Page 12 of The One that Got Away

"Of course," she said, grateful for the distraction. "You can start by helping me restock the napkin holders."

"Yay, I want to help too!" Abigail cheered, her enthusiasm momentarily dispelling the clouds of uncertainty.

Together, they turned toward the task, Lisa's determination reignited by the simple joy of her children's willingness to stand with her. Each fold of a napkin and each placement of a cup became an act of defiance against the whispers and worries trying to split them apart.

"Thank you, guys. You're my little heroes," Lisa whispered, watching them work with earnest dedication. In this small town where secrets whispered like wind through the trees, she'd keep the flame of her family's unity burning bright.

The aroma of rosemary and roasted chicken filled the cozy kitchen as Lisa, with practiced grace, shuffled between the stove and the countertop. She hummed softly to herself, a tune her mother used to sing when she was a child, as she stirred the simmering pot of homemade gravy. The golden light of early evening poured through the window, casting a warm glow over the dinner table she had meticulously set with their best china. In each detail—the folded napkins, the carefully placed cutlery, the vase of freshly picked wildflowers—Lisa wove a tapestry of comfort, aiming to cocoon her family from the storms outside.

Her movements were fluid, almost dance-like, as she added a pinch of salt here and a dash of pepper there while keeping a watchful eye on baby Julia, who gurgled happily. Ethan and Abigail, now engrossed in their homework at the kitchen island, occasionally looked up to sneak peeks at their mother, telling her they were hungry and asking when the food would be done.

The door creaked open, and Oliver stepped inside, the cool evening breeze slipping in behind him. He paused momentarily, taking in the scene before him: the children at ease, the baby's infectious laughter, the sumptuous spread on the table. His eyes met Lisa's, and time seemed to stand still for that fleeting second. Her smile was the light he had sought so often these past days, yet beneath it, he sensed the undercurrent of worry that threatened to pull her under.

"Smells amazing in here," Oliver said, his voice threading through the air like the delicate strains of Lisa's humming. He leaned down to plant a soft kiss on baby Julia's forehead, eliciting a squeal of delight from the little one.

"Thanks," Lisa replied, turning her attention back to the gravy boat in her hands. "I thought we could use a nice family dinner tonight."

Oliver nodded, running a hand through his tousled dark hair—a habit that betrayed his efforts to hide his unease. As he hung up his jacket, he glanced at the table setting, the effort Lisa had put into it a silent testament to her determination to maintain normalcy. He wanted to say more, to peel away the layers of tension that had settled between them, but the words felt heavy on his tongue.

"Can I help with anything?" he offered instead, reaching for the salad tongs.

"No, it's all under control. Why don't you sit down and relax for a bit? Dinner will be ready soon." Her voice was gentle, yet there was a firmness, a subtle armor she wore to defend against the uncertainty gnawing at her heart.

Oliver pulled out a chair but remained on his feet, leaning against it as he watched Lisa glide around the kitchen. There was something mesmerizing about her resilience, the way she held herself amid the whirlwind of emotions they both knew swirled around them.

"Hey, Oliver!" Ethan called out, breaking the spell. "Can you help me with a math problem? I’m not sure I got it right."

"Let me see, buddy," Oliver said, smiling as he walked over to inspect the homework. He ruffled Ethan's hair affectionately, a surge of pride mingling with an unspoken fear of the unknown. “You nailed it. It’s perfect.”

Lisa observed them from the corner of her eye, allowing herself a momentary respite from her inner turmoil. Whatever tomorrow might bring, she thought, they would face it together—as a family. With a final stir of the gravy, she announced, "Dinner's ready," and the comforting clatter of dishes and cutlery began, a symphony of domesticity that, for now, held the night's shadows at bay.

The last of the dinner plates had been cleared away, the children's laughter now just an echo in the dimly lit kitchen. Lisa watched through the window as the sun dipped below the mountains, painting the sky with streaks of orange and purple. She clutched the hem of her apron, feeling the fabric's weave beneath her fingers.

"Lisa?" Oliver's voice was soft and tentative as he stepped into the room, his shadow stretching across the floorboards.

"Julia's finally asleep," she said, turning toward him, her expression a careful blend of affection and weariness.

"Good, good." He ran a hand through his hair, dark strands standing rebelliously against his palm. "We need to talk."

She nodded, bracing herself for the conversation she knew they couldn't avoid any longer. They moved to the living room, a space that felt too vast for just the two of them. Settling on the couch, their bodies were close, but their spirits were miles apart.

"Oliver, I—" Lisa began, but her words tangled like knotted wood shavings in her throat.

"Lisa, I know this is hard. I never meant for Ava's return to?—"

"Upend our lives?" Lisa interjected, the hurt spilling over. "You've been so distant since she arrived, and I don't know where we stand anymore."

Oliver reached for her hand, his fingers rough from crafting wood yet gentle in their touch. "I love you. And the kids. That hasn't changed. But Daniel…." His voice trailed off.

"Is he going to be part of our family now?" Lisa's question hung between them, fraught with implications.

"Daniel is my son. I want to be there for him, but not at the expense of what we've built." Oliver's eyes searched hers, seeking an anchor in the tumult.

"Can we even afford this? The shop, the café—they're barely breaking even. Now, with Ava and Daniel…." Lisa's resolve wavered as she pictured the precarious balance of their finances teetering on the edge.

"Hey, we'll figure it out. We always do." Oliver's assurance felt hollow, and his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Always do?" Lisa's voice rose, sharpened by fear and frustration. "What if we can't?"

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