It took some effort, but at last he was able to pull Steph’s pickup back onto the road. The snow had died down somewhat, but not the wind. Brooke drove the teenagers in the pickup, and Adam followed behind, alone and thinking too many crazy thoughts about everything that could have gone wrong and thanking God for seeing the kids safe.
By the time they dropped Tyler off at his mom’s, the snow had almost stopped, and Steph drove herself home, cheerfully waving good-bye to them as she passed. Adam returned the salute, shaking his head.
When he dropped Brooke off at her apartment, she gave him a quick kiss.
“Go take care of your grandma,” she murmured. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”
Adam drove the couple blocks back to the Huang house in a thoughtful mood. Many of the cars and pickups were gone, but Coach was still there, keeping Grandma Palmer company in the kitchen over coffee.
Coach stood up when Adam walked in, and Grandma gave him an expectant look.
“Everything okay?” Coach asked.
Adam nodded and explained what had happened.
Coach shook his head. “Fool kids. You think they’d know better, being born and raised here.”
“Teenagers don’t think things through,” Adam countered. “I know I didn’t.” He turned to his grandma. “Ready to go?”
He helped her load her ziti pans and equipment on the back bench of the truck, and once at the boardinghouse, she made him come inside to eat his missed meal. They sat together in the cheerful kitchen, listening to the wind howl.
Grandma seemed to be patiently waiting for him to speak, and though he resisted, it was like words were drawn out of him.
“My parents were only a year older than Tyler when they had me,” he said at last, using his fork to push ziti around on his plate. “There’s no maturity, no common sense at that age—and I should know.”
She sighed, cradling her mug of coffee. “Adam, you got a taste tonight of what it’s like bein’ a helpless parent. You lecture or you lead by example, you pray, you even beg, but in some ways, there’s little you can do to make certain a teenager makes the right choices. And that I understand too well. Your mother always saw me as the enemy, and that hurt more than I can say.”
She gave another sigh that ripped at his stomach.
“I know you don’t remember your grandpa, but he was good with your mom, who was twelve when he died. Nothin’ seemed right after that.”
“I’m sure the drugs didn’t help,” Adam said dryly. “Or even my birth.”
“I think there was more goin’ on,” she answered after a long pause, “maybe some kind of mental illness.”
He frowned. “I’ve never heard that before.”
“She was always unstable, but she got worse the last few years of her life, and I began to realize that maybe drugs had masked her condition. But that’s no excuse for my ignorance. She was my baby. I should have seen. Instead, I couldn’t help her, and she died too young.”
He reached across the kitchen table and squeezed her hand. “You shouldn’t carry so much guilt. She was an adult and made her own choices.”
“I could say the same to you,” she said quietly, her expression full of compassion. “And I’m not talkin’ about Tyler. I know what happened in Afghanistan.”
She brought her other hand up to encompass his. Her warmth flowed into him.
“I knew somethin’ was wrong from your first letter after the accident happened,” she continued. “When you were injured and so very silent, I wrote letters, I called, and Rosemary even found clues on the computer from newspaper articles. Yes, you were a hero to many men in the end, Adam, but the cost must have been so very difficult to bear. You don’t have to speak of it—I know you blame yourself for the terrible accident, but you gotta know that others don’t.”
“I’m trying to believe that. And I’m better, I promise.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Does Brooke know?”
“Brooke?” he asked nonchalantly.
“I may be old, but I’m not blind.”
“Apparently you’re not the only one,” he said, shaking his head with amusement. “Our secret relationship is getting not so secret.”
“That’s your business, of course. But does she know about your past?”
“I told her, yeah. But we’re not like that, Grandma. It’s . . . casual.”
She pressed her lips together, obviously hiding a smile, saying, “Uh-huh,” as if she thought him silly. “So you won’t be spendin’ your first Christmas together?”