Shirley, Goodness and Mercy (Angels Everywhere #4)(9)

“You moved back home?”

“Until the baby was born. Then Mom watched him for me during the day while I finished college.”

“It must have been difficult for you.”

“It was.” Catherine wasn’t going to minimize the sacrifices demanded of her as a single mother. Those years had been bleak.

“Edward,” Greg said. “After your father.”

Catherine nodded, surprised he’d remembered her father’s name.

“How could you forgive me?” Greg asked, sounding almost angry that she didn’t harbor some deep resentment toward him. It was as if he expected her to punish him, to mete out her own form of justice right then and there.

“I had to forgive you, Greg, before I could get on with my life. After a while, the bitterness was more than I could endure. I had to leave it behind, and once I did, I discovered a true freedom. Soon afterward, I met Larry. We’ve been married for twenty-seven years now.”

“But I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

“That’s not for me to say. But don’t think forgiving you was easy, because it wasn’t. When I first heard you’d left, I refused to accept it. I read your letter over and over—even though I couldn’t take it in. I was convinced you’d be back. All you needed was time to sort everything out. I told myself you’d return to me and everything would be all right…but I had a rude awakening.”

“I…wasn’t ready to be a father. I guess I never was.”

Catherine wondered if she’d misunderstood him. “You mean to say you never had children?”

“None,” he said. “Three wives, but not one of them was interested in a family. For that matter, neither was I.” He hesitated and his gaze skirted hers. “I was a selfish bastard when I left you. Unfortunately that hasn’t changed.”

She couldn’t confirm or deny his words, for she no longer knew him.

“Would you mind telling me about Edward?” he asked.

Catherine leaned back and sipped her coffee. “In many ways he’s very like you. The physical resemblance is there, anyway.”

Greg looked up and smiled faintly.

“He’s six-two and muscular.”

“How old? Thirty-four?”

“Thirty-five,” she told him. “His birthday was last month on the twenty-ninth.”

“Is he married?”

“Yes, and he has a son himself and another baby on the way. Next spring.”

Greg’s smile grew wider.

“He’s a doctor.”

“Really?” Greg seemed to have trouble believing it.

“My husband is, too.” Perhaps it was time to remind Greg who Edward’s father was. “Larry raised Edward, helped make him the kind of man he is. Larry’s his father.”

Greg shook his head. “I wouldn’t interfere in his life.”

It took a moment for his words to sink in—and then it occurred to her what he’d meant. “Are you asking to meet Edward?”

Greg didn’t respond for a long time. His face pale and intent, he finally said, “Yes. Could I?”

Four

Matthias Jamison enjoyed puttering around in his greenhouse before breakfast. The mornings—that was when he missed Mary the most. She’d been gone fifteen years now, and not a day passed that he didn’t think about the woman he’d loved for more than thirty years. Some men he’d known were quick to remarry after losing their wives. Not him. Mary had been the only woman for him, and no one else would ever fill the void left by her death.

The sunrise over the Cascade Mountains was glorious, the light creeping up over the horizon, then spilling across his western-Washington vineyard like the promise it was. The morning sun was a reassurance, the pledge of another day, another opportunity. Mary had been the one to teach him that, but he’d never fully appreciated her enthusiasm for mornings until it was too late. He wished he’d shared more sunrises with his beloved wife.

Their only grandson now suffered from the same rare form of leukemia that had claimed her prematurely. It looked as if Tanner, too, would die. Matthias’s jaw tensed and he closed his eyes. How could a loving God let an innocent child suffer like this?

What made an untenable situation even worse was the fact that his daughter bore the burden alone. Her ex had done nothing for her or the boy, making Matthias feel doubly responsible, but beyond phone calls and the occasional visit, there was little he could do to help her from where he lived.

The phone rang and Matthias hurried back to the house, hoping for good news. “Hello,” he answered in his usual gruff voice.

“It’s Harry.”

A longtime friend and vineyard owner from the Napa Valley. “A little early for you to be phoning, don’t you think?” Matthias couldn’t prevent his disappointment from showing. He’d been hoping it was his daughter, Gloria, on the phone. He sighed heavily. It damn near killed Matthias that he was as powerless to help the boy as he’d been with Mary.

“I’ve got news that’ll cheer you right up,” Harry said.

“I could use some good news.”

“It’s about Greg Bennett.”

Matthias stiffened at the sound of the name. He hated Greg Bennett with an intensity that had grown through the years. Bennett owed him. The success of the winery was largely due to Matthias’s guiding hand. If it hadn’t been for him, especially in those early years, Greg would have lost the vineyard ten times over.