Free A Mother's Homecoming by Tanya Michaels Page A

added, “And your voice.”
    Her gaze lifted. “She sings?”
    â€œLike an angel.” He thought about the lyrics to a Lady Gaga song Faith had been belting out in the car the previous week. “Angel might not be the right comparison.”
    Pam took the picture from him, studying it silently. He found himself holding his breath, as if unwilling to interrupt a private moment. Finally she nodded, handing the photo back. “Tell her I said yes. I’ll meet her. But between you and me, I still think it’s a mistake.”
    He told her what he always told his daughter. “Mistakes are how we learn.”
    â€œH OW DID IT GO ?” Gwendolyn Shepard asked from her chair at the kitchen table.
    â€œDon’t start, Mom.”
    â€œThat well, hmm?”
    Nick dropped into a seat, so weary he thought maybe he’d just sleep there tonight. “Thanks for coming over to keep an eye on Faith. Is she up in her room?”
    â€œGetting ready to take a shower. We just finished eating.” His mother’s eyes narrowed. “A
real
dinner. Honestly, Nicholas, ice cream? She’s a growing girl. You know how important nutrition is.”
    â€œI’ll be nutritionally virtuous tomorrow,” he promised. “Today seemed like an ice-cream kind of day.”
    Above him, the second-story floor creaked. He heard the linen closet being opened and closed, then water rushing through the pipes. At least he knew he had a little while to regroup before Faith interrogated him, wanting all the details of his meeting with Pamela Jo.
    â€œLet me fix you a plate,” Gwendolyn suggested,scraping her chair back across the floor. “You look beat. I knew going to see that woman couldn’t be a good idea.”
    â€œâ€˜That woman’ is Faith’s mother, and Faith is twelve years old. She’s got a right to have a say in this. In most states, kids her age are allowed an opinion on who their custodial parent should be.”
    â€œWell, that’s just ridiculous,” Gwendolyn huffed. “Kids don’t know what’s good for them. That’s why they have us.”
    He flashed a tired grin. “Us? So you finally trust me to know what’s good for me?”
    â€œAsks the man who served ice cream for dinner.” Gwendolyn shook her head. But a moment later, when she was pulling clean plates out of the dishwasher and not looking at him, she added, “When your father died a couple of years ago, you proved to me what a solid adult you’ve become. I’m not sure I ever really thanked you for everything you did. I’ve always appreciated how you were there for me and Leigh.”
    â€œYou’re welcome,” he said awkwardly. His father’s affairs had all been in order, the details taken care of, so it wasn’t as if Nick had been faced with any difficult decisions. It was more that his mom and sister had needed him to make phone calls they’d been too emotional to place.
    But Jenna had later pointed to his dad’s death as one of her examples of how estranged she and Nick were. She’d said that he didn’t let her comfort him, that he’d never really trusted her with his whole heart. He wasn’t sure whether she’d meant that part of his heart still belonged to his first wife, or if she’d been suggesting that Pamela Jo had somehow damaged him, making itimpossible to fully love again. Either translation was annoying.
    No matter. Jenna was hardly a credible source. She’d been trying to justify her adulterous actions; her words stemmed from defensive guilt, not reality.
    He had to admit, though, that seeing Pamela Jo again had stirred up … what? The past? Conflicting emotions?
    Standing in front of the stove, Gwendolyn tapped a slotted spoon on the side of a pan to get his attention. “How hungry are you?”
    â€œNot at all,” he admitted. The only thing that sounded very appealing was