Is It Any Wonder (Nantucket Love Story #2) - Courtney Walsh Page 0,105
water on the table beside her, and he rushed over and picked it up, placing it in her outstretched hand. “Here you go.”
She drank slowly, then handed the glass back to him. “You’re a good boy, Daniel.”
He sat down next to her. “It’s Cody, Mags. Remember?”
Her eyes lit for a brief moment, like the flicker of a candle that quickly went out. “Cody. That’s what I meant.”
He hated to think it, but even in the short time he’d been back, he could tell her health was in rapid decline. What if she didn’t make it to her birthday?
“Has Louisa been here tonight?”
“Ally stopped by earlier. No Louisa.”
“She’ll be here soon,” he said.
Slowly she dragged her eyes to his. “You love her.”
He was thankful for the dark so she couldn’t see his reaction. He cleared his throat instead of responding.
“It’s okay; she loves you too. You guys were made for each other.”
“You think so?”
Maggie clapped a wrinkled hand over his much larger one and exhaled a long sigh. “Everyone thinks so.”
His eyes fell to their two hands. “Not everyone.”
He could practically feel her frowning.
“Not my mother.”
“Have you told her about the two of you?” Another cough.
He shook his head. He knew he was a coward, but he was avoiding that conversation.
“Your mother is coming this weekend.”
He groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
“Best tell her now.”
He stilled.
“You forgave Louisa, then?”
“I did,” he said without hesitation.
“Time to forgive yourself, too, kiddo,” she said pointedly.
He straightened, lips parted as if to speak, but no words formed.
“You’re not fooling me.”
He leaned back in his chair, staring at the door. He could be out of here in four strides—but then he’d have to face her again tomorrow.
Stop running.
“What do you mean?” he finally asked.
“I could see that burden you’ve strapped to your back the first day you showed up here. It’s obvious you’re looking for absolution. Just like Louisa. That girl isn’t going to be happy until everything is as it was.”
“And if that doesn’t happen?”
“It can’t happen. Louisa doesn’t understand that tragedy changes people. I’m afraid she’s in for a rough time round about my birthday party.”
“I told her the same thing.” He sat for a long time, unmoving and silent. “Am I in for a rough time?”
From behind her glasses, Maggie studied him thoughtfully. “Only if you don’t learn to lay some of this down. Anyone can see it’s killing you.”
“Nobody’s ever mentioned it before.”
She scoffed. “Then they aren’t looking hard enough.”
“Or maybe you’re looking too hard.” But he knew the truth. Nobody mentioned it because there was nobody close enough to him to notice.
Her hand was back on top of his. It made him feel like her captive. He wasn’t sure he liked it. “Tell me you don’t blame yourself for what happened to your father. Tell me you don’t think it was all your fault and that you haven’t replayed that night over and over again wishing you’d done something differently.”
He pulled his hand away and leaned back in the chair, frustrated that her words were burrowing into his soul.
“Well, I have something to say about that, kiddo.”
He looked over at her, hungry for something—anything—that might release him from this prison of guilt.
“As many times as you wish you could change that night, that’s as many times as your father would do the exact same thing for you.”
His eyes clouded. “What?” The word came out a whisper.
“It’s like Jesus. Do you think he wanted to die? He knelt in that garden begging God for a different way, but he knew his sacrifice meant the rest of us could live.”
“But my dad didn’t have to die, Maggie. He only died because of me.”
“He did have to die in order for you to live. Don’t you see?” She coughed, but when he leaned forward to offer help, she held up a hand to stop him. Finally she cleared her throat and met his eyes. “It was his choice—and he would do it all over again in a heartbeat if given the chance. Don’t take away the power of the sacrifice he made by doubting it or wishing it away. The alternative means that you don’t get the life your father died for you to have. You owe it to him to live it big and full. Not to stay stuck here in shame and guilt.”
The words hung there between them, filling the dark house with the faint glow of light, of promise, of forgiveness.
Maggie leaned forward this time, taking both of his hands in her own.