Read Online Friend Me by John Faubion - Free Book Online Page B

sun was setting across the fields and glorious colors stretched themselves across the western sky. Just a little farther ahead on the left was his house, a tricycle still parked on the lawn next to the driveway.
    As promised, dinner was on the table. Also, as promised, it was the delicious lasagna that first Rachel’s mother, and now Rachel, had made a family favorite. June Anderson had acquired the recipe from a young Italian lady when she was in college, an exchange student from Naples. Rachel was the inheritor of that wonderful recipe.
    Scotty sat in his booster seat. Angela was perched in a high chair. When he came in the door, both children exclaimed in unison, “Daddy!” Rachel pressed a kiss to his lips. It was just the kind of welcome he loved.
    Scott led his family in prayer, thanking God for the food and for His goodness to them all that day. Both the children said “Amen.”
    Rachel, wearing a long, flowery “Yes, I make that too!” apron, went after the lasagna with a wide spatula.
    Scott’s mouth was already full when she said, “Scott, I have come across the most amazing thing. You will not believe it.”
    He bobbed his head up and down and pointed to his mouth.
    â€œI know you’re like Mr. Computer, but I think this is really going to surprise you.”
    He swallowed enough to allow him to speak. “Tell me about it. What happened?”
    â€œLater, after we are alone. You’ll have to see it to believe it. How was your day?”
    She leaned forward and Scott caught a glimpse of Rachel’s curves under her T-shirt. Seeing really is believing and what he saw was better than even the lasagna.
    â€œMy day? Ha! You do not want to know.” He punctuated each word and smiled grimly. “And that’s also the kind of news I’ll save till we’re alone, if at all.”
    Bringing all that home felt wrong anyway. Rachel worked so hard keeping the house, he didn’t need her worrying about his own job security. Tonight might be different, though. He wanted Rachel to be there for him; to lean on her a little bit and have her understanding.
    Scotty was transforming his lasagna into a fort and already had little pieces of sausage shelling the inhabitants inside. Angela had begun squirming, a pained expression on her face. Time to go to the bathroom.
    â€œAngela, I told you to go potty before we sat down.” Rachel plucked her out of the high chair and carried her off down the hall on her hip.
    â€œWho’s going to win that battle, Scotty?”
    Scotty looked at his father, his face a mask of incredulity. “Daddy, it’s just food. Nobody wins. It’s not real.” Then he picked up his fork and scraped all the weapons into a pile, scooped them up on the fork, and ate them.
    Rachel got Angela back into her high chair, where she began decorating her face with what was left of her lasagna. She looked at her little girl, sighed, and began eating her own food.
    â€œWho invented food?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œWho invented food, Daddy? What did people eat before they invented food?”
    â€œWrite that one down somewhere, Rachel. Someday when he’s a teenager we’ll remind him when he needs to be humbled.”
    Scott put both the children to bed while Rachel did the dishes downstairs.
    Scott turned the bedroom light off. “Daddy, do we have bears in our house?” asked Angela.
    â€œNo, sweetheart. No bears around here. You can go to sleep and not worry about bears.”
    â€œWe’ve got spiders. I saw one today. Mom killed it,” said Scotty.
    â€œDaddy, will spiders get me?”
    â€œNo, the spiders will not get you. Scotty, quit scaring your sister, okay?”
    Eventually he closed their doors and went downstairs,heaving a sigh of relief. As he stepped off the last stair he began to feel like he had sloughed the weight of the world off his shoulders.
    Rachel had fixed some coffee and