They’d wanted dogs, kids, a comfortable home and a life in Butler, Vermont. They’d gotten all those things—in spades.
Smiling, Molly walked into the kitchen, her cheeks red from the cold, her eyes sparkling the way they always did when she looked at him. “This is a nice surprise. Thought you had the staff meeting this afternoon.”
“I did. I mean… I do. Hunter is handling it for me.”
She took a closer look at him, insightful as always where he was concerned. “What’s wrong, love?”
“Sit with me?”
“Did something happen? The kids…”
“Everyone is fine.” He took her hand and led her to the kitchen table, the scene of so many of their most important conversations.
“You’re scaring me,” she said when they were seated next to each other.
“I’m sorry. My sister, Charlotte, called me.”
Shock registered in her expression. “You… your… Oh. What did she want?”
“To tell me my father is dying and wants to see me.”
She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes no longer sparkling. Now they were flat with the start of anger. “All this time… He wants to see you now? After he excommunicated you from his life, your mother’s life, your siblings’ lives?”
“Yes.”
“I hope you told her to tell him where to go.”
“Not exactly.”
“Lincoln… You can’t actually be thinking about going there. After everything he put you through…”
“I know.”
“Are you?” she asked hesitantly. “Thinking about going there?’
“I don’t know what to do. One part of me says screw him. Where’s he been the last forty years? The other part…” He let out a deep sigh. “The other part is the dutiful son who still feels he needs to come when his father calls, even after all this time.”
Molly stood and came over to him. “Make room.”
He scooted his chair back so she could make herself at home on his lap.
She wrapped her arms around him and kissed his cheek. “How dare he do this to you!”
Lincoln had known she’d be angry, and with good reason. His father had been awful to both of them once upon a time, forcing him to make a dreadful choice. He leaned his forehead against hers, drawing on her for strength the way he had for so long now. She and their family were the best things to ever happen to him. He had no doubt he was leading the life he was meant to, and nothing, not even a blast from the past, could change his mind about that.
“What’ll you do?” Molly asked after a long silence.
“I suppose I’ll have to go, or spend the rest of my life wondering if I did the right thing by not going.”
Molly’s deep sigh said it all. “I hate this for you. He has no right to tie you up in knots this way after decades of silence, especially four days before Christmas.”
“No, he doesn’t have the right, but that’s never stopped him before.”
“I’ll never understand how you were raised by someone like that, but still turned out to be the kindest, most loving husband, father, uncle and grandfather.”
“It’s all thanks to my mother and a progression of kindhearted nannies who taught me compassion and empathy. I certainly didn’t get any of that from him.”
“I want to say something,” she said, “and it may not be the right thing, but it’s how I really feel.”
“You know you can say whatever you want to me, love, and I always want to hear it. Why do you think I came straight home to you after Charlotte called?”
“What I want to say is this—you don’t owe him anything, Linc. Not one damned thing. We’re taught to honor and respect our parents, but he’s done nothing to earn your respect. He’s ignored you for decades. He let your mother die without ever seeing or speaking to you again. He’s never met your children or once inquired about your health or welfare in all that time. You owe him nothing, and you have every right not to reopen that old wound because he’s suddenly grown a conscience in the final hours of his life.”
Lincoln couldn’t help but smile at her vehemence.
“What’re you smiling about?”
“You. You’re magnificent, and I love you more than anything.”
“What’s that got to do with your father?”
“It’s got everything to do with him. Every time I see your gorgeous face or listen to your words of wisdom, you remind me of why I chose you, why I still choose you every day and twice on Tuesday.”
“The fact that you ever had to choose is the problem. That never should’ve happened.” She ran her fingers through his hair, straightening it while gazing into his eyes with care and concern and love. Always so much love. “What do you want to do? You know I’ll support you no matter what, even if it means trekking to Philly four days before Christmas.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to go, love. I know how busy you are before the holidays.”
“There’s no way in hell you’re going there alone, so let’s not bother to have that fight.”
Lincoln gathered her in close to him, weighing the pros and cons of the decision the way he would a business challenge. Take the emotion out of it, he always told the kids. Sometimes that was easier said than done.
The mudroom door opened, bringing a whoosh of cold air into the kitchen, which preceded George galloping in ahead of Hunter. “You forgot someone at the office.”
“I realized that after I got home.”
Hunter saw his mother sitting on his father’s lap and paused inside the kitchen door. “Didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”
“You didn’t,” Linc said. “Come in, son. Your mother and I were just talking.”
Hunter joined them at the table, taking the seat Molly had originally occupied. “Is everything okay? It’s not like you to miss the Friday staff meeting.”
As he gave George a scratch behind the ears, Lincoln hesitated. He wanted to tell his son what’d happened, but that would require him to share things he’d never discussed with any of his children.
“Tell him,” Molly said softly. “It’s time.”
“You’re kinda freaking me out,” Hunter said, looking between them. “Someone had better tell me something.”
Since there was no easy way to share this particular story, Lincoln went with the highlights—or rather, lowlights, such as they were. “You know I’m not in touch with my family.”
Hunter nodded. “You’ve never said why, and we figured out a long time ago not to ask.”
“I had a falling-out with my father.”
“That’s not exactly true,” Molly said, glancing at Hunter. “Your grandfather gave your father a terrible ultimatum, and now he’s on his deathbed and apparently having regrets. He asked your aunt Charlotte, who your father also hasn’t heard from in forty years, to call and ask him to come.”
“I have an aunt Charlotte?”
“And uncles Hunter, Will and Max. Hunter died at twenty after an accident.”
Hunter absorbed the information in his usual contemplative way. “I’m sorry you lost him.”