Coda Books 06 - Fear, Hope, and Bread Pudding (MM) by Marie Sexton Read Free Book Online Page A

silently around the quiet elephant in the room, that I’d nearly forgotten who Thomas even was. I sat up in bed and rubbed my eyes, trying to be here, now , where my very grown-up son needed me. “Okay. What’s going on?”
    “Cole and I are going back. Our flight leaves in a few hours—”
    “I’ll get dressed—”
    “No, Dad. Stay, okay? It’s only an interview with a mom, and….”
    “And Cole’s trying not to get his hopes up.”
    “Something like that, yeah.”
    “What about Grace?”
    “Can you tell her?”
    “Don’t you think Cole should do that?”
    He sighed and rubbed his hand over his forehead. He was so tense. He’d been that way for years, but it had lessened as he’d fallen in love with Cole. It had nearly disappeared when he’d finally given up his old job and embraced the life they could have together. But now it was back, and it wasn’t about meeting this mom. It was about Cole. Between the adoption and Grace, Cole was more flustered than I’d ever seen him, and Jon was trying desperately to keep him from flying apart at the seams. “I’ll take care of it,” I said.
    He slumped in relief. “Thanks, Dad. The condo’s already paid up through the first of the year anyway, so the two of you may as well enjoy it, if you can.”
    “We’ll be fine.”
    He nodded. He turned to go, but stopped halfway and stood there, looking uncertain, and suddenly the dream was back and real. He may have outgrown the banana-seat bike long ago, but he was still my son. “You’ll get through this, Jon.”
    He nodded, but I saw the way he stood a bit taller. It was what he needed to hear. “I know.”
    “You’ll let me know as soon as there’s news?”
    “Of course.”
    “Have a safe trip.”
    “Thanks, Dad.” He made it all the way to the doorway this time, but stopped there, silhouetted against the dim light of the hallway. He put his hand on the doorframe and turned back to face me. “Dad?”
    “Yeah?”
    He took a breath, but no words came out. The moment stretched out as he tried to say the words. Sometimes it amused me to watch him squirm a bit, but not now. I knew what he wanted to say. I knew what he needed me to say back. “I love you, son. And the fruitcake too.”

    I WENT back to sleep, hoping to return to that unreal Christmas with the tilting tree, but it wasn’t to be. I woke again at six thirty to the smell of coffee. I put on a robe and slippers and made sure what was left of my hair wasn’t standing straight on end before leaving my room. The Christmas tree stood in the corner, normal height, not listing at all, taunting me with its absolute reality.
    Christmas was over, in more ways than one. Jon had learned to ride that damn banana-seat bike, but he’d begged for a BMX dirt bike because that was what all the other boys in the neighborhood had. Banana seats, he’d told me with the quiet solemnity of a six-year-old, were for girls.
    I found Grace sitting at the kitchen table. Like me, she wore a robe and slippers. She was bent over a newspaper. Her shoulder-length hair wasn’t pulled back as it had been every other time I’d seen her. Instead, it hung down, hiding her face. The kitchen was warm and rich with the smell of coffee, and the heartbreaking nostalgia of my lost dream came back to me. How many mornings had I spent like this with Carol? After Jon had left for college, we’d fallen into the habit of sitting in the kitchen on weekend mornings, drinking our coffee and passing the crossword puzzle back and forth between us. Neither of us could figure out a New York Times crossword alone, but together, we could usually finish all but the Sunday puzzle.
    “Good morning,” I said.
    She glanced up, and the spell was broken. It wasn’t my Carol sitting there. It was a woman I barely knew.
    She blushed and reached up to touch her hair—not a gesture of vanity, but one that betrayed how self-conscious she was. “Oh, my goodness. I didn’t expect anybody else to be up