“That would be neat.” Luke caught Adam's arm. “In fact, I've been keeping a scrapbook of all your articles.”
Adam smiled. “Really?”
“Yeah. I've never known a real live reporter before. And you're good. I was thinking that maybe some day I'll give it a try.”
Adam placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. “Give it your best try.” He stepped into the kitchen. “Morning, Mrs. Hasper.”
“Morning, Adam,” Jean said, spooning batter onto a griddle.
“I could smell breakfast clear upstairs. My mouth's watering.”
Laurel lifted a pot of coffee off the stove. “Would you like a cup?”
“Oh, yeah. I could use some. Thank you.” Taking the coffee, he held it under his nose and took a whiff. “Smells good.” He sipped then wandered to the kitchen window and looked outside. “When's it get light?”
“We've got nearly three hours yet,” Luke said. “I know my way to Alex's. We won't have to wait till sunup.”
The back door opened, and Will walked in. He pulled off his gloves, shoved them into his coat pockets, then took off the coat and hung it on a peg. “Cold this morning, and the wind's picking up. Looks like we might be in for another storm.” He kissed Jean, accepted a cup of coffee from her, and sat at the table. “So, what do you think of Alaska in the wintertime, Adam?”
“What I've seen I like. I've missed Alaska.”
Luke sat across from his father. “You missed it even when you were in Europe?” he asked incredulously.
“Europe's nice, but it's not home.”
Will raised an eyebrow. “So where is home, Adam?”
“I never thought much about it. Being raised in an orphanage, I don't have a place to look back on. When I lived in Chicago, I rented an apartment, but it never felt like home.” He raised his cup. “I guess this feels more like home than any place.” His eyes met Laurel's, then returned to Will. “I know it sounds silly, but after spending last summer here, working on the house, fishing with you, Luke, and Brian, and just being with the family, I kind of feel like I belong.” He shrugged. “Can't explain it.”
Will smiled. “I understand. I've always had family, but I would think that growing up without one would feel like being set adrift on an ice flow.” He placed a hand on Adam's arm. “I'm honored you chose us as your stand-in. You fit real well.” He hesitated. “Have you ever considered staying? Ever wonder if this might be where you belong?”
Adam's cup stopped halfway to his mouth. Slowly he lowered it to the table. “I thought about it. Sure wish I could stay. But there's no future for me here. I've got my career to think about.”
Jean set a plate of bacon and a platter of pancakes on the table. “Who's to say where a person's future lies? That's only something God can know. If we listen to him, he'll direct us.” She looked at Adam. “Have you ever asked him where you belong?”
Adam speared two pancakes and set them on his plate. “Well, ma'am, not really. I know you folks put a lot of stock in God, but I can't give him much credit for the good or bad in my life. He's never done much for me.” Adam's mind reeled with memories of the cruel and lonely institution where he'd grown up. He'd placed his trust in God once, but God hadn't rescued him. God had let him down, and Adam had no room for him. Trying to remain nonchalant, he drizzled syrup over pancakes. “I don't think God cares much about me.”
“I'm sorry to hear you say that,” Jean said. “He does care. God created you. He sent his son to die for you. You just need to believe.”
Adam chewed and stared at his plate. “Ma'am, with all due respect, believing never did me any good.”
Standing at the stove, Laurel listened, remembering what Adam had told her about his childhood. He'd been a lonely, frightened boy. She wanted to comfort him, knowing that child still lived inside. Gently she said, “It wasn't God who let you down. It was people.”
Adam looked at Laurel. “Well, I guess you're welcome to your opinion.” He took another bite of pancake.
After breakfast, Luke and Adam headed for Alex's. Adam struggled to adapt to snowshoes.
Although daylight touched the sky, the temperature dropped. “Looks like clouds are building up,” Adam said. “Do you think it's a good idea to be out here?”
“Oh, sure. We'll be fine.”
They approached a small log cabin nestled in deep snow amid a grove of spruce. A trail of smoke drifted from a chimney. Luke strode up to the door and knocked. A low, gruff bark answered from inside.
A few moments later, the door opened. A dark-haired girl with oval, brown eyes stood just inside. She smiled. “Hi, Luke.” A huge dog with a heavy coat and gray and white markings on its face pushed its nose between the door and the girl. He growled.
“King, no. It's just Luke.”
Adam studied the animal, wondering if he ought to step back. Its dark brown eyes were filled with suspicion, and they'd settled on him.
“Hi, Mattie,” Luke said, reaching out and patting the dog. “Is Alex ready to go?”
“He's sick.”
“What's wrong?”
“Sore throat and a fever.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I don't think he's all that sick. He just likes to be babied.”
“I am sick,” came a croaky reply. A moment later Alex appeared at the door. He gave Mattie a disdainful glance. “Sorry, Luke, but I really am sick.”
“I was hoping we could practice.”
Alex nodded at Adam. “Hey, what are you doing back here? I thought you were off in England or somewhere.”
“I was, but I had a little work to do here and thought it would be nice to spend Christmas in Alaska.” He glanced at the dog. “Nice dog. What's his name?”
“King.” Alex patted his head. “He's not mean. Just let him sniff the back of your hand.”
Adam took a step forward. A growl rose from King's throat. Adam stopped, then hesitantly held out his hand, palm down. The big dog sniffed him, then pushed through the door, heading straight for him. Adrenaline shot through Adam, but he held his ground, allowing the large animal to sniff his legs and feet. “Good boy. I'm not a bad man. I'm a good man,” he said.