Free Pulling Home by Mary Campisi Page A

her.”
    August Richot shifted in his chair and rubbed his jaw. “You gave me the
    impression Jack didn’t look too kindly on her.”
    “He doesn’t, but if anyone can persuade a person to do something, it’s Jack.”
    “The boy does have a way of getting people to see his side of things when he sets his mind to it. He’s got Leslie drooling for a ring but convinced it’s not the right time.
    Now what man could keep a woman like my daughter at bay and willingly, to boot?”
    Alice worked up a smile. “He’s a charmer when he wants to be. Too bad it isn’t
    often enough, though he does have a way with his patients.”
    “There is the art of diplomacy. You know, if Jack were more of a team player,
    he’d be the Assistant Professor of Pediatric Neurosurgery right now, instead of Grant.”
    When she frowned, he shrugged and said, “Don’t look so shocked. I love my son but he has his shortcomings.”
    “Grant’s a wonderful doctor.”
    “He needs to get past the accident. Selling out to the bureaucracy isn’t going to bring back Jennifer or the use of his hand.”
    “It’s still so tragic.”
    “It’s life, Alice. We can either choose to live it, or lose it. Grant has years ahead, but he’s got to let go of his bitterness.”
    “Children rarely do what we want them to, you know that, don’t you?”
    “Unfortunately, I do.”
    Just talking with the pastor lifted Alice’s heavy heart. He truly was possessed of goodness, and holiness. Everyone liked him, everyone listened to him. Perhaps ...“Could you speak with her?”
    The man started in a fit of coughing, so hard Alice thought she’d have to give him a good whack on the back. “Pastor Richot?” His face turned beet red, the coughing worsened. Alice jumped from her chair and whacked his back. Once. Twice. “Should I call the doctor?”
    “No,” he croaked. He motioned toward his desk. “Water.”
    Alice retrieved his glass and hurried toward him. His dark eyes grew huge
    beneath his wire-rimmed glasses. She’d heard of people keeling over after a fit of coughing and the last thing she wanted was another death. “Maybe I should call your son?”
    He shook his head. “Something in my throat. I’m fine.” He sipped the water.
    “Fine.”
    Alice sat down in the chair again and folded the creases in her slacks. Good Lord , she’d thought for a second she was about to lose someone else she cared about. She swiped at her eyes. Pastor Richot’s breathing evened out and the red faded to his usual tan. “Has that happened before?”
    He focused on his glass and didn’t answer right away. When he did speak, his
    voice sounded as though his lungs were parched despite the water. “Once or twice.”
    The fact that he admitted it scared her. Once or twice from a man’s perspective, usually meant five or six times. When Joe first started coughing six months before the doctors discovered his emphysema, he only admitted to once or twice.
    “I would feel better if you let me call Grant. Or at least Leslie.”
    He waved a hand at her. “You know those medical people. They’ll want to send
    me to get poked and prodded. I don’t have the time or the need for any of it. I’m fine, Alice.” He forced a smile. “The good Lord as my witness, I’m fine.”

Chapter 10
    “Is that the truth or a wish?”—Jack Wheyton
    Audra was leaving in two days. Jack wanted to send her packing today but he’d
    seen the way his mother clung to Kara, trying to pull pieces of Christian from the child for memory’s sake. It tore at him and rendered him helpless, a feeling he tried to avoid whenever possible. Christian had named him executor of his estate which provided the perfect guise for a face to face meeting with Audra. A public venue would be the smart thing to do, but when had he ever been smart when it came to Audra Valentine?
    He called her after morning rounds and told her they had business to discuss
    regarding Christian’s estate. She had tried to invent