Nobody's Child Read Online Free PDF Page A

moment later, Ian motioned to his truck. “I’m starving. Biscuits and gravy?”
    Laura Ann smiled. “I saved some. Hoped you’d drive by.”
    â€œEvery Christmas. Are they still warm?”
    â€œThey were when I left,” she replied, climbing into his vehicle.
    As they drew abreast her pickup near the bottom of the hill, Laura Ann touched Ian’s forearm a second time. “Let’s ride to the farm in your truck.”
    â€œSuits me,” Ian said. He shifted down a gear to climb out of the low water crossing and head up the first hill of The Jug.
    Laura Ann turned and looked out the back window at her truck, aside the road near the bottom of the grade. “I want to leave it there for a while. As a warning.”
    â€œWarning?”
    â€œSomeone was in here this morning, Ian. Taking pictures, I think.”
    His countenance changed like summer weather. In an instant he was serious, his law enforcement face. He stopped the truck and turned in the bench seat to face her. “Pictures?”
    â€œI saw someone up on the ridge above the farmhouse forty-five minutes ago. I took off after him, but he got away.”
    â€œAny idea who it was?”
    â€œUncle Jack, I think.”
    â€œYou’re sure?”
    â€œNo,” she confessed. “But I saw his blue truck. It had to be him, right?”
    â€œNot because of the truck. But I’ll bet it
was
Jack.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œSaw him up the road. On my way back from Big Moses.”
    â€œYou saw Uncle Jack?” she repeated, incredulous.
    â€œYep. And he had company. Two of ‘em, plain as day.” Ian laid his arm on the seat back, turning her direction. “Had a gun in the rack, and Jack was wearing a tie.”
    Laura Ann took a deep breath, trying to remember. There could have been two of them. But Uncle Jack in a tie? Never.
    Ian smiled, lowered his arm, and put the truck back into gear. “Let’s go grab those biscuits,” he said with a chuckle, “and we’ll figure this out together.”
    Eight hours later, the farm kitchen brimmed to overflowing with food. Auntie Rose’s turkey simmered in a pan of blistering hot drippings, fresh from the oven. Salad, cornbread dressing, pole beans, fresh-baked bread, and mashed potatoes all waited to be heaped into serving dishes. Laura Ann surveyed the feast and cooking utensils, then joined her aunt at the window.
    Laura Ann broke the silence with the question that no doubt hung on Auntie Rose’s mind. “Do you think Uncle Jack got your note?” Laura Ann asked, certain she didn’t want him here for dinner, and hopeful her aunt would say “Let’s eat without him.”
    â€œI called twice, Laura Ann. He won’t answer his cell phone.”
    â€œShould we start without him?”
    Auntie Rose lowered her head and shook it slowly. No words needed.
    â€œFine,” Laura Ann replied, pulling her in the direction of the living room. “Then come see what Daddy gave me for Christmas. It’s amazing.”
    Auntie Rose brightened and dusted her hands on an apron, then followed.
    Together, they squatted at the foot of the Christmas tree and shared stories about the leather-bound book, Laura Ann’s favorite. Auntie Rose told stories about her brother Angus and his love of reading to his daughter. Stories about his experiences traveling the world through books.
    Daddy lived again in her words. She could see him in Auntie Rose’s face, shared genes expressed in her aunt’s cheeks and eyes. Daddy’s laugh mirrored hers, and it felt good to giggle again. To share the living room floor as family. To hold someone close, warm skin embracing hers. She relished every one of Auntie Rose’s stories, tales of Angus McGehee, and his conquering ways as a young man in a post-Vietnam America. The farm boy whom every girl pined for, but only one woman captured. Stories of Hope and Rose, sisters