A Family for Luke. Carolyne Aarsen

glancing at the specs for the electrician.

      A pause. A breath, and then, “Hello, Luke. It’s me. Your mom.”

      Luke straightened, anchoring the blueprint with one hand as frustration spiraled through him. “Hello, Lillian. Did you get the money?”

      “Yes.”

      “That’s good.”

      “Chuck tells me you’re very busy on the house.”

      Uncle Chuck talks too much. “Yeah. I am.”

      A family walked past him. Mother holding a little boy’s hand, father pushing the stroller. The perfect family.

      Had his mother ever yearned for the same stability he had?

      He shoved the thought aside. The only thing his mother had yearned for was another drink, another hit and another guy.

      “So, I was thinking I could…maybe…” His mother heaved a sigh. “I wanna see you.”

      Luke wondered why she still bothered. The last time she’d asked, like a sucker, he’d agreed. He’d waited an hour, then had gone back to the hotel he’d been staying at. He should have known better. Ever since he’d moved to Al’s, she’d try to visit him at least once a year. And once a year, he’d wait.

      “Sorry. I’m busy.”

      “Too busy for your mom?”

      You don’t know how a mom behaves, Luke thought, glancing at the house beside his. As if his thoughts summoned her, Janie came outside with a watering can, Autumn trailing behind her. Janie pulled a plant from a hook and set it down so her little girl could water it.

      That’s what mothers are like, Luke thought, melancholy surging through him.

      Janie glanced his way and lifted her hand in a little neighborly wave.

      He nodded, still holding on to the blueprint with one hand, his phone with the other. Still holding on to the connection he had with the woman who was his mother, but didn’t know how motherhood worked.

      “If you need more money, just say so,” Luke said, wishing he could just hang up.

      Silence greeted that remark.

      “I gotta go,” he said finally. “If you need anything, please talk to Uncle Chuck.”

      “Okay. Bye.”

      He waited for her to disconnect, then closed his phone, watching Janie finish the job with her little girl, waiting until they went inside.

      He folded up the blueprint and as he walked to his house, he glanced at his watch.

      Twenty minutes left. The guys had promised to stay until six-thirty today. He was just about to go inside the house when his phone rang again.

      It was his uncle.

      “Hey, what’s up?” he asked, a smile on his face. Talking to his uncle was the perfect antidote for the phone call he’d just had.

      They made some chitchat. Discussed Luke’s financial situation (okay for now), his girlfriend situation (nonexistent) and then his uncle fell silent.

      Luke had a premonition about what was coming next.

      “Just talked to Lillian,” Chuck said.

      I’m good, Luke thought. “I already gave her the money.”

      “I don’t think that’s what she wants, Luke.”

      “It’s all she’s ever wanted from anyone.” Even his foster father, Al, had been subjected to Lillian’s pleas for “just a bit of cash to tide me over.”

      “I think it would be good for you if you could see her. I think it would be good for her, too. You know the Lord tells us to forgive seventy times seven.”

      Luke pressed his index finger to his temple, massaging away a potential headache. “You know, Uncle Chuck? I really think I’ve passed that amount a few years ago.”

      “Have you? Have you truly prayed and felt forgiveness for her four hundred and ninety times?”

      Chuck’s quiet question raised, once again, the twisted mixture of guilt and anger he felt when he thought of his mother. The anger was justified, and he knew the guilt was misplaced. She had been the one who had left him alone again and again. She had been the one with the false promises each time to turn her life around. He couldn’t give her any more of his time and energy.

      Money, though? That he could give her. “Tell her I’m busy. Out of town. Just keep her away from me.”

      “I’ll do what you are asking. But I do want you to know I still pray that you and she can come to have some kind of relationship.”

      Each time his uncle phoned or e-mailed Luke, it was with the promise that he would pray for his lost sheep nephew and Luke’s mother.

      Luke drew in a long, slow breath. “Maybe you could pray I get this house done on time so I don’t lose my initial investment.”

      “I keep praying for you, my boy. And not for that house.”

      “Thanks, Uncle Chuck. I mean that.” He said goodbye, and as Luke closed his cell phone, he felt again the curious feeling that he had let his uncle down. Luke knew his uncle was disappointed that Luke didn’t go to church and was even more disappointed that he didn’t allow Lillian into his life.

      He didn’t know, he thought. He just didn’t know what it had been like. Al had, but Al was gone.

      Luke slipped the phone into the holder on his belt and turned his mind back to the house.

      “So, what’s next?” Bert sauntered over, his hammer swinging in his belt loop. Cooper trotted alongside him, his attention focused laserlike on the man.

      Against Luke’s wishes, Bert had given Cooper half his sandwich at lunchtime, and since then, Cooper had followed him around with unbridled optimism.

      Luke’s gaze ticked over the exterior of the house. “I think we’ll start yarding the shingles off the north side of the roof and pray it doesn’t rain.”

      “Not a praying man,” Bert said with a grin as he absently petted Cooper’s head. “But I’ll ask the missus. She talks to God from time to time.”

      Luke was tempted to ask Bert to ask the missus to put in a good word for him, as well. His uncle’s phone call had reminded him of Todd’s simple comment Sunday morning. And Janie’s surprise that he knew which of the commandments concerned keeping the Sabbath.

      In spite of her anger with him and Cooper, he found himself thinking about her and her family quite a bit. Wondered if there was a man somewhere in the picture.

      “What in the world is she trying to do?” Bert pointed in the direction of Janie’s house.

      The woman, who had just been on Luke’s mind, was perched atop a wobbly wooden ladder that looked more rickety than her porch steps.

      “That ladder is going to bust for sure,” Bert said, shaking his head. “We should get her one of ours.”

      Luke didn’t want to get involved. The boundaries between the two yards had been laid out enough times for him that crossing them would only prove his idiocy.

      He turned back to his blueprints.

      “Whoa, that doesn’t look good,” Bert said, clapping his hand on his hard hat.

      Luke spun around again in time to see the ladder wobble as Janie caught her balance by hanging on to the gutter with one hand, the other pressed against the wall of the house. The ladder was barely upright, but she managed to get it steadied. The bright yellow bandanna holding her hair back slipped over her eyes, and she let go of the gutter to straighten it. Her white shirt had smudges of dirt, which made Luke wonder what else she’d been doing earlier in the evening.

      “Mommy,