Let It Be Me Becky Wade (dar e dil novel online reading TXT) 📖

been volunteering for the PTA at Leah’s school. When Tess realized that Leah was a teenager tasked with the job of raising her younger brother, she’d taken Leah under her wing.

A few times a week, Tess had stopped by Leah’s classroom to help out and to deliver batches of homemade oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. Eventually, Tess started inviting Leah and Dylan to her home for Sunday lunch after church. In return, Leah invited them to Dylan’s Pee Wee football games and school events. When the couple had shown up at those events, she’d been overwhelmed with gratitude, knowing that when her brother looked into the audience, he’d see more than one person there to support him.

Once, when Leah mentioned to Tess that she planned to spend the weekend painting a bedroom, Tess and Rudy had appeared on her doorstep with roller brushes and paint pans.

They played dominoes with Dylan and Scrabble with Leah. Tess gave Dylan practical gifts like coats. Rudy gave Dylan impractical gifts like Nerf guns.

Over time, Leah had come to trust Tess and Rudy enough to let them babysit Dylan, which had opened up Leah’s world a little. She’d been able to go out in the evenings with friends, take part in occasional chess competitions, or go hiking alone. To this day, they were the ones who stayed with Dylan on the rare occasions when she went out of town.

God had known she and Dylan needed grandparents, and He’d provided Tess and Rudy. They were the ones who had shown her—more than anyone else ever had—what it looked like to love through action.

“I suggest you take your sister up on her offer of tutoring,” Tess said to Dylan.

Dylan made a noncommittal sound and helped himself to another slice of pepperoni with veggies.

“What’s going on with football?” Rudy asked, clearly eager to talk about sports, something that interested him a mile more than math.

“Nothing much.”

“Do elaborate, dear brother, and tell us how we can become patrons of your football success!”

“Right now, we’re lifting weights and getting ready for a seven-on-seven scrimmage.”

It was as if Dylan’s every word were a pearl dropping into midair that she, Tess, and Rudy were doing their best to catch.

“We’re looking forward to your games this fall.” Tess speared a bite of salad. “We’ll be there to cheer you on.”

“You bet we will,” Rudy added happily. “Let me know if you need a ride to practice or summer school.” For years, Rudy and Tess had served as Dylan’s faithful cab drivers.

“Thanks,” Dylan replied.

“He drives his own car now,” Tess reminded her husband, then expelled an impatient sigh. Tess communicated most of her feelings through sighs.

A year and a half ago, when Dylan had turned sixteen, Mom had sent two thousand dollars to him for a car. They’d bought a small blue pickup truck.

“Oh, sure!” Rudy pretended he hadn’t forgotten. As was typical, he responded to Tess’s scolding like an amiable golden retriever. “But if it breaks down or something, I want him to know he can call me.”

This was a second marriage for both Tess and Rudy. Tess and her first husband had divorced. Rudy’s first wife had died. They’d married each other twenty-five years ago, when Tess was fifty-six and Rudy fifty-eight. Shortly after, they’d bought a vacation cabin in Misty River.

When Leah decided that she needed to move Dylan out of Gainesville, Tess and Rudy had encouraged them to move here. Leah had done so, and now the older couple spent the bulk of their year in Misty River, too. Tess had one son, and Rudy had two daughters. Combined, they had several granddaughters, but all their children and grandchildren lived out of state.

“Is the truck running well?” Rudy asked Dylan.

“Yeah.”

“How’s everything with your friends?” Leah asked.

“Good.”

“Really? No drama?”

“No.”

“Are you being cyberbullied?” Leah asked, only half kidding.

He snorted. His liquid chocolate eyes blazed disbelief. “No.”

“Busy trying to order prescription painkillers through the mail?”

“You can order prescription painkillers though the mail?” Rudy asked excitedly.

“Rudy,” Tess chided. “Eat your meal.”

“But—” Rudy said.

“And put your napkin in your lap.”

“Are you interested in dating any of the girls in your grade?” Leah persisted. Dylan was polishing off his food and would bolt in seconds.

“No.”

Should she believe him? Or should she add “teenage love” to her list of fears, right before guns and right after bomb-making?

He picked an olive off his slice and took his final bite. He’d picked the olives off since he was small.

“I wonder if he’s being cyberbullied,” Leah said companionably to Tess.

“I don’t believe so,” Tess said back. “No.”

Moving as if wearing a body that wasn’t quite the right size for him, Dylan rose and carried his dishes toward the kitchen. “I’m not being cyberbullied.”

“Are you sure, O love of my life?” Leah called after him. “No one’s heckling you?”

“I don’t even know what that word means,” Dylan said.

“Heckling means tickling,” Rudy announced.

“No,” Tess instantly corrected. “Heckling is abusive speech.”

“No one’s heckling or tickling me,” Dylan said loudly from the kitchen.

“Truly?” Leah asked. “No girls are tickling you?”

“I’m leaving to go hang out at Jace’s,” Dylan said.

Leah had vetted Dylan’s evening plans with Jace’s mom earlier. “Leave us here if you must, pining for your presence.”

He appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and dining area. “Thanks for the dessert,” he said to Tess, lifting one of the cookies she’d brought. “These are awesome.”

“You’re welcome,” Tess told him indulgently, followed by a loving sigh.

Dylan skulked out of sight, and Leah could hear him gathering his keys and wallet. Their kitchen ended in a door that led to a small mudroom containing their washer and dryer. Leah had cajoled him into using the mudroom as a dumping ground for his backpack, athletic bag, water bottles, spare change, wallet, and keys. Thus, he always came and went through the back door.

“Be safe!” Leah yelled. “Love you!”

Muffled grunt. The door closed behind him.

When Dylan was younger, he’d been challenging because he’d been wounded by Mom’s abandonment, hungry for attention, in need of constant supervision, full of