Read Online With the Father by Jenni Moen - Free Book Online Page B

closing the internet window, the chat box caught my attention again. My
curiosity got the better of me, and even though I knew it was wrong, I clicked
on it. The box took over the lower right corner of the screen and the last
message – a message Jonathan had never received – glared at me.
    I can’t believe
you’re gone. I don’t even know what to do with myself. How ever am I going to
live without you, Jon?
    I sucked in a
breath. To my knowledge, no one had ever called him ‘Jon.’ Our family – Grace included – had always called him Jonathan.
    My eyes flipped to
the top of the window. The conversation was with someone named Hope. I wracked
my brain but came up with nothing. I didn’t know a Hope. I reread the message
that had been delivered the day after he’d died, and then I began reading their
entire conversation in reverse.
    More than a year’s
worth of messages, and I read every word of them, no longer feeling like I was
the dishonest one. Whatever wrong I was committing by prying into Jonathan’s
personal life was overshadowed by what he’d been doing behind my sister’s back.
Though there was only a year of his infidelity represented, the conversation
began in the middle, indicating that it started long before that.
    When I finally
finished, I leaned back in the chair, expelled every last bit of the breath I’d
been holding, and questioned everything I’d ever known to be true about
Jonathan Northcutt.

 
    _________________________

 
    Paul ladled a spoonful of some mysterious and slightly nauseating soup
into a bowl, and I tried not to visibly shudder when he handed it to me.
    “I take it you’re
not planning on eating tonight?” My disdain was obvious.
    “Uh, no. What is
it?” I whispered, placing a piece of cornbread on the plate before handing it
across the serving line to who I presumed was our next
victim. Undeterred by the mystery dish, the woman smiled, turned, and walked
away.
    “See you later,
Mrs. Green,” Paul said to her stooped back. “It’s an Irish stew. It will fill
you up and keep you warm. You’ll love it.”
    “I don’t know,” I
said, eyeing the mixture with trepidation. “It looks like it’ll keep you warm
and everyone else around you, too,”
    Paul smiled sadly
and scooped up another bowlful. “Your sister wasn’t sure about it either.”
    “She’s always been
the smarter of the two of us. So if she had her doubts, I’m inclined to follow
her lead.”
    “My grandmother
used to make it with Guinness and lamb but, obviously, we can’t do that here,
so I’ve made some modifications. There’s beef, cabbage, white beans, carrots,
potatoes, and a bunch of spices in it. You’ll like it. I promise.”
    He looked so
forlorn that I reconsidered. “I’ll try some if there are any leftovers. It
seems to be a very popular dish.” The large canning pot was nearly empty. The
murky dish hadn’t turned away the diners.
    “No pressure,” he
said. “I didn’t mean to guilt you into it. It’s just that Grace made a similar
joke.”
    “You miss having
her here, don’t you?”
    “Yes.” He admitted
it openly and without any reservation. “It’s not the same without her. And they
miss her, too,” he said, gesturing to the half full dining room.   “For some of these people, Karen’s
Kitchen is the only constant in their lives. They adored your mother. They’re
still reeling over losing her, and now Grace is gone too. Honestly, I wonder
how long we’ll last.”
    His words made me
want to be a better person. They made me want to emulate the woman who’d always
been like a mother to me and the daughter who’d always been
the better protégé . “I can help.”
    “If you can get
away, we can sure use your help.” He looked so appreciative that I didn’t even
regret that I’d just promised away three nights per week for the foreseeable
future. I didn’t mind the idea of spending more time with Paul though. “By the
way, how is our girl