“Okay, time out,” she said, settling herself and Susie into another chair. “Let’s talk about what happened tonight and why.”
Both boys stared at her resentfully, waiting.
“I understand that you’re all upset because Caleb hasn’t been around lately,” she said quietly.
“You told!” Larry shouted, turning his angry gaze on Susie. “You’re nothing but a little tattletale!”
Susie clung to Amanda more tightly.
“Yeah. And we’re never telling you anything ever again,” Jimmy added.
“Enough!” Amanda commanded. “The point is that I do get why you’re feeling bad and why you were lashing out and trying to wreck your tree house. I really do.”
“No, you don’t,” Larry muttered.
“You were feeling abandoned by someone you’d started to count on,” Amanda said, her gaze locked with his. “Isn’t that right?”
Both boys seemed surprised that she’d gotten that.
“I guess,” Larry finally agreed.
“But who did you really hurt by tearing apart your tree house?” she asked. “Now you all don’t have something you really wanted. Do you think that will get even with Caleb? Won’t it hurt you more in the end?”
Their gazes faltered as they considered that.
“Well?” she prodded.
“I guess we really blew it, huh, Mom?” Jimmy murmured eventually, looking chagrined.
“I think you did,” she said. “How about you, Larry?”
He gave her a grudging nod.
“So, what might have been a better way to handle your anger?” she asked.
They stared at her blankly.
“Maybe you could have talked to me about it,” she prompted. “Or maybe you could have given Caleb a call and asked him where he’s been. Maybe if he’d realized how much you miss him, he would have worked something out to spend time with you. I know he adores you guys. He would never intentionally hurt your feelings.”
“Can we call him now?” Susie asked excitedly. “Maybe he’ll come for pizza.”
Amanda gave her daughter a quick hug. “Not today, sweet pea. The boys are still being punished for what they did. I’m not canceling that, but I will lift the restrictions after today now that I understand why you were so upset.”
“Then we can call Caleb tomorrow?” Jimmy asked, his eyes brightening. “Can we invite him for dinner?”
“Yes,” she agreed, then leveled a look at each of them in turn. “But listen to me, if he says he can’t come, if he already has other plans, you need to accept that. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about you. I’m sure he’ll make time for you as soon as he can.”
And in the meantime, she would do everything in her power to figure out how to extricate them all from a relationship that had suddenly gotten way too complicated.
Max’s hands trembled so badly he had to clutch the arms of the chair to steady them. “Say that again,” he commanded Doc Mullins, as if daring him to repeat the diagnosis.
“I don’t know how many times you need to hear this, Max, but I’ll keep repeating it as often as you need me to. You have the beginning stages of Alzheimer’s. There’s little question about it,” the man who’d been Max’s doctor for forty years repeated bluntly. “I’m sorry, Max.”
Even though he’d been expecting it, the instinct to deny came on strong. “I forget a few things. What’s the big deal? Everybody does. It doesn’t mean I have Alzheimer’s,” Max insisted, wishing he hadn’t pushed the doctor to open his office on a Saturday so he could get this visit over with.
Once Caleb had forced his hand, he’d seen not just Doc Mullins, but several specialists. They’d all come to the same conclusion. Hearing it over and over had become tiresome, but he’d kept holding out hope that someone would offer a different diagnosis. Now, with his old friend once again repeating it, he could no longer ignore the truth.
“You’ve forgotten enough things that it brought you here to see me,” Doc Mullins reminded him. “All those big shots you asked for second opinions agree. You can’t hide from this, Max. It won’t do you a bit of good.”
“How long have I got?”
“Before you die? Years probably. The Alzheimer’s won’t kill you, not by itself. And overall you’re in good health for a man of sixty-six.”
“No, not till I die,” Max said impatiently. “Before my mind goes completely?”
“There’s no telling,” Doc Mullins said. “There are a lot of new drugs on the market that are helping people retain their memory longer, and there’s more research being done all the time.”
“I imagine that’s what they told people ten years ago, too,” Max said. “How many of them are still alert enough to hold out hope for a cure?”
“Sarcasm’s not going to help you.”
“Doesn’t seem to me like there’s much that will,” Max retorted.
“So…what? You going to lie down and wait to die?”
Max stared into his old friend’s eyes. He wondered how long it would be before he didn’t recognize him. “You know me better than that, Doc. I’d have gone on in blissful ignorance, if I could have, but certain people were against that. Now that I do know, I’ll go down fighting. You write those prescriptions for me and I’ll write you a check for the best, most promising research team out there. You tell me where to send it.”
“That’s more like it,” Doc said approvingly. He took off his glasses and set them down carefully before meeting Max’s gaze. “You going to tell Amanda?”
Max felt himself shrink at the question. “No,” he said softly.
Doc regarded him with undisguised impatience. “Why the hell not, Max? She’s your daughter. She has a right to know.”
“Maybe so, but I lost the right to turn to her when I kicked her out of my life,” he said sadly. “How can I ask her back into it now?”
“You just do,” Doc said. “That girl idolized you. She’d want to know.”
“Maybe once, not now,” Max said with a finality that finally shut his friend up.
“I hope to hell you know what you’re doing,” Doc muttered as he wrote out his prescription.
“Some would say I’m living with the consequences of my actions,” Max said wearily.
Doc scowled at him. “And some would say you’re nothing but a damn fool.”
Wouldn’t be the first time someone had called him that, Max admitted. Himself included.
Caleb was alarmed by what he found when he went to see Max on Sunday evening. The house was spotless, as usual, thanks to his diligent housekeeper, but Max looked as if he hadn’t bathed or changed his clothes in days.
“What’s going on?” Caleb demanded. “Are you sick?”
“That’s what they tell me,” Max said dully.
“So you finally went to see the doctor,” Caleb concluded, knowing at once that the news hadn’t been good.
“Saw a bunch of them,” Max admitted. “They all said the same thing—just what you and I anticipated.”
“Alzheimer’s,” Caleb said, his heart aching at the thought of what lay ahead for this man he’d come to admire, even when he disagreed with some of the choices he’d made. Soon enough the sharp wit would dull and he’d retreat into the past.
Max regarded him wearily. “I never thought I’d go this way. I always thought I’d drop dead of a heart attack or get cancer like my daddy did. That was bad enough, but this seems a thousand times worse.”
“We don’t get to choose the way we die,” Caleb reminded him. “Only the way we cope with it. You might want to consider coming back to church, Max. You’ve spent a lot of years angry at God. He might be able to help you now.”
“You know how I feel about all that. God didn’t keep me from losing Margaret. Why should I believe He’d be there for me now?”
“Because He’s always there, even if the answers He gives aren’t the ones we were hoping to hear,” Caleb said. He took a deep breath and leveled a look at Max. �
��Even if you won’t consider coming back to church, it’s time to call your daughter.”
“Don’t you start down that road again,” Max said. “I’ve given it a lot of thought since I got the news, and I’ve already made my decision. Amanda’s not to know. I don’t want her back here out of pity.”
Even though Max spoke with conviction, Caleb was certain he didn’t mean what he was saying. He was protecting himself from the possibility that Amanda would turn her back on him, as he had on her.
“What are you really afraid of, Max? Are you afraid she won’t come?” Caleb pressed.
Caleb knew from the way his friend avoided his gaze that he’d hit the nail on the head. “Amanda would never do that to you,” Caleb said, praying he was right. The rift was deep and she certainly had justification for staying away, but he knew she had a big heart, and despite everything, he believed there was room in it for the father she’d once adored.
“I’m telling you I don’t want her here out of pity,” Max insisted stubbornly.
“Then don’t tell her you’re ill,” Caleb said. “Just mend fences. Tell her the rest in time.”
For the first time since Caleb had known him, Max looked old and defeated, but he nodded slowly.
“I’ll give it some more thought,” Max promised.
That might have been good enough another time, but it wasn’t nearly enough under these circumstances. Caleb resolved to get the wheels in motion. If nothing else, maybe he could ensure that Amanda was a little more prepared, a little more receptive when Max made an overture. Of course, there was always the chance that his meddling wouldn’t fix anything between Max and Amanda and would wind up putting more distance between father and daughter. He had to risk it, though, for everyone’s sake.
Fortunately he was planning to be at Amanda’s tomorrow night. The kids had called on Saturday telling him they missed him and begging him to come for dinner. He hadn’t been able to make plans for Saturday or for tonight, but he’d promised to be there on Monday. Amanda had reluctantly agreed, even though it was a school night, which told him there was more going on over there than he realized. Hopefully, no matter what it was, he could still find some time to be alone with Amanda so he could broach the subject of her relationship with Max.
Maybe he ought to consider borrowing a flak jacket from Dinah. After all her years in war zones, she probably had one stashed somewhere. Then again, he doubted even that would be enough protection once Amanda heard what he had to say.
The kids were as wound up as if they’d been consuming sugar by the spoonful all afternoon. Amanda was just about at her wit’s end. “Guys, it’s just Caleb. Settle down. He’s coming for spaghetti, not to play catch in the backyard, Jimmy, or have a tea party with your dolls, Susie. It’s a school night, so he’s staying for a couple of hours, tops, because you have homework to do.”
“I did mine,” Larry said. “Can I play catch with him after dinner?”
Amanda sighed. “We’ll see what time it is.”
“I want to play catch, too,” Susie insisted, scowling at her big brother. “I don’t even have homework.”
“No, but you have an earlier bedtime than the boys,” Amanda reminded her, beginning to regret that she’d agreed to this visit. Then she saw their excitement and knew she could never have deprived them of a chance to see someone who’d become so important to them.
“Is the table set?” she asked Larry.
“I did it,” Jimmy said.
“I helped,” Susie added. “I put the napkins on the plates. Is that right?”
“Good enough,” Amanda said just as the doorbell rang. All three kids took off running.
“I’ll get it,” Jimmy hollered.
“No, me,” Larry said.
“I wanna,” Susie screamed, on the verge of tears.
Amanda listened and sighed. She hoped Caleb was prepared for this. She was pretty sure he’d never had to deal with kids—at least her kids—when they were this wound up.
The squeals from the living room reached whole new decibel levels before finally settling down. Caleb appeared in the kitchen, Susie clinging to his neck and a boy clutching each hand. He looked a little dazed.
“I see you’ve met the welcoming committee,” she said.
“They seem to have missed me,” he said, looking vaguely surprised.
“You have no idea.” She gave the kids a stern look. “Let the man breathe, okay?” She met his gaze. “Want a beer? Some water? Iced tea?”
“Tea would be good,” he said. “Anything I can do to help?”
“Nope. Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes.”
He sniffed the air. “Spaghetti?”
She nodded. “I made the sauce over the weekend. I usually freeze a couple of batches, so we have it on hand. It makes things quicker when I get home from work.”
“I don’t know how you do everything you do,” he said, regarding her with admiration.
“Organization,” she said. “And a healthy dose of patience. Some days are better than others. Maybe you should go outside with the kids while I get dinner on the table. The boys have something they need to show you.”
Larry and Jimmy nodded, their expressions suddenly subdued. “We need to ’pologize,” Larry said meekly.
“Oh?” Caleb said, turning a questioning gaze in her direction.
“They’ll explain,” she said, watching as they trooped outside.
When they were gone, she bit back a sigh of relief. She realized that she’d been every bit as eager to see Caleb as the kids had been. She simply hadn’t wanted to admit it. Feeling the hop, skip and jump of her pulse when he’d arrived had pretty much put the lie to the idea that his absence hadn’t affected her. She wondered how much her own longing—to say nothing of the dreams in which he’d appeared stripped down to a pair of snug-fitting jeans—had influenced her decision to let the kids ask him over for dinner. The possibility that she’d used her kids to get something she wanted made her grimace. What kind of mother would do such a thing?
One who was lonely and who’d found someone who seemed to understand her, she confessed to herself. Pitiful.
She put the spaghetti on the table, then called everyone in. Caleb lingered at the back door as the kids raced into the dining room.
“I had no idea they’d miss me that much,” he told her. “We need to talk about this.”
“I know,” she agreed. “But not now.”
“After dinner, then,” he said. “And there’s something else I want to talk to you about, as well.”
She heard an unexpectedly somber note in his voice that set off alarms. “What?”
“After dinner,” he said.
“Caleb, if whatever it is will upset me, just tell me now and get it over with,” she said.
“It can wait till we’ve eaten,” he insisted, slipping past her and going into the dining room.
Amanda stared after him. Something told her that whatever was on his mind didn’t have anything to do with the kids. And she could think of only one thing that he might want to postpone discussing—her father.
But why on earth would Caleb have anything at all to say to her about Big Max? As far as she knew, they’d never even met. Was her assumption wrong? Had the two of them been conspiring behind her back?
“Okay, my imagination’s running away from me,” she muttered. She’d know whatever was on his mind soon enough. She just had to get through dinner and sending the kids off to bed. A couple of hours at most.
So why did it suddenly seem like an eternity? And why, when she’d been so happy only moments ago, was there now a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach?
8
To his chagrin Caleb let himself be swept along in the fantasy that this was his family and this was a perfectly normal night. It was exactly the way he’d always imagined marriage and family life to be. He’d envisioned coming in after a long day, dealing with whatever commotion the kids had caused, settling disputes, sharing
an occasional simmering look with the woman he loved. It was a dream that had been tantalizingly out of reach for too long now.
It was nothing like his own marriage had been, at least not in those final months when tension had run high. Meals were eaten in icy silence, when they were shared at all. Accusing glances had become the norm. In the end, he’d all but forgotten a time when his relationship with his wife had been any other way, though it must have been once. There must have been love and passion in the early years before he’d failed her, before God had failed him.
If the kind of family he’d always wanted was so close at hand now, it was because of Amanda. He wondered if she knew how grateful he was to have this ordinary, normal family meal. He glanced across the dining room table and caught her studying him curiously. Because he knew it flustered her and because he couldn’t resist, he winked. Just as he’d anticipated, she blushed.
“Did I mention I brought dessert?” he asked.
Three pairs of eyes turned toward him.
“Really?” Susie asked, bouncing in her chair. “Is it ice cream?”
“Nah,” Jimmy scoffed. “Ice cream would be all melted by now if he left it in the car.”
“Cookies,” Larry said. “I bet it’s cookies.”
Caleb turned to Amanda. “Do you have a guess before I send these guys out to the car to get it?”
She tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “Double fudge cake with butter-cream frosting,” she said slowly, then grinned at his astonishment. “Got it, didn’t I?”
He stared at her incredulously. “How on earth did you know that?”
“I should probably let you think I’m omniscient, but the truth is, Betty Wickham came into the boutique today and told me she’d baked one for you,” she admitted. “She says it’s your favorite. Of course, Minnie Green thinks peach pie is your favorite dessert and Letitia Baker is sure it’s lemon meringue. My money would have been on strawberry fudge ice cream.”
He chuckled. “Do you honestly think I’m going to admit to favoring one thing over another? My dessert pipeline would dry up.”
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