“Here you go, honey. Remember, I might be home late this evening, but Grandpa and Grandma said the three of you can have a bonfire out back and toast marshmallows. Would you like that?”
He looked up at her with somber eyes. “Will we have to move?”
With Eli, conversations often took unexpected turns right back to his favorite topics, but even now his focus on his inner world sometimes surprised her.
“I hope not.”
“But you were looking at houses. On the internet. In Minneapolis.”
He’d been reading at the third grade level by early kindergarten, and she was reminded once again that though his mild Asperger’s impacted his interactions with others, he was extremely bright and perceptive, and keeping things from him wasn’t easy.
“I was looking, yes. Just in case. It could be a really big adventure—like explorers in a whole new land! But if we’re lucky, we can stay right here.”
“What about Grandma Margie and Grandpa Dean? And Gramps?”
“If we move, they’ll come visit. Maybe Gramps will even move with us.” The probability of her grandfather doing that was roughly the same as a blizzard in July, but she could still hope.
She gave Eli a quick hug “I love you. And I promise—things will work out.”
“Love you, too.” Still, he looked unconvinced about the future as he hooked his backpack filled with motorcycle books on one shoulder and trudged up the long sidewalk to the front door.
With lush flower beds overflowing with impatiens in pinks, violets and snowy-white, the little bungalow was pretty as a dollhouse with its white picket fence, crisp blue shutters and crimson door.
“There’s Grandma at the front door waiting for you, honey,” she called out when Margie stepped onto the front porch. “Good morning!”
“Well, look who’s here—my favorite grandson,” the older woman exclaimed. “Have you had breakfast yet?”
Eli nodded stoically, accepted her hug, then slipped past her to go inside where she would fuss and hover and ply him with offers of his favorite breakfast items anyway.
Margie made her way down the sidewalk and rested her hands on the picket fence gate, her expression troubled.
Trim and attractive at sixty, she never stepped out of her house without being dressed well, her jewelry and makeup on, her soft platinum curls perfectly coiffed. Even now, she looked as if she could be heading for a ladies tea instead of babysitting her only grandson for the day.
“Are you still looking at other job options?” she asked.
“With regret.”
“I just hate to think of you and Eli being off in some city two long hours away, where we can’t see you every day. He’ll really miss being here, you know.”
“So will I. But I do have a job for the summer, and there’s a chance it could be permanent. Anyway,” Sophie added gently, “you and my dad will soon be moving to Florida.”
“We’re still discussing it,” Margie said. “We’d go for just the winters, if I had my way. But he’s still wanting to go year-round. And you know your dad. It’s his way—”
“—or the highway.” Sophie smiled faintly at their familiar exchange.
Over the past twelve years the two of them had never become close, but no one could deny that Margie tried to be a good wife, and that she’d accepted Eli with all of the love of a biological grandma.
And now that Sophie’s mom was gone, ensuring that Eli had the love and support of his grandfather and stepgrandma was more important than hanging on to hurt and anger over the illicit affair and subsequent divorce that had broken her mother’s heart.
“It’s been great, being able to leave Eli here while I commuted to school and worked at the restaurant. But soon you’ll be enjoying those warm, sunny winters down south.”
“Warm weather or being a part of our grandson’s life. There’s no contest in my mind.” Margie sighed. “But you’re right. Dean worked hard all his life, and that’s something he always wanted.”
“Just think of all the fun you’ll have. When you two aren’t on a golf course, you can be lying on a beach.”
“It isn’t good to be far from family. Not when you’re older. Things can happen…” Margie pressed her lips together.
Sophie felt a flash of alarm. “Is something wrong? Are you and Dad okay?”
“Yes. Definitely.” Margie waved her hands in airy dismissal. “No worries. But you’re right, of course. You need a career, wherever you can find the best options, and if there’s nothing for you here, then you need to move on.”
Determination washed through Sophie as she thought of the challenging days ahead. There could be something for her here. A career with good benefits, and the cottage that she and Eli loved. Good schools. Good friends.
A secure life.
As long as Josh McLaren didn’t stand in her way.
Chapter Three
Heavy rain had fallen all night and most of today, so the lane down to the highway was probably impassible. But even though the rain showed no signs of letting up, Josh had no choice.
Bear had finished off the last of his kibble this morning, and from his sorrowful expression as he followed Josh around the cabin and his mournful glances at the crumpled dog food sack at the front door, he was worried about his supper.
“You win, but you’re gonna get your feet wet,” Josh said with a sigh as he grabbed his cane in his left hand. “And we both know how much you love that.”
Out on the porch, the dog balked on the first step and looked out at the rain.
“Better now than after nightfall, buddy. C’mon.”
Traversing the short, wiry grass of the clearing surrounding the cabin was difficult on a sunny day, given the uneven ground and the weakness and instability of Josh’s right knee.
Today, with rain-slick grass underfoot, Bear instinctively walked next to him, his shaggy body pressing against Josh’s weak leg.
By the time Josh managed to open the door of the shed, toss a blanket across the front seat of the pickup and usher Bear into the cab, escalating pain radiated through his lower back, and his knee threatened to buckle with each slight movement.
The dog watched as Josh carefully sat on the edge of the seat, slowly lifted his bad leg and winced as he swiveled into position behind the wheel.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were telling me ‘I told you so,’” Josh said on a long sigh as he leaned against the headrest for a moment, waiting for the pain to subside.
But agreeing to physical therapy wouldn’t help. It never had—and that last therapist had even made things worse. The perky little therapist Grace kept sending out wouldn’t be any more successful than the ones she’d sent before.
If Grace hadn’t been an old college classmate of his mother’s, he would’ve quit being polite about her ongoing efforts a long time ago.
Bear gave a low woof.
“You’re a traitor, you know.” Josh reached over to ruffle his thick coat. “Falling for Sophie’s dog treats is not a positive measure of your integrity.”
As usual, Bear overflowed his half of the bench seat of the truck. Now, he awkwardly turned around and lay down, his feet slipping and sliding on the leather seat, until his tail pressed against Josh’s thigh and his head was propped against the passenger side door.
He