the frigid air hitting his wet face. It was from a dark fear battering his soul.
Wiping at his eyes, he whispered to the wind. “I’m not good enough for that boy, Lord. Not nearly good enough to even lay claim to him.”
He closed his eyes, reliving those precious moments when his son had come down the stairs. Eli’s heart had pounded with pride and awe even while it pumped with trepidation.
“Help me,” he whispered, his words disappearing as the wind carried them out to sea.
Lydia had told him to turn to God when he was afraid or when he thought he might want to seek revenge or retribution. But there was no retribution here. No way to make up for the losses that boy and he had suffered. Scotty would never know his mother’s beautiful smile even though he had the same smile. He’d never hear her pretty Southern drawl. He’d never be able to hug her close and call her “Mommy.” And Eli would never have her in his arms again. Never. But he had his son now. If he could face the tremendous responsibility of that.
“Help me.”
That was the only prayer his trembling lips could form. So he just stood there, frozen and unyielding, staring out at that harsh, brutal water, tears falling like melting snowflakes down his face.
Until he felt a hand on his arm.
“Eli, come inside and let me make you some coffee.”
He jerked away, then turned to stare at Gena. Her dark hair lifted around her face, her eyes were wide with worry. She clutched his arm, her expression full of a sympathy that just about did him in.
“I’m afraid,” he admitted. “I’m so afraid of him.”
Gena moved closer. “He’s just a little boy. But it is scary, being a parent. It’s the kind of love that holds your heart so tightly…well…it’s just hard to imagine life without your child.”
He turned to her then, understanding piercing the cold wall of his heart. “I came here not knowing, not thinking about that. But now I get it. Fools rush in—”
“Where angels fear to tread,” Gena finished.
He touched her hand on his arm, his fingers covering hers. “I’m sorry. So sorry.”
Then he saw the tears forming in her eyes. “It’s okay. You have a right to know your child. I only ask that you be patient with us. And we’ll try to do the same with you.”
He faced the ocean again. “I’m normally not a patient man.”
“I can tell,” she said, her smile indulgent. “Your son has inherited that particular trait, I think.”
That made him smile. “I pray he hasn’t inherited my other bad traits.”
“Time will tell, won’t it?”
She shivered as the wind picked up.
“Let’s get you inside,” he said, turning to take her by the hand.
She nodded, following him back up the slope to the house. “I have scrapbooks—it’s a hobby of mine. You’re welcome to look at them. They show our life—from the time Devon brought him to me until now.”
Eli swallowed back the lump in his throat. “I’d like that.”
“C’mon in, then. I’ll brew some fresh coffee and I have some homemade cinnamon rolls. You can take as long as you need.”
Eli followed her up onto the tiny back porch. He needed a lifetime. But for now, he’d take all the precious moments he could get.
It took a few days, but Eli fell into a routine. He didn’t sleep much, but he got up with the sunrise each day to stare over at the cottage across from his own, waiting and sipping coffee until he saw the kitchen light flick on. Then he’d head over to have breakfast with Gena and Scotty, sitting silent and watchful as he absorbed their endearing daily rituals.
After they took Scotty to school, Gena would go about her computer work while Eli would go back to his cottage to look over yet another frilly scrapbook full of pictures of Scotty and Gena.
And what a pretty picture those two made.
Gena decorated each page with cute little captions and colorful cutouts. There were a lot of firsts in those decorative little story boards—first birthday, first Christmas, first tooth, first snowman, first hockey practice. He had missed a lot in the last few years, but these clever picture books told the story of his son’s life. Gena loved Scotty, that was for sure.
And so did Eli.
Now as he trudged through the snow to the cottage, he did a visual surveillance—this, too, had become part of his daily routine. So far, nothing seemed amiss even though Eli still woke in the night with a sense of dread in his soul. But he did notice an SUV parked at the cottage across the way on the other side of Gena’s house. She’d told him a couple was coming to stay through Christmas. Eli wondered who they were and why they’d chosen such a cold, isolated place to have a vacation. Maybe they wanted some alone time.
He didn’t have time to ponder that. His thoughts went back to his son. How did you protect someone when you didn’t know what you were trying to protect him or her from?
He couldn’t answer his own question. The minute he entered the back door, Scotty bombarded him with fast-paced conversation.
“It’s the last day of school, then we get out for the Christmas break,” Scotty told Eli in between bites of fluffy pancakes. “Hey, want to help me build a snowman when I get home today, Mr. Eli?”
“I think I’d like that,” Eli said, wondering how Gena kept up with this little bundle of energy. He always had another adventure to share. “I’ve never built a snowman before.”
“Honest?” Scotty gave him a look of disbelief. “Why not?”
“Well, we don’t get much snow down in Louisiana.”
“I’m learning my states,” Scotty said, moving on to another subject. “But where’s Lous-anna?”
“It’s Louisiana,” Gena corrected from her spot in front of the stove.
Eli gave Scotty an indulgent smile. He’d been careful not to give out information unless the kid asked. “It’s near Texas and the southern part is right on the Gulf of Mexico. That’s where I grew up.”
“That’s big water,” Scotty said with a bob of his head.
Eli watched as the kid’s hair bounced and bobbed, too. “It is big water, very big. I go shrimpin’ in the Gulf a lot whenever I’m home.”
“You don’t stay home much?”
Eli shook his head. “No, not much. I’ve been away a long time now. But I might go back soon.”
“Maybe one day I can come and visit you,” Scotty said on a pragmatic note. “In the summer.”
Gena
