Winter's End Read Free Page A

“That much I understand. I’ve seen your room.”
    “I know where everything is,” she claimed, grabbing a cookie from the counter. After the first bite, she snatched another. “Usually.”
    “Mmm-hmm,” Marc rejoined, skeptical. Hadn’t they been late for church because she couldn’t locate her favorite pants?
    It seemed peculiar to walk into the white clapboard building after so much time, then late, besides. They’d drawn looks as they proceeded to the front instead of sliding into the empty last pew. His fault for letting Jess pick the seat.
    Dad had gone with Jess these last years while Marc busied himself with farmwork. Always something to do on a cattle holding, regardless of weather, and Sunday mornings were noexception. Neither were Wednesday evenings. Or Saturday potlucks. Busy times, all.
    But their current situation altered things. Pete’s weakness minimized his options, so Marc was pressed into a new fraternal duty. He’d accompanied Jess at Christmas and this past week, feeling hypocritical. Attendance at church wasn’t high on his priority list.
    But there was nothing he’d deny his father, even taking his adolescent sister to a service that meant little.
    “Grace looks huge,” Jess commented around bites. More through them, actually. “I can’t wait to see the foal.”
    “Next month. Valentine’s Day, I figure. Thereabouts.”
    “If it’s a girl, we’ll name her Sweetheart,” Jess declared.
    “Boys can’t be sweethearts?”
    “Please.”
    “Well, not at your age,” he added, firming his voice.
    That brought a glare. “I’m nearly fifteen.”
    “Six months,” he corrected.
    “Five-and-a-half,” Jess shot back. “In a little over a year, I’ll get my driver’s permit. Then I can work toward my license.”
    Marc sent her a teasing look. “If your room’s clean.”
    “Grr.”
    A third voice interrupted them. “Have you gotten so old you don’t kiss your dad anymore?”
    Jess crossed the room in a flash. “I didn’t want to wake you.” She grabbed her father into a gentle hug. “You were sound asleep when I got home.”
    “Pills.” Pete’s voice sharpened. He sounded disgusted.
    “But you’re up,” she continued, “and dinner’s almost ready.”
    Marc gave Jess extra points for her positive outlook. She always saw the bright side where their father’s care was concerned. “I’ll set another place at the table.”
    Marc gave his father a once-over. “You don’t seem as foggy. Not like last night.” He didn’t add how scared he’d been, to see his father dazed and confused. Pete DeHollander had been a caricature of his true self. Not pretty.
    Pete shook his head. “That part’s better.”
    “Good.”
    The phone rang. Marc grabbed the receiver, one eye on the stove, the other on the sports section. The Division One hockey team of St. Lawrence University was pouring on the steam as their season progressed. Sweet. Hockey and North Country were synonymous. If you lived in a climate rife with snow and ice, you better find something to make winter palatable.
    “Mr. DeHollander?”
    “Yes?” Marc pulled his attention from the scores with effort.
    “Kayla Doherty,” the voice continued.
    Marc bit back a groan. She still sounded perky, even this late. Was it a blonde thing? At the moment he wasn’t sure. And really didn’t care. As he turned to his father, she continued, “I wanted to follow up on the meds situation from this morning. Are the side effects still as strong or are you feeling more in control?”
    “Wrong man.” Offering no explanation, Marc handed the phone to his father, fighting the rise of disapproval. “Your nurse.”
    Pete’s eyes narrowed. “Miss Doherty?” His features relaxed as he listened. No way could Marc miss the ease in tension that had been prevalent the past few days, as if the nurse held all the answers.
    Yeah. Right.
    “No, that’s fine,” Pete told her, a brow shifting up. “We do sound alike. Everyone says