Home For Christmas. Catherine Lanigan

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СКАЧАТЬ had always wanted a family. He’d envied the close-knit Barzonni family and Sarah’s loving mother, Ann-Marie, and he’d been there for Sarah when both her parents died.

      Sarah had been a good friend to him ever since he’d come back to town, after Amie died of leukemia. Sarah and Luke had included Titus, and their friendship meant a great deal to him. But he was also careful not to ask too much of them.

      Sarah touched Adam’s sleeve. “Look, I know how close you were to Frank…”

      Adam felt the emotion in his throat grow hot. He choked it back. “He was like my own grandfather.”

      “I know. He loved you, Adam. You did so much for him these past years.”

      “I should have done more.”

      “Come on. You were with him when he died. If you hadn’t been there… Calling the ambulance. Staying with him at the hospital until…” Sarah’s eyes filled with tears. “It’s so hard.”

      Sarah had been through a great deal of grief herself. He touched her hand. It was ice-cold. “I’m sorry, Sarah. All this must remind you of your parents. They were good people.”

      “The best. They liked you a lot, Adam.”

      “You don’t have to say that. I was such a…dork.”

      “Stop. Okay?” She looked down at Titus, who watched them both with serious, probing eyes. “I gotta go. Let me know about the funeral. I’m guessing the family will take care of everything.”

      Adam shoved his hands in his jeans’ pockets. “That would be Joy.”

      “Oh…my…gosh. Adam. I forgot. I’m sorry. Mrs. Beabots called her and broke the news. Have you talked to Joy?”

      “Not since she left for college.” Ten years ago, Joy had been his girlfriend. Adam had given her a promise ring the day before they’d started their senior year in high school. That same day he’d received a letter from Purdue University that he’d won a full-ride scholarship for engineering. Adam had believed that he and Joy would spend the rest of their lives together. She’d promised to love him.

      For a foster kid with no love in his life, Joy had been all he’d ever wanted. He was the one who dreamed of a cottage by Indian Lake with a rose-covered fence. He’d envisioned kids and a dog and a life of happiness.

      All that year after school, Adam had gone to the Boston greenhouses to work until supper alongside Joy and her Frank. Frank had been the kind of grandfather Adam thought came along only in fairy tales. He gave Adam a few extra dollars to take Joy to a movie or out for a pizza. He loaned Adam his truck to drive them all out to the beach in the summer. Frank had been father, grandfather, mentor and adviser. Where Pastor Flutie had lacked in practical and business guidance, Frank filled in the blanks.

      “He was family to me,” Adam whispered, trying desperately not to show the emotion he felt so sharply.

      Sarah leaned closer. “I didn’t mean to open that wound.”

      “It’s okay. Joy left. She wanted Columbia, her accounting degree and life in New York.” He shrugged his shoulders. “And she got it.”

      “She did.” Sarah paused. “When I talked to Mrs. Beabots this morning, she said Joy’s coming back here to arrange the funeral.”

      “Of course. Mrs. Beabots talked to Joy…”

      “I know, right? Mrs. Beabots keeps up with the whereabouts of all of us. I suppose Frank had told her where Joy worked.”

      “Newly and Associates,” Adam said.

      “Yeah.” Sarah eyed him, but continued. “She’s flying out of New York today.”

      “Today,” he repeated. His heart shook. Joy, who had told him she didn’t want the same things out of life that he did. She wanted to leave Indian Lake and never come back. She wanted a life in New York with hustle and noise and excitement.

      She didn’t want him.

      She’d given him back his promise ring and told him she was going to Columbia University. She never answered a phone call or an email after she moved.

      By the end of Adam’s freshman year, Frank told him that Joy had made it clear that Frank could visit her in New York, where she’d arranged for internships in the summers, but she never wanted to see Indian Lake, her parents’ graves or any of the people of the town, whom she blamed for the car accident that killed them both.

      The cut that had hurt Adam the most was the fact that Joy never gave him the chance to comfort her. She never turned to him. The pain of those days was still with him.

      Adam had met physicist Amie his senior year at Purdue. She was pretty and bright and they shared common interests. She’d got pregnant on their honeymoon in Chicago. They’d had little money back then, which had bothered Adam. In two years, his midnight “tinkerings” had resulted in patents for his geothermal plans and then sales of the units themselves. Two years after Titus was born, Amie was diagnosed with leukemia. The progression was fast.

      “It worked out in the end. I have Titus.”

      “We all adored Amie. And Titus is a true blessing. I love every minute he’s around.” She looked at Titus. “I really have, honey.”

      “Thanks, Miss Sarah,” Titus said, slipping his hand into Adam’s.

      “Speaking of which,” Sarah went on. “Why not let Titus come home with Timmy and the girls and me? Miss Milse is making pies for Thanksgiving. The kids can play video games while you get your errands done.”

      “Are you sure? I mean, I don’t want to impose.”

      “Dad.” Titus yanked on his hand. “Please? Can I go?”

      Adam had to smile. “It’s not much fun hauling cement and nails around, is it, Titus?”

      “Not really and the building supply place is so dreary.”

      “Dreary.” Adam grinned. Another new word. He wondered if he shouldn’t buy a second thesaurus for himself, to keep up with his brilliant son. No wonder the kid wanted to write plays.

      “So? Can I?”

      “Sure.” He ruffled Titus’s hair and dislodged the Pilgrim hat. Titus righted it, smiling at his dad. “Thanks for this, Sarah. I really have a lot to do at the greenhouses. For Frank.”

      “I know.” She held out her hand to Titus. “C’mon, honey.”

      “Titus,” Adam said. “Get your coat and zip it up this time. Don’t forget your knit cap. It’s getting cold outside.”

      “Dad. I know.” Titus pouted.

      “And you mind Miss Milse. Don’t poke your finger in the pies, and stay away from her Cuisinart.”

      “I know, Dad. Sharp knives. Mixers. All off-limits.”

      Sarah laughed. “He’ll be okay.”

      “I СКАЧАТЬ