The Way Home. Irene Hannon

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ race. True, those rarely came her way. Someday, though, when she made her mark, she would be able to pick and choose her assignments, decide when and if she wanted to come out from behind the anchor desk. But that was still a long way down the road. In the meantime, she did what she was told and worked hard to get the best possible story. Including bidding on a date with a man who clearly disliked her.

      Amy sighed and took another sip of tea, trying to find something positive in the situation. She thought back over their conversation and suddenly recalled Cal’s comment about her not needing to buy a date. So he thought she was attractive, she mused. It wasn’t much, she acknowledged, but it was a start.

      “Hi, Gram. How’s everything at home?”

      “Cal? My, it’s good to hear your voice! We’re both fine. Jack, it’s Cal,” she called, her voice muffled as she apparently turned her head.

      Cal smiled and leaned back, resting his head against the cushion of the overstuffed chair as he crossed an ankle over his knee. Just hearing the voices from home made him feel better.

      “Your dad’ll be right here, son. How’s life in Atlanta?”

      “Okay.”

      “Hmph. I’ve heard more enthusiasm from old Sam Pritchard.”

      Cal smiled again. Sam Pritchard was legendary in the mountains for his blasé reaction to life. As usual, his grandmother had tuned right in to Cal’s mood. Probably because she was one of the few people who knew of his growing dissatisfaction with city life.

      “Sorry, Gram.” He modified his tone. “I can’t complain. The job is demanding and stressful, but it’s worthwhile work, and I’ve been blessed in a lot of ways.”

      “Are you taking any time for fun?”

      Cal pondered that question. Fun? The only time he really had any fun was when he went home, and that wasn’t often enough. When he was in the city, he was too busy for much socializing. His job ate up an inordinate amount of his time, and most of the little that remained he spent at Saint Vincent’s.

      “I get out once in a while,” he hedged.

      “You need to take some time for yourself, son,” the older woman persisted, the worry evident in her voice. “A body needs more in life than work and responsibilities. You meet any nice women lately?”

      For some reason, his social life—or lack thereof—had become a hot topic over the past year. His grandmother seemed to think that if he got married and had a family, many of his doubts and issues would be resolved. Frankly, he thought a romantic entanglement would just complicate matters. He needed to get his life in order, make some decisions about his future, before he got involved in a relationship. That was only fair to the woman. And it was that sense of fairness, not lack of interest, that kept him from serious dating. In fact, in the past couple of years he’d begun to long for the very things his grandmother was suggesting, had become increasingly aware of an emotional vacuum in his life. He’d lain awake more nights than he cared to admit yearning for warmth, for a caring touch, for someone who would listen to the secrets of his heart and share hers with him. He wanted to fall in love. It was just that now was not the time.

      “Cal?” his grandmother prompted. “It wasn’t a hard question. ’Course, if it’s none of my business, that’s okay.”

      “Actually, I have a date Friday night,” he offered, to appease her.

      “Well! Now that’s fine.”

      He could hear the surprise in her voice, could tell she was pleased, and he felt a twinge of guilt. He should explain the situation. After all, it wasn’t a real date.

      “It’s no big deal, Gram. Just dinner.”

      “Everything has to start somewhere. Where did you meet her?” she asked eagerly.

      He felt himself getting in deeper. “At the courthouse. But Gram, she…”

      “Is she a lawyer, too?”

      “No. She works in TV. Actually, that’s how…”

      “My! That sounds interesting. What’s her—oh, your dad’s ready to talk to you. We’ll catch up some more later. You call us again over the weekend, okay?”

      Cal sighed as the phone was passed on. He’d certainly handled that well, he berated himself. Now his grandmother would get her hopes up, jump to all sorts of wrong conclusions. But he’d be better prepared when he called the next time. He’d use the old “we just didn’t click” routine, and that would be the end of that.

      “Cal? How are you, son?”

      Cal settled deeper into the chair. “Hi, Dad. Fine. How’s everything there?”

      “Same as always. Quiet. Things don’t change much in the mountains, you know. But tell me about you. I know there’s a lot more going on in Atlanta than there is here.”

      Cal relayed some recent events that he knew his father would enjoy hearing about—the black-tie dinner, though he made no mention of the auction part of the evening, a meeting he’d had with the mayor earlier in the week, the publicity the Jamie Johnson trial was receiving. As usual, his father ate it up.

      “My, son! You sure do lead an exciting life. But you deserve all your success. You worked hard for it. And I’m proud of you. I was just telling Mike Thomas about the governor’s commission you were appointed to. He was real impressed.”

      Cal felt the old familiar knot begin to form in his gut. His father was a kind, gentle, decent man who’d never had a break in his entire life. He’d spent his youth and middle age barely scraping by, handicapped by limited education and limited opportunity as he struggled to support a son and an ailing wife. He’d worked with his hands all his life, accepting that as his lot but dreaming of better things for Cal. Now he was living Cal’s success vicariously. If his son returned to the mountains, in whatever capacity, the older man would be sorely disappointed, Cal knew. But there had to be a line somewhere between responsibility to his father and to himself. He just wasn’t sure where it was.

      Up until now he’d done everything that was expected of him—by others and by himself. He gave his job one hundred percent, and did his best to make a contribution to society. He’d provided well for Gram and his dad. They’d refused his offer to move to Atlanta, both reluctant to leave the only home they’d ever known, but he made sure they lived comfortably, that neither had to work anymore. By choice, Gram still put in a great deal of time at the craft coop she’d founded. His father, however, who had always disliked working the land, had walked away from his job without a second look, content to spend his time helping out at the church or reading, a pastime he’d had little opportunity to indulge in most of his life. They were both happy. Unfortunately, the vague discontent that had been nagging him for years had intensified dramatically in the last few months, leaving him restless and searching.

      “You coming home to visit soon, son?” His father interrupted his thoughts.

      “I hope so, Dad.” The sudden weariness in his voice reflected the burden of decision he was struggling with, and he tried for a more upbeat tone. “It’s hard to get away, though. Things are pretty busy.”

      “I understand. You have an important job. I’m sure they need you there. But your room is always waiting, anytime СКАЧАТЬ