He didn’t tell her the rest of it, how he felt as if his entire life had completely spun out of his control.
In a handful of months, his world had turned upside down—one minute he was a relatively happy if boring fisheries biologist, coming home each day to his wife and children and secure about his place in the world; the next he was the custodial parent of two young children and trying to adjust to the idea he would have to give up everything he loved.
And then his children’s mother had been diagnosed with a terminal illness.
“You took her back.”
“Technically, yes, but not really. We were still divorced. But yes. She lived with me and the children as she went through cancer treatment. We were able to let go of some of the bitterness and anger between us and become...friends, of a sort, I suppose you could say. I am sorry she lost her battle with the illness, but for the children’s sake much more than my own.”
“You cared for her at the end?”
The shock in her voice made him wince. “You sound like Gemma. She thinks I was crazy to let Susan come back to live with us during her treatments after she walked away from our marriage.”
“I don’t think you were crazy.” Sam’s voice was soft.
“I don’t, either, for what it’s worth. Susan had nowhere else to go and was frightened and terribly ill. Whatever else she might have done, she was still the children’s mother. Caring for her was the right thing to do.”
“Of course it was. You gave her the chance to be close to her children toward the end of her life. She was lucky to have you,” she murmured.
He wanted to close his eyes and let her words heal the raw places in his heart.
“Thank you for saying so. It was an easy decision but not an effortless one, if that makes sense.”
“It makes perfect sense to me.”
“I couldn’t have lived with myself if I had known I allowed the mother of my children to die alone.”
“Of course you couldn’t. You did exactly the right thing.”
He didn’t know precisely why but her firm approval warmed a cold and hollow corner inside him. So many of his friends and associates had believed him crazy to allow Susan back. Even his own parents questioned the wisdom of opening that door to her again after all the harm she had caused.
He had weighed his options and had ultimately gone with the one that felt right to him. The children had grown much closer to Susan in her remaining months than he would have imagined possible. While that may have magnified their grief at her loss, he wouldn’t have deprived her or the children of the opportunity to share those last weeks.
Beside him, Samantha shifted on the bench. The scent he was coming to associate with her floated on the breeze toward him, strawberries and clotted cream with lemon biscuits.
His mouth watered.
“It sounds to me as if you did everything right.”
“I don’t know about that. I just did my best. There’s no right or wrong in a complicated situation like ours.”
“Other than leaving your husband and children for a Spanish flamenco musician. I would say that definitely falls under the wrong column.”
He had to smile at her tart tone. “I can agree with you on that point. But forgiveness can be powerful, too. I’m not sure we could ever heal all those wounds, even if she hadn’t become so ill, but at least I no longer hated Susan for walking out. I accepted my part in not being the husband she needed. In the end, I mostly felt...sorry for her.”
“I owe you an apology,” she said after a long moment.
“Why is that?” he asked, startled.
“I’ve been gearing up to lecture you on your parenting skills. But I have a feeling perhaps I don’t know the full story.”
“Oh, trust me. You could probably lecture me night and day about my parenting skills. What did I do this time?”
“Probably nothing. The other day, Amelia told me you didn’t want them to talk about their mother, that you told them it was time to move on. I was prepared to think you were an unfeeling jerk, if you want the truth. Children need time and space to grieve. They might seem as if they’re handling things fine, but often there can be far more going on inside than they will ever share.”
He didn’t want her to think poorly of him. He wanted her to keep looking at him with that admiration in her eyes that seemed as genuine as the moonlight.
He also wanted to know why she spoke with such firm knowledge. She said her father had died young. Had she been discouraged from talking about him?
“I make plenty of mistakes where the children are concerned, but I promise, I’ve never told them not to discuss their mother. They went to grief counseling from the time she was put on hospice until only a few months ago. I try to talk to them about their memories of her as often as possible without making the topic oppressive for them.”
“Why would she say they weren’t supposed to talk about her?”
He frowned. “I have no idea. Maybe she misunderstood something I said. Thank you for telling me. I’ll try to make it clear to both of them that it’s healthy to talk about her, that it’s okay to feel sad and miss her.”
She shifted on the bench beside him. “You’re welcome. I was all ready to yell at you the next time I saw you. I feel a little let down now.”
He laughed, which seemed to surprise both of them. “Go ahead. I probably deserve it for something
