“I don’t think Zach has ever cleaned that jacket. Not going by the way it smells.”
Patrick laughed. “So how is your aunt Diane doing? She was just a kid when I was dating your mom. I remember they both had very different interests back then. Your mom loved sports and Diane was into ballet and piano lessons—that sort of stuff.”
“She hasn’t changed. She teaches music now. And she’s nice enough. I just don’t know her very well. We used to visit once a year, max. It was weird to spend Christmas with her.”
“Everything feels weird when you’ve lost the person who was most important to you.”
Stephen glanced at him curiously. “How old were you when your mother died?”
“Twenty-six. And it was still hard. I had a great mom.”
He nodded. “Me, too.” His voice broke a little on the last word. Patrick reached out for his shoulder again.
“Hey, it’s sad, Stephen. It’s okay to cry.”
His son’s lips trembled. Then he took a deep breath. “In her letter Mom said she was sorry she hadn’t told me about you earlier. She said you didn’t know about me.”
Patrick swallowed, suddenly close to tears himself. “If I had, things would have been different.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
“Definitely.” His anger toward June resurfaced, and he tamped it down. “We can’t change the past. But I’m here now. I want you to know that.”
“I’m fine on my own.”
“You may not need me, but I’d like to be a part of your life anyway. Even if it’s a very small part.”
Stephen hesitated before saying, “That would be okay.”
Okay was good. For now, Patrick would be very happy with that.
THE NEXT MORNING, PATRICK and Stephen shared a cab to the airport. Stephen was flying back to Calgary, where he would then take a bus to Kicking Horse Resort, and Patrick was off to the next stop on his book tour—Phoenix, Arizona.
It was a good morning to be leaving New York for Arizona. The temperature had dropped ten degrees overnight and they were predicting more snow by nightfall. He and his son would be long gone by then, but Patrick couldn’t help but think of the woman he was leaving behind.
He’d spoken to Nadine on the phone last night for over an hour. She’d opted out of having dinner with him and Stephen.
“This is the first time he gets to spend an entire day with his dad. I think he deserves your undivided attention.”
She was right, and he had loved getting to know his son better. But he missed Nadine already and he hadn’t even left.
At the airport, he walked with Stephen to the custom’s line up.
“You okay? Got your passport? Enough money?”
“I’m good. Thanks again for the check. I didn’t come here for money, though.”
“I know.” He hesitated, then gave Stephen a good, solid hug. He told himself it would be okay if it was all one-sided. The important thing was to let the boy know he really wasn’t alone anymore.
But to his joy, Stephen returned the hug and even punched him on the shoulder for good measure. “Let me know when you’re coming to Kicking Horse. I’ll book off some time and show you around the mountain.”
“I’d love that.” One good thing about this next book of his. It would take him back to the mountains where his son was spending the winter.
As Stephen was turning to leave, Patrick remembered something he’d wanted to ask him. He put a hand on his son’s shoulder.
“I have a favor to ask of you.”
“Yeah?” Stephen tipped his head to one side, his expression cautious.
“The letter your mom wrote to you…is there any chance you could let me read that one day?” Patrick hesitated, realizing that he might be asking for too much. “I’ll understand if you want to keep it private, I just—”
“Sure.” Stephen shrugged. “I’ll mail you a copy when I get home.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
NADINE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE on vacation for the week between Christmas and New Year’s Day. But on Monday morning she couldn’t help herself—she got out of bed and dressed for the office. Patrick had been gone for two days now and she was bored and lonely. She and her mother usually shopped the sales in the week after Christmas, but this year that wasn’t going to happen.
She’d tried shopping on her own, but it was no fun. The only good thing was that she found the perfect shoes to go with Lindsay’s wedding dress.
She wondered if her mother had gone shopping on her own, too. Was she missing her daughter? Nadine knew she must be.
Obviously both her parents felt very strongly that Patrick was the wrong man for her. In all honesty, she was beginning to appreciate their concerns. She hadn’t realized how much traveling he did. How much time she would be alone.
It was not going to be easy to love this man. He would be gone often, meeting new people, doing exciting things. She imagined there would be a lot of important moments in the future that he would be absent for. Perhaps birthdays, anniversaries, days when she wasn’t feeling well and needed some TLC.
Who would be there for her?
Not her parents—she’d cut off her ties with them. She’d given up the most important relationships in her life in order to be with a man who was hardly ever here. A man who may or may not be in love with her, who had only said he thought he was falling in love with her.
As she walked across the park toward the office, Nadine wondered if she’d made a mistake. Her life, once so normal and comfortable, felt completely out of control.
And yet, just the thought of living without Patrick, never seeing him again, never making love, was enough to make her break out in a sweat. She didn’t need to wonder one way or the other. She knew she was in love with him with the same certainty that told her she would never in her life meet anyone else she could feel so passionately about.
When she arrived at the office, Nadine expected to be the only one there, but Tamara was making coffee.
“This machine is such a pain. We should get one of those instant models where you just press a button and—presto—there’s your coffee.”
“It’s actually not that complicated.” Nadine hung up her coat, then went to demonstrate. But instead of watching, and perhaps learning how to do it herself, Tamara simply returned to her desk.
“Have you heard from Lindsay or Nathan? Are they going to be in the office today?” Nadine wasn’t sure how she was going to fill her time. Maybe she’d just use the day to reorganize her file cabinet.
“They’re in the conference room. Going over last-minute details for the wedding.” She rolled her eyes as if nothing could be more mundane.
Holding back a frown, Nadine went to the boardroom door and knocked. “Do you guys need any help?”
The door flew open. Lindsay looked panicked. “Nadine. Thank goodness. I’m going crazy, and Nathan isn’t helping at all.” She pointed to her fiancé who was comfortably seated, feet propped on an adjacent chair, eating a bagel.
“What’s to stress about? We purposefully kept things simple. We’ve got the license and we’ve booked the officiant. The restaurant is reserved and you have your dress and I have my suit.”
“We haven’t given the restaurant our final guest count. Weren’t we supposed to do that before Christmas?”
“I don’t think there have been any changes. We’ve got Kate, Jay, Eric and Alice.”
Lindsay ticked off the names in her notebook. “Alice doesn’t count. She doesn’t need a chair.”
“Then there’s family—my sister and nephew and your sister. Is Meg bringing a date?”
“No. What about Mary-Beth?”
“According to her, all she has time for is teaching and looking after Justin.”
“Right. No date. So back to our guest list, I guess that leaves Nadine and Patrick.”
“Just me,” Nadine corrected.
“You couldn’t talk him into flying back to the city?” Lindsay asked.
&nb
sp; “I tried. But no luck. He won’t be back in the city until mid-January.”
“But—we’re getting married New Year’s Eve. He can’t come home for New Year’s?”
“Apparently not.” She smiled glumly.
“That sucks.” Lindsay wrinkled her nose sympathetically, then crossed his name off her list.
“Yeah, it’s too bad.” Tamara was standing by the open door, apparently having overheard the entire conversation. “But if you’ve got an extra table setting, I’m free that night.”
THE NEXT DAY AT WORK WAS better. Two clients called for appointments and since Lindsay and Nathan were distracted by their upcoming wedding, Nadine was able to convince them to give her both jobs.
Suddenly she had more work than time, and Nadine was glad. She was tired of sitting at home and missing Patrick. If she couldn’t be with the man she loved, at least she could spend her time productively, helping others.
Four days before the wedding, she was sitting at home in front of the computer, writing up a final report, when Patrick called.
As always, her stomach tightened with excitement when she heard his voice. She curled up on the sofa, wanting to be comfortable since their calls usually lasted an hour or longer.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
“Better. I have two new cases. The work is keeping me occupied.”
“And out of trouble, I hope…”
She laughed. “How about you?”
He sighed heavily. “You don’t know how sick I’m getting of giving this same presentation over and over, meeting new people every day, trying to remember names and matching them to the right faces.”
She almost felt sorry for him, until she remembered that this was his choice. No one forced him to do these tours. “Selling lots of books?”
“Yeah,” he said, “but that doesn’t make up for the fact that you’re not here.”
“I know.” She was glad to be busy with work, but even that couldn’t fill the void of Patrick’s absence.
“I had an idea,” Patrick said. “I hope you don’t think it’s too crazy…”
She sat upright, suddenly hopeful. Maybe he’d changed his mind about traveling back for the wedding?
“I’m going to be in Seattle tomorrow. Maybe you could fly out to meet me? I know you have to be back for the wedding, but we could have our own New Year’s celebration one night early. What do you think?”
She was so disappointed, she could hardly speak. Finally she mustered an incredulous question. “You want me to fly across the country for one night?”
“It’s not that crazy. You suggested I do the same thing to go to the wedding.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“I don’t see the distinction. I thought it was a great idea.”
Nadine didn’t get angry easily. But this was just too much. “Sure, you think it’s a great idea. Because you’re not inconvenienced in the slightest, are you?”
“Nadine—”
“You want me to take a day off work, even though I’m extremely busy, and fly across the country just to spend one night with you. But you aren’t willing to take the same trip to spend New Year’s Eve, and attend my good friends’ wedding, with me.”
“It’s not that I’m not willing. I’m locked in to a schedule here. If I had any choice—”
“You’re trying to sell books, Patrick. Not negotiating peace in the Middle East. I think I’m beginning to understand why June didn’t tell you that she was pregnant.”
“What?”
That had been a low blow. But she wasn’t going to apologize. She’d had it with this guy who thought he was falling in love with her and then expected her to make her life crazy in order to spend the occasional day in his company.
“I don’t have time to talk anymore,” she said. “I have an early appointment with a client tomorrow and I need to finish my report. Good night, Patrick.”
She hung up the phone with a shaking hand and a sick, sad feeling. How could he have asked that of her? Did he really not get what she had given up for him?
Her phone rang again, almost right away. It was him, and she didn’t answer.
THE NEXT DAY PATRICK RECEIVED an e-mail from his son. He was sprawled on the bed in yet another impersonal hotel room, with his laptop in front of him. Playing on the TV was a movie he’d already seen—he thought it was on the overnight in Phoenix.
He’d been checking his e-mail with the hope that he would have something from Nadine. He’d tried calling her about ten times since she’d hung up on him, but hadn’t been able to reach her. He’d even tried her office, but Tamara had told him that Nadine was too busy to talk to him.
The message from Stephen had an attachment, but it wasn’t until he’d opened it and saw the salutation at the top that he recognized its importance.
This was June’s letter.
He reached for the glass of Scotch by his bed, polished off the contents, then started to read:
Dear Stephen,
Writing this letter to you is the hardest thing I’ve ever done because when you read it, I’ll be gone. I’m not worried about myself, it’s knowing that you will be alone that makes me sad.
I realize you have your aunt Diane and uncle Reggie, but that’s not the same thing as a parent, is it? And that’s why I’ve decided, after all these years, to tell you about your father.
Patrick O’Neil and I dated during our last year of high school. We both loved skiing and we would go out to the mountains at every opportunity. I think we were more good friends than anything else, which is why when I became pregnant, I didn’t even consider that we might get married, or even that we could share you.
Your father was a good guy, lots of fun and very athletic, but he was also quite selfish. Basically he did what he wanted to do, when he wanted to do it. He dreamed of traveling—not just a summer in Europe or Thailand—he wanted to spend his life that way. He had a hunger for new places and experiences and was one of the most physically adventurous people I have ever known.
I couldn’t imagine Patrick being a responsible father. And I wanted to spare you—and in all honesty, me, too—the pain of years of disappointment.
That was why I told you your father was gone. You assumed I meant dead, and I never corrected you.
Your father and I haven’t been in touch for over a decade, but I’ve followed his career. He has done exactly what he said he would do. He’s traveled to every continent in the world and written travel books for people who share his love of exploration.
I’ve watched his career from afar all these years, waiting to see some sign that he might be changing, growing tired of a vagabond life. But he remained the same old Patrick and I felt that I had made the right decision in keeping you apart.
Now that I’m sick, I second-guess myself. I think maybe a part-time, unreliable father is better than no father at all?
At any rate, I can’t leave you without giving you a choice. If you’re reading this now, it’s because your father cared enough to track you down. You see, I’ve sent him a letter, too, which I asked a friend of mine from work to mail after I was gone. I imagine he’ll be shocked to find out he has a son. And I expect he’ll have some anger toward me for keeping this secret.
Maybe you’ll be angry at me, too.
But I hope you’ll forgive me eventually. And I hope you will take a chance on your father. I would love to know that he is looking out for you. That’s what I choose to believe will happen.
Stephen, my body will fail me soon, but the closer I come to my final day, the more certain I am that one thing will never die, and that is my love for you. Be strong, son, and most important, be happy.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
PATRICK’S GUT BURNED AS HE read June’s letter a second time, then a third. Her words hadn’t been meant for him, but they still hurt.
How dared she condemn him and his lifestyle? Surely it wasn’t selfish to pursue your dreams and live your life to the
fullest. He hadn’t known about the baby—it wasn’t fair to judge his life the way she had. So what if he’d done exactly what he wanted? He’d had no obligations, nothing tying him down.
Yeah, really? What about Mom?
He got out of bed and started to pace. It was true he had regrets where his mother was concerned. She’d undoubtedly missed him during his long absences. And when she’d found out she was sick—she’d never asked him to come back and live with her during her final months. But perhaps she had secretly wished that he would.
He’d been twenty-five when his mother was first diagnosed with cancer. She’d assured him she would beat it, but by his twenty-sixth birthday she was gone.
Patrick went to the window, pushed aside the curtains. For a moment he’d forgotten where he was, then he recognized the Space Needle. Seattle.
He thought about Nadine, who had refused to meet him here. He’d spent the day hoping she would change her mind, that when he checked into the hotel at night he would find her waiting for him.
But, of course, she hadn’t been here. Like June, she thought he was selfish. Neither one of them understood that not all jobs fit neatly into nine-to-five slots.
His book tours were a pain, but they helped with book sales, and book sales funded his adventures. It wasn’t a sin to spend your life engaged in work that made you happy.
No. But what about balance? What about considering the needs of the people you love?
Maybe as a young man it was all right to focus on your own needs. But he was thirty-six years old. There was a son in his life now. And a woman.
He’d never felt about anyone the way he felt about Nadine.
If he really loved her, then shouldn’t making her happy be the most important thing?
THE ONLY CONVENTIONAL ASPECT of Lindsay and Nathan’s wedding was the bridal dress. Nadine fingered the white silk, which felt as soft as Alice’s skin. “Do you want me to lift it over your head? Or would you rather step into it?”
Nadine and Lindsay’s sister, Meg, were helping the bride dress. Kate was watching from the sofa where she was breast-feeding Alice.
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