Page 5 of When Love Comes Home

Baby Laila was only two, Loren was four, and Katie, six. They were all similar versions of their mother, with dark black curls, green eyes, and tiny freckles dotted across their cheeks and noses.

Laila loved showing me her latest coloring book or newest doll. She was sweet and good-natured, always willing to share her toys—and her parents—with me, an outsider. Loren was a mommy’s girl. You could find her in the kitchen, baking something with Sharon, or out in the garden, playing in the dirt and planting flowers. Loren adored flowers and would always bring me a different one every time I walked in the door.

Katie was a sassy, outspoken little girl, never afraid to speak her mind. When Coach introduced us, he said, “Adam, this is Katherine.”

I smiled and said, “Hi, Katie. It’s nice to meet you.”

She gave me a skeptical glance and immediately corrected me. “My name is Katherine,” she said, “not Katie.”

In that moment, I knew she didn’t like me. She was Daddy’s little girl, and she wasn’t about to share him with anyone.

Before I knew it, I wasn’t just spending time with the Linders during the week—I was visiting them on most weekends, too. Sharon started setting an extra plate at the table without asking. Jon would nudge the remote toward me when I came over, already knowing what game I wanted to watch. By the time fall rolled around, I had my own toothbrush in their bathroom and a change of clothes I kept in the spare bedroom. Jon's door was always open, and we grew close. I became a staple in their home. They were my family—the closest thing I’d ever had to one.

When summer came, I thought my time with the Linder family would come to a close. My grades were up, and football practice wouldn’t begin until August. Plus, I figured they’d all need a break from the foster kid. When I went to see Coach to wish him a good summer, he looked at me like I’d grown a second head.

“Do you have plans with the Baldwins for the summer?” he asked.

“No,” I replied. “I just figured you and your family had had enough of me for one school year.”

“Are you interested in a summer job?” he asked.

I hadn’t really thought about it. The Baldwins were the first family who didn’t keep the money they got from the state in exchange for fostering me. They put most of it in an account under my name at the bank and gave me a weekly allowance.

“A job?” I asked, probably wearing what must have been a blank look on my face.

“Every man needs an education,” he began, “and every man needs to learn to do something with his hands as well.”

“Okay, Coach,” I said, “You need help building something?”

“I need help renovating a house,” he said. “You in?”

It turned out that Coach’s father owned a real estate firm in town, and Jon would often help him renovate houses and flip them for a profit. Every summer after that, I’d spend my time helping Jon with rehab projects. I learned plumbing, electrical work, flooring, roofing, and tiling. For every hour of sweat and hard work, I got paid, and I saved every penny.

Coach had unwavering confidence in me. He told me I was intelligent, that I was a good person, and he assured me my unstable upbringing wouldn’t define me. I believed him.

Jon Linder is one of the most genuine and giving people I’ve ever met. He changed my life forever. Everything I learned, I learned from him. He taught me what it meant to be a good person, a good man. He’s the reason I am who I am today. When he took me under his wing, I never imagined it would come with a family, unconditional love, and a future.

***

My first rehab project was the old house I rented in college. The owner cut me a deal on the rent, as long as I handled any necessary repairs. I had three roommates who helped with the rent, making it manageable.

When the owner offered me the chance to buy the house, I got a great deal on it. I flipped it a couple of years later, using the rinse-and-repeat method Jon had taught me. I used to fall asleep on half-built floors with a toolbox for a pillow, just to make rent. Now I draft blueprints, I had my own office with my name on the door. I’m thirty-two, and for the first time, I don’t feel like I’m faking it. I have a degree in architecture and a healthy real estate portfolio, both commercial and residential. Jon Linder was right—my difficult childhood hasn’t defined me.

I haven’t lived in Cold Spring full-time in fourteen years. It’s a small town, and I always felt my time was better spent in a bigger city. Still, I visit often to see Jon and his family—well, most of them. Katie went off to college and found a job in Albany after graduating.

The Linder home has always been filled with photos of all three girls, so even though I haven't seen Katie in years, I know she's all grown up—and she’s breathtakingly beautiful.

Jon and Sharon's youngest, Laila, is a sophomore in college. She's dating a boy she met in school—her first boyfriend. The last time I saw her, she rattled off the differences between viral and bacterial infections while spooning whipped cream onto her hot cocoa. She has this fire in her eyes when she talks about helping kids—I’ve never doubted she’d become a doctor. I couldn't be more proud. It’s like a brother’s pride, even though we’re not siblings.

Loren and Justin's wedding plans are in full swing. They’ve been inseparable since kindergarten. Justin was a constant presence at Jon’s house too, always tagging along with Loren. Somehow, though, he never seemed to pose a threat to Katie. Maybe it’s because he has his own parents, and his connection to Jon was purely through his love for Loren—not because he needed a father figure. As for me, though? I’m not about to start dating little Laila just to appease Katie and her misguided idea that I could somehow threaten her relationship with her dad. I roll my eyes at my own stupid, convoluted thoughts.

Katie just had a birthday. I know because every year since I left, I’ve sent her a birthday card. I remember her lying on her stomach in the living room, yellow socks on her feet,Truly, Madly, Deeplyplaying softly from her phone.

"I like your yellow socks," I said. She rolled her eyes and said, "Yellow is my favorite—"

Then she shrieked when a spider crawled out from under the coffee table—Jon had to save her while she stood on the couch like it was lava. That was her: sunshine and drama, all wrapped up in one.

Her favorite movie isA Walk to Remember, and vanilla with raspberry swirl is her go-to ice cream. She's never been a fan of sports—probably my fault. She adores her family, and her dad will always be her hero.

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