Which brought up another even more unsettling question. What, if anything, did she feel for Darius?
Not that he should even care about that right now, because he couldn’t get past his anger at her hiding such an enormous secret from him. Which he realized was totally hypocritical since he had kept his engagement from her.
Once again, his thoughts circled back around in a never-ending loop.
Frustration, disillusionment, and self-recrimination balled up into one hot tangle in his chest. He folded his arms on the table, laid his head down, and let the tears fall.
Lord, I have become a selfish, judgmental person and a poor excuse for a Christian. Even though I don’t deserve it, I’m asking for your grace. Help me rise above my pettiness and my own flaws and find a way to forgive Olivia.
The light over the sink blinked on.
“Darius. Why do you sit in the dark?” His father’s voice echoed in the room.
Darius swiped a hand across his damp face. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“So you lay on the kitchen table?” His father’s dark hair stood on end, while his favorite striped bathrobe hung open over an undershirt and pajama pants.
“I just put my head down for a minute.” Darius pushed up from the chair. “What are you doing up at this hour?”
Papá shrugged. “A little indigestion. I drink some milk and it will go away.” He opened the icebox. “You want a glass? It can help you sleep too.”
Darius hesitated. How long had it been since he and his father had shared a simple drink? Too long. “Sure. It couldn’t hurt.”
Minutes later, they sat together at the table, sipping the milk.
After Papá drained the glass and set it down with a thunk, he looked over at Darius. “Your mother worries about you. She thinks you have problems you’re not telling us about.”
Darius resisted the immediate urge to deny the claim and considered the benefit of confession instead. Who better to tell than his father? At the very least, he’d get an honest, albeit blunt, opinion. “It’s true. I do have a few problems weighing on me.”
“Is this about that girl you were going to marry? Because Mamá says she wasn’t good for you. That you don’t love her like a husband should.”
His mother’s astuteness never ceased to amaze him. “She’s right. But it’s not about Meredith.”
“Then what is wrong?”
Darius drew in a breath. “I . . . I’ve recently met another woman. One I thought to be kind, generous, and self-sacrificing. But today I found out that she’s been hiding an unsavory past. And I don’t know what to do about it.” He stared at the tablecloth, unable to bear the pity in his father’s eyes. “I know I should forgive her. But there’s something lodged here”—he pressed a hand to his chest—“that can’t let it go.”
He waited for his father’s words of admonition, citing the Lord’s teachings on forgiveness.
Instead, a warm hand landed on Darius’s back. “Everyone does things they regret at one time or another. I’m sure you have too.”
“More times than I care to admit.”
“And the people you hurt, they have forgiven you, yes?”
He thought about the many times Selene had excused him for not being the best husband. For putting his career above her. “Yes.”
“Did they do it right away? The moment you hurt them?”
“Not always. Sometimes Selene would make me suffer for a day or two before she forgave me.”
His father chuckled. “That is the way with all wives, I think. Your mamá does the same to me.”
Darius straightened on his chair. “You think I’ll be able to get past this in time? Is that what you’re saying?”
One thick brow rose. “Time is the gift God has given us. It gives us perspective. Allows our emotions to settle and tempers to cool.” He pointed at Darius. “Give yourself this gift. In a few days, you might feel very different.”
“What if I don’t? What if I can’t accept it?”
“Then perhaps she’s not the woman for you.” Papá squeezed his shoulder. “You are a good man, my son. I know you will do the right thing. For the woman and for you.”
The warmth in his father’s voice made Darius’s throat close up. “Maybe once I find out why she kept these secrets, I’ll understand better.”
“That sounds like a good place to start.” Papá nodded. “And you should keep praying. Pray for God to take away the anger and the hurt. To give you understanding and wisdom.”
Darius looked down at his father’s forearms resting on the table. Strong, muscular arms covered by dark hair, tapering down to thick fingers with the perpetual hint of black around his nail beds. Those hands represented good, honest labor. Hard work for the money he earned. Why had Darius ever been ashamed of them?
“The milk has done its job.” Papá patted his stomach as he pushed the chair away from the table, the metal legs scraping the linoleum. “Good night, Darius. I hope you sleep better now.” He headed toward the door.
“Papá, wait a minute. I owe you an apology.”
“Me? What for?”
Darius slowly rose. “I was wrong to deny our Greek heritage. I should be proud of it. We have nothing to be ashamed of.”
His father studied him, nodding. “I know it’s terrible, what happened to Selene and her parents. No one deserves to die like that.” He swallowed hard before continuing. “But it’s good that you finally see it’s not the answer to hide who you are. You can be Canadian, but at the root of it all, you’re Greek.”
Darius considered his words. “I still want to send Sofia to a Canadian school, but I promise she’ll take Greek classes on the weekend.”
His father nodded again, a gleam of
