Read Online A Family Kind of Gal by Lisa Jackson - Free Book Online

his life by showing up in Bittersweet.
    * * *
    Juggling two sacks of groceries, Tiffany managed to unlock the front door. “I’m home,” she called out, but knew before no one answered that she was alone. On a chair in the parlor, Charcoal lifted his head, then arched his back and stretched lazily. “Anybody here?” she said to the house in general, then sighed. “I guess it’s just you and me, eh?” The cat yawned and padded after her to the kitchen.
    A note in Mrs. Ellingsworth’s chicken scratch told her that she had taken Christina to the park. Stephen was still at his grandmother’s house doing yard work. She set the sacks on the kitchen counter and started unpacking the groceries only to notice that the wedding invitation she’d tucked away was on the counter, lying open, seeming to mock her.
    â€œGreat,” she muttered, fingering the smooth paper.
    While she was growing up John Cawthorne had never been around. She’d never even met him until a few months ago, and for years— years —she’d believed him dead. So it seemed unbelievable to her that now, when she was thirty-three years old, a widowed mother of two, she should be expected to forgive and forget. Just like that. Well, guess again.
    For the dozenth time in as many days she read the embossed invitation.
    Mr. John Andrew Cawthorne and Ms. Brynnie Perez
    Request the Honor of Your Presence
    at the Celebration of Their Marriage
    on Sunday, August 7th
    at 7:00 p.m.
    at the Chapel of the Rogue
    Reception Following
    at Cawthorne Acres
    R.S.V.P.
    â€œFat chance,” she whispered to herself.
    As far as Tiffany was concerned, John Cawthorne’s upcoming marriage was a sham. She wanted no part of it and had refused to attend the nuptials. Even though John had called over, even though she’d felt a ridiculous needle of guilt pierce her brain for not accepting the olive branch he’d held out to her, she’d held firm.
    Scowling against a potential headache, she retrieved a handwritten note that was still tucked inside the envelope. In a bold scrawl, good old John had tried to breach a gap he’d created when he’d turned his back on her mother thirty-three years ago.

    Dear Tiffany,
    I know I don’t deserve your support, but I’m asking for it anyway. Believe me when I say I’ve turned over a new leaf and more than anything I want you and your sisters to be part of my family.
    God knows, I’ve made more than my share of mistakes. No doubt I’ll make more before I see the pearly gates, but, please find it in your heart to forgive an old man who just wants to make his peace before it’s time to face his Maker. In my own way, Tiffany, I love you. Always have. Always will. You’re my firstborn. I hope you will join me and your sisters at the wedding.
    Your father,
    John Cawthorne
    * * *
    Father. There was that painful word again. Where had he been when her mother was working two jobs trying to raise an illegitimate daughter? Where had this wonderful “father” been during her growing-up years when she’d needed someone—anyone—to explain the complexities of the males of the species? Where had he been when she’d gotten married and had no one to give her away at the small wedding? What had he thought when she’d had children—his grandchildren?
    John Cawthorne didn’t know the meaning of the word father. She doubted that he ever would. She curled the letter in her fist, felt the edge of one sheet cut into her finger and tossed the crumpled pages into a wastebasket near the back door. Why was she even thinking of the man?
    Because in a few days it will be his wedding day.
    So what? So he was finally marrying the woman he’d professed to love after all these years—a woman who had collected more husbands than most women had pairs of earrings.
    As for her “sisters,” she wasn’t sure she had anything in