His father was dying and wanted to see him.
Lincoln had no idea what to do with this information. He hadn’t heard a word from any member of his family since that dreadful day more than forty years ago when he’d been forced to make an unfathomable choice. He’d made that choice and had never regretted it, not for one second. But the heartache of what he’d lost had stayed with him, like a long-festering wound that refused to fully heal, despite a life of unimaginable joy.
For a second, he feared he might be sick as the tuna sandwich he’d eaten for lunch churned in his belly. He took a sip from a water bottle on his desk. Then he pressed the voicemail button on the phone and listened again to Charlotte’s message.
The original Charlotte, his baby sister… Four of his children bore the names of his siblings, but none of them knew that. They never spoke of his family. By some sort of unwritten rule, the topic was left untouched by a group that dissected everything. It’d been a while since he or Molly had talked about that fateful summer in which so many things had been decided. With one phone call from his sister, he was right back there, being forced by his father to choose between the woman he loved more than anything and his original family.
He’d chosen Molly and had carried the pain of losing his mother and siblings with him every day since.
His mother had died years ago. He’d been told after the fact in a letter from his father’s attorney that had come to the office weeks later. A few times over the years, he’d searched for his siblings online and on social media, but he’d found nothing about them, only news of the business itself. He had no idea who they’d married, if he had nieces or nephews, if they still worked for the family business or lived in the Philadelphia area, where they’d been raised.
He knew nothing about the people he’d been closest to as a child.
A quick glance at the clock told him he had fifteen minutes until the kids would be back for the staff meeting. If he was going to return Charlotte’s call, he needed to do it now or be forced to wait until after the meeting.
Somehow he knew if he didn’t make that call right now, he never would. He picked up the phone and dialed the number, holding his breath while he waited for her to pick up.
“Linc? Is that you?”
His phone number, bearing the distinctive 802 area code, must have shown up on her screen. “It’s me.”
“It’s so good to hear your voice.”
“You, too.”
“I’m sorry to do this to you, but Father… He asked me to call you. He doesn’t have much time left, Linc.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s suffered from emphysema for years, and it’s gotten progressively worse. The doctor told him this week to get his affairs in order. He said the only thing he needed to do was speak to you.”
“I’m not sure what to say to that. It’s been forty years…”
“I told him it was too much to ask of you, but he asked me to call anyway. No one would fault you if you chose not to come.”
“I… I don’t know.” The thought of revisiting that pain was almost more than he could bear. “I need to think about it.”
“I understand, but I recommend you think quickly. The doctor said he has a week, maybe two. He’s in hospice care at home.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Linc… You have my number now. Even if you decide not to see Father, please call me when you have time to catch up. I… I’ve missed you so much.”
Her softly spoken words brought tears to his eyes. His father’s mandate had left a lot of carnage in its wake, and not just for him. “Likewise. Thanks for calling. I’ll be in touch.”
“I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”
Linc put down the phone and thought about what she’d said. His father wanted to see him. He didn’t have much time left. His sister had missed him. Taken one at a time, any of these things would’ve been a bombshell. Taken together… It was more than he could process after decades of complete silence from his family. He’d made his choice, and he’d been forced to live with it, cut off from the people he’d loved first.
Molly. He needed her.
Just as he had that thought, his son Hunter came into the office. Tall and handsome, with dark hair and eyes, Hunter reminded Linc so much of the older brother his son had been named for, the brother he’d lost far too young.
“What’s wrong?” Hunter asked, always perceptive.
“Nothing’s wrong, but something came up, and I have to leave a little early. Would you run the meeting and check in later?”
“Of course. No problem.”
Lincoln grabbed his coat and keys and headed for the door.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m sure, son.” He squeezed Hunter’s arm on the way by and stopped to speak to Emma. “I’ll be home this afternoon if you need me.”
Emma’s brows knitted with concern. “Oh. Okay. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, thank you. I’ll see you Monday. Have a nice weekend.”
“You, too.”
He rushed down the stairs, eager to get out of there before he had to explain his abrupt—and unusual—early departure to the rest of his children. They knew him far too well and would see right through him the way Hunter and Emma had.
Linc got into his Range Rover and headed for home. He wasn’t sure if Molly had other plans after lunch with her dad, but she’d end up at home eventually, and he’d be there, waiting for her to help him figure out what to do.
She always knew what to do, and he’d never needed her wisdom more than he did right then.
Chapter Two
“Love is the flower you've got to let grow.”
—John Lennon
When Lincoln got home, he realized he’d left George, one of his two yellow Labs, in town with his daughter Charley. She’d taken George with her on a lunchtime run and hadn’t returned before Linc left. He’d have to retrieve George later, after he’d talked to Molly. He let out their other Lab, Ringo, and poured himself a glass of ice water.
He really wanted bourbon, but he needed to keep his head clear. Standing at the kitchen window, he gazed out at the snow-covered landscape that had become so familiar to him since he arrived in Vermont. Back then, he couldn’t imagine hip-deep snow for months on end. Now it was as much a part of his life as his lovely wife, the barn they called home and the ten children they’d raised there.
Vermont ran through his blood, with her mountain peaks, aspens, evergreens, cool crisp air and pure, raw beauty. He’d been fortunate to travel widely, but he’d never been anywhere that had called to him the way this place had from the first time Molly brought him home with her.
He loved the way the house smelled of pine and spice this time of year, when Molly had their barn decorated for the holidays.
Ringo’s excited barking a short time later alerted Lincoln to Molly’s arrival.
She came in a minute later, chatting with the dog, who darted into the kitchen and then back into the mudroom, torn between wanting to be with both of them.