by Aaron Lazar
A wave of disbelief washed over me, and I felt dizzy for a moment as the past converged with the present.
My brother stood on the porch in a ragged pair of jeans, torn tee shirt, and worn leather jacket. His head hung low and eyes seemed haunted. In his hand, he held a helmet and a bulging backpack slung from his shoulder. Behind him in the driveway, a motorcycle leaned on its stand.
I stepped forward, the enormity of the impossible situation seeping through me like melting wax. “Jax?”
He was no more than fifteen or sixteen, with unruly dark hair and big haunted eyes. He looked at me with puzzlement. “Um. No. I’m Cody. I think…I mean, I think you’re my father.”
Libby had been stunned as well, for this child looked the spitting image of my brother when he was the same age. In a flash I realized he must be Jax’s son—maybe one of the three children he sired that summer when I met Libby.
I held out my hand. “Cody, I’m Finn, Jax’s brother. I guess that makes me your uncle, huh?”
He blinked back tears. “Where’s my father?”
There was no easy way to say it. I told him what had happened, right out there on the porch, with the peepers starting their September songs in the woods near the barn. I also told him how much he looked like his father.
We sat down on the porch steps beside him. Ace licked the boy’s hands, apparently already accepting him into the fold. We gave him time to assimilate the fact that the father he’d come to find was gone. He took it pretty hard.
But he seemed a strong boy, for he eventually accepted the facts with grace. “So, you live here now, Finn?”
I nodded. “I do. It was our family home, you know? Your father left it to me.”
He glanced at Libby. “You live here, too?”
She smiled. “I will soon. We’re getting married.”
Before long, we all sat at the kitchen table, eating reheated chili that Fritzi had given me the week before, along with her homemade cornbread. The boy was starving, and we soon discovered that he’d been on the road since early morning, having traveled all the way from New Jersey with only a tank of gas and no money for food.
Cody scarfed down two bowls of chili and drained three tall glasses of milk. “The social workers will be after me soon. I’m in a lot of trouble.”
He told us how he’d run away from a succession of foster homes after his teenaged mother gave him up for adoption. The original couple who’d adopted him split up, and he’d been abandoned to the system. He’d been on the run ever since, getting caught, getting reassigned, running away.
I stood and walked behind him, placing one hand on his shoulder. “You look so much like your dad. And you know what? He was always in trouble. It followed him everywhere.” I smiled so he wouldn’t think I was criticizing either one of them. “We had a hard time keeping up with Jax. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. Stealing. Smoking. Girls.” I chuckled. “But he sure could make me laugh. He was so funny.”
He turned in his seat and looked up at me. “Really?”
“Really.” I crouched beside his chair and locked eyes with him. “Would they let you stay with us, Cody? You’re my blood. And frankly, I have no family left, aside from you and Libby.”
Cody swallowed hard, as if he’d been afraid to ask the same question. “They said if I could find family who wanted me, I could stay with them.”
“Would you like to stay?” I asked.
He nodded. “Sure.” The boy’s eyes welled with tears. “But…you don’t even know me,” he stammered. “I’m a real handful, so they tell me.”
“Can’t be any worse than your father,” I said, standing up again. I pulled him to his feet and faced him in that kitchen designed for kids and family and laughter. I realized this was just the start of it all. The family would grow from here.
“Son,” I said, catching his darting eyes with mine. “Look at me. You are family. That’s all that matters.”
Libby joined us, slipping an arm around both of us. “You’re home now, Cody.”
“Libby’s right,” I echoed her words. “You’re home.” I hugged them both close.
And in that instant, in that big, beautiful farmhouse, standing between the walls I’d scuffled and tumbled around with my brother, surrounded by acres of blueberries and the sound of the swelling seas, I knew I’d forgiven Jax. I’d forgiven him for all of it, and now I would take care of his son.
“You like blueberries?” I asked. “Come on.” I led him toward the back door. “Let us show you the farm.”
Libby slid her arm through Cody’s and I did the same on the other side. With Ace bounding beside us, we walked past the barn, said hello to the horses, and meandered toward the fields that Jax and I had worked in for so many years. I’d teach this boy the business. And one day, if he liked it, maybe it would be his.
After all, isn’t that what family’s all about?
— The End —
Afterword
I’ve never written a love story, per se.
Oh, sure, I include plenty of love—even unrequited love—in my three mystery series. But I’ve been thinking for quite some time that it would be refreshing to stray for a while from murders and villains and chase scenes into a new world populated with people who suffer for love, who learn and grow as they evolve, and who ultimately prove that love never dies.
Granted, there are plenty of secrets revealed in The Seacrest, and you might even think of it a bit like the old story, Rebecca, by Daphne Du Maurier, which is set by the sea and includes mysteries galore. But I’m calling this one a love story, pure and simple. I hope you agree.
This past summer, my wife, daughter, grandson, and I spent the last week in June in Brewster, Mass, on lovely Cape Cod, along with our two dogs, Balto and Amber. We hadn’t been there in nine long years, and I’d been craving it for what seemed like forever.
We spent the week walking three times a day on the beach, swimming, hiking in the woods, and simply enjoying the simple pleasure of ice cream after dinner, crispy fried onion rings at Kate’s, and the charm of the village stores.
I apologize for any liberties I’ve taken in the town of Brewster, including the invention of the cemetery by the cliffs – and I hope you local folks don’t mind!
The scents and sounds of the sea have called to me long after we left, and writing this book has been almost comforting, allowing me to stay near the ocean long after we’ve returned to the bountiful beauty of the Finger Lakes region of upstate New York.
Thanks for reading, and remember, sometimes love won’t die…
Aaron Paul Lazar
www.lazarbooks.com
About the Author
Aaron Paul Lazar writes to soothe his soul. A multi award-winning author of three addictive mystery series, writing guides, and more, Aaron enjoys the Genesee Valley countryside in upstate New York, where his characters embrace life, play with their dogs and grandkids, grow sumptuous gardens, and chase bad guys. Visit his website at http://www.lazarbooks.com and watch for his upcoming releases, SANCTUARY (2014) and VIRTUOSO (2014). You may contact him at [email protected].
Twilight Times Books by multi-award winning author Aaron Lazar:
LEGARDE MYSTERIES
DOUBLE FORTÉ (print, eBook, audio book)
UPSTAGED (print, eBook, audio book)
TREMOLO: CRY OF THE LOON (print, eBook, audio book)
MAZURKA (print, eBook, audio book)
FIRESONG (print, eBook, audio book)
DON’T LET THE WIND CATCH YOU (print, eBook, audio book)
VIRTUOSO (~2014)
MOORE MYSTERIES
HEALEY'S CAVE (print, eBook, audio book)
TERROR COMES KNOCKING (print, eBook, audio book)
FOR KEEPS (print, eBook, audio book)
TALL PINES MYSTERIES
FOR THE BIRDS (print, eBook, audio book)
ESSENTIALLY YOURS (print, eBook, audio book)
SANCTUARY (2014)
MURDER ON THE SACAND
AGA (~2014)
STANDALONES
THE SEACREST (2013)
WRITING ADVICE
WRITE LIKE THE WIND, volumes 1, 2, 3 (ebooks and audio books)
Aaron Lazar’s Book Awards
Double Forté
2012 ForeWord BOTYA, Mystery, FINALIST
Tremolo: cry of the loon –
2013 Eric Hoffer Book Awards: Grand Prize Short List
2013 Eric Hoffer Book Awards: Honorable Mention, Eric Hoffer Legacy Fiction
2011 Global eBook Award Finalist in Historical Fiction Contemporary
2011 Preditors & Editors Readers Choice Award – 2nd place Mystery
2008 Yolanda Renée's Top Ten Books
2008 MYSHELF Top Ten Reads
For the Birds
2011 ForeWord Book Awards, FINALIST in Mystery
2012 Carolyn Howard-Johnson's Top 10 Reads
Essentially Yours
2013 EPIC Book Awards, FINALIST in Suspense
2013 Eric Hoffer Da Vinci Eye Award Finalist
Healey’s Cave
2012 EPIC Book Awards WINNER Best Paranormal
2011 Eric Hoffer Book Award, WINNER Best Book in Commercial Fiction
2011 Finalist for Allbooks Review Editor's Choice
2011 Winner of Carolyn Howard Johnson's 9th Annual Noble (not Noble!) Prize for Literature
2011 Finalists for Global EBook Awards
Terror Comes Knocking
2013 Global Ebook Awards, Paranormal – Bronze
For Keeps
2013 Semi Finalist in Kindle Book Review Book Awards, Mystery Category
Websites
www.lazarbooks.com
www.murderby4.blogspot.com
www.aaronlazar.blogspot.com
www.aplazar.gather.com
http://aaronlazar.younglivingworld.com
www.pureoils.blogspot.com
Contact
You may contact the author via email, at [email protected].
Connect with Aaron Lazar:
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Table of Contents
The Seacrest
Dedication
Acknowledgments
PART I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
PART II
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
PART III
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Afterword
About the Author
Aaron Lazar’s Book Awards
Contact
