Part 10 (2/2)

Adam glanced out the window to see Emma holding Vicki's hand as they walked to the barn that sat at the back of Sherry and Tom's property. With the back door open, the sound of Vicki's voice yelling for her momma was clear. Addison emerged from the barn, and Vicki took off from Emma like a bullet from a gun.

”She's quick,” he said, riveted to the display unfolding outside. Addison was walking slowly toward the awkwardly sprinting toddler. Vicki nearly tumbled a couple of times before she was able to reach Addison. He shook his head. ”She certainly is determined.”

”Mm,” Sherry looked out the window. ”She's a lot like both of them,” she said with a chuckle. ”She missed Addison,” Sherry said with a smile.

Adam sat down at the table and looked at Sherry curiously. ”Addy looks tired,” he commented.

Sherry took a seat across from him. She smiled when he dove in for a cookie. She wondered how the two could not see how alike they were, and how much both craved the acceptance of the other. ”I imagine she is tired,” Sherry agreed. ”From what Emma says, she and Jeff have been putting in long hours trying to get this new show off the ground.”

”I thought it was a movie?” he said.

”I don't know. To tell you the truth, I don't pay as much attention to that part of their life as I probably should,” Sherry confessed. ”I know that part of Emma misses working.”

”She doesn't want to be an actress anymore?” he inquired.

”I think she does. I don't think it's the acting part that she wants a break from. I think it's everything that goes along with it,” she explained. ”And, she would miss being with the kids,” she smiled.

”It will be kids pretty soon,” Adam said.

”You sound surprised,” Sherry observed.

”I don't know. Let's face it; I'm not anyone to talk about parenting.”

”Why is that?”

Adam sighed. ”Addy's mom did all of that. I was traveling most of the time. She handled all the tough parts. I got to share the cookies,” he tried to joke.

Sherry nodded. She understood what Adam was trying to convey. Tom had not been as active in their children's young lives as he was now. He played with them. He even disciplined them. But, he had not been the one to bandage the skinned knees and console the broken hearts. That had been Sherry. Sometimes, it amazed her to see the transformation in her husband. He was extremely hands-on with all of his grandchildren, teaching them carpentry, taking them fis.h.i.+ng, telling them stories, and listening to everything they had to say. He'd changed more than a few diapers, dried a host of tears, and picked up the pieces of his grandchildren's disappointments often. And, he had become both a friend and a mentor to their children as well.

Sherry suspected she knew the demon taunting Adam-the past. The more time she spent with Addison's father, the more she saw the ghost of regret. Adam was unsure how to be the thing he desired to be most-a father. The tough parts.

”Cookies cure a lot of ills,” Sherry offered. His sad smile twisted her heart. She took a deep breath and decided to approach the elephant in the room. ”You know, she misses you,” Sherry said.

Adam's eyes lifted doubtfully. ”She barely knows me. They've only visited...”

”Not Vicki-Addison.”

Adam sighed heavily. ”I doubt that.”

”Do you?” she questioned him. Adam looked back at her fearfully. Sherry nodded. ”Just like Vicki ran to Addison just now. That's really what she wants to do. She wants to be able to run to you.”

Adam shook his head. ”I've never been good at that.”

”What's that?” she asked. He cast his gaze downward. ”The tough parts?” Sherry guessed. ”Well, the tough parts can be uncomfortable. That's for sure,” she said. ”It's hard to watch your kids in pain and know that no matter what you say or do, it's just something they have to go through.”

”I don't think Addy thinks very highly of me,” he said. ”Probably with good reason.”

”Mm. I'm not so sure about that,” Sherry said.

”You know, when her mother got sick, she refused to tell Addy right away,” he said.

Sherry was curious. She knew that Addison's mother's sickness had progressed quickly. She could see the deep sadness in Adam's eyes as his thoughts drifted back in time. One thing had become apparent to her in the last day; Adam Blake loved his daughter. Addison might have doubted that. The truth was written in his expression every time he looked at his granddaughter, each time Emma spoke Addison's name, or Vicki asked for her momma. She could sense that Adam needed to release his regrets and his fears. She had experienced something similar with Emma's father. Tom's evolution had been gradual. He had never been dismissive of his children, but he had been strict bordering on confining in his discipline. And, for many years his outspoken conservatism had led all three of his children to believe that they would inevitably disappoint their father. Emma had experienced that the least. Sherry suspected that had a great deal to do with her being the only daughter. There was a degree of truth in the old saying that fathers revered their daughters. She waited patiently for Adam to continue, knowing that he would.

Adam looked at Sherry and shook his head. ”She was afraid that Addy would insist on coming home if she found out.” He smiled. ”Addy was always dreaming big,” he mused. ”Always creating stories about distant places. She had some whoppers as a kid,” he recalled affectionately.

Sherry smiled. She's listened to both Addison and Emma when they would weave tales for Vicki. They were both imaginative and emotional women. Living in small town America often conjured big dreaming. There were advantages to small town life. At least, Sherry thought so. She had never had to worry about her children riding their bikes down the street or walking to a friend's house. While things had changed somewhat, she was grateful that most of her grandchildren still lived in that reality. She could see how her grandsons marveled at Aunt Emma's big city life. And, she wondered how Vicki and the newest addition to their family might view the world. Emma and Addy's children would be exposed to both realities.

”I think that's a product of country living a lot of times,” Sherry said.

Adam smiled. ”Probably so,” he said. ”It wasn't easy for Addy,” he recalled. ”I mean that she didn't have any brothers or sisters. Where we lived, there were not many children her age. Vicki tried to get her out to places to meet kids and make friends. We'd hoped... but, well, it doesn't always work out that way,” he said. Sherry offered him an understanding smile. ”She spent most of her days with her mother until she went to school. Even then, Addy seemed to like to come home. I always thought it was funny the way she would talk about seeing the world, and lots of times Vicki would have to push her to go spend time with her friends.”

”Well, there are reasons for everything,” Sherry interjected. ”Sounds like she was fortunate to have such a close relations.h.i.+p with her mother.”

”We both were,” Adam said. ”I hated not telling Addison,” he said.

Sherry took a deep breath. ”Adam?”

Adam shook his head as tears filled his eyes. ”She got the diagnosis the week we dropped Addy off,” he said. Sherry closed her eyes. ”I know. She'd hoped that she wouldn't need to worry Addison. But... It was only a few months, and it became clear that things were progressing.”

”I'm sorry.”

”I begged her to tell Addy. I should have. I know I should have. She was adamant. Addison had friends. She would call home every night and tell Vicki about what she was doing. She had brought Tamara home. They seemed to be joined at the hip. She just...”

Sherry smiled. ”She knew Addison would need that to move on,” she said. He sighed and nodded. Sherry reached across the table and took his hand. ”I understand.”

”She'll never forgive me.”

”I doubt that,” Sherry said, surprising Addison's father. ”I think you might be surprised.”

”She'll be furious that she wasn't given a choice.”

”Probably,” Sherry agreed. Adam sighed. ”But,” she continued, reaching for his hand again. ”I'm not sure it will be with you.”

”That's worse.”

Sherry smiled and squeezed Adam's hand. ”Have a little faith in her. She loved her mother. Something tells me your revelation will not surprise her as much as you think it will.”

”I don't even know how to...”

”Well, once I grew up, whenever my father wanted to tell me something he knew I wouldn't like, he always started by taking me out for a beer,” Sherry laughed.

”I don't think I've ever had a beer with Addy.”

”Good time to change that then,” Sherry suggested. ”And, if you need consolation later, I'm certain Emma will have cookies waiting.”

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