3. Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Adam
I was only two when my parents were killed in a car accident. After being passed from one family member to another—each of them deciding they didn’t want me—I spent the next twelve years in foster care. They say the first five years of a child’s life are the most formative. I wonder what says about me, given that mine were marked by hardship, rejection, disappointment, and heartbreak.
Being back in Cold Spring, this time for good, feels surreal. It’s where my numerous stints in foster care finally ended. I was fourteen when I was placed with what would be my last foster family—a couple in their late thirties with a son in college. Mr. and Mrs. Baldwin. He was a doctor, often working long hours, so I rarely saw him. His wife, though, was kind, present, and eager to provide a stable home for a kid in need. Their son, Aaron, is now one of my best friends.
When Katie told me I had latched onto her family, she wasn’t wrong. And I’ll never apologize for it. Meeting Jon Linder was the best thing that ever happened to me.
Even now, driving past the high school, I feel the pull of nostalgia—moments that will live in my memory forever.
I was the new kid in school, eager to play football, but I knew my grades needed to improve or that dream would be out of reach. So, I approached my teacher for help.
I was so nervous walking to Mr. Linder's classroom that day. After knocking on the door and hearing his deep voice say, "Come in," I slowly pushed it open.
"Mr. Linder," I began, my voice unsteady. "Hi, um, I tried out for the team last week. Do you remember me?"
“Of course,” he said with a nod. “You’re in my algebra class.”
“Yeah, about that,” I said, swallowing my nerves. “I’m completely lost. I’ve been to so many schools, I’m lucky I haven’t flunked a grade... yet.”
“Call me Coach,” he said with a friendly smile. “Well, if you’re willing to put in the time and effort, we can get you back on track academically.”
I nodded, feeling a rush of determination and uncertainty. “As long as I can stay with my current foster family, I’ll give it my all, Coach. I promise.”
After talking to my foster mom on the phone, Jon and I put together a schedule. We’d meet during lunch and after school twice a week for tutoring. With football practice most afternoons, those after-school sessions turned into evening ones. Most nights, I ended up having dinner with Jon and his family.
Sharon always greeted me with a warm smile, making me feel at home. They were amazing people. They still are. I witnessed the devotion and love they had for each other—and for their three daughters. Sharon would slip her hand into Jon’s as they passed in the hallway, a soft touch like a secret. He’d kiss the top of her head without breaking stride. At dinner, the girls would fight over who got to sit on his lap, and Sharon just smiled, eyes crinkling with joy. It wasn’t loud or showy—their love—it was just… everywhere.
Baby Laila was only two, Loren was four, and Katie, six. They were all similar versions of their mother, with dark black curls, green eyes, and tiny freckles dotted across their cheeks and noses.
Laila loved showing me her latest coloring book or newest doll. She was sweet and good-natured, always willing to share her toys—and her parents—with me, an outsider. Loren was a mommy’s girl. You could find her in the kitchen, baking something with Sharon, or out in the garden, playing in the dirt and planting flowers. Loren adored flowers and would always bring me a different one every time I walked in the door.
Katie was a sassy, outspoken little girl, never afraid to speak her mind. When Coach introduced us, he said, “Adam, this is Katherine.”
I smiled and said, “Hi, Katie. It’s nice to meet you.”
She gave me a skeptical glance and immediately corrected me. “My name is Katherine,” she said, “not Katie.”
In that moment, I knew she didn’t like me. She was Daddy’s little girl, and she wasn’t about to share him with anyone.
Before I knew it, I wasn’t just spending time with the Linders during the week—I was visiting them on most weekends, too. Sharon started setting an extra plate at the table without asking. Jon would nudge the remote toward me when I came over, already knowing what game I wanted to watch. By the time fall rolled around, I had my own toothbrush in their bathroom and a change of clothes I kept in the spare bedroom. Jon's door was always open, and we grew close. I became a staple in their home. They were my family—the closest thing I’d ever had to one.
When summer came, I thought my time with the Linder family would come to a close. My grades were up, and football practice wouldn’t begin until August. Plus, I figured they’d all need a break from the foster kid. When I went to see Coach to wish him a good summer, he looked at me like I’d grown a second head.
“Do you have plans with the Baldwins for the summer?” he asked.
“No,” I replied. “I just figured you and your family had had enough of me for one school year.”
“Are you interested in a summer job?” he asked.
I hadn’t really thought about it. The Baldwins were the first family who didn’t keep the money they got from the state in exchange for fostering me. They put most of it in an account under my name at the bank and gave me a weekly allowance.
“A job?” I asked, probably wearing what must have been a blank look on my face.
“Every man needs an education,” he began, “and every man needs to learn to do something with his hands as well.”
“Okay, Coach,” I said, “You need help building something?”
“I need help renovating a house,” he said. “You in?”
It turned out that Coach’s father owned a real estate firm in town, and Jon would often help him renovate houses and flip them for a profit. Every summer after that, I’d spend my time helping Jon with rehab projects. I learned plumbing, electrical work, flooring, roofing, and tiling. For every hour of sweat and hard work, I got paid, and I saved every penny.
Coach had unwavering confidence in me. He told me I was intelligent, that I was a good person, and he assured me my unstable upbringing wouldn’t define me. I believed him.
Jon Linder is one of the most genuine and giving people I’ve ever met. He changed my life forever. Everything I learned, I learned from him. He taught me what it meant to be a good person, a good man. He’s the reason I am who I am today. When he took me under his wing, I never imagined it would come with a family, unconditional love, and a future.
***
My first rehab project was the old house I rented in college. The owner cut me a deal on the rent, as long as I handled any necessary repairs. I had three roommates who helped with the rent, making it manageable.
When the owner offered me the chance to buy the house, I got a great deal on it. I flipped it a couple of years later, using the rinse-and-repeat method Jon had taught me. I used to fall asleep on half-built floors with a toolbox for a pillow, just to make rent. Now I draft blueprints, I had my own office with my name on the door. I’m thirty-two, and for the first time, I don’t feel like I’m faking it. I have a degree in architecture and a healthy real estate portfolio, both commercial and residential. Jon Linder was right—my difficult childhood hasn’t defined me.
I haven’t lived in Cold Spring full-time in fourteen years. It’s a small town, and I always felt my time was better spent in a bigger city. Still, I visit often to see Jon and his family—well, most of them. Katie went off to college and found a job in Albany after graduating.
The Linder home has always been filled with photos of all three girls, so even though I haven't seen Katie in years, I know she's all grown up—and she’s breathtakingly beautiful.
Jon and Sharon's youngest, Laila, is a sophomore in college. She's dating a boy she met in school—her first boyfriend. The last time I saw her, she rattled off the differences between viral and bacterial infections while spooning whipped cream onto her hot cocoa. She has this fire in her eyes when she talks about helping kids—I’ve never doubted she’d become a doctor. I couldn't be more proud. It’s like a brother’s pride, even though we’re not siblings.
Loren and Justin's wedding plans are in full swing. They’ve been inseparable since kindergarten. Justin was a constant presence at Jon’s house too, always tagging along with Loren. Somehow, though, he never seemed to pose a threat to Katie. Maybe it’s because he has his own parents, and his connection to Jon was purely through his love for Loren—not because he needed a father figure. As for me, though? I’m not about to start dating little Laila just to appease Katie and her misguided idea that I could somehow threaten her relationship with her dad. I roll my eyes at my own stupid, convoluted thoughts.
Katie just had a birthday. I know because every year since I left, I’ve sent her a birthday card. I remember her lying on her stomach in the living room, yellow socks on her feet, Truly, Madly, Deeply playing softly from her phone.
"I like your yellow socks," I said. She rolled her eyes and said, "Yellow is my favorite—"
Then she shrieked when a spider crawled out from under the coffee table—Jon had to save her while she stood on the couch like it was lava. That was her: sunshine and drama, all wrapped up in one.
Her favorite movie is A Walk to Remember , and vanilla with raspberry swirl is her go-to ice cream. She's never been a fan of sports—probably my fault. She adores her family, and her dad will always be her hero.
Mine too.
When she was sixteen, she volunteered at an animal shelter and met Tater, a tiny six-year-old Chihuahua mix. She brought him home, and when she went off to college, Tater went with her.
Katie graduated from Cornell University with a degree in economics. During her college years, she worked part-time as an online tutor, helping kids stay on top of their grades—just like Jon had done for me. After graduation, she landed a job as a financial analyst in Albany.
Not long after, she bought her first condo, but then Jon called and asked her to come home. Just before she moved back, Tater got sick and passed away. Katie was devastated. I sent her a sympathy card.
I know the Linders in a way I wish I’d known my own parents. Their lives were cut short, taking with them any chance I had at a normal life—a life filled with parents, siblings, stability, and happiness.
Jon offered me a lifeline—a sense of stability, a path to success, a chance at happiness. But am I happy?
The women I dated always said the same thing before walking out: "You’re somewhere else, Adam."
Maybe they were right. Maybe part of me never left the Linder home. I’m still back there, standing in the doorway, watching a family that isn’t mine, pretending it could be.
Sitting here now, I can’t help but wonder if my heart has been too deeply scarred by my past to truly love anyone. My thoughts drift back, unbidden, and settle on Katie.
In the four years I knew her before leaving for college, I learned a lot about the pretty little girl who loved to read. She had this habit of sitting next to Jon while we watched football, pretending to be engrossed in her book. But I knew better. She’d glance up at me, studying my every move, like she was trying to figure me out. I’d smile at her when our eyes met, trying to break through her guarded demeanor. Sometimes, I’d make funny faces—crossing my eyes, sticking out my tongue, anything to coax a laugh or even a smile. It never worked. And maybe that’s what stuck with me—how someone so young could see right through me, like she knew I didn’t belong, but didn’t know how to say it yet.
***
When Jon mentioned that Katie was moving back home to help with the firm and needed a place, I didn’t hesitate. I immediately offered him the house. I wasn't visiting as often so it had been sitting empty. At the time, I never imagined I’d be returning to Cold Spring so soon.
Now I’m back—and Katie is living in my house.
"I'm officially back in town," I said when Jon answered the phone.
"You're more than welcome to stay with us," he quickly offered.
"Don't worry about it, Jon," I replied. "I rented a suite with a kitchenette. It's only temporary until I find a something more permanent."
“Let me talk to Katherine,” he said after a pause. “I don’t see why you two can’t share the house. If worse comes to worst, she can move back home. It’s your house, Adam.”
"Katie’s comfortable there," I said firmly. "I’m fine at the hotel."
"Talk to Katherine first," he insisted. "Before you decide anything."
I reluctantly agreed, though every instinct screamed it was a colossal mistake. Katie resents me—always has. Staying under the same roof with her is out of the question.
"I'd probably have to sleep with one eye open," I say aloud. And yet, I can’t stop myself. I want to see her. Before I can think it through or talk myself out of it, I grab my keys and head out the door.
I know this town like the back of my hand, so I swing by Cold Spring Florals. It’s the shop I’ve been visiting for years, picking up flowers for my foster mom and the Linder women on special occasions. Never for Katie, though. She always made sure she was gone whenever I stopped by to visit.
Driving on autopilot, my mind races through a million ways this reunion could go. Eventually, I pull into the driveway, parking behind her car in the familiar circular drive. Taking a deep breath, I grab the white and yellow roses and make my way up the steps. I square my shoulders, stand up straight, and ring the doorbell. Nervous as hell, I brace myself for whatever comes next.
A few moments later, the door swings open. There she is. All grown up. I can’t help but compare the woman before me with the girl I used to know. Her eyes are still a deep emerald green, with specks of gold around the pupils, framed by long, dark lashes. The freckles I used to count have faded, but I’d bet I could still find them all. Her black curls have been replaced by long, loose waves that frame her beautiful face.