A New Hope (Thunder Point #8)(90)

Ginger was quiet for a moment. “And? Is she all right? Are you?”

“I made some terrible mistakes, I think. I know I did. I thought the life I chose for myself should have nothing to do with her. I never really listened to her. I treated her like a malcontent. A bitchy wife. It was like trying to fit a square peg in a round hole. She was driven to such desperate measures.”

“Oh, Matt...”

“I was so busy being angry I never tried to understand what really went wrong. I swear to God, I won’t let that happen to us, Ginger.”

“You must be devastated,” she said.

“She wanted another chance. Can you even imagine what a mistake that would be?”

“I know,” she said softly. And she did know. It had been the same with Mick. If she had never wanted a traditional marriage and family, they could have been happy together for a long time. Of course, Mick needed someone who could be happy helping him achieve success in the music industry and there weren’t many women out there who could sacrifice all their own desires for someone else’s. How was that any different from women who married doctors or businessmen who single-mindedly concentrated on their own success and ignored their families? “I guess no one needs a marriage that leaves them lonely.”

“Lonely and disappointed,” Matt said. “No matter how many times she told me she just couldn’t be happy married to a farm, I didn’t listen to her.”

“Farmer,” Ginger said. “You mean, married to a farmer.”

“No, I meant farm. She needed my commitment and attention. I gave it to the farm instead. And then...and then there was a child who was lost.” His voice became thick again. “I think I would have liked being a father.”

It wasn’t some sinus thing, she realized. He was crying. Grieving. He tried to mask it but the revelation had taken an emotional toll. He regretted his mistakes in the marriage but he grieved the loss of his child. If she knew anything about Matt, and she thought she knew him pretty well, he hadn’t allowed himself to grieve before now.

“You will be a father,” she said. “You’ll be a wonderful father.”

“I think you knew a few things I never would have guessed,” he said. “I needed to face that loss. I was doing it alone and it just wasn’t working. I’ve never told anyone but you about that loss. I thought it just pissed me off. I didn’t know how deep it cut,” he said softly. His voice cracked.

“Where are you, Matt?” she asked.

“Oh, I’m alone. Of course. Hiding out in the little place I rented for us. Trying to get my shit together before anyone catches on that underneath it all, I’m just a regular human being.”

She let out a little laugh but there were tears on her cheeks. “A very remarkable human being,” she said. “That must have been so hard to do. I love you.”

“I wish you were here,” he said. “I’d hold on to you. You’re the ballast in my life.”

“Did you tell her she was forgiven?” Ginger asked.

“Yes, and I meant it. And I said I was sorry. And I meant that, too, because my God, what if I drove her to it? And just like you said would happen, I feel a little bit lighter. That was a load I didn’t need.”

And it opened the door to his grief, which was real and powerful, she thought. Holding that back must have been so tiring. Another heavy load that he didn’t need.

“Natalie probably did the best she could,” Matt said. “I’m not sure I did my best but we’ll never know...”

“Matt, we all do the best we can at the time. I know you—you’ve never in your life set out to do your worst.”

“Well, you might be wrong about that,” he said. “When I found out about the abortion I didn’t want anything but to punish her. I didn’t listen to her, comfort her, try to understand her or forgive her. I wanted to crush her.”

“And now you’ve both made amends,” Ginger said. “You were kind. You can let go of her and the anger now. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Did you, Ginger? Let go of the anger with Mick?”

“Sure,” she said. Then she gave a little laugh. “Mick is such a comical, one-dimensional character that complete annoyance with his shallowness hangs on, but mostly I feel sorry for him. He’s missing out on a lot.”

“We’re not going to do that—miss a lot,” he said. “I think we have an excellent shot at being ridiculously happy.”

“I think you’re right.”

“I miss you.”

“I’ll be there Saturday. I might even drive up tomorrow night after the shop closes, if that’s all right.”

“Damn harvest,” he muttered. “If it weren’t for that, I’d take a leave of absence.” He sighed. “I’m going to stick my head under the hose, shake this off and go check my pears.”

She laughed. “Call me later. We can whisper in each other’s ears until we fall asleep.”

When they disconnected and she had slipped the phone in her pocket, she put her head down on the worktable and cried. Matt was such a big, strong man’s man it was heartbreaking to think of him crying over the loss of his baby. But it took a big man to admit to real emotions. She wanted to hold him, rock him in her arms, cover his bristly cheeks with kisses, close his eyes and hold him safe against her breast.