Welcome Home

"What? You can't be serious! I don't understand how can we be over?"

"Alisa, I need time." Jonathan exhaled and sighed, it was going worse than he thought.

"Time?" Alisa cocked an eyebrow then let them come together as if thinking hard. "You've been seeing someone else! I can't believe it; you've been cheating on me."

"Alisa, chill and let me explain."

"Explain what, about how I've been so blind. I don't think so! I should have left a long time ago, but I'm so stubborn!" Twenty- year Alisa got up and left the restaurant. She drove out of the parking lot and got on the highway; she drove for hours not stopping. Until, she came to a small town in New York. She drove until she came to a two story white house.

"Mom, I'm home!" She threw her keys in the bowl on the table by the entry way. She looked to see if anyone was there and was surprised that no one was.

"Hey, she's not here right now." A tall man about twenty-two with dark curly, hair and deep blue eyes announced.

"Who are you?" Alisa snapped.

"I'm Quinton; my mother went out with Melinda for the afternoon."

Alisa cocked an eyebrow; she was confused, "Who is this man and how does he know my mother's first name."

"Why are you here?" They were standing in the massive parlor on the first floor arguing. Not getting anywhere with their bickering.

"I'm painting a room upstairs." He replied coolly

"You're what?" Alisa ran up the oak steps to her old room and sure enough—it was being painted. A pale yellow was over her snow white paint. Everything was gone, her bed, her dresser, everything.

Alisa's mother was an ex-designer and was always trying to get her to do something different with her room, but she never aloud it.

"I don't believe it." Alisa gasped, "I knew mom would change everything after I left."

"So Alisa, your back." The man announced with a glee in his voice.

Alisa raked her mind to figure out who he was then it donned on her Quinton. The boy she had loved, betrayed, and turned her back on.

"You've heard of me and how rebellious I am and how I left my family… you know all the bad stuff." Alisa said trying to sound convincing that she still didn't know who he was.

He chuckled, "that and a lot of other stuff." He stood looking at her smiling.

"How's that boyfriend of yours?"

"So she has told you all the bad stuff. Well, she'll be glad to know we're not dating. And no, I do not want to talk about it." She said looking at the carpet.

"Really, she will be glad to hear that." Quinton replied smiling, "You have no idea who I am do you?"

"I have an idea."

"How about we go for a drive, and refresh your memory. It has been a long six years."

"O.k." Alisa grabbed her keys off the table.

"We'll take my car." He walked her around back to a blue, sporty convertible Ferrari.

"My mother bought a Ferrari? She's flip her lid!" She stood there in shock

Quinton chuckled, "No, its mine."

"What do you do for a living?" Alisa asked getting in being ever so careful.

"There is no you are going to believe, but I work for the CIA." He said pulling out of the drive way.

"That's funny." She giggled

"I do, I went to school for six years and I'm not done yet. I still have two to three to go." He smiled at her questionable gaze thinking that she was more beautiful than he remembered.

"Quinton, what's you last name?" she asked

"Foster."

"You're the boy. I knew it; we always went on wild adventures together. You lived down the street from my house." Her eyes got wide as she remembered; she looked at him.

"No way!" Quinton chuckled… "Ya that would be me."

"…a cottage; we used to meet at a cottage so mom wouldn't find out." Her eyes were glazed over as she reminisced over the memory.

"You remember that?" he smiled and met her gaze feeling the spark that was so long ago a flame.

"Yeah, how could I forget? Those were the best days of my life."

Quinton pulled into a drive way that was arched with big oaks on each side of the path. It winded up to where sat a white cottage.

"That's it! That's the cottage, but it's so much prettier than I remember." She sat in aw.

"I bought it."

"You did what?" she was shocked, the memories came back so quick she almost passed out. This was her old friend, her childhood sweetheart.

"I bought it and fixed up."

"Do you live in it?"

"Only when I visit, which isn't had often as I would like, but I try every weekend." Quinton explained. "You see, when you left for New Jersey I knew I couldn't cry over spilled milk. So, I went to Washington D.C. and went to school."

"Can we go inside?"

"Of course." He led her up the stone walk way—like they had done many times—he opened the door and he let her go in.

"Wow, you did a lot with the place. It's gorgeous!" She cooed then turned toward him.

"Glad you like it. I love it, and being four hours isn't too bad of a drive for this place."

"You know if you were so close to me how come you didn't call?" Alisa showed her anger and hurt that she had carried for the past six years finally show. All the memories that she had buried so deeply now seeped out. The endless nights of crying herself to sleep, now was being her wakening nightmare—to face the man she loved and betrayed.

"I wanted to, but I knew you were done with me—ready for a new life and a new guy."

"You don't have a clue! I never wanted that—all I wanted was freedom, but not from you." All of the emotions she had kept hidden from the world; was about to spill.

"You're right, I didn't know." He looked at the floor than back at her—feeling like he had just been slapped.

Alisa had her back to him while he spoke to her, she felt him starting to come towards her. She spun and looked at him, "Didn't you ever think about our times together?" she couldn't stop the tears from coming.

Quinton looked like a puppy that got kicked. In his despair he answered her, "Didn't you?" he asked in a bit of anger.

"Of course I did."

"Then why did you leave?"

"Quinton, I spent every night crying myself to sleep for two years. Remembering all those times and knowing it was my fault causing you so much pain—knowing that my leaving wounded your heart. That I had caused so much pain to my mother and when I realized what a mistake I had made—it was too late. I couldn't come back, I couldn't forgive myself. I was going to come back, but I wanted freedom and love. You never called! ... You never called." Alisa turned her back to him and wept like a baby; wishing he would hold her.

Quinton walked to her and embraced her for the first time in six years. She tried ever harder and he didn't stop her. He just held her and let her cry and they stood there trying to heal the hurt.

Quinton realized the time, and straightened.

"It's best I get you home."

"I am home, Quinton."

He gave her a boyish grin and kissed her temple.

"Aw… that was sweet." He teased

She playfully hit him.

"You ruined the moment." She took his hand and they walked down the path to his car.

"Yeah, I do that."

He stopped her in front of his car, and took both of her hands in his.

"I have to tell you something, and I need you to understand."

"Your married!" she blurted

"What?!" he looked at her as if she'd lost it, "No, it's always been you."

"Aw….sweet." she teased

"I'm serious, now I need to tell you I started going to church. Follow?"

Alisa had a blank look on her face, "O.K."

"And I've given my life to the Lord."

"Like in the Sunday school we used to go to."

"Yes, I go to that church. "

Alisa still looked a tad bit confused, but at least she was following.

"Oh, so you're a regular good Samaritan now."

"No, I just belong to Jesus. He's made me a new man."

"New as in how?"

"I don't go to parties, don't smoke, and don't do what I did before. I read the Bible, and it shows me the way to live."

"Oh, so you're a good person morally."

"Well, yeah and a lot more. I'll bring you a Bible; if you read it what I've been saying will make sense. For now, let's get you home."

"O.K."