“I mean, I was pretty young, but you were younger. I was restless and unsettled, but you hadn’t even graduated. I was scared to be a parent, and you were the one who had to carry and raise her.” His voice cracked. “Please, Lace. Forgive me.”
She managed to blink without shedding the tears that welled. “It’s history.”
His expression softened with relief. “Thank you.” He reached out for her hand, squeezing it. “Thank you.”
All she could do was nod, and wait for the pressure on her chest to ease. Surprisingly, the weight lifted quickly. Forgiveness weighed less than blame.
“You are always welcome in Ashley’s life, David,” she said.
“Good,” he replied. “Because I have an idea how I can help you.”
She frowned. “Help how?”
“I’d like to invest in your resort. No ownership, no ties. Just an investment that you can pay back when the resort starts making money.”
“I-I don’t know what to say, but thank you.”
“And, Lacey, I don’t know who has this kind of pull, but I can’t find out who bought those properties, and God knows I’ve tried to grease some palms. But eventually the identity of the buyer will be revealed and you need to buy it back. That’ll be my investment; I’ll pay for those lots no matter what they ask.”
“Oh, David, really. Thank you.” She accepted the embrace he offered, leaning on his shoulder for a moment. “Thank you.”
“And one more thing.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “I’ve been a lousy father, but you are a remarkable mother.”
“Thanks.” She leaned back to look at him. “Did Ashley tell you she said something to Clay? Something she thinks made him leave?”
“She did, but—”
“But what?”
He gave her shoulders a squeeze. “I think he’ll be back.”
She cursed the hope that coiled through her. “I don’t.”
“Well, I saw the way he looked at you, Lace. And that man might not know it, but he’s in love.”
Maybe he was, but not with her. Still, when David left to say good-bye to Ashley, Lacey checked her phone messages, just in case David was right.
Nothing.
So the right guy didn’t get the girl, and neither did the wrong guy.
Chapter Thirty-one
Mrs. Walker?”
Clay looked up when the neurologist pushed open the waiting-room doors and scanned the small group on the other side, no doubt looking for an older woman. Sorry, doc. Meet the Dysfunctionals.
Jayna stood. “I’m his wife.”
To his credit, the doctor didn’t show any reaction. “And which one of you is Clay?”
Clay lifted a hand but didn’t jump out of his seat. The doctor turned to him and gestured. “Your father would like to speak with you.”
“He can talk?” Jayna exclaimed.
“A bit. The second stroke, which wasn’t nearly as severe as the first, actually stimulated some activity and brought him out of the coma. I’m going to explain all that to you in a moment, ma’am, but your husband is quite forceful, even after two strokes. He was adamant about talking to Clay, and I see no reason to deny him that.”
Clay finally stood. “I’ll talk to him.” Because the son of a bitch had a lot of explaining to do.
“Clay.” Darcie gave him a harsh look, fully aware of what was going on. She’d already used her laptop to confirm what Clay suspected, and they’d been hard at work trying to fix things while the docs tried to fix their father. “Be gentle.”
That earned an angry flash from the neurologist. “If you have any other intentions, son, don’t you dare go into that room.”
“I have no intentions other than to listen to what he has to say.” And get his shaky signature. But the doc didn’t need to know that.
He headed down the hall with slow, deliberate steps, not in any huge rush now that he’d gotten up here and found out what the old man was really made of. Not that he hadn’t already known, but this latest stunt?
Unbelievable.
So C-dub wanted to confess, beg forgiveness, remind Clay that everything he’d ever done was out of fatherly love and driving ambition to build a business. Blah, blah, blah. Just sign the papers and I’m out.
The ICU room was quiet again, the beeping machines tapping out a softer, more stable rhythm, and his father’s eyes were open. Not focused, but open.
For a moment Clay thought he might be dead. But the easy rise of his chest proved him wrong.
Clay approached the bed slowly, leaning over so C-dub could see him.
“Two strokes,” Dad said through clenched teeth, his lips not even moving.
“One more and you’re