More silence ensued. Paul cleared his throat. “That… that’s all right. I’ll collect it later. Here’s a fresh cup.” Theclinkof a cup being placed on the table.
“So…” Adam straightened. “What’s on the agenda for today?” He reached for his coffee, aware of Paul’s continued silence. Adam said nothing. He’d said far too much already, and although his words didn’t constitute an apology, they did signal his compliance.
It was all Paul was going to get, anyway.
A long exhale. “First of all, we’re going to walk down into the bay and have lunch.”
Adam saw the small horseshoe bay in his mind, brought up in a flood of recollections from his childhood. Playing on the beach with his grandfather, running across the sand, pulling a bright red kite behind him, its tail fluttering in the warm breeze. Building sandcastles with moats, and a drawbridge fashioned out of ice lolly sticks. Sitting on a warm rock with his sister, eating ice cream on a hot summer’s day. More recently, nine years ago, taking a boat out into the bay with Caroline, to scatter the combined ashes of their parents. Their father had followed their mother, one month after her death from lung cancer.
Adam had always thought his father’s death certificate should have read ‘broken heart’.
“I haven’t been down there for a while,” he said quietly. He pictured the steep path that led down to the far end of the bay. He supposed he could negotiate it, with care. “And after that?”
“That is to be a surprise.”
Adam opened his mouth to demand more details but stopped himself. He’d inflicted enough damage with that waspish tongue of his.
There was nothing for it but to trust Paul.
“Okay then.” He awaited a response, but Paul remained silent.
Guess I’m not the only one biting his tongue.Not that Adam could blame him. His track record had to be enough to make Paul doubt the veracity of his reactions.
“You ready for some breakfast?”
The familiar ground felt good beneath Adam’s feet. “Yes, please.” His belly growled.
Paul chuckled, and the tightness in Adam’s chest eased. “I’m not making you a big breakfast. You’ll ruin your lunch.”
Talk about role reversal. “Yes, Dad,” Adam said, smirking.
“I’m being serious. But if you want to pig out on a huge breakfast and leave no room for homemade crab tart, or prawn salad, or chicken Caesar salad, or?—”
“Stop, you’re making my mouth water!” His stomach gave out another rumble as if to confirm his words. Paul laughed this time, a rich, happy sound that brought about an unexpected release of tension in the muscles across Adam’s back. He relaxed into his chair. “In that case, I’ll settle for a couple of slices of toast and maybe a bowl of cereal.”
“Sensible man.”
Adam drank his coffee, the sounds of Paul’s activity washing over him. All it had taken was for him to be civil, and the change in atmosphere had been huge. If things continued in this vein, there was a distinct probability it would be a pleasant day.
God knew they were overdue for one.
Chapter Nineteen
Adam grippedhis cane and stood by the door while Paul locked it. The rolling in his stomach hadn’t disappeared, and his mouth was still dry.
Why am I nervous?
It was a walk, for God’s sake. A stroll down a sloping path to a bay he hadn’t visited for years, with tons of people milling around because they were in the middle of August. Small children whose only aim in life was to trip him up and send him crashing to the ground, making him lose both his cane and his dignity…
Yeah, he had plenty to be nervous about.
“Ready?” Paul was at his side.
No, not at all,he wanted to whine. But it was too late for that. He’d gotten this far, he could manage a stupid walk.
Paul’s hand was at his lower back, oddly comforting. “I’ll be right here. I’m your eyes, okay?”
Thank God. Paul got it. This was a big deal. “Now I’m ready.” He took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”
