Braking Points by Tammy Kaehler Read Free Book Online Page A

For the month. I walked down the fire lane to the edge of Siebkens that faced Elkhart Lake feeling a familiar mix of curiosity, pleasure, and dread as I thought about James Hightower Reilly III.
    After my mother died in the hospital two days after my birth, my maternal grandparents raised me to believe my father’s family had “washed their hands of me,” to quote my grandmother. My father proved my understanding wrong last year, which made my grandparents’ house less a sanctuary and more a battleground. Grandmother still refused to discuss the topic, leaving me unsettled.
    My father had overcome my initial desire to keep him at arm’s length with persistence and understanding. I wasn’t ready to fall into his embrace, but I liked the man, maybe cared about him. Something about him tugged at me.
    I walked into Otto’s Restaurant at the Osthoff Resort, a large complex adjacent to Siebkens, and once again experienced a shock of recognition. I’d gotten my coloring from my father, quintessential “black Irish,” along with his average height and nose.
    â€œKatherine—Kate.” He approached, hand outstretched, and leaned in to kiss my cheek. That was new.
    â€œGood morning, James.” Using his first name was as far as I’d gotten. I wasn’t ready for “Father,” and “Dad” wouldn’t ever happen.
    â€œYou’re feeling no ill effects from the accident?”
    â€œSome stiffness. Nothing major.”
    He spoke again after we were seated and perusing the menus. “I understand there was some excitement at the Tavern last night as well?”
    â€œIt wasn’t exciting. I was there.”
    â€œI’m sorry.” His face fell, and he leaned forward. “I didn’t hear what happened, only that police were called.”
    I outlined the events in as few words as possible, and he exhaled through pursed lips. “I apologize for sounding insensitive. I had no idea. And I’m so sorry for you, Kate.” His hand fluttered in the air before patting mine on the table.
    Smooth corporate executive that James was, he turned the conversation to other topics, including my plans for the coming off-season and next year. I could only tell him I’d have big news in a week.
    He raised his eyebrows, but didn’t press the issue. “You’ll go home to New Mexico for a time? Do you have many close family members on your mother’s side?”
    â€œNot really.” I paused as the waiter delivered our meals. “It’s strange you don’t know this.”
    â€œYour mother and I fell in love at university and married in the courthouse, thousands of miles from her family. I knew the basics about her—she was an only child—but not a lot of details. We never had a chance for me to meet her family.”
    I held up a hand to stop his story, my emotions too raw from Ellie’s death to risk a discussion about my mother. “There are distant cousins, grandchildren of my grandmother’s siblings, out in California. But we’re not close.”
    â€œThe lack of other family will become difficult, as your grandparents get older.”
    â€œYes.” I dug into my ham and Wisconsin-cheese omelet.
    â€œYou do have other family. Mine.”
    I set my fork down. “I should make our situation clear. My grandparents and I don’t have other blood relations around Albuquerque. But we’re part of a strong community. When I was a kid, my grandparents joined the local Unitarian church, and that’s been our family for twenty years. Members of the church check in on my grandparents a couple times a week while I’m gone, and I have friends my age as well as surrogate parents I’m in contact with. I have a different kind of family.”
    â€œUnderstood.” He took a bite of his pancakes. “You have other blood relations. Maybe some day you will consider them family.”
    I