Chapter 9

Although Caden knew his father was proud of the choices he had made, his father was disappointed that he had spent so much time away from home. When he was young, his father used to drop hints of him taking over the family business. But with each visit, there were less hints, and his bitterness grew. "He's still disappointed that I didn't take over the family business, isn't he?" In June, the tree lot became a firework stand until the 4th of July. His parents were usually busy selling something throughout the year, including items they sold at the flea market in between.

Emma sighed. "Don't worry about it. You're here to enjoy the holidays, not to discuss business." She turned and waved to her husband over her head and he waved back, frowning. Emma patted Caleb's arm and they started toward his car and stopped beside his Corvette. "Surely you don't expect me to get in that thing."

Caleb chuckled. "Mom, it's not all that bad." He opened the passenger-side door. "Here. I'll help you."

He took her hand and she slowly lined up with the seat, and then plopped down. Then she swung her legs onto the floorboard. "Now, thirty years ago, I would have loved this car-."

Caleb closed her door, shaking his head. In the driver's seat, he turned on the engine, listening as it roared to life.

"Oh my!" Emma's eyes lit up. "It's been a long time since I've felt that much power."

"Mom!" Caleb laughed.

His mother gave him an innocent look. "What? I was talking about cars. Get your mind out of the gutter."

His mother had always been a character, and he loved her for it. And although his father could often be a difficult man, he loved him, too. Caden just wished that they could somehow work out their differences.

Caden slid the car into drive and headed out of town toward his childhood home on the opposite side of Christmas Cove from Mallory. They had met in high school and he started going over to the pond behind their house to skate.

"So, who do you have a date with tonight?" his mother asked, looking at him expectantly. "Please tell me it's not that Mallory girl."

"Mom--"

"Caden, I'm sorry, but that girl was trouble."

He let out a deep breath. "Mom, who I go out with is no one's business."

She nodded. "True dat."

Caden laughed. "And where did you learn that?"

"Hey! I watch Oprah!"

"Mom, Oprah's been off the air for a while now."

"Humph." She looked out the window, indignant. "I watch the reruns." Then she looked into his eyes. "But I'm hip with the young people. I'm not over the hill yet."

Caden laughed. "No, you most certainly are not."

She thought for a moment, and then asked, "So, tell me about your work."

"Mom, you know I can't talk about that."

"I know. Where you go is top secret-." She let out a deep breath. "I'm not asking where you go, just- Let's just say- did you see anything interesting?"

His stint in Iraq was certainly interesting, especially when they had to go in under cover after some drug lords that were causing trouble. But there was no way he was going to tell her about that. He used the excuse of being under cover so as not to worry them. But there was one story he could tell her. "Well, I was once in another country when a little girl walked up to me and gave me a flower. It was amazing. Here she was, dirty and very poor, but she gave me a flower of her own accord and smiled."

Emma nodded, smiling. "That's sweet." She reached over and gave his hand a gentle squeeze as she looked into his eyes. "Have I ever told you how proud I am of you?"

Caden chuckled. "All the time."

"Well, believe it."

"I do." He thought for a moment, wondering whether or not to broach the subject, but couldn't help himself. "Mom, what happened to you? I mean, when I saw you in California, you were getting around just fine. What happened?"

She gave him a weak smile. "Honey, we saw you in California five years ago."

"No! It's been that long?"

She nodded. "I'm afraid so." She turned her attention out the window, watching the winter wonderland pass by. "And to answer your question, I had a stroke last year. I'm just now able to get around."

"What? A stroke?" Caden almost wrecked the car. "Why didn't you tell me?" He pulled the car over to the side of the road and threw it into park, but left the engine running and looked into his mother's eyes. "Mom, I would have come home--"

"Son, we didn't want to worry you."

"Mom, I worry more when you don't tell me." He looked out the window, choosing his words carefully, and looked back. "Mom, if I know you're not going to tell me things, I'll worry more."

"Nonsense." She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "Son, it's my job to protect you. Not the other way around."

He reached over and pulled her head to his chest. "Mom, it's my job to take care of you now."

She patted his chest and then leaned back onto her seat. "Your father does a wonderful job taking care of me." She placed a hand on the side of his cheek. "Son, you live your life, no matter where it may lead." A sly smile donned her lips. "Just make sure to come home to visit every once in a while."

Guilt reared its ugly head again as Caden nodded. "I screwed up. Royally. I promise to do better."

She smiled. "You've done just fine. Now, take me home. I'm getting hungry."

"You haven't eaten yet?"

"Oh, I'm not starving. We just haven't eaten dinner is all. We had lunch this afternoon." She chuckled.

"Well, I'm going to get you all something to eat before I take you home." He turned the car around toward town. "So, what would you like?"

"Oh, a bucket of chicken and some sides will be fine."

He looked over at her, his eyebrows pulling together in concern. "Mom. I make good money. Now, what would you like?"

Her eyes opened wide. "Son, it's not about the money. You asked me what I wanted, and I told you."

He shook his head in disbelief. "Okay, then. A bucket of chicken it is!"

"Now, that's the spirit!" She looked out the window excitedly. He really had missed his mother. And now that he was with her, he wondered why he had waited so long to come home.

After he bought the chicken, he took her home and got her squared away. It was the same single-story house, the same porch, the same matching recliner chairs in front of the same television. He secretly vowed to get them a new flat screen television before he left- if he left. He had a big decision to make and a lot to think about.