packed snow. Kade watched Monica twist toward the backseat, her head topped with short, blonde locks, like he remembered. He watched her lips moving, and his heart raced with long pent-up emotions bubbling to the surface. Anger. Resentment. Regret. Kade knew these sentiments stemmed from his own behavior, as well as Monica’s.
Kade saw a crown of light-brown hair bobbing in the backseat. Tyler .
He wanted to run to his son, embrace him, and beg the boy to forgive him for his absence. But he was immobilized with fear of the unknown. How much had Tyler changed in the last six months? Kade knew from his past visits with Tyler that his son’s ability to reason and understand was one-dimensional at best. Had things gotten worse? Maybe better.
He knew he should move. Walk toward the car. Anything.
Monica pulled herself to a standing position and rested her elbows on the car door. “Hello, Kade.”
She was as lovely as ever, but his heart didn’t skip any beats.
All that they’d had—gone. Too many bitter arguments, too much time gone by. What could she possibly be doing here, so far from home? Kade could think of only one thing. She’s finally come for a divorce.
“Don’t you want to come see your son?” She closed the door and folded her arms across her chest.
Monica was already opening the back door by the time Kade hit the second porch step. He headed across the snow, his heart filled with trepidation, his head swirling with questions. He stared at the back of her black leather jacket while she unbuckled Tyler’s seat belt.
Kade swallowed hard. Then inhaled the crisp, cool air, blew it out slowly, and watched it cloud the space in front of him. He recalled the photo of Tyler that he kept in his wallet and wondered again how much his son might have changed. In the picture, it was as if Tyler was looking intently at something, but yet at nothing. A blank stare.
Kade warmed his hands in his pockets. And waited. His heart continued to thump at an unhealthy rate.
Monica lifted Tyler from the seat and placed him on the snow in front of her. He was dressed in blue jeans and a red coat, and he was toting a metal lunch box with Spider-Man etched on the front.
Tyler smiled, and a warmth filled Kade’s insides. He remembered the first time Tyler smiled when he was a baby and when his son had taken his first step.
“Hello.” Kade leaned down and put his hands on his knees.
Tyler didn’t answer. He was taking in his surroundings.
“Can we please go in?” Monica’s tone was familiar, laced with attitude. “I’ve had to go to the bathroom for the last twenty miles, and it’s cold out here.”
“Monica, what are you doing here?” Kade couldn’t take his gaze off of Tyler, whose eyes were all over the place—glancing toward the barn, then the main farmhouse, and back to Kade. Then he’d start all over again.
“Can we talk about it inside?” Monica reached for Tyler’s hand. “Tyler, inside.”
“Tyler, inside,” Tyler repeated.
Kade loved the innocent sound of Tyler’s voice, even though Tyler didn’t talk much. The testing began six months prior to his second birthday. Six months after Tyler’s second birthday, Monica had left. His family gone.
“Sure,” Kade said. He motioned them toward the cottage. “I can’t imagine what brought you all the way to Lancaster County.” He shook his head and followed behind them.
Monica didn’t turn around. “Well, I can’t imagine what brought you all the way out here either. You hate the cold.”
He decided not to bother with an answer. “The bathroom is that way.” Kade pointed to his right.
“Tyler, I’ll be right back. You sit here and play.” Monica eased Tyler to a spot in front of the fireplace. Tyler opened his lunch box and dumped colorful plastic letters all over the tan carpet—the same kind of letters Kade remembered having as a child.
“Whatcha got there?” Kade squatted down on the floor beside Tyler.
Tyler looked at him.
Kade saw a crown of light-brown hair bobbing in the backseat. Tyler .
He wanted to run to his son, embrace him, and beg the boy to forgive him for his absence. But he was immobilized with fear of the unknown. How much had Tyler changed in the last six months? Kade knew from his past visits with Tyler that his son’s ability to reason and understand was one-dimensional at best. Had things gotten worse? Maybe better.
He knew he should move. Walk toward the car. Anything.
Monica pulled herself to a standing position and rested her elbows on the car door. “Hello, Kade.”
She was as lovely as ever, but his heart didn’t skip any beats.
All that they’d had—gone. Too many bitter arguments, too much time gone by. What could she possibly be doing here, so far from home? Kade could think of only one thing. She’s finally come for a divorce.
“Don’t you want to come see your son?” She closed the door and folded her arms across her chest.
Monica was already opening the back door by the time Kade hit the second porch step. He headed across the snow, his heart filled with trepidation, his head swirling with questions. He stared at the back of her black leather jacket while she unbuckled Tyler’s seat belt.
Kade swallowed hard. Then inhaled the crisp, cool air, blew it out slowly, and watched it cloud the space in front of him. He recalled the photo of Tyler that he kept in his wallet and wondered again how much his son might have changed. In the picture, it was as if Tyler was looking intently at something, but yet at nothing. A blank stare.
Kade warmed his hands in his pockets. And waited. His heart continued to thump at an unhealthy rate.
Monica lifted Tyler from the seat and placed him on the snow in front of her. He was dressed in blue jeans and a red coat, and he was toting a metal lunch box with Spider-Man etched on the front.
Tyler smiled, and a warmth filled Kade’s insides. He remembered the first time Tyler smiled when he was a baby and when his son had taken his first step.
“Hello.” Kade leaned down and put his hands on his knees.
Tyler didn’t answer. He was taking in his surroundings.
“Can we please go in?” Monica’s tone was familiar, laced with attitude. “I’ve had to go to the bathroom for the last twenty miles, and it’s cold out here.”
“Monica, what are you doing here?” Kade couldn’t take his gaze off of Tyler, whose eyes were all over the place—glancing toward the barn, then the main farmhouse, and back to Kade. Then he’d start all over again.
“Can we talk about it inside?” Monica reached for Tyler’s hand. “Tyler, inside.”
“Tyler, inside,” Tyler repeated.
Kade loved the innocent sound of Tyler’s voice, even though Tyler didn’t talk much. The testing began six months prior to his second birthday. Six months after Tyler’s second birthday, Monica had left. His family gone.
“Sure,” Kade said. He motioned them toward the cottage. “I can’t imagine what brought you all the way to Lancaster County.” He shook his head and followed behind them.
Monica didn’t turn around. “Well, I can’t imagine what brought you all the way out here either. You hate the cold.”
He decided not to bother with an answer. “The bathroom is that way.” Kade pointed to his right.
“Tyler, I’ll be right back. You sit here and play.” Monica eased Tyler to a spot in front of the fireplace. Tyler opened his lunch box and dumped colorful plastic letters all over the tan carpet—the same kind of letters Kade remembered having as a child.
“Whatcha got there?” Kade squatted down on the floor beside Tyler.
Tyler looked at him.
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