The Winding Road Home (33 page)

Graham sat in the surprisingly well-stocked library at Fox Meadow. It had become one of his corners at the home where he could hole up with reading material or chat with residents and visitors. At the moment he gazed out the window at the rainy Saturday afternoon, reliving the past two weeks.

Since Adele's pronouncement that she had no space for him, he had remained in the background, allowing her a wide berth. Though their paths inevitably crossed in the halls or the garden, she scarcely acknowledged his existence. It didn't matter. For now he was content to watch from afar and allow her to work through a lifetime of hurt in her own way.

While she was understandably subdued and not her usual attentive self to the other residents, she poured herself into caring for Rand, or, as she called him, R.J. She spent an inordinate amount of time with him. Her office hours fluctuated between early morning, late night, and her father's nap times. Her closest friends came to meet him. Naomi…women from her book club…the pastor…Kate, who took family photos.

Graham avoided going into the room when Adele was there. Chelsea's visits were another matter. Like him, Rand quickly grew fond of his granddaughter. She was delighted when Graham brought in the photo albums made by Adele's mother. The two of them spent hours delving into Adele's childhood through pictures. Sadly, Rand was growing vaguer about the details.

Now, from the corner of his eye he saw a blue skirt swish by. “Adele!” he called out.

She appeared in the doorway. Her face was haggard. It was obvious she was pushing herself too hard.

“Can we talk?”

Hesitantly she entered and glanced about the vacant room.

“Have a seat.” He indicated the armchair near his.

“I need to get to the office. He's sleeping.” But she sat, clearly tired. Her powder blue cardigan accentuated the blue in her eyes.

He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “I just wanted to thank you for going through this with me.”

She looked at him, silent.

“If you need a break, I'm here.”

“I don't want to miss any time with him.” Her voice was a strained whisper.

“I know.” He let the unsaid fill the air. Rand was surprisingly resilient, but his feet were swelling. He ate little. They didn't have weeks left.

She stood, walked to the door, and paused. “Graham.” She turned. “I hadn't thought…I hadn't thought about you spending these last days with him. I'm…I'm sorry. I've been selfish, keeping him to myself while you sit in here.”

“You have every right to keep him to yourself. He's your father. Don't worry about it.”

Her lips parted, as if she had something to say. Instead, she nodded and left.

It was the longest conversation they'd had since she'd learned Rand's identity. Suddenly he realized how very much he missed her.

Kate and Tanner sat on the couch in Adele's living room. A blazing fire chased away the chill of a rainy spring evening. The remains of take-out pasta from the Pizza Parlor littered the coffee table.

Her arm brushed against his arm, and she wondered when his physical presence would stop affecting her. Shivers and froth…

He smiled down at her.

Coherent thought disintegrated on the spot.

He tapped the tip of her nose. “Good dinner.”

“It was great. Thank you.”

“You're welcome. Too bad the kitchen doesn't look like we had take-out.”

The kitchen was a disaster area. They had prepared homemade soup and salad for Adele and Chelsea, a surprise for whenever they showed up. Their hours at the nursing home had grown long.

Kate gazed at the fire. “I don't know how Adele cooks like that all the time.”

“Ditto. Veggies and herbs and spices all over the place.”

“And no recipe. I hope she likes it.”

“It tasted fine.” He put an arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “We'll clean up later. They won't be home soon, will they?”

“Probably not, but I'll do it. You don't have to help.”

“But I want to. I think I feel a little like Adele. She wants to spend every possible moment with her dad. I want to spend every possible moment with you.”

“I'm going to DC,” she murmured her favorite phrase. She sensed it was a defense mechanism to keep her newfound emotions manageable.

“Katelyn.” He always used his serious tone when he called her by that name. “I called your father today.”

“Really? Why?”

“I wanted to tell him my intentions. Remember he asked that the first time I met him? Well, my intentions have obviously changed since then.”

She peered up at him. Watching that handsome face was not going to get her through a serious conversation. She turned back to the fire. “I imagine he appreciated that.”

“He did. He likes me, you know.”

She knew. Both her parents did. Not to mention her sister was gaga over him and her brothers always monopolized him, dragging him outside to play basketball. Not that he didn't go willingly.

“Aren't you going to ask me what my intentions are?”

“No.”

“Chicken.”

“Mm-hmm. I'm going to DC.”

“Sometimes you sound as if you're trying to convince yourself of that.”

The truth of his statement settled about her shoulders like a mantle of concrete.

He put his other arm around her and held her close. “Hon, tell me what happened out there.”

“It won't make a difference. I'm going.”

Abruptly, Tanner stood and left the room.

Honestly, the guy pouted just like a little boy.

Kate bit her lip. That wasn't true.

She found him in the kitchen fixing coffee. “Tanner, I'm doing it again, aren't I?”

Keeping his back to her, he replied, “Yep, holding me at arm's length, just where you want me.”

“I'm sorry.”

He switched on the coffeemaker and turned. “Are you?”

“I don't want to do it.”

“What are you so afraid of?”

“What you said, the other night at Antonio's?”

He nodded.

“I never even considered
imagining
that anyone would ever feel that way about me. While most girls were daydreaming about some future Galahad, I was reading a newspaper.”

“So what you're saying is either you still aren't interested or you don't trust me?”

“Tanner, you're beyond the wildest dreams of all of those girls. And you're hanging out with
me.
Maybe I just have to get used to the idea.”

He smiled, folded his arms, and leaned back against the counter. “That's nothing compared to what I have to get used to.”

She raised her brows, not sure if she wanted to hear it.

“I have to get used to being concerned that I'm going to blow it. That somehow I'll remind this angel of a girl she's not my first and that I'm an alcoholic.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. He still struggled with his worthiness. She went to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Oh, Tanner, those things won't ever stop me from loving you.”

He placed his hands around her waist and nudged her away until her face was before his. “I don't deserve you.”

“No, you don't. I'm pretty special. Not that I know anyone else who would have me.”

He grinned and rested his forehead against hers. “What happened in DC?”

She took a deep breath and exhaled.

He kissed her cheek and straightened, still holding her.

“I hated it.”

“You what?”

“I was totally bored out of my mind.”

“But you were so excited the morning you called.”

“I was, but talking to you was the highlight of my weekend. After that, everything just went downhill. At the press conference I asked the president a question—”

“No way! You asked the
president
a question?”

“Yeah. Something about that farm bill before Congress. No big deal.”

He laughed. “Kate! That's an enormously big deal!”

She shrugged a shoulder and studied his button-down collar. “It didn't feel like one. I met people from the
Washington Post.
Diane said there was a good chance I could get some entry-level job later this summer. And from what she saw of me on the White House lawn, I'd be moving up fairly quickly.”

“That's wonderful!”

“But all I could think about was my editorial on Mick, wondering if people were reading it, if it would make an impact. And…” She laid her head on his chest. “You. All I could think about was you.”

He embraced her in a bear hug and the silence stretched between them.

“Still,” she said, “I have to go.”

“It's been your lifelong dream.”

She lifted her head. “You understand?”

“Of course I do.” He kissed her gently. “It's what makes you Kate Kilpatrick. Dreams and challenges. No reason to change your mind at this point. It was probably just a bad weekend.”

“But where does that leave us?”

“Long distance. Aren't you going to ask me what I told your dad?”

“Okay. What'd you tell my dad?”

“My intentions are to let you go…for a month. If you're not back by then, I'll be looking for a new career in DC.”

She smiled. “Hobby.”

“Hobby. Career. Whatever.”

His kisses sealed the promise of his words. Time and distance were not going to prevent Tanner Carlucci from loving her.

A week had gone by since Adele talked with Graham in the library. Life had settled into a routine of more or less living at Fox Meadow. She considered packing a bag and finding a bed for her own use. While her father grew more frail by the day, his conversation seldom weakened. He seemed as determined as she was to catch up on the years.

Long ago a friend of her mother's had communicated with Adele. Now she learned more details of her mother's life since Adele had left home. Of how her faith had deepened after hearing of her daughter's. Of her hidden box of Chelsea's photos. Of how the stroke had taken her quickly.

Adele's initial reconnection with R.J. had been easy compared to the following days. At every turn he asked her forgiveness, and yet she couldn't look him in the face without a distressful memory reminding her he didn't deserve it. Each encounter was a fresh struggle.

Out of necessity she had pushed Graham and even Chelsea from the forefront of her thoughts. They were distractions that interfered with the difficult process of responding rightly to her dad. She didn't have a choice but to go it alone. Prying her fingers from their white-knuckled clutch on a lifelong grudge consumed her.

Now, on a late Saturday night, watching R.J. breathe, she became aware of a joyful peace. It was as if it literally enfolded her, speaking new thoughts into her heart. Until a few weeks ago, he hadn't shown her love in 36 years. But in a sense, he had pushed her into the loving arms of her heavenly Father, who had granted her these last sweet moments, a goodbye that could never make up for lost time. Nor could any amount of clutching ever bring it back. That was life. Choosing to let it go was forgiveness.

She flexed her fingers.
Thank You, Lord.

Suddenly she was tired of going it alone.

“Gracie! Gracie!” Adele called through the front office window, a distinct note of unease raising her voice above its normal tone.

The weekend supervisor appeared from an inner office. “What's wrong?”

“Have you seen Mr. Logan?” She'd searched all the usual nooks for him: library, kitchen, lobby.

Gracie reached the window. “No, I—” She smiled, her attention diverted beyond Adele's shoulder.

She turned and relief flooded her.

He stood a few feet behind her. “Rand?” he asked, his tone anxious.

She shook her head, absorbing the familiar lines of his handsome face. He'd been gone so long, sent away by her. Was he angry? Resentful? Had coldness replaced the warmth? No, she saw none of that. She held out her hand.

Without a word he stepped over and took hold of it.

They walked in silence through deserted halls, entered the library, and settled in opposite corners of one of the couches. Facing him, she tucked her legs beneath herself. “Forgive me?”

“For what, Adele?”

“For pushing you away.”

He smiled. “Nothing to forgive. You needed the time.”

She leaned over and kissed the corner of his mouth. “Now. Tell me who Graham Logan is.”

“Straightforward, as usual.” Graham would have liked to return the kiss, but Adele was back in her corner of the couch, and he wasn't yet sure of the ground rules.

“I had a good teacher growing up. You knew that, though, didn't you?”

“Yes, I knew that. I also knew you were a precocious child, quite advanced for your age. I remember I was about ten when I first heard that word, precocious. You would have been four. I heard all about your ice skating lessons, your horseback riding, your dance class.”

The soft light cast her face in shadow, but it didn't hide the confusion. She didn't understand.

“Adele, you've been in my life since the day you were born. I think I've had a crush on you since you were about three. You were so cute with a headful of bouncy curls.”

“How can that be? I never met you before in my life!”

“My dad really did work for your dad. They really did have a close relationship. Until he got hurt, I spent most Saturday mornings working with Dad at the office. My job was to clean your dad's bookshelves. Often your dad was around, and he would tell me about you.”

“He talked about me?”

“Yes. I remember the day after you were born. He gave my dad a cigar and me one made of bubble gum. We'd never seen him so excited. And do you know what was on those bookshelves I cleaned?”

“I can't remember being in his office but a few times. Mom and I never felt welcome there.”

“Well, the shelves were covered with photos of you. One held only your school pictures, all lined up in order by grades.”

“What happened after your dad got hurt?”

“Rand hired me just to clean his office. It remained exclusively my job until the day I graduated from college. He stayed current with me. If our paths didn't cross when I went in to work, we'd meet for breakfast. He kept on me about grades, sports, friends.”

“Graham, it's like you're not talking about the same man I knew.”

“I'm sorry. He seemed unable to communicate with women. His father wasn't much of a role model. You didn't know your grandparents, did you?”

“No. They died before I was born. All I knew was that R.J. grew up poor.”

Graham only nodded, choosing not to go into the grim details. “Even after I left Baltimore, we kept in touch. I remember how unreasonably he reacted to your desire to study
art.”

“You thought that?”

“Yes. I told him what I thought too. I rooted for you when you didn't come home from Europe as scheduled.”

“You're kidding.”

“No. I always thought of you as this poor little princess locked in an ivory tower. The only time he'd get angry with me was when I defended you. He was never quite the same after he kicked you out. There was this heaviness about him.”

“Why didn't he come after me?”

“Too stubborn. Too proud. I was working in Washington when I went home for a visit. I caught him stuffing all those photos of you in the trash. They've been in my parents' attic since that day.” He smiled. “The crush saga continued.”

“Why didn't
you
come after me?”

“Then?”

She caught the implication. He had come now.

“Then I had a life. I'd just met Sammi. I'd already graduated from the University of Maryland and was with the FBI. My path was set.”

“Tell me about her.”

“She was a teacher. Little kids, first, second grade. She was such a
good
person. I didn't know what she saw in me. But we married and then I fell in love with her Jesus. End of story.”

“It's not, Graham.”

No, it wasn't, but…

Adele twisted around on the couch until she was in front of him, her face inches away, her arms around his neck.

He slipped his arms around her. “The past is over. Let it be.”

“Tell me everything,” she whispered. “Don't run from it anymore. Please. It's still between us.”

He shut his eyes, blocking out the woman he was afraid to let see inside of him.

She kissed his cheek. “Why did she die?”

It came out, haltingly at first. Adele caressed his face, drawing the words from him, most words never whispered aloud to anyone. The killing…the aftermath…the horror of the argument…of losing Sammi and the baby he hadn't allowed her to tell him about.

At last the vivid images receded, the anger and regrets dissipated. Adele's tearful face came into view.

She sniffed. “Did you quit the FBI then?”

He nodded. “I couldn't work, couldn't focus on anything. Your dad came to the funeral. Sometime later he called. He had a job, tailor-made just for me. Security, confidante, chauffeur, companion, finder of lost daughters. I did everything but clean his office.”

She smiled. “You left out creator of elaborate schemes.”

“No, I can't take all the credit for that. Rand always thought I should be a professor. With an Illinois university, naturally.”

“Oh, you needn't to have gone to all that trouble. Our waiting list is full of people from
Maryland.”

He chuckled, and then he grew silent gazing at Adele. “You're so beautiful, inside and out. Any more questions?”

She shook her head.

“Good. Because once I start kissing you, I don't want to be interrupted.”

“Is that so?”

“No more questions.” He kissed her dimple and whispered, “I love you, Adele.”

“Is this that old crush of yours resurfacing?”

He gave her a stern look.

She smiled. “And I love you, Graham Logan. By the way, is that your real name?”

When she met his kiss, he knew that for now, all her questions were answered.