"I know." Alan smiled at her.
"Harold loved that car. It was his prize possession. Kept it clean as a whistle, he did."
Alan looked over at the Lincoln and suddenly frowned. Something wasn't right, and it had nothing to do with the layer of dust on the hood. It was the headlight. The left front headlight.
He felt the blood recede from his face as he was drawn closer to the car. He heard Sue's questioning voice in the background, but he couldn't answer her. The sun danced off the headlight, like a beacon, calling to him.
When he got to the car, he knelt down beside it, saw the broken glass, and closed his eyes.
He felt Sue's hand on his shoulder. After a moment, he turned to look at her and saw the understanding and disbelief in her face.
"What's wrong now?" Doris asked, walking over to join them.
"The headlight is broken."
"So?"
"Have you driven this car lately?"
"Never. No one drives it, at least not until today."
"Grace." Alan looked over at the woman on the porch. She looked old and frail, suddenly terribly afraid. Grace knew. Deep down inside, somewhere in the hidden recesses of her mind, she knew, or she suspected. Whether or not she could tell him the truth, he had no idea. And whether or not he could tell her the truth was also in question.
Because this sweet old lady had listened to his problems, had taken care of Jenny and Danny through the early years, had cooked and cleaned and brought over chicken soup when the family was sick. Grace had been a surrogate mother to Jenny and a grandmother to Danny.
If she had done the unspeakable, how could any of them handle it?
He had to confront her. Still he hesitated, feeling the pressure rise as Doris and Sue stood silently behind him, waiting and watching.
Gracie walked slowly down the steps. She stared at the broken headlight, then looked at Alan.
"Have you been driving, Gracie?"
She looked at him in confusion. "I don't think so."
"Do you know how the headlight got broken?"
"It must have happened when Harold and I went to visit my sister Elizabeth. We were going to stop for ice cream at Ida's place, but it was late, and we decided to just keep going. My sister hates when people are late."
"Do you remember what night that was?" Alan asked, trying to stay calm.
"A few weeks ago, I think. I remember it was foggy, and a deer ran into the road. But Harold said no, it was my imagination. He told me everything was all right. We just kept driving and, well, I guess he forgot to fix the light. Everything is all right, isn't it?"
Alan didn't know what to say. What to do. Everything in his life had been cut and dried, black and white, until this moment. He could hear Jenny's words ringing in his ears. Sometimes love is more important than the truth.
But he was an officer of the law, and Gracie had in all probability nearly killed a child. If Danny died, she would be responsible for the death of an innocent boy. How could he let her walk away?
The guilty must be punished. It was his own personal law. And Gracie -- Gracie was guilty. She had to be punished.
But how did one punish a seventy-year-old woman with Alzheimer's who had no idea what she had done? Who could possibly benefit from her incarceration? Certainly not Danny, not Jenny, and definitely not Grace.
Doris looked at him, her face white and tense. "My Aunt Elizabeth died three years ago."
"I know. Take your aunt in the house," Alan said gruffly.
Doris opened her mouth to ask a question, then closed it and did as she was told.
When they were gone, Alan leaned against the hood of the car and bowed his head. "What am I going to do, Spence? What am I going to do?"
"Finish the investigation. Check the skid marks and the glass, analyze the damage. In other words, you're going to do your job," Sue said matter-of-factly.
Alan sighed. "Sometimes I hate this job."
"So do I. She's such a sweet old lady. Do you want me to tell Doris what's happening?"
"Yes, but don't say anything to Grace, not yet."
"And Jenny?"
"I'll call her at work."
"At least Matt's off the hook."
"Yeah. Looks like I was wrong about him -- wrong about a lot of things."
* * *
Luke flipped open the desk calendar in front of him. December 20. Five days until Christmas and a month since Danny's accident. So much had changed in four short weeks.
The door to his office opened. Luke looked up, expecting his secretary. His father walked in as if he owned the place.
Luke immediately got to his feet. "Father."
"Had to make me come all the way up here, didn't you?"
"I don't recall asking you to do anything."
Charles sat down in the armchair in front of the desk, although he looked distinctly uncomfortable sitting there. He was used to being in charge, having others jump to obey his wishes, not the other way around.
Luke sat down as well. "Why are you here?"
Charles looked him straight in the eye. "I'm worried about my company. We lost the Genesys deal because of your inattention. Malcolm told me you missed two meetings with them." Charles hit the edge of his desk with his fist. "Dammit, Luke. I gave my life to this company, and I will not stand by and let you run it into the ground."
"It's not my intention to run this company into the ground."
"Then why are you spending all your time at the hospital? You should be taking care of business. I thought you were ready to commit yourself to Sheri-Tech. Isn't that why you came home?"
"Yes. But things have changed."
"Not the important things. You're my son and heir. This company is my legacy to you. I don't understand your attitude."
"I appreciate everything you've done for me," Luke said, "but my son is lying in a hospital bed, fighting for his life. And frankly, I don't understand your attitude."
The air bristled between them with tension, distrust and anger. Luke had never confronted his father, never stood up to him, until now.
"I've done everything you wanted me to do," Luke added. "I studied science and math, went to the schools of your choice, majored in the fields you told me to, and worked my way up the ladder of biotech. I've moved into your house, your bedroom, your closets and this company. I have tried so hard to be you. But I'm not you. I can't wear your shoes. They don't fit."
"Luke."
"I can't run Sheri-Tech the way you ran it. I can't live with a woman who doesn't want children. I can't pretend anymore. I'm tired. I'm angry. And I'm afraid."
Charles sat back in his chair, completely taken aback by Luke's outburst. "Afraid -- of what?"
"Of losing my son." Luke stood up and paced behind the desk. "I want to know Danny. I want to play catch with him, teach him to drive, and to shave. I want to share my life with this kid, because maybe then I can understand how a father and a son are supposed to love each other. Maybe I can have with Danny what I can't have with you."
Charles' eyes filled with pain at his words. "I've always been a father to you. I don't understand what you're saying."
"Your love came with expectations. I can't meet those expectations anymore, and I'm not going to try. You think I'm destroying Sheri-Tech? It's yours. I'll walk out of here today. Whatever you want."
Charles got to his feet. "I don't want you to leave the company. I want you to run it. I want you to make it more successful than I did."
"I'm not sure I can do that. I'm not sure I want to. I've wasted too much time trying to be someone that I'm not." It was a relief to say the words. Luke felt free and in control.
"You're talking nonsense," Charles said. "You are what you are, and I'm proud of you."
"You should be. I did everything for you. Maybe if I'd had brothers and sisters it would have been different. But it was only me. I was the one to carry on your hopes and your dreams. I've borne that burden my entire life."
Charles reached
out his hand to touch Luke's shoulder, but Luke stepped away. Charles's hand fell to his side.
"I wanted the best for you," Charles said quietly. "I still do. If that makes me a bad father, then so be it."
Luke stared at him, feeling the guilt creeping up his spine, but he would not give in. This was his life, not his father's life.
"I didn't say you were a bad father," Luke replied. "Just one with incredibly high expectations."
Charles cleared his throat. "It's not just the boy. It's the woman, too, isn't it?"
"Yes. I love Jenny. I always have. You'd probably like her, too, if you gave her a chance."
"You're married to Denise. You could have a child with her."
At his words, Luke felt an agonizing pain right down to the bottom of his toes. He shook his head. "I can't have a child with her. Denise had a tubal ligation."
"She what? For God's sakes, why?"
"She doesn't want children." Luke sat down in his chair while his father thought about his statement. The tension between them eased. They were no longer shouting at each other. Luke had always thought the truth would drive his father away. In fact, it had brought them closer.
"So, this boy of yours, he's going to be my only grandchild?"
"Ironic, isn't it? And you don't want to see him."
Charles stared at him thoughtfully, then nodded his head. "I do want to see him, Luke. And I want to see him now."
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The nurse was adjusting Danny's IV when Luke and his father entered the hospital room. She smiled at them, finished what she was doing, and left.
Luke watched his father walk to the bed. Charles stared down at Danny, his expression carefully guarded. He placed his hands on the bedrail, gripping the bar for support. As Charles studied Danny's face, he started to sway. Luke rushed forward in alarm.
"Are you all right?" Luke asked.
The color left Charles' face. When he turned to Luke he looked shell-shocked, as if he had seen a ghost instead of his grandson.
"My God. He looks just like you. That could be you in that bed. I need to sit down."
Luke helped his father to the chair, poured him a glass of water from the pitcher by the bed, and handed it to him. Charles took a drink and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. "I didn't know. I didn't imagine that he would look like that."
"He's a part of us, a Sheridan."
"I can see that."
"Can you accept it?"
Charles didn't answer.
"He's also a part of Jenny. Can you accept that, too?"
Charles sent Luke a pained look. "I never disliked her. I just didn't want her for you. I didn't think she was good enough."
"Good enough?" Luke ran a hand through his hair. "You're right she wasn't good enough. She was better. She was her own person, and that's more than I can say for myself. I'll always regret the fact that I walked away from her and from Danny." Luke looked at his son. "I want the best for him, too, Father. But it doesn't have to be what I want, only what he wants."
"What do you want, Luke? Do you even know?"
"I'm beginning to. There comes a point when a man has to take a stand. I'm taking a stand."
Charles took in a deep breath and let it out. "And what exactly is your stand?"
"I'm taking a leave of absence from Sheri-Tech, starting immediately."
"How long a leave of absence are we talking about?"
"At least three months."
"That's a long time."
"Right now, I want to be with Danny. After that, we'll see. It's time I made a few changes in my life -- for better or worse."
Charles got slowly to his feet. "Believe it or not, Luke, I want you to be happy. I've always wanted that. If you want a leave of absence, take it -- with my blessing. We'll work something out." Charles took a last look at Danny. "I must admit, it's kind of nice to know that you're not the last of the Sheridans after all."
"It is, isn't it?" The voice came from behind them. Luke and Charles turned at the same time. Standing in the doorway was Beverly Sheridan, behind her, Denise.
"Mother."
"I had to come, Luke. I had to see him." Beverly stepped forward and put her arm around her husband and her son. When she looked at Danny, her lower lip began to quiver. "So this is Danny."
"Yes, this is Danny." Luke pulled his mother against him, feeling her tremble in his arms. His parents didn't seem nearly as strong or invincible as they had in the past.
"He's beautiful. He's you," Beverly said.
Luke looked over his shoulder to see Denise at the foot of the bed, standing silently, staring at his son, at his parents, at him. She met his gaze, her eyes troubled and sad. For a moment, they connected on a deep and personal level, a place they hadn't met in months, years even.
"I think I understand," she said slowly. "I finally understand." Denise turned to leave.
"Go after her," Beverly urged. "Talk to her. You owe her that much."
Luke strode after Denise. He found her at the end of the corridor by the elevators.
She held up her hand when she saw him. "Don't say anything. Not one word."
"We need to talk."
She shook her head and turned away from him, pushing open the door to the stairwell. Luke ran after her, down one flight, then another, hearing her heels click on the stairs as she ran.
"Denise, wait," he shouted.
He finally caught up with her somewhere between the first and second floors as she stopped to catch her breath. When he approached, she held up a hand, and he saw the tears running down her face in a wash of mascara.
He reached for her. She pulled away. He grabbed her back and yanked her into his arms.
Denise started to cry, and he felt like crying along with her. "It's over," she said. "I've been fighting it for so long, and now I know that it's over."
"Denise -- "
She pulled away from him. "Maybe it would have been different if we'd had a child. Then maybe this one wouldn't mean so much to you. I thought about trying to get my tubal ligation reversed. I thought about in vitro fertilization, surrogacy, adoption. Because if I could give you a son, I think I could hold on to you."
"What's done is done. You don't want children. You've made that very clear."
"I made a mistake."
"We've all made mistakes."
"It wouldn't have mattered anyway. Because that boy upstairs reminds you of his mother, and I think ..." Denise hesitated, her mouth trembling. "I think you're still in love with her."
Luke felt her pain as deeply as his own. "I never wanted to hurt you."
She pulled a tissue out of her purse and blotted her eyes. "You know, for a moment, a horrible moment, I actually wanted that boy to die. I thought if he was gone, we could go back to being the way we were. But that won't happen. Because you've changed, and I have, too. Just tell me one thing, Luke. Did you ever love me?"
"Yes. I still care for you. I just don't know if we can be happy together."
"Care? That's not a very strong emotion, Luke. Certainly not the way you should feel about your wife." She squared her shoulders. "I don't think we can be happy together, either. I want a divorce."
He stared at her, feeling such incredible relief, he didn't know what to say. "Are you sure?" He felt almost obligated to protest, even though he wanted to shout for joy.
"Positive."
And she sounded positive. He tried one last argument. "We can wait, Denise. Everything is crazy right now. We shouldn't be making big decisions."
"I don't want to wait. I don't want to think about it anymore. I came to the hospital the other day." She looked at him steadily. "I saw Danny, and I met Jenny. She's actually nice."
"What did you say to her?"
"Nothing horrible. I realized after I spoke to her that she's perfect for you -- at least for the new you, the one who wants a basketball hoop in the driveway, and insists on a real Christmas tree when an artificial one is just as good, and the man
who wants to make love on an open air deck for all the world to see." She shook her head. "We could try counseling, but it wouldn't work. The truth is, I don't want to get stuck taking care of that kid for the rest of our lives. He might not get better. He might be that way forever, and I don't think I could handle spending every Sunday in a hospital room." She shrugged. "I'll call Dale as soon as I get home."
Luke stiffened at the mention of their attorney. "You're moving awfully fast."
"Life is short, Luke. Haven't you realized that yet?" She smiled and touched his face in a loving, regretful gesture. "I'm going to make you pay, sweetheart. You're a rich man, and you owe me half. I won't settle for less."
"I'm sure you won't."
She started down the stairs, then paused as she gave him one last look.
"Be happy, Luke."
"You, too," he whispered, but she didn't hear him, because she was already gone.
* * *
"Denise is leaving Luke," Beverly said to her husband as they waited in Danny's hospital room. "She's not the type of woman to wait for the other shoe to drop."
Charles shook his head. "I wish we could stop them from making such a big mistake."
"We can't. I don't think we should even try. Luke is a grown-up." She smiled at her husband. "I just realized that. You'd think I would have figured it out earlier."
"Where did the years go?" Charles asked, putting his arm around her waist. "It seems like yesterday when Luke was this age, and we were worrying about him."
"Now, he's taller than you, and we're still worrying. Were we bad parents, Charles? Did we ruin his life by wanting so much for him, by expecting so much?"
"We wanted him to have the best of everything. What's wrong with that?"
"I don't know." Beverly smiled down at Danny and ran her fingers through his cowlick. "This little boy has caused one heck of a lot of trouble, hasn't he?"
"He's a Sheridan. Would you expect anything different?"
"Danny isn't a Sheridan. He's a St. Claire," Jenny said as she walked into the room, holding a teddy bear in front of her chest like a shield. She looked warily from Charles to Beverly. "What are you doing here?"
Daniel's Gift Page 31
