The Best Is Yet to Come (70)

“How’d it go?”

He shrugged. “All right, I guess. I wanted to tell you earlier. I guess I probably should have.”

“It’s fine, Cade.”

“I didn’t want you to think I was doing this behind your back.”

He didn’t owe her any explanation.

“I just wasn’t sure how it would go. Naturally, I was hopeful. We talked a lot about my dad. We’ve both been angry and bitter, not that it’s done either of us any good.”

“It’s a step in the right direction.”

Cade nodded. “Mom read about what happened with Coach Simmons in the paper and was proud of the role I played. She asked about you, and I assured her we were good.” He lifted his head so he could look into her eyes. “We’re good, aren’t we?” he asked.

Hope smiled. “Very good.”

His smile broadened. “I think so, too, which brings up something else.”

“Oh?”

“Mom asked us to come to dinner on Monday. She made sure I understood that the invitation came from my father, too.”

Veterans Day. That had significance, as if his parents were telling Cade, as best they could, they were proud of the fact that he’d served his country.

He exhaled a long sigh. “I don’t know what to expect. Would you be willing to come with me?”

“Of course.”

“Not as a crutch,” he was quick to explain. “I want you with me because Mom invited you and because you mean everything to me. Any healing between me and my parents would never have happened without you.”

Hope could tell he meant every word. “I’d be honored.”



* * *



—

Monday afternoon, Hope didn’t know who was more nervous as they approached the beautiful hilltop home that overlooked the Tacoma Narrows. The neighborhood was affluent, and the view of the water was spectacular, even in the rain. The twin bridges spanned the waterway and captured Hope’s attention. The scene was like something out of a travel magazine. Cade parked in the driveway, cut the engine, and then turned to Hope.

“You ready?” he asked, and reached for her hand.

“That’s the question I should be asking you.”

He drew in a deep breath and appeared to be holding it before releasing it, as if mentally preparing himself. “I think so. Mom insists the invitation is from my father, too, but I wonder if that is wishful thinking on her part.”

“It’s going to be fine.” She had faith, even if Cade remained skeptical.

“Be prepared if we need to leave on short notice. My dad’s…well, you’ll know once you meet him.”

“I’m not worried.” Hope had to believe his mother wouldn’t bring Cade back into the family home without first having laid the groundwork for a reconciliation between Cade and his father.

Cade escorted Hope to the front door under the porch covering and out of the rain. He hesitated for only a second before ringing the doorbell. His mother must have been standing in the entry awaiting their arrival because almost immediately they were welcomed inside.

Sara looked at her son and blinked back tears as she pressed her hands on either side of his face. She gave him a watery smile before the two hugged.

“I’ve dreamed of this day,” she said, and turned to greet Hope. “Welcome, welcome. Please come inside.”

Cade reached for Hope’s hand, as if gaining strength and resolve by the connection. He seemed to be filled with nervous energy, and frankly, so was she.

Cade’s father sat in the formal living room in a wing-backed chair in front of the fireplace, which had a gentle fire flickering. He was reading the newspaper. He looked up when Cade and Hope entered the room and lowered the paper.

“Cade,” he said with a curt nod.

“John.” Cade’s returning one was equally brusque.

John frowned. “I’m your father, son, and that’s what you should call me.”

Silence filled the room before Cade said, “Dad.” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat.

Coming out of his chair, his father stood. There appeared to be a thin sheen of moisture in the older man’s eyes as he gripped Cade by the shoulders and hugged him close. “Good to have you home, son.” He blinked a few times before he turned his attention to Hope. “Seeing that my son hasn’t seen fit to introduce you, I’m John Cade Senior.”

“I’m Hope Goodwin,” she said, as the tension eased from between her shoulder blades.

“Your mother has been fretting over this meal for a week.” He directed the comment to Cade, as he shook Hope’s hand. He led them into the dining room. “She wanted to be sure she remembered all your favorites.”

“Tacos and fried chicken?” Cade asked, smiling.

“It seems both are on the menu. I insisted on mashed potatoes and gravy to go with the chicken.” As he spoke, he pulled out a chair for Hope, silently inviting her to take a seat.

“I’d like to help in the kitchen, if I may,” she said.

“We appreciate the offer, but Sara’s got everything under control.”

Hope took the seat and Cade sat down beside her. He reached for her hand and released a sigh as his father made an excuse to go into the kitchen. He returned in quick fashion to deliver the serving dishes.