“I saw her. I saw Tish. She isn’t dead. She said she’s been in Del Gloria. I assume that means she’s been staying with you.”
No answer.
Brad’s voice again. “How could you? Do you know what you did to me? And now it’s too late. Too late.”
Denton went on the defensive. “You asked me to keep her safe. I did what I had to. Besides, you find strength in God. You find strength in hope. You don’t obsess over flesh and blood. She’s not the reason to wake up in the morning and do your therapy and move on with your life. You do it for God. And God alone.”
Brad took in a seething breath. “I hate God.”
I cringed at the words, stuffing a shirtsleeve against my mouth to keep from crying out as my heart ached for the man who’d introduced me to God’s love.
“And I hate you,” Brad told Denton. “Is that why you left Mom? You actually had to pay attention to something besides God in your life?” Brad emphasized each word. “You couldn’t hack being a husband and father. That’s the truth. It had nothing to do with God.”
I pressed close to the louvers, reeling in the accusation. Denton Braddock was Brad’s father? Brad… Braddock. Duh. It should have been obvious, but I’d been focused on surnames-and Brad’s “mentor” baloney, not to mention he’d always implied Samuel Walters was his real dad.
Denton sighed. “I… barely knew your mother. What was I supposed to do, drop out of life because I’d slept with the banquet waitress?”
A choking sound. “Don’t demean her. She was the finest woman who ever lived.”
I strained for a peek at the two men, but could only see Denton’s feet through the louvers. His dark slacks draped gracefully over salt-stained shoes.
The professor gave a deep sigh. “I know my shortcomings, my flaws. I admit I sometimes let things get between me and God. But I don’t blame him for any of it. I just keep thanking him for the good that has come from my twisted mess of a life. How can I be sorry to have founded Del Gloria College-a safe haven and retraining ground for those whose compass hasn’t always pointed true north? Don’t hate a God that can take pain and turn it to love.”
Brad’s breathing sounded strained.
“Son-”
“Don’t call me that. When I agreed to have a relationship with you-what’s it been, twenty years now?-it was as a teacher and a student. Sam Walters was my father. The only man with the right to call me son.”
“Brad, then.” Denton’s voice became intense. “Listen to me… I was wrong. Your Patricia… she was more than I thought. She was everything you said. So many times I wanted to send her to you, let her come to you and help snap you out of this self-destructive mind-set. But… how could I risk her life? I’d made a promise to you. I’m only sorry now that I wasn’t able to keep it.”
Through the louvers, I watched Denton’s feet pace the room.
“I can’t have you for my son. I know that. You’ve made me pay over and over for the mistakes of my past. But Patricia-she’s like a daughter now. She loves me, she’s grateful to me. It’s in her eyes, on her face, in her smile when we’re having coffee or talking about the day.”
I bit my lip. Is that really how Denton felt? He’d been so good at staying distant. Perhaps he’d been afraid to show his affections, knowing I would leave him the moment I could find my way back to Brad.
The feet stopped at the head of the bed.
“You said Patricia had been here? She probably took one look at you, said something polite, and left, never to return. How could she choose you, lying in a bed wasting away? At least I can take care of her.”
Puh-lease. Denton knew I was perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I was about as low maintenance as a woman could get.
“You’re pathetic.” Brad nearly spit the words. “You stole my wife and turned her into your child? And you have the gall to justify your actions?”
I snuck in a breath. There was that word…
Brad growled low in his throat. “You’re nothing but a scheming, conniving-”
Denton interrupted, his voice sharp. “I’m not here to argue with you or explain myself. That’s entirely unnecessary. I’m here because Paticia’s life is in danger and I intend to make sure she returns to Del Gloria with me where I can keep her safe. There are others there who need her as well.”
“I’m sure if she wants to go with you, she will.” Silence hung in the air as if Brad was giving me a chance to come out of hiding.
I stayed put, my loyalty to Brad inflamed by Denton’s harassment of the injured man.
Denton’s voice broke the silence. “Now that she’s seen your condition, I have no doubt she’ll be ready to come back with me. If she stays, it will only be out of pity.”
My jaw set as I fought the urge to blaze through the doors and knock Denton on his backside.
“Get out of here,” Brad snarled. “Don’t ever come back. I’m sorry I let you back in my life. I’m sorry I sent her to you.”
The hurt behind his words stung my own heart. Brad blamed himself for so much, and none of it was his fault. He was a victim, imprisoned for life in his own failing body. None of Brad’s misfortune had been of his own making. I had brought it all upon him. My own negligence had put Brad in the path of Candice LeJeune’s bullet, sending him to the depths of his own dungeon. Worse, Brad couldn’t even lift a finger in the name of justice-or vengeance.
I watched from the closet as Denton’s wingtips exited the room. The slam of the main door, then Austin came in, white tennis shoes under blue jeans.
“I couldn’t help but overhear, Mr. Walters,” the young man said. “Anything I can do?”
“Yes. There’s a woman hiding in the closet. Please escort her out of here.”
I drew in a breath of surprise. He’d turned me in.
With a push, I opened the doors and stepped into the room. “Brad… I’m going to stay. We’re going to work through this together. I’m not giving you up again.” I skirted the waiting Austin and walked to the bed, touching Brad’s hand. A gentle pulse beat beneath my fingers.
“Tish.” He said it slow, soft, like a guy might say, “I love you.” He gave a lingering blink of his eyes in lieu of a squeeze with his hand. “We had something special, didn’t we?”
I held on to him, afraid of his past tense.
He shook his head. “We were something.” A tear escaped his eye. He couldn’t wipe it away even if he wanted to.
My face collapsed at the sight and I threw myself over him, clinging to his chest and neck. Tears streamed down my face.
Brad heaved a sigh. “If only I would have known… I’d have asked you to marry me that first night I saw you. Things could have been so different for us.”
I touched a fist to his heart, praying that he’d stop the torture, but my mind heard only the thump of Brad’s fist against the hood of my Explorer that day in Rawlings. The day I’d left him to return to Port Silvan, the home of my childhood summers. Had finding out about my deceased mother really been more important than being with Brad? I’d put the car in reverse and backed up. Then Brad pounded on the hood. I’d shifted into park and he came around to my window.
Talk about defining moments. Talk about turning points. That was one moment in time I’d give anything to have a second shot at. Knowing what I knew today, would I have done it differently? I’d like to think so. The moment Brad’s fist hit the hood, I would have slammed the car into park, leaped out, and tackled him to the ground, smothering him in passionate kisses. I would have gladly thrown my past to the wind and been ignorant of my heritage if I’d known how much every second counted, how little time there was to waste. Then, even if the same tragedy had happened to Brad in the line of duty back in Rawlings, perhaps he’d have had a child to smile him back to life, if smiles from me couldn’t do the trick.
