They went inside the living room. He and Meg sat on an old fashioned sofa and Nathan took the upholstered chair across from them. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?" he asked.
They shook their heads and murmured their thanks.
Nathan cleared his throat. "As I said, Dad told me a few months ago about you and your mother. He'd never said anything all these years because of my mother." A cloud passed over Nathan's face, but he continued to speak. "He said he'd been wanting to tell me about you for years, had wanted to contact you himself, but didn't want to hurt her."
"What changed a few months ago that he felt able to tell you?" Zane said.
Nathan sighed. "He was diagnosed with cancer. He doesn't have much longer."
Zane heard Meg's sharp intake of breath and he reached blindly for her hand. He felt as if he'd been punched in the gut. To find his father after all these years, only to have him snatched away struck him as the ultimate cruel irony.
"I wanted to tell you before you saw him, so you'd understand. He tires very easily, so I don't know how long he'll be able to talk with you. He timed your visit so that he'd just be getting up from his nap and he'd be at his freshest. Your being here means a lot to him."
Zane took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "What about your mother? I assume she answered the phone this morning. She didn't sound thrilled to hear from me and I guess I can understand why."
"She went out for the afternoon. We all thought it was best. Dad didn't want to make you feel awkward." Nathan sighed. "She's a difficult person, Zane. She suspected all along that you were Dad's son, though apparently they never talked about it. Not until he got the diagnosis. That's why she insisted they move away from Harwood, why she hasn't spoken to your mother all these years."
"Except that one time at my grandfather's funeral." Zane remembered once again the intense look of dislike Frances had given him, the tension between his mother and her sister. It finally made sense.
"Now that Dad has cancer, even she can't be so heartless as to deny him the chance to meet you," Nathan said.
Zane heard the note of bitterness in his voice.
Nathan got to his feet. "I'll just check on Dad, and if he's awake I'll tell him you're here." He disappeared down a hallway.
Zane took a deep breath, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He felt Meg's hand gently rub his back. She said nothing, but communicated her support through her touch.
A few moments later Nathan returned. "Dad's awake and anxious to meet you."
Meg touched his hand. "You should see him on your own. I'll wait out here."
"No," Zane said with a shake of his head. Maybe it was weakness on his part to be so nervous, but he desperately needed the reassurance of Meg's presence right now. "I want you to come with me. Please."
"Okay, if that's what you want."
They followed him into a back bedroom. The drapes had been drawn, making the little room seem very bleak. Clayton McPhillips sat propped against his pillows, his blankets tucked around his hips and his gnarled hands folded neatly in front of him. Zane imagined he'd once been a large man, probably around his height of six-foot-two. But age and disease had turned the large frame to skin and bone. Nothing, however, could diminish the light he saw in his father's eyes when he entered the room.
Clayton reached a hand towards him. "Zane, it's wonderful to finally meet you."
Zane sat in the chair next to the bed and grasped his hand. "It's good to meet you too."
"I want you to know I never stopped thinking about you. All these years I wondered about you, hoped you were safe and happy. I know I let you down, let your mother down..."
He began to quietly weep, his frail shoulders shaking. Nathan stepped towards him and put a hand on his arm, a look of utter sadness on his face. "Don't cry Dad. It's okay. It's going to be okay."
Zane held on tightly to the old man's hand. In that moment he felt years of anger and resentment melt away. His questions had been answered. His father hadn't forgotten him.
"Please, don't cry... Dad." The word felt foreign on his tongue. "I've had a good life. I have a wonderful mother who loves me, a beautiful daughter, and a new granddaughter." He looked at Meg and she gave him a tremulous smile, a sheen of tears in her eyes. "I have wonderful friends. I wish we could have met earlier, but I'm grateful for the time we have now."
The old man looked up at him and managed a watery smile. "Thank you, son."
To have his father call him son for the first time meant the world to Zane.
Nathan handed his father a tissue and the old man blew his nose and dried his tears, composing himself once more.
Zane took Meg's hand. "I'm sorry, I haven't introduced you to my friend Meg Evans."
Meg stepped forward and took Clayton's hand in the two of hers. "It's nice to meet you. Zane's been looking forward to this for a long time."
"Have you two known each other very long?" he asked.
"For about seven months now." Meg explained how they'd met through their children. "I have pictures of Erin and Tom and the baby. Would you like to see them?"
The old man beamed at her. "I would love to."
Meg pulled a packet of photos from her purse and handed them to Clayton. "Zane, why don't you tell your Dad who's in the photos?"
"Okay." Zane resumed his seat next to his father's bed, and they flipped through the pictures. He pointed out each person, and his father smiled when he looked at pictures of baby Anna. "A great-granddaughter. Isn't that something?"
Meg had included pictures of his house, his office building and some of the projects he'd built, explaining that she'd had her son take them when she knew Zane was coming to Vancouver. On the back of each picture she'd put the name of the people in the photos and the date. He was grateful for her foresight. His father seemed genuinely interested in everything he did, and it helped to have the pictures. Nathan seemed interested as well. When Clayton finished looking at the pictures he handed them to Nathan, who asked Meg questions about the family as they flipped through the photos together.
Finally, they came to a picture of Zane's mother that had been taken at Erin's baby shower. She was smiling and looked much younger than her fifty-eight years. Clayton looked at the picture a long time. After several moments he handed the picture to Zane and smiled sadly. "Tell her that I never stopped loving her. I made a lot of mistakes in my life, but loving her wasn't one of them." He looked at his other son. "That doesn't mean that I didn't love you, Nathan."
"I know, Dad."
"I'm a lucky man to have two such wonderful sons."
Clayton's smile began to fade and Zane could tell that he'd been exhausted by the events of the day. "We need to go now. Our plane leaves tomorrow afternoon, but we can come for another visit in the morning, if it's all right with you." He looked first at his father and then at Nathan for confirmation.
"About ten tomorrow morning?" Nathan asked.
Zane nodded. He reached for his father's hand. "Goodbye Dad. We'll see you tomorrow morning."
Clayton patted his hand. "Goodbye son. Till tomorrow."
He handed the pictures back to Meg, but she told him to keep them if he liked because she had another copy at home. Clayton seemed grateful for the small gift and Zane felt grateful for Meg.
They walked back to the living room together, and Nathan turned to him when they were out of earshot of their father's room.
"Thank you for not blaming Dad for what happened in the past. It's been eating him alive for a lot of years, I think. Since he's been sick he's thought of little else but how he let you down. It meant a lot to him to meet you and know you don't hate him."
"It meant a lot to me, too." He bowed his head a moment and then looked up at Nathan once more. "How long, I mean, do you think I'll be able to visit again?"
Nathan shook his head sadly. "The doctors tell us it won't be long. Soon we'll have to put him into palliative care so that they can control his pain more easily. My mother's don
e everything she can to keep him at home, but it's getting too difficult for her to look after him anymore. I hope you can come for another visit before..." Nathan stopped to compose himself. "Come back soon. At least now my Dad can die in peace."
* * * *
Zane said little on the way back to the hotel. Meg didn't want to push him to talk, knowing that he had a lot to process. But she didn't want to leave him alone either. As they got off the elevator on their floor, she turned to him.
"Why don't you come to my room for a drink? I know I could certainly use one."
"I don't think I'd be very good company right now."
"That's okay. I'm not looking for stimulating conversation."
His lip curled in a brief grin. "All right. As long as you don't expect too much from me."
When they got inside her room, Meg opened the mini-bar to see what was available. She chose a wine cooler for herself and found a small bottle of scotch for Zane. "Do you like your scotch over ice?"
"Sure."
He stood staring out the window to the street below. Her heart ached to see his shoulders slumped and his head bowed in grief. The injustice of Zane losing his father just when he'd found him filled her with anger. She wanted to scream her frustration, blame someone, do something. But there was nothing to be done and no one to blame. She poured the scotch over ice and carried it to him.
"You and Nathan look a lot alike."
He turned to look at her, surprised. "You think so?"
"Yeah, I do. You're both about the same height; you have the same dark hair, the same shape of nose. Your eyes are different, though. You have your mother's eyes."
"What did you think of my father?"
"I think he loved your mother, and that he loves both of his sons." She stood beside him at the window. "I'm so sorry that you won't get to spend much time with him."
He closed his eyes and sipped his drink.
"I'm proud of you, Zane."
His head came up with a snap. "Proud of me? What for?"
"Because of the way you treated your father today. He needed your forgiveness and you gave it to him despite everything you've been through. That takes a very big man."
He sighed. "I didn't see any point in making a dying man feel guilty." He closed his eyes again, his fingers tightening around the glass. "I can't believe I'm going to lose him, Meg. It's not fair."
She felt close to tears herself. "I know. It's not fair at all. But at least you faced your past. You may not get a lot of time with your father, but twenty years from now you won't be kicking yourself for not having had the courage to meet him. That's another reason I'm proud of you." She wished she possessed some of that same courage to face her own past.
He turned to her with a sad smile. "I couldn't have done it without you." When she tried to protest, he grasped her hand, entwining her fingers with his. "I mean it, Meg. I probably would've taken the next plane home if you hadn't been with me." The intense light in his eyes told her he was serious.
Meg felt she'd done little more than tag along, but felt pleased that her presence had helped Zane in some small way. "Then I'm happy I came."
He smiled. "So am I."
They stood staring at each other. Meg's body hummed with longing. She wanted nothing more than to simply walk into Zane's arms and know she belonged there. She wanted to feel his embrace, feel his body press tightly against hers, and watch as his face lowered to kiss her lips. A part of her wanted Zane to carry her to the bed and make love to her until the past no longer mattered.
Zane stepped closer, the smile dying on his lips. He touched her cheek, his fingers trailing down her neck and sliding under the collar of her blouse to massage the tense muscles of her shoulder.
Meg closed her eyes. It felt so good to be touched. She hadn't realized how much she craved the intimate contact of skin on skin until Zane came into her life.
His hands drifted downwards, lightly brushing against her breast. Her body trembled in response, and a soft moan escaped from her lips. Zane unfastened one button, and then the next. The third button caught, tangled on a thread. He uttered an oath and tugged on the light fabric. At the sound of rending cloth, Meg's eyes flew open to stare into Zane's stunned blue stare.
In that instant, a scene from the past flashed into her mind, a memory she'd worked hard to forget. Paul stood before her, as close as Zane now stood, rage distorting his handsome face. Her husband grabbed the front of her shirt and ripped it apart, the buttons scattering across the room. The humiliation of that incident and everything that followed made Meg feel sick to her stomach. Her heart began to pound, fear swiftly replacing the longing she'd felt only a moment before. Panic clogged her throat. She took several steps away from Zane, angry with herself. Would these old fears never leave her alone?
"Meg, honey, I'm sorry."
He tried to touch her but she evaded him as she held together the fabric of her blouse. She hated the look of shock on Zane's face, but she was powerless to do anything about it. The humiliation was just too strong.
"Please, just give me a few moments," she said. "Maybe it would be best if you left."
Zane's face went blank, suddenly wiped of all expression. He nodded and lifted his glass to his lips and drained it before heading to the door. Meg's heart tripped over itself. She didn't want him to leave like this. He had to be angry for the way she'd reacted to what was essentially a harmless incident.
"Maybe we could meet for dinner later," she said. "Seven o'clock downstairs in the dining room?"
He nodded again without turning around. "All right. But if you change your mind I'll understand." With that he slipped out the door.
Meg stood staring at the closed door for a long time. Was she destined to fear physical intimacy with a man for the rest of her life? She trusted Zane, knew he'd never hurt her, but still she couldn't make herself get close to him. How long would it be before he tired of her hot and cold running feelings and simply walked away? The thought filled her with misery.
* * * *
The dining room was filled with patrons looking for a late supper. Despite the crowd, the atmosphere was quiet and relaxed. Zane glanced across the table at Meg, who looked anything but relaxed. He wished he could read her mind, to understand what she was feeling so that he could do something to put her more at ease. But he was afraid he already knew, even without the mind reading act. She was wishing she were anywhere but with him. Or perhaps she wished he were someone else.
He pushed the thoughts and his jealousy aside and concentrated on making it a pleasant evening for Meg. "What are you going to have? The New York steak sounds good."
She looked up from her menu and smiled, though Zane could see her smile was somewhat forced. "I think I'll just have the seafood salad." She closed her menu and looked around. "This is nice."
He could see the effort she made to appear to be having a good time. It hurt to know she found his company intolerable.
"Look, Meg, you don't have to stay if you don't want to. If you'd rather be somewhere else, I understand."
He wasn't prepared for the look of hurt on her face. "I'm sorry, Zane. What happened this afternoon is all my fault. I don't blame you for being angry." She looked close to tears.
Zane reached across the table and grasped her hand. "I'm not angry, really. If anyone's to blame it's me. I shouldn't have pushed myself on you like that again. I promised myself I wouldn't, but..." He stopped and shook his head. "Can you forgive me?"
"There's nothing to forgive," she whispered. A tear slipped down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away. After a moment she composed herself and lifted her face, looking directly into Zane's eyes. "Can you forgive me? I know I've been sending you mixed signals, and I'm sorry. I'm attracted to you, so much, but it's hard for me to forget the past and start new." She lowered her head once more and wiped away another tear. "I don't know if I'll ever be brave enough to start a new relationship, and that's not fair to you."
White-hot jealousy s
lammed into Zane's gut. At that moment he hated Tommy's father, hated the fact that Meg had loved him so much she couldn't stand the thought of being with anyone else, especially him. He wanted to hit something, put his fist through a wall, anything to stop this overwhelming agony and hurt. His chest felt tight with emotion.
Their waiter appeared at their table. "Are you ready to order?"
"I think we've had a change of plan. Do you still feel like eating?"
Meg gave a slight shake of her head. "No, I don't think so."
"Me neither." He threw a few bills on the table. "That should cover the drinks."
The waiter scooped up the money and disappeared. Zane wished he could do the same. "Look, you don't have to come with me to my father's house tomorrow. I don't want you to feel obligated or uncomfortable."
Meg lifted her gaze to his. "I'd like to come with you tomorrow, if you still want me."
Zane smiled ruefully at the unintentional double meaning of her words. "Yeah, I still want you."
Their gazes locked, heat sizzling between them until Meg abruptly got to her feet. "I have to go," she whispered. Half running she left the dining room.
Zane watched her go, his feet rooted to the spot. If he were a smart man he'd forget the beautiful Ms. Evans. He'd find someone else, someone who wasn't in love with a dead man, someone who could actually feel something for him.
Too bad he wasn't that smart.
Chapter Twelve
Nathan brought out the family albums and they poured over them all morning. There were many pictures of Nathan as a child. He'd obviously been wanted and loved by his parents, especially his father, perhaps the only reason his parents stayed together. Children were quick to pick up on tensions in their parents' marriage, and she wondered if Nathan had felt the strain. Judging by the tightness around his mouth as he looked at the old pictures, Meg thought he still did. Maybe Zane hadn't been the only one who'd suffered.
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