Finding His Way Home. Barbara Gale

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СКАЧАТЬ bells, I never saw such a fuss about a birthday cake,” Jerome grumbled as he stooped to retrieve the little girl’s scarf.

      “Oh, Jerome, I was just making sure,” the little girl promised, planting a kiss on the old man’s leathery cheek. “Vanilla is my favorite!”

      “Sure it is,” Jerome snorted. “And if I’d made chocolate you would say the same thing!”

      Catching Lincoln’s eye, he winked. “Meet the town princess,” Jerome said to Lincoln by way of introduction.

      “Royalty resides here?” Lincoln asked as he sent the child a smile.

      “As near as,” Jerome swore as he folded the girl’s scarf and handed it to her. “This here is Mellie.”

      “Who are you?” Mellie asked bluntly, as she stuffed the scarf into the sleeve of her jacket. Just shy of four feet, her frown was more intimidating than her stance.

      Lincoln was impressed with her feisty presence, and he was used to real royalty. “I’m just a traveler passing through. My name is Lincoln Cameron.”

      “Like President Lincoln?”

      “Exactly, but no relation.”

      In silence, Mellie turned to Jerome.

      “He’s safe, sugar,” Jerome assured her.

      “Your grandfather’s excellent coffee kept me lingering,” Lincoln told the little girl.

      “She’s not my granddaughter,” Jerome corrected him, but Lincoln could see that he was pleased with the mistake.

      “But she might be?”

      “Close enough,” Jerome allowed, his adoring eyes fastened on the little girl. “As for the coffee, I don’t know if excellent is the correct word, but I do make sure it’s always fresh made and hot. Mellie’s mama stops by for a cup every morning on her way to work.”

      How cooperative. Lincoln would have liked to ask more, but there was no time. The door had swung wide again and brought in a gust of cold air. He supposed the dinner hour was fast approaching, and a glance at his watch told him this was true. The mother, Lincoln guessed, as a tall, slender bundle of blue muffler, green parka and red gloves rushed in, her shoulders dusted with the fresh fall of snow. It was easy to see where Mellie got her fashion sense.

      “Mellie, sweetie,” she said, stomping her boots clean. “I asked you not to rush ahead. I was worried you would fall.”

      “Oh, Mom, I’m—”

      “I know! I know! You’re a big girl!” her mother finished with a light melodious laugh that made the hair on Lincoln’s neck rise. As she tugged free her hat, her hair spilled forth, its short style falling across her brow. But whereas her daughter was blessed with red curls, this woman’s hair was a sheet of white silk, a pure platinum white that looked so natural he felt sure it had never known a bottle.

      Side by side, their resemblance was unmistakable. But whereas the little girl was adorable, the mother was breathtaking. Beyond her shocking white hair, her tall, lithe figure was a slender reed of colorful wools and scarves. Her gray eyes were so luminous they seemed to glow as they gazed fondly at her daughter, her smile so bewitching she put Lincoln in mind of an angel.

      But she always had. Lincoln felt an ineffable sadness at the years that had come and gone.

      “Hello, Valetta,” he said softly.

      The woman’s hand, hovering over her young daughter’s shoulder, was suddenly still. That voice…so familiar…no, beyond that… Unmistakable.

      She turned slowly, her fear so palpable that Lincoln was pained. He should have warned her, called ahead, not appeared so suddenly as to cause her the unpleasant shock of his arrival. The way she stared, her long fingers curling on her daughter’s thin shoulder… Was her recollection of him all that painful?

      Linc. Valetta mouthed his name but no sound came forth. The rush of years turned back to a time when she was young…and helplessly in love with this man. Not that he had ever known. Linc Cameron had never looked her way. He had been more interested in playing her big brother than her lover. Not that her heart had ever paid any attention. It seemed that time had not, either. The lines of his craggy face were deeper; gray hair teased his temple, but the years had been kind to him. He was still an arresting figure. She was the one who had changed, and she was surprised he had recognized her.

       Linc, why have you come here?

      Her eyes filled with tears, Valetta was unable to ask the question out loud but it was just as well, because she was absolutely sure he had no explanation that would suit her.

      Go, Linc, leave now. You can see for yourself that you don’t belong here.

      She shouted the silent plea, sure he could hear if he wanted.

      I’ve made my life. My salvation is here, wrapped in this tiny bundle of red wool. Valetta glanced down at her daughter, pulling her closer, almost as if to shield her from his sight.

      It was Jerome, alert to the tempest brewing, who saved the moment. Curious, protective and polite all at the same time, he observed the guarded looks on the faces of both Lincoln and Valetta with amusement born of old age and experience.

      “Guess you found what you were looking for,” he said as he removed Lincoln’s cup. Too bad the stranger didn’t look too happy about it. Too bad Valetta didn’t, either.

      Chapter Three

      At precisely five o’clock, on a brutally cold winter’s night, in a small town perched on the edge of the Adirondack Mountains, Crater’s Diner was suddenly a revolving door of hungry, weary customers all wanting the blue plate special. The diner became a low thrum of voices recapping the day, making plans for the weekend, arguing good-naturedly over who was going to drive the ski team to Plattsburg for the state finals, figuring out who was going to coach the soccer team next spring. While the adults sorted out their schedules, their kids sat quietly hunched over their schoolbooks, getting a start on their homework while they waited for their dinner.

      In the midst of all this, Valetta and Lincoln stood suspended in time, unheeding while the world rushed past them. Ten years and a thousand what-ifs fell by the wayside as the past merged with the present. But there was no time to talk, to salute each other with meaningless words while they recovered their composure. Mellie’s tug on her mother’s sweater called them back to earth. “Come on, Mom, let’s go sit down! I’m starved!”

      Valetta forced a smile. “You’re always hungry, sweetie. Go check on Yellow and then we’ll see what Jerome has for dinner.”

      “It’s Tuesday, Mom! It’s Mulligan Stew!”

      “Please, do as I say, Mellie.” Valetta watched as her daughter skipped over to her dog and whispered in his ear. She heard Lincoln whisper, too.

      “I’m sorry, Valetta, I didn’t СКАЧАТЬ