Home For Christmas. Catherine LaniganЧитать онлайн книгу.
first photo had been taken well over ten years ago in the greenhouse. It was Christmas. He and Joy were surrounded by red poinsettias. Joy’s head was on his shoulder, his arm around her waist. What captured his attention was the look of love and contentment on both their faces.
So long ago.
He glanced at the album photos of Amie. They’d been happy and thrilled about Titus. But the truth was that, initially, Amie had kept her illness from Adam and he’d never quite forgiven her. His feelings for Amie were different from the love he’d once had for Joy. Back then, Joy had lived up to her name. She’d lit up the world for him. And when he’d kissed her, he’d felt as if he were connected to the moon, the stars, the entire universe.
He raked a hand through his hair. He’d been hard on her today. He realized now that she was mirroring all the confusion and pain he’d felt when Amie had finally told him the truth about her leukemia. He’d felt lost. And betrayed.
Adam loved Frank. The old man had been his friend and mentor. But there had been times when he’d counseled Frank to tell Joy the truth, and Frank wouldn’t do it, because of his pride.
It was a wasteful thing. It kept people from doing the one thing they should do. Love.
Adam opened the middle drawer and put the old photo album on top of the sheaf of papers. As he withdrew his hand he felt the bottle opener.
He opened the bottle and tipped it toward the photo album. “You were such a nerd, Adam. With no guts.”
He took a deep swig. “And no glory.”
Angel lifted her head and gave a low snuffle.
“Oh, you think so, too, huh?”
She snuffled again.
“Great. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
He sat in the desk chair and stared at the photo. “But that was then. What do I do about now?”
He closed the album and eased the drawer shut.
JOY LOOKED UP at the old rooster-shaped clock that hung against the kitchen wallpaper that had been put up before her birth. Her father often joked that he’d hated the wallpaper when his mother had chosen it. Joy didn’t think it was all that bad with its depictions of antique coffee grinders and coffee cups and saucers. It was homey. It was Grandpa’s house, where her father had grown up. Because Frank had purchased a large section of land after the war, there was enough acreage for Bruce and Jill to build their own house on shortly after their wedding. As a child, Joy always felt she lived in both houses.
The light wood cabinets were just as old, and they needed to be replaced as much as the wallpaper and vinyl flooring. The Formica-topped kitchen table set should have been tossed years ago, but Joy knew that her grandfather put his money into the greenhouses. Not into personal comforts.
Her cell rang, breaking her thoughts. “Hi, Chuck.”
“So, how goes it?”
“What part?” she asked, as she opened the cabinet over the old electric stove and pulled down a box of crackers. Then she went to the cupboard on the other side of the kitchen and opened it. It was as it had always been. Peanut butter. New jar of grape jelly. Sack of potato chips. And a brand-new bag of chocolate candies.
Some things never changed. Blessedly.
“All of it. I tried to call you earlier, but I guess you were busy.”
“I have been. I spent the afternoon on the phone planning the funeral and the luncheon at the house here afterward. It’s tomorrow, so that was fast work.”
“All funerals are… At least my mother’s was.”
“I’m sorry, Chuck. All this probably brings back sad times for you, too.”
“It does, but don’t worry about me. What did the attorney say?” He sounded rushed. “You’re going to sell the greenhouses and the house, right?”
Joy was about to respond when she heard his office phone ringing. “You’re still at the office?”
“Yeah. Dad and I are working late. Listen, I gotta take this. I’ll call you tomorrow. Can’t wait till you get back and we can have Thanksgiving together. Love ya.”
Thinking back to this afternoon and the heat of Adam’s anger, she realized she might be doing Chuck an injustice. Sure, he wasn’t all that romantic, but he was there for her. He’d called to check on her. He would call tomorrow after the funeral. She could count on him.
She picked up the peanut butter jar and noticed it was organic, low sugar. She found a knife and sat at the table to eat crackers and peanut butter. It wasn’t cracked crab or medallions of beef like she’d have with Chuck. The clock ticked loudly. She got up and went to the thirty-year-old side-by-side harvest-gold refrigerator and found a carton of milk.
“Organic.”
She glanced at the table, at the chair where her grandfather always sat. She half expected to hear him say, “I love you, pumpkin. Don’t ever forget it.”
JOY GUESSED THAT as far as funerals went, her grandfather’s was well attended. Father Michael’s eulogy revealed his deep friendship with her grandfather. Joy had written a short piece, but when she got to the pulpit to read it, she spoke from her heart instead, admitting her fault in not returning to Indian Lake to see Frank, remembering how their Thanksgivings in New York were her happiest moments. It was difficult not to tear up, not to lose her words in her chaos of emotions, but she made it through and thanked everyone for being present for Frank. As she walked back to the front pew, she saw many compassionate, familiar faces. Faces she’d forgotten.
Afterward, on her behalf, Father Michael had invited everyone to Frank’s house for a luncheon.
Now they all stood three deep, around the dining room table, admiring the bounty. Joy had covered the table with her mother’s Irish linen cloth. Olivia and Julia Melton had set up the buffet while Joy and the rest of her friends had been at Saint Mark’s. Huge crystal bowls held seafood salad, chicken salad with red grapes and walnuts, a pasta salad and a green salad. A large hammered pewter tray held two large planks of grilled salmon topped with capers and lemon slices. A honey-baked spiral ham and candied yams filled the end of the table. On the sideboard were plates, napkins and silverware.
A second, round table, skirted in white linen, was set up with hot and cold drinks.
Sarah hugged Joy before introducing her husband.
Joy shook his hand. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Luke. Sarah was such a good friend to me in high school.”
“Then you two should pick up where you left off,” he said, putting his arm around Sarah and kissing her cheek. “Best is the word to describe her.”
Joy watched as Sarah smiled up at Luke. He touched her cheek and kissed her lips. They couldn’t take their eyes off each other.
Joy got the distinct feeling she was intruding, but as she moved to the drink table for iced tea, she saw Maddie Strong, who had been another close friend in high school. “Maddie? How wonderful to see you!”
Maddie hugged Joy. “I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances, but I’ve missed you, Joy,” she said, not letting go of Joy’s hand. “So much has happened since you left, but you look like not a day has passed.”
Just then, Dr. Nate Barzonni walked up and slipped his arm around Maddie. “Joy, it’s good to see you,” he said, smiling. “I’m sorry it took this…to bring you back. I have to say, New York looks like it’s working for you.”
“She