Cynthia Thomason - A Boy To Remember

Alex kissed her father’s cheek. He meant that promise. But could a bottomless well of paternal caring erase the grieving of the past months? Alex stole a glance at Lizzie and found her bravely trying to smile, exactly what she had done during the funeral five months ago, exactly what she had been doing since. How Alex wished she could see a genuine smile on her daughter’s face again. But the girl had adored Teddy Pope, and she missed him with an unquenchable ache.

“I guess it’s all been said a million times, Lizzie.” Martin’s voice was gentle. “I know I said it at the funeral, but I’m so sorry about your father. I miss him, too. He was a good friend as well as a colleague.”

“I know, Grandpa. Thanks.” Grabbing her backpack from the car, Lizzie walked into the house.

Martin put his arm around Alex’s shoulders. “She’ll be all right, darling. She just needs time.”

Right. And she needs to keep living the lie, Alex thought. The lie that Teddy Pope was her father.

CHAPTER ONE

AT SEVEN O’CLOCK PRECISELY, Dr. Foster’s housekeeper announced that dinner was served. Alex, Lizzie and Martin headed for the family dining room but were interrupted when the back door slammed.

“That must be Jude,” Alex said.

“Of course it’s Jude,” Martin replied. “She may live in that apartment above the tack room, but at least she has the good sense to come here for her meals. Your sister has never been accomplished in domestic arts.”

Jude Foster O’Leary, wearing what was obviously a hastily put-together outfit consisting of a belted aqua T-shirt over a long madras skirt, bounded into the dining room just behind her adorable five-year-old son, Wesley. The child still wore what Dr. Foster called his “barn clothes”—jeans, a button-down shirt and scuffed cowboy boots—but his hands looked clean and his hair had been combed. Alex couldn’t say the same for her sister. Humidity-frizzed strands of blond hair refused to be tamed like the rest of her mane in the long braid down her back.

“Hey, you two,” Jude said, hugging her sister first. “It seems like an age since I was in Chicago for Teddy’s...” Realizing her niece might not be prepared to relive those memories, Jude glanced guiltily at Lizzie before kissing her cheek. “Yup, it’s been too long, and I’ve missed you both. How are you doing, honey?”

“I’m okay, Auntie Jude,” Lizzie said. She reached for her cousin and wrapped her arms around him. “You look like a real cowboy, Wes,” she said. “A really hunky one.”

The boy giggled. He had a little-boy crush on his cute big cousin.

“Glad you made it for dinner,” Dr. Foster said.

“Are you kidding? I knew my sister was due today, so I wouldn’t have missed it.” She smiled at Alex. “Besides, I could smell Rosie’s chicken enchiladas from the barn.”

Jude was the first to admit that she was much more comfortable in jeans and a work shirt than a dress. But to her credit, she managed to fluff her long skirt gracefully over the seat of one of Martin’s reproduction twentieth-century Chippendale chairs.

Jude had been Alex’s rock during Teddy’s funeral. Sadly, her sister understood all too well what the family was going through. She’d lost her own husband five years before when he was serving in Afghanistan. Now she managed the Paul O’Leary Foundation she’d established in his honor. Paul had possessed a heart as generous as his willingness to serve his country, and the money that came into the foundation was used for several philanthropic endeavors.

“Still not giving up your rooms over the barn to come back to the house, I see,” Alex said.

Dr. Foster chuckled as he passed the platter of enchiladas and Spanish rice. “I’ve tried everything I can think of to get her to move in with her mother and me, but she insists on staying out there with the animals.”

“I’m here when you need me,” Jude said. “Besides, the barn is barely two-tenths of a mile from the house, Daddy. It’s not like I’m living in a foreign country.”

“But I still worry. You’re remote out there...”

“When don’t you worry, Daddy?” Jude said with a hint of impatience. “Wes and I are perfectly safe. If anyone comes near the barn, Mutt barks like the world is coming to an end.”

Alex smiled to herself. Mutt was hardly a mongrel as his name suggested. He was a purebred Bernese mountain dog that Jude had come across in her work with animal rescue. She’d bonded with the friendly black-and-white dog immediately and brought him into her living quarters as the family mutt. The name just stuck.

“How about you, Wesley?” Alex said. “Do you like living above the barn?”

The child shrugged. “Sure. It’s okay.”

Conversation strayed to matters of gossip and local news until Jude asked the customary question. “How’s Mama doing tonight, Daddy?”

“She’s resting comfortably,” he said. “The nurse told me she didn’t have one of her anxiety attacks today.”

“I went up earlier,” Alex said. “I think she might have recognized me. At least I hope so.”

“I’ll go up and see her later,” Jude said. Her offer was met with pretended enthusiasm. Everyone knew that Maggie Foster, suffering from late-stage Alzheimer’s disease, wouldn’t know if her daughter came into the room or not. A good day was when Maggie’s eyes focused long enough to bring hope to one of her family. Unfortunately, any hint of recognition had been rare the past year.

Once dinner was finished and the dishes had been cleared, Lizzie took Wesley into the family room for a game of War with Grandpa’s worn deck of cards.

“So how is my niece really doing?” Jude asked after a moment.

Alex tried to convince her that things were not so bad. “She’s improving all the time. In the last weeks she’s even gone out with her friends, but I think she’s been looking forward to the end of her senior year and the opportunity to come here. An apartment, no matter how spacious, doesn’t offer the same healing benefits as this farm.”

“She looks thin,” Jude said. “And I agree with you. After a few months here, she’ll get some color back in her cheeks and be more like her old self.”

“We’ll have to keep her busy,” Martin said. “Maybe she can volunteer at the hospital a couple of days a week. We can always use more teens.”

“I’m not sure a hospital environment is what she needs right now,” Alex said.

Martin agreed. “Who’s got another idea?”

“She can help out at the barn,” Jude offered. “I can definitely use a hand with feeding and grooming.”

Alex remained silent for a few moments as she considered these suggestions. “Maybe,” she finally said. “But I’m hoping to find an activity that is more in line with Lizzie’s interests. Remember, she joined the drama club at school and scored the lead in the senior class play. I thought perhaps I could contact Glen Spenser.” She focused on her father. “Does he still head up the summer stock theater?”

“He sure does. That’s a great idea. Spenser’s group is supposed to be getting ready for several performances of The Music Man. If Lizzie could get a role, rehearsing, learning lines—all of that will take up a lot of her time.”

“If Lizzie gets a part, I’ll have to make sure Glen understands her situation,” Alex said.

“You don’t really want her treated differently because she lost her father, do you?” Martin asked.

“No. But I need to be assured that she’ll be in a healing, supportive environment.”

When both Martin and Jude stared at her, she added, “I guess I’ve become an overprotective mother.”

She felt her eyes well with tears, and her father got up, came around the table and sat beside her. “What about you, Alexis? How are you doing? Losing Teddy, worrying about Lizzie. I can see this is all taking its toll on you.”