwell to Phillip’s apartment entrance.

  Once inside, the conversation resumed in earnest, starting with Aaron.

  “Reps from the USDA stopped by the farm today and we were—”

  “Looking for me?” Phillip interrupted with smooth ease. “Yeah. I got the voicemails and saw the half-dozen missed calls. I had no idea there was an appointment.”

  “It was impromptu. Doug Godfreid and Jeff Thomas from the local office stopped by to talk about the harvest. We spent the better part of the day comparing notes and sharing insights from neighboring farms to get a handle on crop forecasts.”

  “I was in Indy.” Only then did his glance ping from Aaron to Mila…and back again.

  “Indy.” Suspicion coated those two syllables; Aaron visibly awakened to past hurt—doubts—pain. “That’s unexpected. What’s going on in Indy that you stopped and dropped?”

  “A job op.”

  “A job op?” Mila spoke in a hushed, hoarse tone while Aaron stared.

  “That’s not impromptu,” Aaron quipped at last, his eyes narrow, nose flared. “You failed to mention it.” He gestured toward Mila. “To anyone, it seems.”

  “Why would I?”

  “Maybe because people care about you, Phillip.” Mila took over, shocked. He had been at a job interview today? In Indianapolis? Without telling anyone? What kind of covert operation was Phillip running? Judging by Aaron’s carefully banked expression of anger, her attitude was matched verse-for-verse. “Maybe because you need to start learning to let people into your life when it comes to matters that are important—life changing.”

  “Kinda feels like history repeating itself.” Aaron had composed himself. His quiet decree, although void of anger and hostility, revealed something much deeper. Hurt. Pain. As a result, his words bore twice the impact.

  Sadness entered the room like the press of ocean waves—pervasive, and obliterating all the goodness that had come before. All that had been accomplished in the months since Phillip’s return to Antioch. Forward motion had been eradicated as the result of a stinking ‘job op.’

  Mila wanted to weep, crumple to the ground, and rail at her weakness of heart and spirit. How on earth had she allowed herself to fall? To believe?

  To love?

  “Don’t write me off just yet, brother. You either, Mila.” Phillip’s quiet statement rang with an undercurrent of decisiveness.

  Silence fell and tension built.

  He remained carefully composed, his focus moving between her and Aaron while the heat index shot upward. Mila wanted to understand. In desperate measure, she longed to believe in Phillip, but internal struggles came to life. Why had he scurried to Indy without so much as a word of explanation or warning? Why hadn’t he discussed this unexpected and sudden ‘job op’ with those closest to him unless he felt consumed by guilt?

  Talk about incriminating evidence.

  Heavy hearted and confused, Mila turned toward the door, rested her hand on the knob before taking that last step over the threshold, toward a hasty and broken exit. “I need to get going, but we can talk in the morning if you’d like, Phillip. I want to hear all about it. Aaron, I’ll talk to you later.”

  Although she laced her words with genuine care and interest, inwardly Mila shattered. She left his apartment on swift feet, mindless to everything but the pound of her heart, the prospect of loss, the bone-deep ache of sorrow.

  ~*~

  Once the door clicked closed behind Mila, Phillip puffed air through pursed lips. He closed his eyes while rocking back on his heels. On the inside, he awaited that fateful second shoe drop; he braced for the explosion of Aaron’s temper, counting it as more than justified.

  Hadn’t Spirit prompts warned him repeatedly not to skulk away from Antioch? Hadn’t he—as though never learning a thing since his return—ignored that rush of wisdom in favor of reestablished pride and, best of all, vindication? Hadn’t he—just like before—dropped the ball on those he cared for the most?

  Instead of all that, and much To Phillip’s shock, Aaron studied him in a posture both steady and calm.

  “Phillip?” Aaron heaved a deep breath. “Tell me what happened. Talk to me. Really talk to me about this, OK? I’ll listen. I promise.”

  Aaron seemed sincere, earnest. Phillip opted to take the risk and believe him, launching into a detailed explanation of the phone call from Matt, the agony of indecision as to which path to follow, the resurrection of his professional life at Millenbech, and the interview that had ended with his flat rejection of the job offer, no matter how lucrative. And the upper echelon of Millenbech had made sure it was lucrative.

  But nothing could sway Phillip now. He poured free to Arron, like the old days, revealing the sense of finality he needed, the affirmation of the life he had found—the life he now loved on many levels—in Antioch, Indiana, of all places.

  Aaron listened without comment or interruption, without the sneers or patterns of judgment that had black-marked so much of Phillips early days back on the farm.

  The loosening of restraint allowed Phillip the freedom of exploring himself, pin-pointing his motives and goals, revealing the depth of his heart toward Mila.

  Nothing on earth could have helped him more.

  “I’m through being angry,” Aaron concluded. “Too much wasted time and effort.”

  “And trust me when I say, I’m through running. I’m here for good. If the inter
view I had in Fort Wayne last week doesn’t pan out, I’ll just keep looking.”

  “It’s good to have you back, Phillip. Really good.” Aaron’s slow-spreading smile curved without reservation and worked on Phillip’s soul like a tonic—especially since he knew he had messed up big time with Mila. “Sounds to me as if there’s just one thing left to do.”

  “Which is?”

  Aaron laughed deep and free, in a way Phillip hadn’t heard near often enough during his return. Aaron shook his head, banging against Phillip’s shoulder in passing as he prepared to take his leave. “Get things straight with Mila. You’re gone on that girl, Phillip, and I can just about guarantee the feeling is more than mutual. Don’t wait, and don’t second guess.”

  “Maybe you’re right.”

  Aaron snickered. “Maybe?”

  Phillip stared blankly at the floor while thoughts tossed, while nerves came alive, skittering in time to an uneven pulse. He reached into his slacks pocket for his cell phone and punched through recent calls until he found the number he needed. “I’ll see her, but there’s something I need to do first.”

  11

  Mila’s sleepless night led to a morning punctuated by grouchiness and a near-constant urge to surrender to stinging eyes and a sadness that saturated clear to the bones. The morning after Phillip’s revelation of a surprise interview with his previous employer, Millenbech, she entered the sunny environment of Sundae Afternoon, looking forward to burying herself in work.

  Phillip was leaving. The jerk.

  That five-word refrain appeased her anger—slightly—but did nothing to eliminate the pain.

  How could he turn his back? How could he walk away? Again? How could he have not told her what was going on? Talk about the pain of a knife jab. They had found their way into a relationship as unexpected as it was beautiful. How could he simply take a drive, have an interview, and then decide to walk away?

  Tears built, infuriating Mila to no end. Fierce and determined, she blinked them away. OK. He was leaving. Fine. Let him. Obviously, he hadn’t learned a thing about the power of the heart versus a quest for ‘more.’