Once Upon A Thanksgiving: Season of Bounty / Home for Thanksgiving. Linda Ford
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a few minutes. Okay?”
“You be back for sure?”
“For sure.”
“Okay, then.” He returned his attention to the slice of bread.
He slipped into his coat and buttoned it, then held the door for Kathleen, who had already said goodbye to everyone in the room. They tramped along the hardened path.
“Do you realize that’s the first time I’ve heard mention of your mother?”
“Even the likes of Rosie and me have a mother and father, though they are both dead now.” He regretted his words as soon as they were out and hoped she wouldn’t ask about his father.
“I’m sorry for your loss, but you know I didn’t mean you wouldn’t have parents.” She scowled at him, making him feel like a small boy.
“I’m sorry. Sometimes I am too defensive.”
“Both you and Rosie. It’s like you expect someone to kick you in the teeth for no reason.”
Oh, they thought they had reason enough, but he wasn’t about to tell her so.
Kathleen turned to him, her expression a mixture of amusement and something more—perhaps regret? “Rosie’s very fond of you.”
“Like you said, she hides it pretty well.”
Her sweet laugh filled his senses. “Tell me what it was like to have a sister growing up.”
Her questions almost stopped him in his tracks. It took every bit of his well-developed self-control to move forward, to keep his voice steady, as if the memories weren’t filled with a bittersweet taste. “Life was very different then. My parents were alive.”
She didn’t speak, and he wondered how aware she was of the tension gripping his heart.
“There was a time …” He slowed his words to cover his regret. “When my father laughed with joy and said we had much to be grateful for.” How quickly his attitude had changed.
“It sounds nice.”
“It was.” How long since he’d remembered those better days? Far too long. And he vowed right there in the middle of the trail he would give Joey some memories of good times, and he’d find a way to remind Rosie of those happier days when being thankful didn’t require an effort.
“Having a sibling is special.”
Did he detect a lonesome note in her voice? He couldn’t think it was true. She came from a secure, stable, safe family.
They passed the business section of town and climbed a slight hill to a cluster of large houses.
Kathleen stopped walking. “This is where I live.” She indicated a house dominating those around it.
The place was huge. Buck could see why they might need someone to dust and clean. “Just you and your parents live here?” He failed to keep awe from his voice.
“Our cook has quarters here, too.”
“Oh, then that explains why you need such a large house.”
She grinned. “You know it doesn’t. We don’t need a big house, but my father thinks it’s in keeping with his station in life.” Her smile seemed slightly lopsided. “My father has very well-formed ideas of right and wrong.”
“And always does what is right?”
“Always.”
“That’s something to be grateful for, isn’t it?” He knew his voice revealed far more than he wanted to. If his own father had always done what was right, not let his anger and frustration drive him to taking things into his own hands in such a gruesome manner … well, his life and Rosie’s—and now their children’s—would be much different.
Aware that she watched him closely, likely wondering why he seemed so vehement about the idea of right and wrong when they’d been talking about her big house, he again studied the mansion before him. Lots of red brick and white trim around the seemingly endless windows on both the ground floor and second story. “It certainly makes a person stand up and take notice.”
“It’s just a house. Isn’t a house the place where family gathers? Seems to me that what’s important. Not the size of the dwelling.”
He couldn’t take his eyes off the house in front of them. “If you say so.”
“I do. Now stop staring at it. You’re making me uncomfortable.”
He jerked his attention away and toward her. “Why would it make you uncomfortable?”
“Because I don’t want to be judged by who my father is or how large the house I live in is. I want to be judged for my own actions.” Her words rang with fierceness.
“I wish I could think such was possible.” But people would always judge him by who his father was. He couldn’t imagine it would be any different for Kathleen, though for vastly different reasons.
She studied him, her gaze searching out hidden meanings in his words, secrets buried deep in his heart. “Can it not be so between us, at least?”
Her question begged so many things from him. Acceptance of her friendship, but more. Openness, sharing of secrets. He couldn’t offer what she silently asked for, though he ached to do so. “I wish things could be different.”
“Can’t you make them so?”
“I can’t control what others say or think or do.”
“But you can choose who and what you are.”
He searched her frank open gaze. He wanted to point out it was easy for her to choose her own path with the protection of her father’s name. But he didn’t want to spoil the moment.
She continued to study him. “Haven’t you done that already to some extent?”
He didn’t understand. His choice was to leave before people learned the truth or immediately after they did.
She must have seen his confusion. “Adopting Joey.”
“That has never been a hardship.” Though partly because Joey fit into Buck’s way of life … moving on before people got too critical. But was he doing the child a disservice by constantly moving?
“I must go inside.” Kathleen shifted her attention to the house.
“Good afternoon. Thanks for everything.”
She turned back to him. Made him happy he’d said something to accomplish that. “For what?”
“For visiting Rosie and being her friend. For praying for Joey. Reminding me of God.” For being Kathleen and sharing your joy.
She lowered her eyes. “You’re welcome.” Brought her gaze back to his, smiling widely. “I hope you think about God more often now.”
“I surely shall.” Every time he thought of Kathleen and he knew that would be often.
“Goodbye now. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She headed up the brick sidewalk, paused at the door to give a little wave.
He lifted a hand in response, waited until the door closed behind her then headed back to Rosie’s, Kathleen’s promise ringing in his ears. See you tomorrow.
How many tomorrows dare he plan? He clamped his jaw down hard, making his teeth ache. Not nearly enough.
Chapter Four
Kathleen leaned against the door and waited for her heart to calm. He admired her. Approved of her friendship with Rosie. Of course he would, Rosie being his sister. But his approval meant more to her than she could explain.
She hung her coat on the hall tree and slipped out of her boots into a pair of