Not that they’d ever been slackers. Both had worked hard at school, been offered excellent positions. But Joshua had turned his offer down flat, and Zach had ultimately followed in his brother’s footsteps.
Why had they bothered to get fancy degrees if they hadn’t planned to build solid careers, like he and Stephanie had?
Why?
“What did you say, Dad?”
Zach spoke close to his ear, and the pressure on his fingers increased.
He summoned up the energy to repeat the question he hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud.
“Why what?” His son sounded puzzled.
“Why . . . did you . . . get . . . business degree?”
He strained to hear the answer over the various beeping monitors around him, fighting the numbing fatigue that was sucking him back down into a black hole.
Zach spoke, but the words were too faint to hear.
“What?” He strained toward his son.
“Rest, Dad.” A gentle hand pressed him back against the pillow.
“Tell me.”
This time, Zach spoke closer to his ear. “You said it would be a practical choice. One that would set me up for success.”
“But it . . . wasn’t what . . . you wanted.”
“I didn’t know that until later. Josh realized sooner than I did that neither of our degrees were the best fit. But we both hated disappointing you. We always wanted to make you proud.”
Yet they’d failed.
Zach didn’t have to say that for Richard to read between the lines, despite his half-groggy state.
And it was true. He’d been profoundly upset and frustrated after they’d each veered off the straight and narrow to take jobs that offered little of the security and prestige so critical to him after the shattering incident with his first mentor left him destitute and reviled.
Yet his firstborn’s point on Sunday night, about respecting each other’s choices and not letting a disagreement over that ruin their relationship, had been valid.
The very conclusion he’d been dancing around for the past twelve months himself.
But how to reach out, how to initiate a reconciliation—that had been the stumbling block.
Maybe because he had too much pride.
Scratch that.
He did have too much pride.
That was the stumbling block.
Admitting he may have overreacted . . . that it had been wrong to try and force his sons to live lives that conformed to his definition of success . . . that not everyone who refused to fall into lockstep with him was a failure . . . had been a formidable challenge.
One that required courage—and the kind of touchy-feely conversation he always took pains to avoid.
But now Zach had sucked it up and done the heavy lifting. The son he’d shunned and disparaged had swallowed his own pride and come to his door to try and bridge the gulf between them.
He was the one with the guts in this family.
Richard tried to raise his heavy eyelids, but they refused to cooperate.
Instead, he squeezed the strong hand that held his. “I’m proud of you.”
Those were the words he tried to say—but they came out garbled.
“What?” Zach leaned close, so close he could feel his son’s breath on his cheek.
He tried again—with even less success.
Muted voices spoke in the background, and Zach relinquished his grip.
Richard tried to grope for his hand—but it was gone.
“I’m here, Dad. The nurse has to check a few monitors.”
His reassurance registered . . . but the world faded away.
Yet as darkness claimed him once again, his patched-up heart felt lighter.
Because while Zach didn’t yet realize it, the long silence between them was about to come to an end.
21
Yes!
Zach was calling her back.
Finally.
Katherine pressed the talk button, put her cell to her ear, and sat on the log on Blackberry Beach. “Good morning.”
“Morning.” A trundling noise that could be a hospital cart came over the line. “Sorry—I just noticed the time. This wasn’t too early to call, was it?”
“No. I’m actually down on Blackberry Beach, taking an early morning walk. How’s your dad?”
“He spoke to me a few minutes ago. He was on the fuzzy side, and he’s faded out again—but the surgeon says he’s doing well. They’re talking about moving him out of the ICU in a few hours.”
“That’s a positive sign.”
“I know. Thanks for your return message yesterday.”
“I’m sorry I missed your call after he came out of surgery.” Naturally, she’d picked that ten-minute window to take a shower. “How did it go when you arrived?”
“We didn’t talk much—but he did invite me to stay at the house.”
“Also positive.”
“That remains to be seen. His resistance may have been down the night before surgery. Hard to say what will happen after he’s back in fighting form.”
“Maybe the surgery will be a wake-up call. Remind him how vulnerable we all are—and how fleeting life is.”
“Hold that thought. How’s everything with you?”
Offshore, Charley’s dolphin friend Trixie bowed, her sleek body glistening in the morning sun.
“If you’re asking whether I’ve come to a decision about the movie, the answer is no. But I still have almost two weeks. In the meantime, I’m working on truffles for the tearoom and—hold a sec. I’ve got an incoming call.”
She checked the screen.
Simon.
Again.
His fourth call in two days.
The man ought to get a life.
She ignored the summons and went back to Zach. “Sorry. My agent is nothing if not persistent.”
“Do you want to take it?”
“No. I’ll call him back.” Much as she’d prefer not to. A combination of multiple calls in forty-eight hours and several texts was a bit over the top even for him, so it was possible he did have an urgent need to speak with her.
“Go ahead and do that. I have a few questions for the surgeon anyway, and I want to catch her before she leaves.”
“When are you coming back?”
“I’m covered at the shop through Thursday. If no issues arise, I may be back that evening.”
“Call again with an update if you can.”
“I’ll do my best. Take care.”
Psyching herself up for a less-pleasant exchange, she punched Simon’s number. Why listen to all his messages? He could tell her about the latest emergency live.
One ring in, he answered. “Where are you?”
She focused on Trixie’s antics, trying not to let the man’s frenzy disrupt the serenity of her favorite thinking spot. “You know where I am. Hope Harbor.”
“No. I mean, where are you this minute?”
“On the beach. Why?”
“How fast can you get back to your house?”
“Ten minutes.” She rose, giving up the attempt to remain calm. “Where are you?”
“Cooling my heels on your deck.”
He was here?
Again?
Bad vibes began to course through her as she strode toward the path that led to the top of the bluff. “What’s going on?”