Read Online Temporary Father (Welcome To Honesty 1) by Anna Adams - Free Book Online
Authors: Anna Adams
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Contemporary, Family Life, Washington (D.C.), Secret, family issues, Forever Love, divorced, Father Figure, Honesty Virginia, Cottage, Mild Heart Attack, Young Age, Forty-Two, Wife Suicide, Friend's Sister, Pre-teen Son, Home Destroyed, Fire Accident, Boys Guilt, Struggling Business
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talking.
“Eli.” She yelled his name, running to the front door, hearing only the too-slow slap of her shoes on the wooden floor. “Eli?”
He and Lucy loped out of the woods. Beth ran to meet him. She pulled him into her arms, finding enough strength to lift her son, whom she hadn’t been able to hoist off the ground for over a year.
“Mom, let me go.” He flailed for freedom. Thinking she was missing out on a game, Lucy jumped on both of them.
“Stop, Lucy.” Beth let Eli go, and the dog fellback, cowed at her unusual sharpness. Beth stared at her son, aware she was doing everything wrong. “You have to be honest.”
“About what, Mom?” Fear entered his eyes. “What did you find?”
“Find?” More important questions pushed his out of her mind. All the times he’d said he was tired, or his “stupid” teachers had given ridiculous homework. His refusal to have friends over and his matchmaking scheme to replace himself. “Are you so upset you’d think of hurting yourself?”
He backed up, tripping in the grass. She grabbed his arm to keep him upright. “What?” He shook her off.
“I heard something that scares me, that maybe you feel as if you didn’t want to live.”
“Who told you that?”
“I need to know.” He wasn’t confused. A child should be confused. He stared straight at her. “I want to help you.”
“Are you nuts? I’m eleven years old. Why would I kill myself?” He darted around her. “I’m a kid.”
She felt as if she were falling. Around her the plants waved their tender heads in earth warmed by early spring sun. Life went on, growing, flourishing, while her world imploded.
An eleven-year-old couldn’t claim he was too young to consider suicide unless he’d thought hard about it.
She’d been mooning over Aidan Nikolas whenEli needed all her attention. She covered her eyes and tried to think.
I T COULDN’T HAPPEN . Not to Eli. Eli wouldn’t do that….
She had to do something. If there was even the smallest possibility this was the reason for Eli’s troubling behavior, she had to do something.
She tore up the stairs and listened outside Eli’s door, afraid to go in, afraid to stay out. Something thumped the door. Something else thudded to the floor. It wasn’t Eli, throwing himself around. Even her beloved, injured eleven-year-old boy couldn’t move that quickly.
She reached for the doorknob, trying to find words. She’d have to accuse him, and he’d already belittled her suspicions. She’d better find out more than she knew about teenaged boys in this kind of trouble.
Beth went to her room and opened her laptop. Before she reached the Internet, she swore at her own blank-mindedness and reached for the phone.
Brent Jacobs had cared for Eli since the day he was born. When his receptionist, Lisa Franklin, answered, Beth asked to speak to Brent.
“Can I help you, Mrs. Tully?”
“No—please let me talk to him. If he’s busy, ask him to call me as soon as he can.” She didn’t want Eli labeled. Honesty was such a small town—not necessarily filled with small minds—but Eli’steachers probably also used Brent, and gossip sometimes traveled in the guise of concern.
“Hold on.” Lisa’s annoyance crisped her voice. “I’ll see if Brent’s in consultation.”
A few moments later, she heard Brent: “…wouldn’t ask for me if she didn’t have a reason.” The phone scraped across a hard surface. “Beth? What’s up?”
She started crying. The tears surprised her, lodging in her throat and squeezing out of her eyes. “It’s Eli.”
“Did you say Eli? I can’t understand you.”
She wrestled for control. “Eli,” she said. “I think something really is wrong. It’s not just hormones like we talked about the other day.”
“You don’t mean he’s hurt?”
“I’m trying—” To be calm, which was utterly ridiculous. The words spilled out of her. Everything she’d worried about, all the questions he’d palmed off.
“Eli.” She yelled his name, running to the front door, hearing only the too-slow slap of her shoes on the wooden floor. “Eli?”
He and Lucy loped out of the woods. Beth ran to meet him. She pulled him into her arms, finding enough strength to lift her son, whom she hadn’t been able to hoist off the ground for over a year.
“Mom, let me go.” He flailed for freedom. Thinking she was missing out on a game, Lucy jumped on both of them.
“Stop, Lucy.” Beth let Eli go, and the dog fellback, cowed at her unusual sharpness. Beth stared at her son, aware she was doing everything wrong. “You have to be honest.”
“About what, Mom?” Fear entered his eyes. “What did you find?”
“Find?” More important questions pushed his out of her mind. All the times he’d said he was tired, or his “stupid” teachers had given ridiculous homework. His refusal to have friends over and his matchmaking scheme to replace himself. “Are you so upset you’d think of hurting yourself?”
He backed up, tripping in the grass. She grabbed his arm to keep him upright. “What?” He shook her off.
“I heard something that scares me, that maybe you feel as if you didn’t want to live.”
“Who told you that?”
“I need to know.” He wasn’t confused. A child should be confused. He stared straight at her. “I want to help you.”
“Are you nuts? I’m eleven years old. Why would I kill myself?” He darted around her. “I’m a kid.”
She felt as if she were falling. Around her the plants waved their tender heads in earth warmed by early spring sun. Life went on, growing, flourishing, while her world imploded.
An eleven-year-old couldn’t claim he was too young to consider suicide unless he’d thought hard about it.
She’d been mooning over Aidan Nikolas whenEli needed all her attention. She covered her eyes and tried to think.
I T COULDN’T HAPPEN . Not to Eli. Eli wouldn’t do that….
She had to do something. If there was even the smallest possibility this was the reason for Eli’s troubling behavior, she had to do something.
She tore up the stairs and listened outside Eli’s door, afraid to go in, afraid to stay out. Something thumped the door. Something else thudded to the floor. It wasn’t Eli, throwing himself around. Even her beloved, injured eleven-year-old boy couldn’t move that quickly.
She reached for the doorknob, trying to find words. She’d have to accuse him, and he’d already belittled her suspicions. She’d better find out more than she knew about teenaged boys in this kind of trouble.
Beth went to her room and opened her laptop. Before she reached the Internet, she swore at her own blank-mindedness and reached for the phone.
Brent Jacobs had cared for Eli since the day he was born. When his receptionist, Lisa Franklin, answered, Beth asked to speak to Brent.
“Can I help you, Mrs. Tully?”
“No—please let me talk to him. If he’s busy, ask him to call me as soon as he can.” She didn’t want Eli labeled. Honesty was such a small town—not necessarily filled with small minds—but Eli’steachers probably also used Brent, and gossip sometimes traveled in the guise of concern.
“Hold on.” Lisa’s annoyance crisped her voice. “I’ll see if Brent’s in consultation.”
A few moments later, she heard Brent: “…wouldn’t ask for me if she didn’t have a reason.” The phone scraped across a hard surface. “Beth? What’s up?”
She started crying. The tears surprised her, lodging in her throat and squeezing out of her eyes. “It’s Eli.”
“Did you say Eli? I can’t understand you.”
She wrestled for control. “Eli,” she said. “I think something really is wrong. It’s not just hormones like we talked about the other day.”
“You don’t mean he’s hurt?”
“I’m trying—” To be calm, which was utterly ridiculous. The words spilled out of her. Everything she’d worried about, all the questions he’d palmed off.
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