Lakeside Reunion. Lisa Jordan
you take your backpack into the house and get started on your homework? I’ll be in shortly. I need to talk to Papa about something.”
“Okay. Thanks for the ice cream, Papa.”
Dad leaned over and wrapped his arms around the boy, hugging and lifting him at the same time. “You’re welcome, Ty.”
Ty grabbed his backpack and shot through the open doorway, dodging puddles as he ran for the house. As soon as he heard the back door slam, Stephen crossed the garage to the old-fashioned refrigerator with pull-down handle, opened it and grabbed a bottle of iced green tea and another Mountain Dew. He handed the tea to Dad, and then wiped his damp hand on his dusty jeans.
“Thanks for bringing him home, Dad.”
“No problem. Cradle looks great.” Dad nodded toward the workbench.
Stephen glanced over his shoulder. “Thanks. Any word on Grace?”
“Your ma called Grace’s folks, but there was no answer. Heard you had a run-in with Lindsey.”
“Which time?”
“There was more than one?”
Stephen drained a third of the soda bottle, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He gave Dad a quick rundown of both events. “I didn’t expect her to freak out when I touched her arm.”
“Maybe she misread your intentions.”
“Seriously, Dad? I have a son who cries nightly for his mom. If it weren’t for Ma’s cooking, we’d probably starve. Between Ty, work and stuff around here or Ty’s school, when do I have time for romance? Bethany hasn’t been gone a year.”
Dad held up his hands in surrender. “No need to get all defensive on me.”
Stephen rubbed the back of his neck. “She just—I don’t know—looked lost. I thought she could use a friend.”
“Your heart was in the right place, son, but you two didn’t exactly part as friends.”
Stephen grabbed the push broom and swept the sawdust Ty had scattered into the corner by the stack of two-by-fours. “I had to do what was right.”
“And broke a sweet girl’s heart in the process.”
“You think I don’t know that?” He leaned the broom against the wall. Dropping into a frayed lawn chair, he kicked the metal frame of another, signaling Dad to sit. “What if she leaves before I can talk to her, make her understand why I did what I did?”
“It’s tough, son, I’m sure, but you need to understand seeing you was as much of a shock to her as it was for you. That gal will be around for a while. She won’t up and leave her ma in a lurch.”
Stephen frowned. “I doubt she’ll be friending me on Facebook anytime soon.”
“If you were given a second chance, and Bethany hadn’t been dying, would you do things differently?”
“Would I still marry Lindsey, knowing Beth and I had a son together?”
Dad nodded and sipped his tea.
Stephen leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He stared out into the yard. The rain had finally stopped. Slowly, he shook his head. “I doubt it. As much as I love … loved Lindsey, my son needed a father. I made my share of mistakes, but this was one I could fix.”
Dad stood, placing a hand on Stephen’s shoulder. “You’re a good man. And I’m proud of you.”
Stephen’s throat thickened. He didn’t deserve Dad’s affirmation. Maybe Dad thought he had come a long way, but Stephen still had far to go. And so much to make up for.
Chapter Four
Was she out of her mind?
What possessed Lindsey to make an illegal U-turn in the middle of Center Street—good thing Stephen wasn’t around—and head up Cemetery Hill, instead of going to her mother’s house?
After Aunt Claire spilled about Max, Mom’s surgeon came in with an update about her surgery. Once they moved Mom out of recovery and into her room, Lindsey sat with her for a while. She watched Mom sleep and replayed the conversation with Aunt Claire in her head.
Granddad forced Lindsey to leave the hospital to get some rest. She argued she’d sleep in Mom’s room, but when they reminded her Mom needed her rest, too, Lindsey relented. And now here she was.
Taking a deep breath, Lindsey cut the engine and climbed out from behind the wheel. She closed the door quietly behind her and walked across wet grass to a corner lot beneath a shedding oak tree, her footsteps silent as the tombs.
Granite markers formed symmetrical rows like soldiers in formation. Fiery reds, golden yellows and brilliant oranges splashed against the melancholy sky like colors splattered from an artist’s palette. A gust of wind blew the leaves from their knobby limbs. They whirled, twirled and landed in a kaleidoscopic pattern on the ground.
Kneeling on the wet grass in front of Dad’s headstone, Lindsey brushed away soggy leaves. The damp earth seeped through her skin. She reached out and traced the letters engraved in the cold marble.
Thomas Andrew Porter
Husband, Father, Friend
Loved by All
May ninth. The day her life changed. Forever.
While at college, she had missed sharing breakfast with Dad. That was their special time. She had decided to surprise her parents by coming home a day earlier than expected. She’d fix breakfast and attend church with them. Bacon fried and draining, she scrambled eggs, expecting Dad to walk through the door at any minute.
As the minutes ticked by, her anxiety had grown as cold as the eggs. Something was wrong. Dad always called if he was running late, especially on a Sunday morning. Always. A promise he made with Mom upon graduating from the academy. To keep her from worrying.
When Stephen knocked on the door, Lindsey knew she’d never see her father again. Tears glistening in his eyes, he asked Lindsey to wake her mother. After hearing the news that Dad had been shot during a routine traffic stop, Lindsey scraped their breakfast into the trash and hadn’t eaten the meal since.
“I miss you, Dad.” If she closed her eyes and concentrated, she could dredge up the sound of his barrel-chested laughter from one of the locked corners of her memory. Or the way his arms felt around her. But she didn’t allow herself to indulge in that decadent pool of memories. For a while, after his death, she wanted to float around inside those memories and never resurface to reality.
The words on the headstone blurred. Lindsey thumbed away a stray tear and wiped it on the hem of her skirt. Crying wasn’t going to bring him back. She stood and brushed wet leaves from her clothes.
The wind picked up and she shivered. She rubbed her arms to generate some heat as she trudged to the edge of the cemetery, which overlooked Shelby Lake.
The bluish-green water of Shelby Lake bordered the horizon. On a cloudless summer day, the lake blended with the sky.
A splinter of sunlight fractured the cloud cover and reflected off the jeweled stained-glass windows of the Shelby Lake Community Church where Mom and Dad had been married. Dad’s funeral was the last day she visited the church.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, echoing through the valley. Dark, threatening clouds lumbered across the sky, bullying the scant rays. Raindrops splattered as Lindsey dashed to her car. She slid behind the steering wheel and started the engine. She flicked the heat to high, hoping it warmed her frozen toes quickly.
Peering over her shoulder, Lindsey backed down the drive. She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and stepped on the brakes.
A quick scan showed a child kneeling in front of a headstone. She shifted the car into Park, left the engine idling and hurried