A Family of Their Own - By Gail Gaymer Martin Page 0,37
and the rhythm of the highway.
“Kelsey, I think we’re close.”
She opened her eyes, startled that she’d fallen asleep. Ross’s hand rested on her arm. She scooted up in the seat and tried to wrap her mind around where she was and why. The answer hit her, and her stomach knotted. Eyeing the surroundings, she got her bearings. “I’ve only been here a couple of times. At first, Doug came to Clawson.” A building came into sight that she recognized. “Turn right up here.”
Ross followed her directions and as they rolled down Doug’s street, she leaned over her seat and tapped Lucy. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”
Lucy’s eyes flew open, and she looked around, her dazed eyes widening. “Are we there already?”
“Almost.”
She straightened in the seat and ran her hand over her hair. “Mom, do you have a comb?”
Kelsey grinned and dug into her purse. “Here you go.” She handed her the comb and Lucy ran it through her curls. She handed it back, mumbling a thanks.
“We should have brought him something.” Kelsey looked at Ross for validation. “Lucy, you should take a gift for your dad since he’s ill. Flowers or candy. Maybe a magazine. Anything.”
Hindered by the seat belt, Lucy scooted as close as she could get. “Mom, aren’t flowers for girls?”
Kelsey eyed Ross. “What do you say?”
“Some men like flowers, but all men like candy.”
“See, Mom. Let’s buy him a box of chocolates.”
Kelsey stretched her mind and recalled a drugstore not far away. She gave Ross directions and soon they were back where they’d started. When they pulled in front of Doug’s house, she drew in a calming breath. “I’ll walk you to the door, Lucy, but I’m not going to stay.” She dug into her purse and pulled out a slip of paper. “Here’s my cell-phone number in case you’ve forgotten it, and—”
“Mom.” She rolled her eyes. “I know your number.”
“Okay.” She dropped the scrap into her purse. “I hope that’s all right.”
Lucy shrugged. “I’d rather you were there, too.”
Air emptied from Kelsey’s lungs. “I know, but it’s better for you and your dad to spend time together without me there. I’d just be in the way. You know that your dad and I—”
“But he’s sick now.”
Guilt shriveled her argument. “Ross drove us here, because he knew we were upset. I don’t want to leave him alone while—”
“Kelsey, don’t worry—”
She flashed him a scowl. “You’d be waiting a long time alone, Ross. I can’t do that to you.”
“It’s okay.” Lucy’s voice slid into the conversation. “I understand.”
Relief swilled over her cowardice. Where was her spunk? She’d never hurt Doug or Karen. They’d hurt her, and why couldn’t she let it die? The word stabbed her. Die. Doug. She peered at the house and noticed the front door open.
“They’ve seen us.” She faced Lucy. “Ready?”
She nodded and unlatched her seat belt. As she did, an unexpected prayer slipped into Kelsey’s thoughts. A prayer for her attitude and a prayer for Lucy’s day. God would protect her.
Ross opened his door, and she grasped his arm. “Not this time.”
He seemed to understand and closed the door.
She clutched the door handle and stepped out, hoping her legs would hold her steady. Lucy waited on the sidewalk, clutching the box of chocolates. She looked too young to bear this difficult visit alone, but Kelsey sensed it would be for the best. Her scars were still raw after so many years, and she feared that hiding her bitterness would be impossible. This wasn’t a time for resentment, but compassion—and she didn’t have it.
Ahead she saw Karen standing behind the storm door. When they were friends, she would have waved and smiled, but today her arm clung to her side, her lips straight as a razor and just as sharp.
Karen pushed open the door. “Lucy.” She crouched and gave her a hug. “Your daddy is so anxious to see you.”
Lucy lost her voice and only gave a nod, staring ahead as if she wanted to get inside and see her father. Karen stood back and waved her in. “It’s good to see you, Kelsey. You look well.”
“Thank you.” She took a step back.
“Aren’t you coming in?”
“No. This should be time for Lucy and her father.” She motioned to the car. “I have a friend who drove us here.”
Karen’s head jerked toward the minivan, and she squinted. “That was nice of him.”
“He’s a wonderful man. Very thoughtful and caring.” She wanted to add trustworthy to the list, but she stopped herself.
“I’m glad for you.” Karen’s eyes searched