Page 34 of The Uncomplicated Café
ABBY
Abby tappedher foot against the lawn in eager anticipation of Max’s homecoming. Any minute now, Cynthia Richards would pull up to their curb with a van full of grungy eight-year-old boys, tired, unbathed, and overstimulated from two weeks at camp. Being the carpool mom wasn’t for the faint of heart, and Abby couldn’t be more grateful to Cynthia for her son’s safe return.
She knew she’d miss him while he was gone, but she hadn’t been prepared for how deeply. She’d waited her whole life to be a mother. And not just anyone’s mother—Max’s. The world seemed emptier without him, without his laugh, his silly antics, and his never-ending questions about random topics like the dietary preferences of pincher bugs.
Her foot tapped faster, as if her pent-up energy could hasten their arrival.
“Easy, Ginger Rogers,” Logan teased, nudging her shoulder. “If you keep up with your tap-dancing routine, I’ll have to patch a hole in the grass.”
“Sorry. I can’t help it. I can’t wait to see him.” She had the whole day planned down to the last detail in her mind. Most of the afternoon would be spent listening to Max recount his campadventures, then they’d all attend the Bare Feet & Good Eats event at Blessings Beach that evening.
“Me, too,” Logan admitted. “The past two weeks felt a whole lot longer.”
Cynthia’s silver van turned down State Street, and Abby bounced on her toes.
Logan laughed at her excitement.
The van parked along the curb.
Abby’s breath hitched.Only a few more seconds now.
The side door slid open and a gangly boy with disheveled brown hair and rumpled clothes climbed out of the middle seat, lugging a sleeping bag, pillow, and duffel behind him. Was it her imagination or had Max grown six inches since he left?
Happy tears stung her eyes, and she bit her bottom lip.Don’t cry. You’ll embarrass him in front of his friends.
Max said goodbye to the other boys, and the door slid shut.
Abby waved her thanks to Cynthia before the woman drove away, then she turned her undivided attention back on Max.
His scruffy bangs stuck out on both sides, dirt covered his knees, and his T-shirt displayed more than one mystery stain. It probably smelled atrocious.
He’s perfect.
With a gigantic grin, he scrambled up the lawn to greet them.
“Welcome home!” Abby beamed, flying her arms wide to embrace him.
“We missed you, buddy.” Logan held out a hand to help with Max’s bag.
But before he’d come within reach, Max froze midstride, his gaze laser focused on the house behind them. Uncertainty flickered in his light-brown eyes, followed by cautious confusion. He blinked slowly, squinting as if he didn’t trust his own vision.
Then, in an instant, recognition flashed like a spark of blinding light.
“Dad!” Dumping his belongings in a heap, Max raced up the lawn, darting past Abby and her outstretched arms without a glance.
Bewildered, Abby spun around.
Thomas Maineland stood on the front porch, as still and expressionless as a statue.
“I knew you’d come back!” Max flung his arms around the man’s thin waist, nearly knocking him backward with the force.
Tom stiffened, elbows elevated and bent at an awkward angle like a scarecrow on a stake.
Poor Tom looked beside himself with dismay and discomfort. Max had never looked happier.
Abby’s heart ached, both baffled and broken by the worrisome scene.
Why had Max mistaken this man for his father? They looked nothing alike. Should she intervene?
