“Kate said something very similar to me,” Trent said. It seemed like a million years since she had stood in his conference room, looking beautiful and fierce. Every single day, he had tried to reach Kate, but she wasn’t responding. He’d sent flowers to her apartment that had gone undelivered, because she’d never answered the door. He’d texted and emailed, called and left messages. Nothing.
“Well, if you ask me, Kate knows you pretty well. I read the book, and it’s like she peeked inside your skull. I’ve known you for fifteen years, and even I learned a few things. She did an excellent job.”
Trent had thought so too, but it was good to see Jeremy agreeing. Sarah had also looked at the pages and told him last week that she thought the book was amazing. “Kate did a fabulous job writing the book. I shouldn’t be taking credit for it.” Sarah had helped him craft a statement that clarified Trent was the sole author of Be True to Your Nature and reiterating that Kate had merely served in an advisory role for structuring the content.
Since that day, Trent had printed out the book and read it three times, and every time, the guilt about that statement haunted him a little more. None of it was true, just as his memoir was less than truthful. Jeremy and Sarah might think it was a realistic portrait of Trent, but he knew the truth—that there was a hole in his history and a falseness in his byline.
“Well, do what you think is best for the company.” Jeremy got to his feet and clapped Trent on the shoulder. “You always do.”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll try.” The problem? For the first time in his life, Trent didn’t know what to do. He stared at the statement on his desk until the words blurred. Beside it sat the printed manuscript, with his name beneath the title. He felt lost and alone, like he had gone too far to figure out his way back to the right thing.
Trent picked up his phone and dialed a number he hadn’t called in so long, he wasn’t sure the other end would answer. It rang three times, and then the strident voice of his father boomed through the speaker. “Hey, Dad.”
“Trent. It’s a surprise to hear your voice.”
Meaning for years, Trent had let months go by between contacting or seeing his family. Not because he didn’t care, but because he let work get in the way of what was important. Guilt washed over him. “I was just calling to see how the nursery was doing.”
“Good. That sale is always a great kickoff to the season. I’m glad the weather finally broke and it’s getting warmer out during the day. People will be wanting to do some planting now. Marla’s got a lot of new design clients, so it looks to be a busy spring for us.”
When had his relationship with his father become one of small talk about the weather and gardens? All those years Trent had stayed away, determined to carve out his own path, had come at the cost of the relationship with his family. When he’d been back home with Kate, she’d been the bridge between them all, the one who had made it easier for him to connect. Maybe it was time he did some of that work on his own.
“Is that all you wanted?” his dad asked. “I have some things to do.”
It would be so easy to hang up, end the call, and go back to the frosty impasse he’d had for too long with his father. “Not yet,” Trent said. “I wanted to ask you something. Do you remember that time you rescued me when I got stuck on Mt. Cascade?”
His father chuckled. “Of course I do. You scared me so badly that day. I was afraid a bear would get you before I could get there.”
“I never asked you…how did you find me? I mean, how did you know where to go?”
His father paused for a long time. In the background, Trent could hear the sound of passing cars, which meant Dad was probably outside the nursery. “At first, I wasn’t sure. Like I said, I was so scared and worried that I went off in five different directions. I was calling you and looking for you and panicking more every second.”
Trent had no children of his own, but he could imagine the terror in his father’s heart when he’d realized his son was gone. Young Trent had no concept of those repercussions, but adult Trent did. “I had no idea, Dad. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Kids will do that to you.” His father chuckled. His tone eased as he spoke, as if the memory had knocked down a few of the bricks in the wall between them. “You gave me a lot of scares over the years, but I figure it was payback for all the times I scared my own parents by riding my bike too fast or climbing something I shouldn’t.”
“Mom has always said you and I are more alike than not,” Trent said. “I guess I never really thought about what we had in common.”
“I think when you hit eighteen, you start looking for the ways you’re not like your father. It’s part of growing up and spreading your own wings.”
Those wings had brought Trent far from the family business, and far from the people who loved him. He’d used the excuse of the business to be too busy to go home, too busy to call, too busy to send a card. With each excuse, the wall between Trent and his family had gotten taller and thicker and more impossible to climb. That had to change going forward.
“I’m sorry. I…” Trent fiddled with the papers on his desk. “I guess I spread my wings so far, I wasn’t sure how to come back home.”
The noises on the other end of the phone changed, and Trent could picture his father heading to the back of the nursery, to the plants he loved and spent his days tending. “That’s the kind of kid you are, Trent. It’s part of why you have this big, international, going-to-be-on-the-stock-market company, and I have a little nursery in Hudson Falls. You fly farther and higher than I do, but that’s okay. I’m proud of you for what you’ve done and how far you’ve gone.”
Never had his father said those words. His father was a stoic man, stingy with praise, flush with criticism. The compliment was unexpected and rushed over Trent, making his eyes water. “Thank you, Dad. That means more than I can tell you.”
“Shoulda said it sooner.” His father cleared his throat. “I guess in my eyes, you’re still that little boy stuck on the mountain, scared and hungry and stubborn.”
That made Trent smile. He’d been called that more than once in his life. “Stubborn? Who, me?”
His father chuckled again. “Yet another trait you get from me. Your mother is the one who tempers that in me. She’s the one who stops me when I’m going off course, reels me back when I get lost. She did it that day you went missing.”
“She did? I didn’t know that.” It made sense, given the relationship his parents had. They loved each other deeply, and his mother’s soft, gentle way dulled the sharp edges of his father.
“When I was panicking looking for you, your mother told me to take a deep breath. She said no one knew you like I did, because we are so alike in many ways. I was stubborn, and I argued with her, but she won, like she usually does. Little tip, son. If a woman who loves you tells you something, chances are it’s true. When I stopped arguing with your mother, I stood there and inhaled and started thinking about where I would go if it was me. I remembered there was one little vista where you could see into the Skagit Valley. It was spring when you made that climb, and the tulips are blooming then. The valley is incredible at that time of year.”