Dorothy Garlock Read Online Free PDF Page B

borne his troubles with the conviction that he would persevere. Through hard work, fair prices, and the grace of God,
     he’d made his way and, in doing so, had become an integral part of the community. His lumber and nails were the literal framework
     of each new house and business. As Victory had grown, he had grown right along with it… but it was not always that simple.
    Driving along Victory’s wide, tree-lined streets, Cole thought of the hidden cost of his father’s success. Robert Ambrose
     had been married to his work, desperate for anything he could do to guarantee its success. In the process, he had neglected
     his duties as a father and husband. When Cole had needed help with his schoolwork, advice about how to deal with the bullies
     at school, or a friendly ear to bend, his father had been absent. Instead, he had turned to his older brother, Jason, nearly
     three years his senior, and full of life. It was Jason who had been there for his small triumphs, his many disappointments,
     and all that fell in between.
    All of this had made Cole’s relationship with his father difficult, but somehow they had managed to come to an uneasy truce.
     Despite his handicap, they had built a relationship that was not quite father-and-son but more of cordial acquaintances, maybe
     even friends. But that had all changed one fateful afternoon, the day that—
    “We’re here,” his father announced.
    The Ford rounded the corner, and from behind the full branches of a large elm tree, the house that Cole had grown up in came
     into view. Even after all of his years away, it was exactly as he remembered. A stately Victorian that Robert Ambrose had
     built with his own two hands when he came to Victory in 1911, the two-story home stood on a corner lot two blocks from Main
     Street. Light gray in color with white framework around the windows, it had a row of stained glass windows on the upper floor
     that captured the setting sunlight in a kaleidoscope of colors. An enclosed porch ran along the front of the house with support
     beams holding up its lower roof.
    Small details on the house still caught Cole’s eye: the latticework framing that ran along the bottom of the porch and the
     colorful decorative gable trusses at the upstairs windows. His father was truly a craftsman, although his motive was not always
     just to strive for beauty; he hoped to demonstrate to prospective customers that any purchase they made at his hardware store
     could lead to a beautiful home, just like his own. All of his care and precision had paid dividends; the house, while thirty
     years old, looked as new as the day the last nail had been driven.
    “Just as I remembered,” Cole said.
    Robert grunted in answer.
    As the pickup turned into the short drive, Cole could see that his father still devoted as much attention to the yard as he
     did to the house itself. Red geraniums stood vividly together with yellow and purple pansies, although they all drooped a
     bit under the merciless sun. Perfectly trimmed hedges lined the walks and divided the property from the neighbors. Powerful
     elm trees thrust their branches high into the cloudless blue sky. No weeds sprang from the ground to mar the scene. Everything
     was exactly in its place.
    The only thing missing was a family to live in this prettier-than-a-picture life. Cole wished that his father had devoted
     half as much time to being a husband or father as he had to building his home and cultivating his yard. If he had, maybe things
     would be different, maybe there would have been no harsh feelings, maybe what had happened to his mother…
    A shiver of dread raced across Cole’s skin as his father shut off the pickup’s engine. For him, this house, while a beauty
     to behold, was something straight from a nightmare. His memories had scarred him and were impossible to erase, no matter how
     many years had passed. Now, back home after so many years away, his recollections bore down on him as if