Chapter 28The second to last talk my mother and I had took place the following morning. We were up before light and birdsong and Adam Bellingham banging around in his garage, packing for places unknown.
We drank strong coffee, the way my mother made it for Dad every morning when I was home. It was too bitter for my taste buds, but I drank it anyway. My mother’s company made up for it in spades.
“Promise me you and Philip will be good to each other and live a long, happy life together,” she told me, more a demand than a question.
“We will.”
“I mean it, Christopher. You two are very special to me. I don’t want to have to lecture my sons later on about the meaning of life and what you should be doing to better each other’s.”
“You’re getting too sentimental.”
“Good. I should be. I’m your
