“But that’s how you feel, right? I’ve never been the brother you needed. I know that.”
“Stop. This isn’t why I wanted to meet you today. Do I miss you sometimes? Yeah. Do I wish we had the kind of relationship my husband has with his siblings? Of course.” She’d balled up a napkin, but she smoothed it out on the tabletop now. “We’ve never had a mom, we’ve barely had a dad. Grandma and Grandpa are long since gone. Each other, that’s what we’ve got left, Luke.”
“But you have Beckett. You have that whole Walker clan.”
“And I love them. But you’re my brother. I guess I just want to try a little harder. I want both of us to try. That’s why I asked if we could grab coffee. I want to talk about our lives and our days.” She stopped fidgeting with her napkin. “And I want to have the kind of relationship that, when I’ve got really awesome news, my brother is one of the first people I tell.”
He set his cup on the table and met her gaze. He didn’t remember Mom very well, but Kit sure looked like the photos he’d seen. Especially now, with that gleam of joy in her eyes. “What news?”
“You’re going to be an uncle. Come next spring—early May.”
Emotion welled inside him. “Seriously? Kit, I don’t even know what to say. Except, congratulations, obviously. And I’m so happy for you guys.”
“We’re happy for us, too.” She laced her fingers around her cup. “We’ve been trying for a while and—”
“I probably don’t need to hear that part.”
Her smile widened. “I’m just saying, it’s something we thought would happen a little faster than it did. I haven’t been that great at trusting God’s timing, if I’m being honest, but I know this little one will be worth the wait when he arrives. Or she—he won’t admit it, but I think Beckett has his heart set on a girl. He’ll be happy no matter what but—I’m rambling, aren’t I?”
“You’re beaming and it’s good to see. Truly, I’m overjoyed for you.”
She studied him for a moment before her grin faded slightly. “I’m glad you’re glad. I’m a little worried this next part isn’t going to sit quite as well with you.” She took a breath. “I invited Dad to come for Thanksgiving.”
His elation plummeted. “Oh.”
“I wanted to give him plenty of advance notice since he usually can’t get away.”
It’s not that he can’t get away. He doesn’t want to. “Kit—”
“I know it’s never worked out in the past. But I can’t get over the feeling that maybe this will be the year. And it’d be so perfect because you’re home, too. What if we could have an actual family holiday?”
A brick weight pressed on his stomach. Yes, he was home now, but by Thanksgiving . . .
Jen. He’d told her about Bridgewell last night, but only in reference to the past. He hadn’t mentioned his plans to return to D.C.
Maybe because he wasn’t so certain a return to Bridgewell was in the plan anymore. Last night when he’d kissed Jen, that conversation he’d had with Mariana and that bright, bold what-if he’d begun to imagine, had suddenly felt within reach.
You could stay. It’d mean finding full-time employment, probably dealing with others like that city council member who’d nixed the Parks & Rec job. But if he could survive Afghanistan, a court-martial, prison, and the numerous Bridgewell missions he’d completed, then he could handle the Herman Ferrises of Maple Valley and carve out a place for himself here. The sort of life that used to only feel like a distant someday.
But the chances of that life including a mended relationship with his father? Next to none.
“You just went from scowling to smiling back to scowling again.”
He looked back to Kit. “He won’t come.” He tried to say it gently, but surely she heard the lurking animosity.
“You don’t know that.”
“If you feel like I’ve abandoned you over the years, think about what he did. He dumped us on Grandma and Grandpa. He barely visited, never called as often as he promised he would. He didn’t even come to your wedding.”
Kit balled her napkin again. “But he’s still our father. And he’s going to be a grandfather.”
“I can’t understand why you even want him to come.” He saw the reflection of his frown in the coffee shop window.
“Because I have to at least try.” Her expression pleaded with him to understand. “I’m going to be a mom, Luke. And I want to be the kind of mom who shows her kids what it looks like to do hard things—like forgive. And true forgiveness doesn’t get to hold on to the bitterness. True forgiveness means having skin in the game.”
Yeah, well, this wasn’t a game he was keen to play.
But Kit had been so happy minutes ago sharing her news and she seemed so hopeful now. What kind of brother would he be to take that away?
He gave a taut nod and let the subject drop. Might as well hold off the disappointment as long as possible—until Dad inevitably let her down. Like he always did.
It wasn’t as if he necessarily needed the excuse. But he’d definitely take it.
Lucas stared at the photo he’d found peeking out from behind the fridge in the cottage. The corners were curled and yellowed, its colors faded. But despite its aged condition, he hadn’t needed the scribbled note on the back to know what he was looking at.
The little girl in the picture—Jen. She was probably about Violet’s age when the photo was taken, her mop of hair as dark and thick then as it was now. Blue eyes, button nose, same wide smile.
The woman in the photo had to be the aunt Jen had talked about repeatedly. As an adult, Jen was her spitting image. The note on the back read simply L and J.
It was reason enough to abandon his work long enough to go up to the house, especially considering he’d seen Jen’s car pull into the drive half an hour ago.
“Thought you were just coming in to grab a water bottle?” Noah’s form was a silhouette in the doorway, the sun having decided to show its face after all this afternoon. The ground was still too wet to accomplish much today, but they’d picked up a truckload of stone pavers, landscaping rock, and other supplies after lunch. Most of it still needed to be unloaded.
He supposed he could wait to bring Jen the photo until later but—
“You might as well go talk to her. You’re basically useless at this point.”
He might glare at Noah if the guy didn’t have a point. He opened the fridge, pulled out a water bottle, and took a long drink. “Useless is a little strong.”
Noah smirked. “We could’ve had your whole truck bed emptied by now if you didn’t keep looking at the house every two seconds. And since you won’t tell me what happened last night—”
“Not a chance.” Which Noah should know by now. Obviously he’d seen the fire on the patio last night. He’d joked about how he should’ve been invited to the pow-wow since he’d helped Lucas complete the landscaping plans. He’d heckled Lucas all the way to the yard store and back.
And Lucas couldn’t even bring himself to be annoyed by it. It was good to see the younger man grinning. Good to know he’d done at least something right in his time with Noah.