Read Online Gifts and Consequences by Daniel Coleman - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Daniel Coleman
Tags: Romance, Contemporary
Ads: Link
through. So why doesn’t that make it easier to keep walking?
Shadows cast by the sinking sun crept up to him, catching Allen by surprise. He glanced down at his GPS watch.
“Dang it,” he said. “Quarter mile too far. That’s what I get for not sticking to the schedule.”
Whatever changes lay ahead, his schedule said it was time to set up camp and eat dinner. As he continued the walk into the treeline he thought, Job lost everything and didn’t complain. I can barely deal with a slush. Job came forth as gold after his trials. But that’s not me. I’ll be lucky to be pig iron.
Chapter Thirteen
Gravel crunched beneath his feet as Dexter walked along the path toward the funeral home. He’d find another way to help Tracy. If she took a semester off they could find a way to get financial aid. He’d help her pay off her loans after she graduated. The stranger who’d given him the job had said something about making sure she didn’t graduate from anywhere, but there was no way he could enforce that.
A decade before Tracy graduated high school, Dexter and Dru had prepared financially for college. By the time she was a freshman in high school they had no debt, no mortgage, not even a car loan. On top of that they had $20,000 saved up. But tuition at Columbia was almost half of Dexter’s annual income. The savings shrunk and despite having no debt they were required to live frugally in order keep up the tuition payments.
They had always done what they needed so that Tracy could fulfill her dream. But Dexter had finally reached his limit. They’d have to find a different solution.
Before he knew it he was walking through the front doors of the funeral parlor. As he passed the open door of the chapel on the way to the office, he saw the miniature white casket again. The tiny hole in the ground that would be required came to his mind unbidden, reminding him of little Camille’s grave. His decision to quit was confirmed. The stranger in black could go to hell; it wasn’t worth it.
A man Dexter did not recognize approached him. The dark suit and puffy eyes marked him as the father of the child who had passed away. He asked, “Excuse me, do you work here?”
“Uh, yeah.” If Dexter didn’t feel a gloomy kinship with the man he would have said no.
“I just got here. I’m Tom Howard, Macy’s father,” he said motioning toward the open chapel door where the miniature burial box lay. “Can you tell me what happens from here?”
“That’s probably a better question for Freddy, the assistant funeral director. I can go get him for you.”
“I don’t know how my poor wife is going to make it through this,” said Tom, looking into the doorway of the chapel. The casket was not visible from where they stood. He just stared into the chamber. “You’re must be pretty used to this, huh?”
“Actually, no. Even after seventeen years it’s nearly impossible to deal with.” Dexter’s voice cracked and he had to turn his head and wipe his eyes. He wanted to offer a bit of strength, but had none to spare.
Tom stared back at him, his own tears threatening to trickle down his face again.
“Macy was such a special girl. I know all parents must feel that way, especially after losing a child. But she was so kind and outgoing, there wasn’t anyone she couldn’t make friends with. She loved telling jokes—to strangers, to me, to her mom. Funny jokes, dumb jokes, jokes she made up that didn’t make sense. But she always got a laugh…”
“It may be none of my business, but can you ever forgive your wife?” asked Dexter, hearing the pleading in his own voice.
After wiping his eyes and blowing his nose, Tom answered, “If it weren’t for Sherri I wouldn’t have had four and a half wonderful years with Macy. I could never blame her for what happened. I just wish I knew how to help her cope.”
“Losing a
Shadows cast by the sinking sun crept up to him, catching Allen by surprise. He glanced down at his GPS watch.
“Dang it,” he said. “Quarter mile too far. That’s what I get for not sticking to the schedule.”
Whatever changes lay ahead, his schedule said it was time to set up camp and eat dinner. As he continued the walk into the treeline he thought, Job lost everything and didn’t complain. I can barely deal with a slush. Job came forth as gold after his trials. But that’s not me. I’ll be lucky to be pig iron.
Chapter Thirteen
Gravel crunched beneath his feet as Dexter walked along the path toward the funeral home. He’d find another way to help Tracy. If she took a semester off they could find a way to get financial aid. He’d help her pay off her loans after she graduated. The stranger who’d given him the job had said something about making sure she didn’t graduate from anywhere, but there was no way he could enforce that.
A decade before Tracy graduated high school, Dexter and Dru had prepared financially for college. By the time she was a freshman in high school they had no debt, no mortgage, not even a car loan. On top of that they had $20,000 saved up. But tuition at Columbia was almost half of Dexter’s annual income. The savings shrunk and despite having no debt they were required to live frugally in order keep up the tuition payments.
They had always done what they needed so that Tracy could fulfill her dream. But Dexter had finally reached his limit. They’d have to find a different solution.
Before he knew it he was walking through the front doors of the funeral parlor. As he passed the open door of the chapel on the way to the office, he saw the miniature white casket again. The tiny hole in the ground that would be required came to his mind unbidden, reminding him of little Camille’s grave. His decision to quit was confirmed. The stranger in black could go to hell; it wasn’t worth it.
A man Dexter did not recognize approached him. The dark suit and puffy eyes marked him as the father of the child who had passed away. He asked, “Excuse me, do you work here?”
“Uh, yeah.” If Dexter didn’t feel a gloomy kinship with the man he would have said no.
“I just got here. I’m Tom Howard, Macy’s father,” he said motioning toward the open chapel door where the miniature burial box lay. “Can you tell me what happens from here?”
“That’s probably a better question for Freddy, the assistant funeral director. I can go get him for you.”
“I don’t know how my poor wife is going to make it through this,” said Tom, looking into the doorway of the chapel. The casket was not visible from where they stood. He just stared into the chamber. “You’re must be pretty used to this, huh?”
“Actually, no. Even after seventeen years it’s nearly impossible to deal with.” Dexter’s voice cracked and he had to turn his head and wipe his eyes. He wanted to offer a bit of strength, but had none to spare.
Tom stared back at him, his own tears threatening to trickle down his face again.
“Macy was such a special girl. I know all parents must feel that way, especially after losing a child. But she was so kind and outgoing, there wasn’t anyone she couldn’t make friends with. She loved telling jokes—to strangers, to me, to her mom. Funny jokes, dumb jokes, jokes she made up that didn’t make sense. But she always got a laugh…”
“It may be none of my business, but can you ever forgive your wife?” asked Dexter, hearing the pleading in his own voice.
After wiping his eyes and blowing his nose, Tom answered, “If it weren’t for Sherri I wouldn’t have had four and a half wonderful years with Macy. I could never blame her for what happened. I just wish I knew how to help her cope.”
“Losing a
Similar Books
