Fireside by Susan Wiggs (autobiographies to read .TXT) 📕

dairy farm, Noah’s place sprawled out on a slope overlooking Willow Lake. There was a big, old-fashioned farmhouse and numerous outbuildings, including a storage silo, a barn and paddock, and the animal hospital. A sign reading Shepherd Animal Hospital marked the driveway. The dairy had been founded by Noah’s grandparents, and he’d grown up here, never living anywhere else except when he went to college and then to Cornell for vet school. It was hard for Bo to imagine what it was like to belong to a family that had roots, that stayed in one place for so long, that stayed together. Noah was the most well-adjusted, happy person Bo knew, and he suspected that came from a deep, lifelong sense of security. He wished someone had provided that for AJ. It might already be too late, though.

He parked the car at the side of the house, and the minute they got out, a pair of big, furry shapes came barreling down the snowy slope behind the house. AJ moved like lightning, jumping back into the car and slamming the door. Bo was used to the two friendly mutts called Rudy and Opal, but they probably appeared as scary as hell to a boy who had been attacked in the face by a dog.

“Settle down, now,” he said as the dogs bounded around him. “Go on now, git.” Fortunately, they had been trained to mind. They fell back, keeping their distance as he motioned to AJ. “It’s all right, they’ll stay away. That’s a promise.”

AJ hesitated.

“It’s all right,” Bo repeated. “I swear, it’s fine. I won’t let them near you.”

AJ slowly got out of the car and walked up to the porch. Bo didn’t take any credit for helping the boy overcome his fear. He knew AJ was simply trying to save face.

Sophie was waiting at the door, greeting them with a smile. She was blond and as soft as a sunrise, attractive despite the well-worn jeans and a sweater with what looked like a grape-jelly stain on it.

“Hey, Bo,” she said, and then smiled warmly at AJ. “I’m Sophie,” she said. “You must be AJ.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He stepped into the foyer and looked around uncertainly.

“Let me take your coats,” she said, motioning them into the house. When she had married Noah, she’d changed every aspect of his life, including this house. In Noah’s bachelor days, it had been perfect for a guy on his own. Gone were the lighted beer clocks, the foosball table, the drum set in a corner of the living room, where the garage band used to practice. All of that had been relegated to the actual garage, which wasn’t such a bad thing, since it was heated and had a refrigerated beer keg.

Noah hadn’t made a peep about the changes. He been so damn happy and punch-drunk with love that she could have draped the house in pink chintz, for all he cared. Photos of their brand-new, blended family had replaced the guy stuff.

“Noah’s up at the clinic,” she said, gesturing vaguely at the building across the way. “The kids are finishing breakfast.” She led them down a hall to the big country kitchen, its yellow walls hung with nursery-school artwork—mostly finger paintings that resembled petroglyphs in prehistoric caves.

“Uncle Bo!” His honorary niece, Aissa, waved a piece of toast smeared with grape jelly. She was about four years old, and so cute it kind of made his eyes smart to look at her.

“Hey, shortstop,” he said. “You, too, Buddy,” he greeted her brother, who was around seven. The little boy’s name was Uba, but the Americanized version had quickly replaced it.

Aissa held out a pair of tiny pink snow boots. “I wanna go play outside,” she said.

“You’re nuts, you know that?” Bo said to the four-year-old. “It’s freezing out there.”

The little ones were being supervised by their older brother, Max, who was Sophie’s son from her first marriage. Max was in the eighth grade, and seemed to be pretty good with the youngsters. Through the introductions, AJ acted bashful and quickly declined the offer of grape-jelly toast and apple juice. He and Max regarded each other with wary awkwardness.

“Kolaches,” Bo said, handing the bakery box to Max. “Knock yourselves out.”

“Yes.” Max and the other two dove right in. He paused before sinking his teeth into one of the pastries. “Uh, would you like one?” He offered the box to AJ.

“No, thanks.”

“We’ve got some work to do in the study,” Sophie said, defusing the tension. “Are you okay with these two, Max?”

“Sure, no problem.”

They went into Sophie’s study, a small, well-organized room with a computer and some filing cabinets, a bulletin board papered with international news articles and maps. The shelves were crammed with a mixture of law books and family photos that looked to Bo like a sea of smiling faces. He knew Sophie had endured her share of tough times and heartache, but the pictures were proof in living color that even the worst troubles could get better.

Sophie put a reassuring hand on AJ’s shoulder. The simple touch had a tangible effect on the boy. He relaxed visibly, the tight lines of worry easing from his face. Just like that, a touch could comfort. Other than awkwardly carrying him upstairs while asleep, Bo had not touched the boy. Now, seeing the reassurance imparted by that simple, brief connection, he realized it didn’t have to be weird. There was a lot to learn about being a parent. And given the way Bo had grown up, most of it was going to be guesswork on his part.

“I started making calls yesterday, as soon as Bo called me about your mother,” Sophie said to AJ. “I know it’s a scary time for you and your mom both, so we’re going to figure this out just as fast as we can.”

“How fast?” asked AJ. “When can I see my mom again? When can I go home?”

“I can’t answer that. Immigration cases tend to be complicated. But this is also