Makin' Miracles Read Online Free Page A

for their anniversary later, but I wanted to call and ask especially that you would come. It would mean a lot to them, Spence. To all of us. It’s been twelve years since you’ve really been home for a visit with the family. It’s time, buddy.”
    A peculiar thought went through Spencer’s mind that Bowden would have been impressed to see him with a girl like Leena Evanston tonight. To see a girl like that coming on to him, interested in him. She was the kind of girl who used to always notice Bowden and completely overlook Spencer. He had an odd wish that Bowden could have been here to see Leena slinking around in her turquoise wrap, running her fingernails up his arm. He’d have liked for Bowden to see that.
    â€œI’ll think about it, Bowden,” he said. “I’ll see what my schedule is like later. Check whether I can get away from the gallery.”
    He heard Bowden laugh. “You mean you’ll try specifically to see that you’re too busy to come, don’t you? That’s been the pattern so far through every Christmas, Thanksgiving, and family occasion since.”
    Spencer was silent.
    â€œYou shouldn’t make Mother and Dad pay for your being mad at me, Eagle Boy.” It was another of Bowden’s taunting nicknames, based on Spencer’s young dream to become an Eagle Scout. He’d made it, too. He’d fulfilled a lot of his dreams—despite his family’s lack of support or encouragement.
    Spencer shook his head in the dark room. None of them ever seemed to realize how hurt he’d been when Bowden married Geneva. Or even cared how he felt. It had always been about Bowden. Whatever Bowden the golden boy wanted, Bowden the golden boy got.
    A flame spurted up in the fireplace and then died down. Spencer watched it thoughtfully. Nothing had changed. He saw no reason to go home again.
    â€œWhen is the anniversary?” Spencer asked, knowing he had no intention of going to it. “I’ll make a note of it and see what I can do.”
    He mentally noted the date in early June and then, after a few more words with Bowden, managed to get off the phone.
    There was a full moon out, and Spencer wandered onto the porch at the front of his house. Hungry to get a closer look at the moon, he started down a short trail by the house, whistling to Zeke to follow.
    The trail led through a grove of trees and then out onto a rocky ledge overlooking the valley below. Even in the dark, he could see the shadows of the mountains in the distance. The views from the ridgetop here were spectacular. It was a special place. The night was clear, and a world of stars lay scattered across the sky like shimmering crystals against black velvet.
    Tucked up against a rocky cliff at a point the locals called the Raven’s Den, Spencer found the makeshift structure. It had attracted him from the first day he explored this property. A series of rough beams held up a simple roof of wood boards, sticks, and thatch. At the front of the structure, a crude, stone wall had been erected, and over it lay a wide shelf of boards. From the rafters above the wall hung a motley array of bird feeders and wind chimes. Rickety benches and chairs had been brought into the hut, along with a rough worktable.
    Spencer smiled as he saw it again in the moonlight. A child’s playhouse, he’d decided. But the animals and birds loved it. They obviously held happy memories of being fed here in times past. As soon as he bought the property, Spencer began to put out seed, suet, and dried corn for his visitors. When the house builders measured off the property and asked if he wanted the shed torn down, he said no. It looked too much like the playhouses of his own youth he’d built and treasured.
    â€œI escaped out of doors many times to a hideaway like this to think and dream,” Spencer told the dog, who followed a few steps behind him.
    Zeke pricked up his ears and looked at