and pressed in the Bailey phone number.
Nick stepped onto his dock and moored the boat. He looked up the incline to the house—the lonely house. Though he and Gary seemed like strangers, his son made noise and sometimes had breakfast or dinner with him. He wished he knew how to talk with Gary. They were like two islands connected by a drawbridge that had risen and never came down again.
He wondered if all parents of teenagers felt like he did. He barely knew Gary’s friends anymore. He didn’t bring them home and avoided talking about them, and the ones he knew from church had faded from Gary’s life. Nick didn’t even know the girl his son had wrapped in his arms at the school.
Facing that things had to change, Nick drew in a breath and headed inside. The pervading trees blocked the lowering sun except for the living room and the dining room. He snapped on a light to brighten the gloom that surrounded him.
The kitchen sink still held their cereal bowls from the morning. Nick rinsed them and slipped the bowls into the dishwasher. He drained coffee from the carafe, cleaned the used grounds and made a fresh pot. The silence pressed against his ears except for the soft groan of the water warming in the coffeemaker.
He sank onto a kitchen chair, his mind drifted to the sunny diner in Hessel and the intriguing woman he’d met. Nick had seen more sparkle in her eyes than he’d seen in years.
Yet beneath the glint of curiosity and humor, she’d been wary. He sensed it. But why wouldn’t she be? He’d been a stranger who invited her to sit with him and then talked in circles.
Nick should have asked her if she’d consider a housekeeping job. He called it that, but he needed someone in the house for more than housekeeping. Nick longed for someone to bring life to his home as well as keep the dust bunnies from multiplying and taking over. Most of all he wanted someone to keep an eye on Gary.
His past housekeeper, Angie, had decided to move to a big city, as she’d called it. He chuckled. If she thought St. Ignace was a big city, wait until she laid her eyes on Bay City or Saginaw.
Rona, he guessed, had come from the city. Maybe even Detroit. She had that look about her, and he heard concern in her voice about finding work and getting settled in the small town. Hessel’s population was even smaller than Cedarville where Gary’s high school was located.
The thought reminded him of his difficulties with Gary. Cedarville, that was the problem. He knew people in Hessel, but not as many in Cedarville. He didn’t have as many connections there. Maybe he could get involved in some way. The idea rattled in his head. He had so little time. How could he get involved?
The scent of coffee aroused his senses. He rose and filled his favorite cup, then ambled into the living room where he could look out at the lake. Shades of gold spread across the water; he watched the changing sky for a moment, then headed for the family room and caved into the recliner. He leaned his head against the cushion and looked through one of the windows beside the fireplace. The flowering trees and the darkening leaves reminded him that summer was almost here.
He looked away from the pleasant view as his mind headed toward his problems. What could he do to make a difference in his and Gary’s lives? He couldn’t go on like this. He had businesses to run, responsibilities to handle and now a son who appeared to hate him. He closed his eyes, hoping God would send him a message, anything to give him a hint of where he’d gone wrong.
When he opened his eyes, he saw her picture on the mantle. Jill. Her face laughing into the camera. He’d lived with the other side of Jill as well, the brooding side. Studying the photo he noticed Gary looked like her. He only had Nick’s light brown hair and maybe a similar smile, the smile he hadn’t seen much lately.
Nick rose and lifted the framed photograph. Each time he saw it, guilt knifed his heart. He slid it into the small secretary desk drawer. He didn’t need to be reminded of what he’d done. Life had moved on and Jill was in heaven, happier than she could have ever been on earth. He knew that for sure.
The sun had faded and Nick snapped on the light and ambled to the kitchen. Too weary to make dinner, he tossed lunch meat on two pieces of bread, took a big bite and headed back to the recliner.
By the time he’d settled back and tilted the chair, the sandwich had vanished. With a final sip of coffee, Nick closed his eyes, mulling over possibilities. He had batted zero finding a housekeeper. He just needed to be direct and see if Rona would be interested. At least he’d have one thing off his mind if she accepted.
Rona shifted in the comfy chair, feeling good to be here again in the Bailey’s cozy home.
“For a minute there, I didn’t recognize your name when you called.” The elderly woman grinned. “But then I remembered you were the little blond girl with straight hair and bangs.”
Straight hair and bangs. Memories swept over Rona. “That was me.” Her mind flew back to her skinny legs and scrawny body. She’d hated it then, but she looked at her rounder figure now and wished she had a little of that thinness today.
“You visited a few times with Janie, I remember.”
A few times. Yes, and the trips had always been such a wonderful reprieve from her difficult childhood. The Bailey house brimmed with sunshine, smiles and a cozy comfort she’d never known at home. Her mother tried, but her father had dashed all attempts to the ground.
“At least that’s what I recall,” Mrs. Bailey said as if questioning her own recollections.
Rona swallowed her memories. “You’re right, Mrs. Bailey. I visited numerous times. I haven’t seen Janie in years. I hope she’s well.”
“She’s fine. Lives in California with her husband and three children. Sweet kids.”
Husband and three kids. California. “That’s great.” Envy prickled along Rona’s neck, thinking of friends happily married with kids. Kids she’d never have.
“I’m so glad you called tonight. There’s nothing good on TV on Mondays.”
Rona held back a laugh. “I’m not sure any night is good, especially trying to watch anything on the motel’s TV.”
Mrs. Bailey leaned closer. “Where are you staying?”
“Up the road. Some small cabins.”
She nodded.
Rona wondered if she had heard her. “Just up the road,” she said, raising her volume.
“Those small cabins?”
“That’s right.” She’d wondered why sometimes the woman had given her a blank look. Now she knew.
“How long are you visiting?”
She’d told her earlier. Rona cranked up her volume. “I’m planning to stay for a while. Settle down here, I think.”
Her eyes brightened. “Really?” She cocked her head as if thinking. “You’ll have to drop by now and again. I don’t have lots of visitors nowadays since Sam’s gone.”
“I was sorry to hear about his passing.”
Greeted by another blank stare, Rona repeated herself, this time, louder.
“Yes,
