Legacy Restored by Robin Patchen

Author:Robin Patchen [Patchen, Robin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: JDO Publishing

Donovan pulled up outside his parents’ house a little before noon that day. This wasn’t the home he’d grown up in. That house, the pretty four-bedroom Colonial, had been sold, along with a lot of its contents, to pay for Katie’s last stint in rehab. More loss. Senseless loss.

This small three-bedroom sat on a city-sized plot of land, which Dad insisted he preferred to the acre he’d had before. “Less to take care of. More time to relax.”

There was nobody like Dad to put a good spin on a bad situation.

The front door opened, and Donovan’s parents stepped onto the concrete front porch. Mom waved a hand in greeting. Dad climbed down the three steps and met Donovan in the driveway with a bear hug. “So glad you came, son.”

“Glad to be here.”

They walked up the steps, and Donovan hugged his mother. She backed up, touched his hairline, rubbed her hand against his cleanly shaven face. Tears shimmered in her eyes, and Donovan thought of Angel and all he owed her.

But he was here to get rid of thoughts like those.

“You look like yourself again.” Mom’s voice held tears, as it often had since Katie’s overdose. “My sweet Donovan. I’m so happy to see you.”

He kissed her cheek. She’d lost weight, though she’d had plenty to lose. Her skin looked healthier than it had last time he’d seen her. Maybe she’d spent some time in the sun.

She took his hand. “Come on. We’re making your favorite.”

Inside, the scent of roasting meat drew him to the kitchen. He lifted the lid on her Dutch oven and saw the roast inside. “Is that…?”

“Tenderloin, of course,” Dad said. “Mom made me run to the butcher as soon as they opened.”

“You shouldn’t have gone to any trouble.” But it smelled delicious.

“No trouble at all,” Mom said. “Sit, sit. Water?”

They were treating him like an honored guest instead of like the selfish jerk he was. The person who’d avoided them because he couldn’t handle their pain.

He understood how the prodigal son felt.

Mom buzzed about in the kitchen while Dad sat beside him, making small talk about his job and the house. “And tell us how your project is going? We’d love to come out and see that place sometime.”

Dad had suggested it before, and Donovan had always rebuffed him. Now he said, “I’d like that.” But he’d need notice so he could get Angel out of there. No sense throwing her in his parents’ faces. “I’d like you to wait until I’ve finished a few more rooms, though. It’s going to be beautiful.”

“And do you think you’ll stay there?” Mom asked.

“It’s not my house.”

“I know that, but you could buy it if you wanted,” she said. “You could make a home there.”

“It’s not my home, either.” Though it was beginning to feel like it.

Mom turned toward the stove.

Dad offered an apologetic smile.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Donovan said, “Boston doesn’t feel like home anymore, either.”

She turned, a tremulous smile in place. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t happy to hear that.

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