Free A Wish for Christmas by Thomas Kinkade Page A

old enough, he had worked out there with his parents. They’d had a lot of fun together, and he had liked the feeling of working in the family business, being grown-up enough to contribute to something so important.
    “Those are nice memories,” Jack said wistfully. “But you can’t get stuck in the past. You have to look forward, always forward. I figured that out. Finally.”
    “Good for you,” David said.
    His father looked up, sensitive to David’s sharp tone, but he didn’t say anything. Just looked back at his plate again and kept eating.
    David could see his father had found happiness with Julie and Kate and the new life they had built together. David was honestly happy for him. But it was still hard to be around his father at times. Sometimes David wished his Dad was still depressed and distant, like in the good old days. He could deal with that a lot better.
    They sat for a few moments without saying anything. Jack looked relaxed, lost in his thoughts. David felt edgy and tense.
    “Christine dropped by. While you were all at church.” David hadn’t meant to tell his father; it just popped out.
    “She did?” Jack sat up and put down his sandwich. “How did it go?”
    David shrugged. “All right, I guess. She didn’t stay long. We just talked for a few minutes. She seems happy. She sounds like she has life all figured out. She’s graduating college in the spring. She’s going to be a teacher.”
    “Right. I remember that.”
    “And she’s getting married in the summer, she said. To some guy . . . She didn’t say much about him,” David added.
    It was funny how she had never said a word about her fiancé. But David realized he hadn’t asked her any questions about him. As long as the guy remained a big blank, he didn’t quite exist.
    “She’s a nice girl. I wish her all the luck in the world.” Jack took a final bite and tossed the crust on his plate. “So, how did you leave it with her?”
    “What do you mean?”
    Jack rose and brought his plate to the sink. “Do you think you’ll see her again?”
    “One of these days, I guess. It’s a small town. We’re bound to run into each other.” It was hard to hide the bitter note in his tone.
    “I see.” David thought Jack was going to grab his coat and go outside to help Julie, but he poured himself a mug of coffee and sat at the table again. “I’m sorry, Dave. I know you still care for her.”
    David didn’t even glance at his father. He knew if he did, he might start crying like a little boy.
    “It’s okay, Dad,” he managed. “She’s all on track with her life. I’d just be messing her up. I know that.”
    Jack stirred a spoonful of sugar into his coffee. “All right. Whatever you say. But it’s hard to let go of something like that, Dave. You’ve known each other a long time.”
    “Since grade school. Maybe that’s why she wrote to me while I was away—because we grew up together.” Not because she has feelings for me. The kind I have for her.
    “At least she kept in touch. I know it meant a lot to you.”
    David shot his father a quick look, then glanced away. His father knew how he felt. David didn’t need to say more.
    “This is the hardest part of being a parent, David. Maybe you’ll remember I said that when you have your own kids.”
    Not much chance of that happening now, David wanted to reply. “What’s the hardest part?” he asked instead.
    “Having to stand by and watch you get hurt and disappointed. And not being able to do anything for you. Even your physical pain—if I could take it away from you, and feel it myself, I would. I just don’t know what to do for you,” Jack admitted quietly.
    David was surprised by his father’s honesty. They had never talked much when he was a teenager, living at home. Argued a lot? Yes, indeed. But never really talked, not like this.
    “There’s nothing you can do, Dad,” David said. “But . . . thanks for saying that.”
    “I wish I could just speed up