The Parting Gift(5)

Her throaty laughed echoed back to him. “He’ll mind himself, or he’ll be talkin’ out t’other side of his face. Supper will be in half an hour.”

From farther down the hall, Blaine could hear the faint sound of Mr. Hanigan’s stern protest, “Madam, I’ll thank ye t’ leave me out of it.”

Mrs. Callahan’s laugh echoed through the house as she tromped back down the stairs.

He had to smile as he stood and grabbed his robe. Their playful adversarial banter was part of what made this place home. It was what Blaine imagined a happy family sounded like, a whole family… one that had settled into a comfortable co-existence. And the boarding house residents were his family. At any rate, the closest thing he’d had to it in over fifteen years.

“I always miss your cooking when I’m flying, Mrs. Callahan.” Blaine finished off his third helping of the tender roasted beef and potatoes and pushed back from the table with a contented sigh.

“Thank’ee, lad. Yer appetite pleases me considerable. Th’rest of these blokes don’t know how t’ compliment the cook. They eat like birds. Old crotchety birds.” A chorus of protests mixed with belated attempts to favor her cooking rose from the three older men at the table, but Mrs. Callahan just shook her head and replied, “No, no. Yer too late.”

“It’s getting close to seven. I’ll be going out tonight,” Blaine stated with a glance at the dining room clock, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Oh?” He could see the gears turning behind her twinkling emerald eyes. The rarity of the event wasn’t lost on her, and she was a quick study. “What might ye be about?”

“I’m going dancing.”

“I see. Um… and will there be a young lady joining ye this evenin’, Mr. Graham?” She glanced at Mr. Hanigan, who winked knowingly and chuckled under his breath.

The suggestion brought a warm blush creeping across Blaine’s face in response. “Yes,” he murmured. “Miss Bell, a stewardess on the flight last night. She’ll be joining me.”

“Well, then!” Mrs. Callahan clapped her hands together. “Ye best be getting ‘round, says I!” Her delight took him by surprise, but it seemed contagious. Mr. Hanigan grinned and slapped Blaine on the back in congratulations, while the other two boarders nodded their whole-hearted approval.

Blaine shrugged and rose from his chair. “I’ll just go grab my wallet.” As he strode down the hall and up the stairs to his room, his stomach churned uneasily. It had been a long time since he’d last been out with a woman. How long? Four? Five years? It had been in Italy if he remembered right. Celebrating V-E Day. Everyone was carousing in the streets then – there was a good chance it didn’t actually count.

With anxiety surging through him, he scoured his room for his wallet, becoming increasingly frazzled in the search. It was just like him to misplace the stupid thing in this situation.

“Captain Graham?” Mrs. Callahan hollered up the stairwell. “Captain Graham?”

Hearing the tangible fear in her voice sent a chill down his spine, and he sped down the stairs. “What is it? What’s wrong, Mrs. Callahan?” Her eyes were bugging wide with apprehension.

“There’s a telegram for ye.”

Telegrams never carried good news. The war years were too recent, and Mrs. Callahan told him she had held her breath every time the buzzer rang in those days, waiting for the telegram which would finally confirm her worst fears of the fate of her only son. That telegram was delivered six years ago, but the residual effects of that one delivery haunted her still.

She stood beside the courier with her hands clasped together over her mouth. Her eyes glistened with the threatening tears and burned with fear into Blaine’s face.

He approached the uniformed man and took the envelope from his outstretched hand. The man’s face was emotionless, revealing nothing, but the intensity of Mrs. Callahan’s concern transferred to Blaine. He ran his free hand through his sandy blond hair and stared at the envelope in his trembling hand.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Mr. Hanigan intoned.

“Just open it, lad,” encouraged another boarder, Mr. Casey.

Blaine glanced from one face to another, then peeled the flap open and read the message silently. When he looked up again, all their eyes were glued to him for his reaction. An uncertain grin spread across his face as he folded the telegram and put it in his pocket. “Mr. Hanigan is right. It’s nothing. Nothing to be concerned about, Mrs. Callahan.” He cleared his throat and averted his eyes to the old grandfather clock. “Well, I need to be going… How do I look?”

Outside on the front steps, he pulled the paper out of his pocket again and tried to absorb the words printed there.

His father was dying. He wanted him to come home.





Chapter Two





Young Mara Crawford’s hands shook as she checked the mailbox for the second time that day.

Nothing.

It shouldn’t surprise her, yet every day she still held hope that David’s son would respond to her telegram. It had only been a few days. Had he even received it? Should she send another?

The wind picked up, blowing her dark hair into her face. Mara closed the mailbox and sighed. Her job description did not include telling a dying man his son wasn’t coming home, yet as the snow and gravel crunched beneath her feet, she accepted the fact that the prodigal may never return. God never promised life would be easy or that happy endings would always be reality.