Lakeside Family

by Lisa Jordan

  Agnes stood and slid her hand under Josie’s elbow, guiding her to stand. “Come along, Josie. Ian will take care of everything. Won’t you, darlin’?”

  Slack-jawed, Josie stared at her friend and then slid a glance at Ian. The poor man was so smitten by Agnes—and no, she didn’t blame him—he’d probably don a chicken suit and cluck if requested.

  Pushing to his feet, Ian cleared his throat and ran a hand over his slicked-back hair. “Don’t you worry about a thing, Josie. I’ll make sure everything is taken care of. I’ll call Harv and deal with him myself. Agnes is right. You have more important things to worry about.”

  Agnes rounded the table and showered him with a honey-laden smile. She brushed invisible lint off his jacket and straightened his narrow pinstriped tie. “You are a good, good man, Ian James. You and I both know Josie isn’t neglectful. Forgetful, maybe, but can you blame the poor dear? Her mind is wrapped around her calendar and her daughter’s health.” Agnes spun on her toes and sashayed her size six Texas dynamo behind the counter to wait on a customer.

  Ian fumbled to put his notepad and computer tablet in his hard-sided briefcase. He removed his glasses from his pocket and set them on his nose without taking his eyes off Agnes. “She’s a firecracker, isn’t she?”

  Josie glanced over her at her friend and grinned. “That’s one word for it.”

  Ian gave Josie’s shoulder a squeeze and then ambled out the door, whistling.

  Josie straightened the chairs and grabbed her cooling cup of tea. She set it on the counter by the espresso machine and applauded quietly. “That, my friend, deserved an Oscar.”

  Agnes looked up from the latte she was making. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “That man is so sweet on you, he’d do anything you asked.”

  “All of this coffee has marinated your brain. You’re imagining things.”

  “I didn’t imagine that hole in the floor. I just hope the insurance will cover it.”

  “Ian will come through for you, Sugar Pie. And so will God. Just you wait and see.”

  *

  Nick stood on the sidewalk in front of the white clapboard house with red shutters and checked the house number against the scribbles on his paper. It looked more like someone’s home than a place for adults with special needs.

  Before Josie whirled back into his life yesterday, Nick received a call from Miss Patty, his brother’s group home caregiver, giving him a month to find a new place for Ross. Her son-in-law received orders to Okinawa, and Patty was moving to Virginia to be with her pregnant daughter. At least she gave him a place to check out—Jacob House, owned by her cousin Mae and her husband, Walt.

  He needed to do this. For Ross.

  His brother was going to lose it when moving day arrived. And being even farther from Linwood Park wasn’t going to help with Nick’s commute. Maybe he should just cancel the appointment.

  Not an option. Patty was still moving, and Nick couldn’t care for Ross by himself.

  Exposed branches scratched at the multipaned dormer windows. He strode up the cleared sidewalk, making a mental note of the wheelchair ramp off to the side and covered with nonskid surfacing. Snow melted like leftover frosting over low evergreens hugging the rails of the wraparound porch. A black mailbox with a red cardinal painted on the front hung next to the door.

  The wide front porch with the gray planked floor, padded wooden rockers and swaying porch swing made Nick think of summer evenings shooting the breeze with neighbors or enjoying a quiet evening with the family while swigging iced tea from Mason jars.

  The curtains in the window moved, and a pale face pressed to the glass stared at him. Nick lifted a hand. The face disappeared, leaving behind a smudge on the pane.

  He wiped his feet on a bristled welcome mat and rang the doorbell, hearing the gongs echo throughout the interior. No turning back now.

  The door opened, revealing a man with graying hair and wearing faded jeans and an Ohio State sweatshirt. A wide smile erased the drill instructor sternness from his forehead. “Good morning. You must be Nick. I’m Walt Hoffman.” He held out a hand.

  Nick shook it. “Nick Brennan.”

  “We spoke on the phone. Welcome to Jacob House. Come in and meet everyone.” He stepped aside for Nick to enter.

  The aroma of freshly baked bread reminded him of Josie’s place. His mouth watered.

  A woman with dark hair pulled into a ponytail and dressed in a denim jumper and white tennis shoes came out of the living room. “Good morning. You must be Nick. I’m Jane Vogt, one of the staffers. Let me take your coat.”

  “Nice to meet you, ma’am.” He shook her hand and then shrugged off his jacket to hand to her. Over Jane’s shoulder, three men stood in the living room doorway, whispering to each other.

  Jane turned and laid her hand on the shoulder of one man with neatly combed red hair and wire-rimmed glasses. His almond-shaped eyes stared at Nick as his tongue protruded slightly from his mouth. He wore a green-and-yellow bowling shirt with Ernie stitched on the left pocket and hugged a Cabbage Patch-style doll dressed the same way, glasses and all. “Ernie, this is Nick Brennan. Nick, Ernie is one of our residents at Jacob House.”

  “Nice to meet you, Ernie.” Nick held out his hand.

  “Nice to meet you, too.” Ernie spoke with a slight lisp as he reached for Nick’s hand. He thrust the doll at Nick. “This is Frederick.”

  Nick shook Frederick’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Frederick.”

  Ernie whispered something in Frederick’s ear and then put the doll’s mouth to his own ear. He grinned. “Frederick said nice to meet you, too.”

  Jane linked her arms with the other two men. “This is Paul and Gideon.”

  Paul’s dark hair was combed away from his face. He had a smudge of paint on his left cheek. Paint stains splattered his royal-blue apron.

  “Nice to meet you, Paul.”

  Paul nodded twice, gave Nick’s hand two shakes and then took two steps back where he tapped on the wall twice. He dropped his gaze to the floor, but his lips moved as he talked to himself.

  “Gideon, can you say hi to Nick?” Jane placed her hand on Gideon’s back and urged him forward. He dug in his heels, crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head.

  “You don’t feel like talking?”

  Gideon glared at Nick and shook his head again.

  “Why not?” Jane spoke in gentle tones.

  “He did the crossword puzzle.” His bottom lip protruded.

  Nick frowned. “What crossword puzzle?”

  “My dad’s puzzle.”

  The old man at Cuppa Josie’s. A wave of heat crawled up Nick’s neck. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Gideon. I didn’t know your dad did the puzzle. I’m new in town. Please forgive me.”

  Gideon looked at Jane. “Do I have to?”

  She shook her head and smiled. “No, it’s your choice. I hope you do. I’m sure Mr. Nick would like to be friends.”

  “Okay, Mr. Nick, I’ll be your friend.” Gideon stuck out a chubby hand. Nick reached for it, but before he could shake it, Gideon wrapped his arms around Nick and hugged him. He laid his head on Nick’s chest. “Thanks for being my friend.”

  Nick patted Gideon’s back and prayed he didn’t look as uncomfortable as he felt.

  Jane cupped a hand around her mouth and spoke in an exaggerated whisper. “Gideon, I think you’re surprising our guest. Would you like to help me work on a jigsaw puzzle while Mr. Nick talks with Mr. Walt?”

  Once Jane had redirected the three men back to the living room, Walt turned to Nick. “You handled yourself well. Other than Gideon launching himself at you. That’s important since I’m assuming you will be visiting quite a bit if you choose Jacob House for Ross’s new home. The men are close. Their acceptance helps.”

  “I’ll be here several times a week. My brother is an important part of my life.”

  Walt smiled. “I’m glad to hear it. Sounds good. Come on. Let’s grab some coffee.�
��

  Walt led them through the living room. Ernie and Frederick sat on a dark brown leather couch, watching cartoons on the wide-screen TV. Jane and Gideon sat at a square table putting together a puzzle. Light streamed through a large bay window dressed in ruffled curtains, highlighting the pieces. Paul stood in front of an easel, holding a palette in his left hand as he added strokes of color on the canvas. A bird and a nest took shape.

  Nick had seen similar paintings hanging on the wall at Cuppa Josie’s. He watched Paul for a moment, then realized Walt waited for him near another doorway. He hurried across the room. “Sorry. He’s quite talented.”

  “Very much so. Painting is part of his therapy. Paul has a form of autism. Come into the kitchen, and I’ll get you some coffee. How about a slice of freshly baked cinnamon bread?”

  “If it’s as good as it smells, you won’t have to ask twice.” Nick followed Walt into the kitchen. An older woman wearing a pink apron helped a younger woman dressed identically turn out a loaf of steaming bread onto a cooling rack.

  “Nick, this is my wife, Mae, who prepares all the meals, and our daughter, Tilly, who assists.” Walt rounded the table and dropped a kiss on his daughter’s cheek. “Mae, Tilly, this is Nick Brennan. He’s the one Patty called about for his brother.”

  Mrs. Hoffman smiled as she flipped another loaf of bread onto a cooking rack. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Thanks, same here.”

  She turned to her daughter. “Tilly, can you say hi?”

  Tilly shoved the chef hat out of her eyes and sidled closer to her dad. “Hi.” She looked at him through her thick lenses and smiled.

  She had the same physical features as Ernie and Gideon.

  Walt took a couple of brown stoneware mugs out of the cupboard next to the sink. “Pull out a chair. I’ll tell you a little about Jacob House then give you the fifty-cent tour.”

  Grabbing the coffee pot, he filled both cups, setting one in front of Nick.

  Stirring cream into his coffee, Nick went through his mental checklist of questions. He wished he could ask what really mattered—would they love Ross as much as he did?

  Walt sat and extended his legs, crossing his feet at the ankles. “We provide constant opportunities for residents to be as independent as possible. Mae helps them cook and grocery shop. Jane and the other staff members help them with cleaning and volunteering in the community. We take them on daily outings to the library, the grocery store, the mall, the park. We want them to be able to participate in everyday life.” Walt paused as his wife set a tray in front of them—thick slices of bread, a butter dish and a small jar of what appeared to be homemade jam. Walt nudged the tray toward Nick and continued. “Ernie works part-time at the bowling alley and Gideon helps out at Cuppa Josie’s.”

  Cuppa Josie’s? Interesting.

  “How long has Jacob House been in operation?” Nick spread Mrs. Hoffman’s whipped honey butter across his bread slice, trying not to linger on the fact Walt just dropped about Josie’s.

  “About eight years. It’s named for our son, Jacob, who died at birth.”

  Nick froze as he was about to bite into his bread. He hadn’t expected that. “I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks. Mae and I celebrated our fifteenth anniversary in Hawaii. Once back home, Mae came down with a bug, only to learn it wasn’t a virus at all. She was pregnant with twins. Jacob and Tilly were born prematurely due to complications. Jacob didn’t make it. Tilly spent a few months in the hospital. She was our miracle baby and has been a daily blessing from the day she was born.”

  Nick appreciated the look of love Walt wore as he spoke of his family. “You have a lovely family. How old is Tilly?”

  “Twenty-two.”

  “A few years younger than Ross.” His gut told him this was the right home for Ross—warm and loving. Exactly what his brother needed. But would Walt feel the same way when he learned how Nick destroyed his family?

  The doorbell rang. A moment later, Josie appeared in the kitchen doorway, holding a box.

  What was she doing here?

  Would Walt notice if Nick slid under the table? Probably not the most mature move.

  Mrs. Hoffman met Josie in the doorway and placed a hand on her shoulder to guide her into the other room, but not before Josie cast him a puzzled look. Probably wondering why he was drinking coffee with Walt.

  Mrs. Hoffman returned to the kitchen with the box in her hands. “I’m sorry about that, Nick. I would have introduced you, but I didn’t want to interrupt your talk with Walt.”

  “What’s in the box, love?”

  “She had extra doughnuts and brought them for the guys.”

  Walt turned back to Nick. “Josie’s a sweetheart who owns a coffee shop in town. She has her hands full right now. Her daughter is ill. Poor little dear.”

  Nick didn’t say that poor little dear was his daughter, too. In fact, he didn’t say anything but concentrated on chewing the bread that seemed to have dried out his mouth. He needed to keep his two worlds separate for now.

  Walt drained his cup. “Let’s walk, and you can tell me about your brother.”

  Nick forced down the last of his bread and carried his cup to the sink. As he rinsed it, he said, “Like I said on the phone, Ross is twenty-six. Eight years ago he suffered a traumatic brain injury from a car accident that keeps him from living a normal life.”

  “Normal life is so subjective, wouldn’t you say? Some of the men in the house have more normal lives than the rest of us. Your brother’s disability altered his life, but that doesn’t mean he can’t have one.”

  For the next half hour, as they talked about Nick, Walt showed Nick the rest of the house—the two double bedrooms downstairs, the library, the game room and the full gym in the basement. He, Mae and Tilly used the second floor for their residence.

  As they walked past Walt’s office, he showed Nick his credentials—a master’s degree in special education and state licenses for Jacob House. He opened a back door and gestured for Nick to step onto the back deck overlooking the yard. “This is our backyard. The men enjoy gardening, playing softball, grilling or just hanging out back here. We do monthly family events and encourage participation. You interested in getting involved? Patty mentioned you care for your brother on your own.”

  “Yes, he’s all I’ve got.” Or did until last night.

  He leaned on the wooden deck railing and surveyed the snow-crowned natural border. A small utility shed sat in the corner of the yard.

  He could picture a small garden plot. Or Paul with his easel painting birds splashing in the birdbath. Maybe Ross would like to help plant flowers or something.

  “So how’d it happen?” Walt pressed his back against the railing and watched him.

  Nick didn’t pretend not to understand what the older man asked. He steepled his fingers and watched a cardinal land on bird feeder hanging from a low pine branch. “I came home from college to see Ross’s championship basketball game. He scored the final point that won his team the victory. The team headed to the local pizza joint. I drove Mom and Ross.”

  A chill skated across his collar. The cold had nothing to do with the weather. “Ross was stoked because college coaches had seen him shoot that winning hoop. The light turned red. I hit the brakes, slid on a patch of black ice and lost control. We were T-boned by a half-ton pickup. Mom was killed instantly. Ross suffered a traumatic brain injury. And I walked away with bruised ribs.”

  Walt laid a hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’m so sorry. You can’t blame yourself. It was an accident.”

  A lifetime couldn’t erase the memory of that night. Burying his mother while his brother fought for his own life was unforgivable. Every time he looked at his brother, he was reminded of his mistake. The mistake that cost his brother everything.

  Chapter Five

  Inviting Nick to dinner to meet her family had been a mistake.

  And she still hadn’t told Hannah the father she hadn’t
met was about to eat dinner with them tonight. Way to go, Josie. Great mothering.

  A quick glance at the clock showed she had an hour to cook and talk to her daughter, leaving her with about fifteen minutes to freshen up. If only she had time to sneak in a soak in the tub.

  After putting water on to boil, Josie grabbed one of the copper-bottom skillets hanging from hooks above the island and started frying sausage. She coated another pan with olive oil and sautéed onions and garlic. After adding minced fresh basil and thyme from her windowsill garden above the sink, she poured in a jar of homemade tomato sauce. Within minutes, the spices filled the room with their aroma. She added pasta to boiling water.

  Her kitchen, a blend of old world and modern conveniences, soothed her—oatmeal-colored painted cabinets capped with green marble countertops and accented with warm reds and deep golds drew out the tones in the herb-patterned wallpaper border.

  Hannah walked into the kitchen with her nose still in a book. No surprise there.

  Steam billowed from the sink as Josie drained the cooked pasta. She returned it to the stove and glanced at Hannah. “Girl, how can you read and walk at the same time?”

  Hannah shrugged. “It’s a gift. I was at the best part and couldn’t stop.”

  Josie combined the pasta, sausage and sauce in a baking dish, grated fresh Parmesan over the top and slid it in the oven.

  “Would you put your book down and wash the lettuce and tomatoes, please.” Josie eyed the purple-and-black-plaid newsboy cap perched at an angle on her daughter’s head and tried not to focus on the shadows under her eyes. “Cute hat, by the way.”

  Marking her place, Hannah set the book on the island. “Thanks. Aunt Lindsey gave it to me today. But I still look like a freak.”

  If only Hannah could see beyond her insecurities to what Josie saw. “Would you please stop saying that? You are so far from looking like a freak. You just look a lot more like your baby pictures, that’s all.” Josie smiled to show she was teasing.