The Christmas Kite Read Online Free PDF Page B

him. His grin stretched across his rosy cheeks. She held out her hand, and he rushed to her side. After thanking the man again, she and Mac left the shop, her spirit lifting with hope.
     
    Jordan hung the last pieces of cotton to dry. For the past two days he’d worked with batik wax-painting to design patterns on the cloth for an Edo warrior kite. Though beautiful, the design work was arduous, and the buyer would pay dearly for the creation.
    Dooley nuzzled his nose against Jordan’s leg, then rushed toward the door. With the family down the beach, Jordan hated to give the dog free rein. Rather than taking a chance, he tucked the leash in his pocket, opened the door and stepped outside, needing some fresh air himself. Dooley darted toward the lake. Jordan scanned the water’s surface for any poor, unsuspecting ducks that might be lolling on the waves, but none was in sight.
    At the water’s edge, Jordan turned left, then halted. Maybe today, for a change, he’d walk east along the beach.
    Who are you kidding?
    He shook his head. He knew full well why he was headed that way. Dooley sped off ahead, and he hurried behind the dog, glancing, now and again, into the woods, for the dilapidated cabins.
    He slowed his gait as they reached what he suspected was the area. A child’s laugh drifted from the trees, and Jordan looked through the foliage. Mac waved and lurched down the inclined path toward him.
    “Good morning,” Jordan said as the boy reached his side.
    Mac’s gaze drifted from his to Dooley’s, and he teetered backward, a look of fright rushing to his face.
    “It’s okay, Mac. Dooley won’t hurt you. Only thing he might do is knock you down trying to give you a big wet kiss.” He caught the dog’s collar, keeping him close to his side.
    “Dooley,” Mac repeated, maintaining his distance.
    The dog looked at the boy, his tongue hanging from his mouth in a rapid pant. Jordan tightened his hold, monitoring Dooley’s movement as the dog strained toward the child.
    With caution, Mac garnered courage and stepped toward the dog, his hand outstretched. Dooley shot his tongue forward, dragging a slobbery kiss across Mac’s fingers.
    The boy’s eyes widened, and Jordan expected him to cry out, but instead he laughed and leaned forward. Dooley swiped his tongue along the child’s cheek.
    “A big wet kiss,” Mac said, his eyes twinkling.
    Jordan looked back toward the foliage. Would the woman let him play outside without keeping an eye on him? He saw nothing near the cabin. “Where’s your mom?”
    “Making a kite. Come and see.” He grasped Jordan’s hand and pulled him toward the grassy path.
    “And your father? Where’s your dad?”
    Mac clung to his fingers with one hand while his free hand pointed skyward. “Up,” Max answered. “In heaven. Two fathers…in heaven.”
    Two fathers? His mind spun, wondering what kind of life this young boy must have experienced. “Two?”
    Mac gave an assuring nod. “Come.” He beckoned with his free hand. “See my kite.” He tugged at Jordan’s arm, and, reluctant to hurt the boy’s feelings, Jordan followed.
    His memory of the cabins was correct. Though the word ramshackle had come to mind first, he altered that to rustic, out of kindness.
    “Mama,” Mac called as they neared a cabin nestled in the trees closest to the beach.
    In a flash a screen door swung open and the woman faltered in the doorway. “Oh, it’s…you.” She grinned and stepped outside. “Good morning. Is something wrong?” Her gaze shifted to Mac and returned to Jordan’s face.
    “No. Mac invited me up to see the kite. I’m sorry. I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself.” He forced his hand forward. “Jordan Baird.”
    Meara chuckled and grasped his fingers. “Glad to learn your name. You’ve been only the ‘kite man’ to us, Mr. Baird. I’m Meara Hayden, and this is—”
    “Mac. He told me his name the first day we met.” He glanced behind her into the shadows of