Page 32 of This Heart Of Mine (Chicago Stars 5)

At the time of his birth his parents’ well-ordered lives had centered on the Grand Rapids church where his father had been pastor, the books they’d loved, and their scholarly hobbies. They had no other children, and they didn’t have a clue what to do with a lively little boy they loved with all their hearts but didn’t understand.

Please try to sit still, sweetheart.

How did you get so dirty?

How did you get so sweaty?

Not so fast.

Not so loud.

Not so fierce.

Football, son? I believe my old tennis racket is stored in the attic. Let’s try that instead?

Even so, they’d attended his games because that’s what good parents did in Grand Rapids. He still remembered looking up into the stands and catching sight of their anxious, mystified faces.

They must have wondered how they hatched you.

That’s what Molly had said when he’d told her about them. She might be wrong about everything else, but she sure had been right about that.

“He said you haven’t called him.” The note of accusation was strong in Charlotte’s voice.

“Who?”

“Your Aunt Judith’s attorney. Pay attention, Kevin. He wants to talk about the campground.”

Even though Kevin had known what Charlotte was going to say, his hands tightened on the steering wheel. Conversations about the Wind Lake Campground always made him tense, which was why he avoided them. It was the place where the gap between himself and his parents had been the most painful.

The campground had been established by his greatgrandfather on some land he’d bartered for in remote northeastern Michigan during the late 1800s. From the beginning it had served as a summer gathering place for Methodist religious revivals. Since it was located on an inland lake instead of on the ocean, it never acquired the fame of campgrounds like Ocean Grove, New Jersey, or Oak Bluffs on Martha’s Vineyard, but it had the same gingerbread cottages, as well as a central Tabernacle where services had been held.

Growing up, Kevin had been forced to spend summers there as his father conducted daily services for the dwindling number of elderly people who came back each year. Kevin was always the only child.

“You realize the campground is yours now that Judith has died,” Charlotte said unnecessarily.

“I don’t want it.”

“Of course you do. It’s been passed down through the Tucker family for over a hundred years. It’s an institution, and you certainly don’t want to be the one to end that.”

Oh, yes, he did. “Charlotte, the place is a sinkhole for money. With Aunt Judith dead, there’s no one to look after it.”

“You’re going to look after it. She’s taken good care of everything. You can hire someone to run it.”

“I’m selling it. I have a career to concentrate on.”

“You can’t! Really, Kevin, it’s part of your family history. Besides, people still come back every year.”

“I’ll bet that makes the local undertaker happy.”

“What was that? Oh, dear… I have to go or I’ll be late to my watercolor class.”

She hung up before he could tell her about his marriage. Just as well. Talking about the campground darkened an already black mood.

God, those summers had been agonizing. While his friends at home played baseball and hung out, he was stuck with a bunch of old people and a million rules.

Not so much splashing when you’re in the water, dear. The ladies don’t like getting their hair wet.

Worship starts in half an hour, son. Get cleaned up.

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