Coda Books 06 - Fear, Hope, and Bread Pudding (MM)

us, although nobody moved to touch it. Cole sat down and laced his fingers together around his knee, watching them expectantly.
    My father looked at Grace. They’d obviously planned this out, and the next line in the script was hers, but she was hesitant to actually say it. She fidgeted with the ring on her finger until my father stuck his foot out and nudged her ankle.
    She sighed and met Cole’s eyes. She took a deep breath, as if preparing for a dive, and said, “I remember the bread pudding.”
    Cole blinked at her, although his face was otherwise unreadable. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
    Grace hung her head. It was my father who spoke. “Yes, you do.”
    Cole turned to him in surprise. “Excuse me?”
    “You heard me.”
    “Dad—”
    “Shut up, Jon.” He kept his eyes on Cole. “Stop lying, son, and stop pretending. I know you’re doing it to protect yourself, but the time for that is past. We’re trying to make some progress here, and we start by being honest.”
    Now it was Cole’s turn to hang his head. My father turned to Grace.
    “Start again.”
    She took a deep breath. She wiped her eyes and looked up at Cole. Her chin quivered, but she pushed forward. “It was the midmountain lodge in Vail. We’d tell your father we’d skied the whole day, but really, we’d sit in the lodge and drink hot chocolate and have the bread pudding until we were practically sick to our stomachs. He was always starving after a day on the slopes, and he couldn’t ever figure out why we weren’t hungry.”
    Cole kept his gaze on his lap. “It was a long time ago.” His voice was almost a whisper.
    She nodded. “I know. But it was a happy time. Remember how it would be so warm inside, and we’d be so cold, and at first it felt like our cheeks were being sunburned?”
    He nodded stiffly. “I remember.”
    “And sometimes they’d have it without raisins, but if they didn’t, you’d pick out every single one and leave them on the plate.”
    He made a soft sound—something that might have been a hiccup, but it might have been a laugh. “I don’t know why anybody puts raisins in pastries. It’s completely dreadful.”
    Now it was Grace’s turn to laugh. “I couldn’t agree more.”
    “They don’t serve bread pudding there anymore. They haven’t for years. Everything they serve now is premade. Nothing from scratch. Even the hot chocolate is instant.” Cole finally met her gaze. “Jon was right. I made it for you. I thought you would be pleased.”
    She nodded and her eyes filled with tears again. “I know. I should have been. I’d give anything to be able to go back and live that moment again.”
    “It doesn’t matter. It was only soggy bread.”
    She laughed, then put her fingers over her lips as if she hadn’t meant for it to happen. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m sorry I didn’t say that when you served it to me.”
    “Give him the other thing,” my father said quietly.
    She glanced over at him, and I had a feeling she wished he hadn’t said anything. “He’ll think it’s silly.”
    “I doubt that.”
    She didn’t seem to share his confidence, but she pulled her bag onto her knees and began to dig through it. It was bigger than a purse. It had probably been her carry-on. “They still make these,” she said as she searched. “This is a newer edition, but the cover‘s the same.” She pulled a small red book from the bag and held it out to Cole.
    In my years with Cole, I’d seen him hurt and surprised and vulnerable and even, on rare occasions, speechless. But I’d never seen him all four at once, the way he was as he stared at that book. He didn’t move to take it from her.
    I tried to see what was so remarkable about it. It wasn’t a large book, maybe five inches by seven, with a red cover. I could see just enough of the spine to make out the word “Rome.”
    “Is everything okay?” I asked him.
    He didn’t move except to swallow hard, as if it pained him. “I have to go,” he said. “Jonny, maybe I’ll go open some more wine or something—”
    He started to stand, but my father said, “Sit down.” It wasn’t a request. It was a command. It annoyed me that he’d be so rude to my husband, but Cole only sank wordlessly back into his seat.
    The entire thing was making me crazy. I had no idea what was going on, but this certainly wasn’t the time to ask for explanations.
    Slowly, Cole reached out. He took the book from her hand.
    He