A Family for Luke

He’d known, since he was thirteen, what he wanted.

A home. A family.

Now he was thirty-five and staring at middle age, still single. And he was holding the sore ankle of a woman who was slowly, unwittingly, shifting into the emptiness of his life.

He pulled the wrapping snug and tacked the end of the bandage down. “That might not feel so good, but it will help,” Luke said, standing up. “So. Supper. Guess I’ll have to see what I can throw together.”

“I should stay here,” Janie sputtered. “I should supervise the kids.”

“You should relax.” Luke ignored her objections.

“But, Luke. The mess…” Janie’s protest died as Luke shot her a warning look.

“I’ll clean up,” he said.

“Just make sure you do,” she warned.

He saluted. “I’m a man of my word.”

“Then you’re a rare man indeed.”

and her husband, Richard, live on a small ranch in Northern Alberta, where they have raised four children and numerous foster children, and are still raising cattle. Carolyne crafts her stories in her office with a large west-facing window, through which she can watch the changing seasons while struggling to make her words obey.

For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you.

—Matthew 6:14

To my brothers and sisters.

Thanks for the memories.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

Questions for Discussion

“I don’t want to talk to her.” Luke moved his cell phone to his other ear as he stopped his truck in front of the derelict house. “Just transfer the money into her account like you always do.”

Through the open window of his truck, he heard the sounds of saws screaming from inside the house, his most recent investment, hammers pounding and money being made.

“She really wants to see you.” Uncle Chuck, his account manager, could be persistent when he thought Luke should do what he wanted. But Luke had lived around Uncle Chuck and his foster father, Al, long enough to pick up some of their quirks.

“You know, Uncle Chuck, when you see a dog and each time you try to pet it, it bites you, how quick are you going to be to pet it again?”

“But she says she’s changed.”

“Like all the other times she’s changed. Sorry, Uncle Chuck. Not happening and that topic is now closed.” Luke reached across the cab of the truck and pulled over a new cost estimate he had gotten from the foreman of the crew. “I’m gonna need more money in the building account. Push a few thousand in there, as well.”

“Moving it as we speak. Are things going okay at the house?”

“I’ve had to move my trailer here until the job is done. So up to now, no, not going so good.”

One of the construction workers sauntered down the ramp out the front door, his yellow hard hat askew on his head, a cigarette dangling from indifferent lips. He paused as he took a few more puffs before flicking the cigarette onto the lawn. He snagged a couple of two-by-fours, laid them on his shoulder and carted them back in. He could have easily brought in triple that.

“Efficiency is a problem. I’m sure I can get things going back on track if I’m physically here,” Luke said, pulling out his metal clipboard. Then he jumped as a cold, wet nose was shoved in the back of his neck.

Cooper, his golden lab, heaved a canine sigh and laid his head on Luke’s shoulder, expressing his frustration with the current level of inactivity. He’d been cooped up in the back of Luke’s truck for the five-hour drive from Calgary north to the town of Riverbend.

At first Luke had toyed with the idea of putting Cooper in the holiday trailer he was pulling behind the truck, his temporary office and residence while he was supervising this house reno, but Cooper would get bored, and when he was bored he chewed. Anything. Pillows. Telephones. Cushions. Curtains. Any of the dozens of books Luke always took with him. If Cooper could get his mouth around it, he would chew it. So Cooper had spent the entire drive with his head hanging over the seat with expectant optimism.

“I really don’t think you need to worry. You’ll do okay,” Chuck assured him, his voice turning crackly as the reception grew worse. “Have you thought of keeping this one for yourself? From the pictures you sent me, it has lots of potential.”

Luke gave a short laugh as he got out of the truck to improve the reception. “This house is way too big for a bachelor. And the yard would take too much upkeep.”

As he spoke, his gaze shifted to the yard next door. Grass so green it made his eyes hurt, a veranda holding chairs with fat, welcoming cushions.

And pots of flowers everywhere. Hanging from the sagging veranda roof, lined up on the crooked steps and at the end of a cracked and broken sidewalk.

The flowers seemed a valiant effort at hiding the broken-down condition of the house.