A Father For Zach

by Irene Hannon

  Rising at last, he trudged to the door and stepped outside, pausing on the small porch. The dark clouds had rolled in, and heavy rain had begun to fall. Yet above the clouds, out of sight, he knew the sun continued to shine.

  Faith was like that, he reminded himself as he raised his face to the heavens. Even during life’s darkest, stormiest challenges, the Lord’s love and grace remained steady and strong. They might not always be apparent. Sometimes they might seem absent altogether. Like today. But he believed they were there. With every fiber of his being, he believed.

  So he’d hit a rough patch. Hadn’t he told Catherine not long ago that at some point, after you’ve done everything possible to bring about a certain result, you have to put it in God’s hands?

  He needed to follow his own advice.

  He needed to give it to God.

  And it wasn’t as if he was facing this crisis alone, he reminded himself, watching the rain pummel the ground around him. There were people on his side who believed in him. J.C., for one. His brother had gone out on a limb for him today. First, by convincing his boss to let him handle the initial inquiry. And second, by letting him walk away after the bracelet turned up in his toolbox.

  J.C. could have hauled him in to the station. Probably should have hauled him in. Instead, he’d put himself on the line, bought Nathan some breathing space. Because he didn’t believe his brother was a thief—despite blatant evidence to the contrary. It was yet another example of the kind of rock-solid love J.C. had always shown for him.

  No matter what happened, Nathan took some measure of comfort and consolation in knowing he could rely on that love. Both J.C. and Marci would stand by him. Catherine might harbor doubts, but his siblings never would.

  And hard as it was to swallow, he supposed it was better to discover Catherine’s lack of confidence in him now rather than later. What if things had progressed, gotten serious, and he’d…

  The jarring ring of his cell phone interrupted his thoughts, and his pulse skyrocketed. Hands shaking, he fumbled as he extracted it from his pocket and tapped the talk button. “Hello.”

  “Nathan, it’s J.C. Where are you?”

  His heart began to pound, and he gripped the railing around the porch. “I stopped in at church.” Please, God, let there be some good news!

  “Then you might want to say a prayer of thanks. Because you’re off the hook.”

  Closing his eyes, he lowered himself to the wooden floor and propped his back against the wall. Sucked in a lungful of air. Blinked away the moisture pooling beneath his eyelids. Tried to stop shaking.

  “Nathan? Are you there?”

  “Yeah.” His ragged response was a mere whisper, more breath than word.

  “I’m sorry you had to go through this. Danielle Price is the one who ought to be locked up.” There was steel in J.C.’s voice, and leashed anger nipped at his words.

  “What happened?”

  “When I got back to the station, I met with the other detectives and gave them my take on the situation. One of the guys, a former NYPD cop, took the bracelet and went out to the Price house to do a little digging. Luckily, the woman’s husband was just getting back from a fishing excursion. He didn’t even know she’d called the police about the alleged theft. And he wasn’t happy about it. My colleague had a ringside seat to the little domestic fracas that followed.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Turns out your client pulled this stunt once before. With a gardener at their mainland home. So, faced with her husband’s ire—and the potential loss of her sugar daddy—she backpedaled faster than a crook caught with the goods. She changed her story and said she had forgotten she was wearing the bracelet while you were there. Claims it has a faulty catch and that it must have fallen into the box when she handed you a tool.”

  “That’s pretty lame.”

  “Tell me about it. And according to my colleague, her husband agreed, even though she tried every trick in the book to placate him. They were still battling it out when he left.”

  As relief surged through Nathan, his shaking intensified. He had to tighten his grip on the phone to keep it from slipping through his fingers. “Thanks, J.C.”

  “It didn’t take much detective work to figure out her story stank as badly as a three-day-old flounder.”

  “Maybe not. But with my record, any other cop would have hauled me in first and asked questions later.” The thought turned his stomach. Again. “If you hadn’t been around…” His voice trailed off.

  “That was a lucky break, no question about it.”

  “I think it was more than luck.”

  “You won’t get any argument from me on that. So what are your plans for the rest of the day? You want to meet me for lunch? My treat.”

  Nathan didn’t think his queasy stomach would welcome food any time in the near future.

  “I appreciate the offer, J.C. But I think I’m going to go back to the cottage and chill for a while. If the weather clears later, I might head out to the beach and paint.”

  “Sounds like a plan. And listen, Nathan…don’t let this get you down. One vindictive woman isn’t worth losing sleep over. You’ve got a good future ahead of you. Put this incident behind you and move on.”

  “Yeah.” Easier said than done.

  “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

  “I will. Thanks again.”

  As Nathan pocketed his phone, a ray of sun managed to break through the clouds in the distance, suggesting Mother Nature might redeem herself by salvaging what was left of this holiday weekend Friday.

  The shaft of light, which imbued the newly cleansed world with a golden glow, dovetailed nicely with the favorable turn of events in his life, Nathan reflected. His name had been cleared. J.C. had come through for him again. He might even be able to get in a little painting today after all.

  Only one thing was missing from that happy picture.

  Catherine’s faith in him.

  And that cast a pall over the otherwise good news brightening his day.

  Deciding to wait out the storm—and determined to focus on the positives—Nathan once more entered the quiet church and slid into a pew near the rear. This day could have turned out very differently, he knew. But for his brother’s trust in him, he might very well be behind bars right now.

  A shudder ran through.

  “Thank you, Lord.” He whispered the words, focusing on the cross in the sanctuary that symbolized the selfless love that had redeemed a world. That represented a man betrayed, who nevertheless continued to love—and forgive.

  Give me compassion, too, Lord, Nathan prayed in silence. Grant me empathy and understanding for Catherine, whose past has colored her perceptions. Please heal the ache in the part of my heart she awakened…and claimed as her own. Help me get past my hurt. And if there’s a way to salvage the relationship we were starting to build, please open my heart to Your guidance so that I don’t miss out on the chance of a lifetime.

  “Eat your lunch, Zach.”

  Picking up the cooling grilled-cheese sandwich on the plate in front of him, Zach played with the crust. “I’m not hungry.”

  She wasn’t, either. Nevertheless, Catherine took a sip of her tepid soup. If it hadn’t been for Zach, she would have skipped lunch altogether. But her son needed to eat.

  “Come on…try a few bites.”

  He tore off a piece of crust. Crumbled it between his fingers. “Are you sure Nathan isn’t going to come back later, for our party?”

  Yes, she was sure. She’d seen the look of betrayal in his eyes when he’d detected her doubt. In that brief meeting of gazes, she’d failed him—and perhaps irreparably hurt their budding romance. Love required absolute trust, and she hadn’t given him that. Far from it.

  And after everything they’d shared, he’d deserved better from her.

  The problem was, she didn’t know how to repair the damage. A simple I’m sorry just didn’t cut it.

  “Mom?”


  At Zach’s prompt, she rose and carried her bowl of soup to the counter. “No, honey, he’s not coming back today.”

  Or maybe ever.

  Her heart plummeted at that very real possibility.

  “Is he mad at us?”

  She’d been fielding her son’s litany of questions ever since Nathan pedaled away two hours ago. But none of her answers had satisfied him.

  Nor had they satisfied her.

  “No, Zach, he’s not mad at us. He just had some things to think about.”

  She sat back down at the table and took his hand in hers, recalling how she’d marveled over every one of his perfect fingers the first time she’d held him in her arms. How she’d felt on top of the world. Invincible. Filled with joy—and confident about the future for her and David and their new son.

  As she’d discovered, however, there were few perfect moments like that one. Mostly, life was a series of challenges. Of accepting imperfections and mistakes, adjusting to losses, overcoming obstacles. Of keeping the flame of hope alive even on the darkest days.

  She hadn’t always done a good job with any of those things. Not half as good as Nathan had. Despite horrendous odds, he’d turned his life around and become the kind of person others admire and try to emulate. A role model.

  The kind of man any woman could love.

  Yet she’d let old prejudices rear their ugly heads and jeopardize their future.

  What a fool she’d been.

  When the silence lengthened, Zach shoved back his chair and circled the table to climb into her lap. He didn’t do that much anymore. Only when he was feeling scared or lonesome or confused.

  All the things she, too, was experiencing at the moment.

  She wrapped her arms around him, inhaling the comforting little-boy scent that always helped stabilize her world, and pulled him close.

  Resting his cheek against her chest, he spoke in a quivery voice. “I have a feeling Nathan’s never going to come back, Mom.”

  She had the same feeling. But she couldn’t tell that to Zach. Not today. Not yet.

  “He might.”

  “Maybe if you asked him to, he would.”

  Would he? she wondered. But what words could mitigate the damage she’d done, the pain she’d inflicted?

  “Could you try, Mom?”

  “I don’t know what I would say, honey.”

  “Just tell him we really like him. And it’s lonesome here without him. Tell him it feels like a rainy day even when the sun is shining.”

  That about summed it up, Catherine concluded.

  Yet there was one more thing she could add.

  She could also tell him she was falling in love with him. Maybe that admission would convince him to forgive her fleeting lack of faith in him.

  Maybe.

  “I’ll think about it, Zach. Are you finished with your lunch?”

  “Yeah.”

  The grilled-cheese sandwich lay almost untouched on his plate. Usually, she’d insist he eat at least a few bites. Today, she let it pass.

  “Okay. Let’s get you settled.”

  Fifteen minutes later, after reading him a story, she headed back downstairs. She wasn’t in the mood for housework, but she needed something mindless to do while she planned her strategy. And worried about what was happening to Nathan. The thought that some spiteful, vindictive woman might be able to put him back behind bars made her blood run cold.

  She couldn’t begin to imagine the torment he must be experiencing.

  Wandering into the laundry room, she began sorting through the dirty clothes in the hamper, her attention only half on her job. But when the Atlanta Braves jersey caught her eye, she froze. It still rested atop the dryer. Still unwashed. Still imbued with Nathan’s scent.

  She started to reach for it, but a small white triangle sticking out from between the washer and dryer distracted her. She bent to investigate—only to discover it was a white envelope. Containing her cash from the ATM.

  As a stomach-clenching wave of regret washed over her, the pieces of her memory clicked into place.

  She’d come in here yesterday after arriving home from her errands, lugging two boxes of laundry detergent. As she’d set them down, her purse had slipped off her shoulder. Irritated, she’d plopped it on top of the washer. Much to her annoyance, it had tipped over, spewing the contents over the surface just as Zach, in his eagerness to help, had dropped a bag of potatoes on the kitchen floor behind her.

  The envelope must have fallen out and slipped between the two machines as she turned toward him.

  Sick at heart, Catherine closed her eyes and drew a deep breath.

  How could you be so dumb? And how could you have harbored even one millisecond of doubt about Nathan?

  Her only excuse—and it wasn’t sufficient, as she well knew—was that the baggage from her past was formidable. She was working through it, and had begun to accept that rehabilitation was possible for criminals, but she supposed enough skepticism had remained to raise a fleeting doubt after the money had gone missing. And that same doubt had flickered through her mind again when Zach had produced the bracelet from Nathan’s tool kit.

  Deep inside, though, she’d always known that the kind, gentle man who had befriended her son and eroded the walls around her heart hadn’t taken her money. Nor had he stolen the bracelet. No matter what that Price woman said.

  The question was, could she convince him she believed in him? Or was it too late?

  Catherine didn’t know the answers to those questions. But she did know one thing.

  He deserved her trust. And she intended to do everything she could to convince him he had it.

  For always.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Nathan dipped his brush into the cobalt-blue paint he’d squeezed onto his palette, swirled it in the magenta, dabbed it in white and proceeded to do his best to replicate the amazing hue of the sea off Great Point.

  This was his first visit to the isolated northern tip of the island, where a stately lighthouse dominated the evocative, windswept landscape. And it was exactly the kind of spot he’d been looking for when he’d asked Edith to recommend an area as far removed as possible from the Fourth of July weekend holiday crowds.

  Getting here hadn’t been easy, however. Edith had warned him to let some air out of the tires on J.C.’s car before attempting the sand road that led to the lighthouse, and he’d have to refill them at the air pump near the main road when he left. But this glorious stretch of beach was well worth the effort required to reach it. Although there was a small cluster of people close to the lighthouse, he’d trekked down quite a distance. As a result, he had a long stretch of untouched sand all to himself.

  It was a good place to think. And regroup.

  His top two priorities after the traumatic events of the morning.

  Leaning forward on his portable stool, he concentrated on getting the curl of a wave just right. Then he turned his attention to the lighthouse, adding the outline of it to the scene on the canvas with bold, decisive strokes.

  All the while wishing he had as much confidence in his future as he did in his painting skills.

  When he’d come to Nantucket at J.C.’s and Marci’s invitation, he hadn’t had a long-term blueprint for his life. He’d planned to use their generous gift of three months in Edith’s cottage to decompress, pick up some odd jobs and save enough money to give him a little cushion for whatever he decided to do once this interlude was over.

  He definitely hadn’t planned to fall in love.

  But it seemed God had had other ideas.

  Not that he was ready to commit to a serious step like marriage. If he’d learned one thing from his past, it was to move slowly. Analyze options. Make no rash decisions.

  He had, however, been ready to explore the attraction between him and Catherine. Take it to the next level.

  Until he’d seen the doubt in her eyes this morning.

  And that, in turn, had made him think a
bout a couple of troubling issues he hadn’t factored into their relationship—but should have.

  Like, how would being involved with an ex-con impact Catherine and Zach? Would the stigma he’d carry for the rest of his life taint them? Limit their opportunities? Undermine their reputations?

  Tough questions.

  But there was a tougher one.

  Would he want people he loved to have to live with the risk that had been slammed home to him today as hard as a punch to the solar plexus—and which had left him just as breathless?

  The harsh truth was that without J.C. to vouch for him, he would have been toast this morning. Back behind bars faster than the sand crabs on this beach were scuttling for their holes.

  Was it fair to subject a family to the possibility that someone with an agenda could destroy their future? For the sake of Catherine and Zach, wasn’t it better to break the relationship off now, anyway? Before things got too serious?

  Because in the end, he cared too much to run the risk of adding any more pain or loss to the lives of a woman and little boy who had already endured more than their share of both.

  Even if walking away left his own life empty.

  Shoving that depressing thought aside, Nathan forced himself to concentrate on transferring to canvas the evocative majesty of the lighthouse in front of him. He needed to clear his mind, give his dilemma to God and wait for guidance. It would come. It always did.

  As he worked, focused on the task at hand, he didn’t notice at first that a solitary figure had broken away from the small cluster of cars and people at the tip of the point and was moving his direction. When he did become aware of the intruder’s approach, he stifled his disappointment. He didn’t own the beach, after all. But he wasn’t up to conversation. He hoped the lone walker would simply pass him by, not stop to chat as people often did while he was painting.

  Doing his best to ignore the interloper—a strategy he hoped would send a clear Keep Out message—he didn’t flick another discreet glance toward him or her until the person was fifty yards away.

  That’s when he realized it was a woman. One he knew very well.