A Winter Dream - By Richard Paul Evans Page 0,52
said. “Right or wrong, others are always affected by our actions.”
“Then I ask you to let me pay for my mistake.”
Simon looked up. “Make that two of us. The entire thing was my idea.”
I gazed at them for a long time, realizing that, in a way, their course had been worse than mine. I wondered how much guilt they had carried for the last three years.
“Does your father know the truth about why his son left?”
They both shook their heads.
“He was so upset,” Rupert said. “We were afraid he would just dissolve the agency and throw us out of his life. We deserved that, but he didn’t deserve that.”
I thought over his words. “So let me get this straight. You’re telling me that you’re both willing to sacrifice your jobs for this brother Joseph?”
They were both quiet, then Rupert said, “If it comes to that. Yes, I am.”
“And you?” I asked Simon.
He nodded sadly. “Yes, sir.”
Their answers filled me with emotion. “So tell me,” I said softly. “If your brother Joseph was right here in this room, right now, what would you say to him?”
Simon’s voice broke with emotion. “I would ask his forgiveness.”
“And you?” I asked Rupert.
He nodded, too emotional to speak. “The same.”
“Do you think he should grant you forgiveness?”
Simon looked down, then said, “No. He shouldn’t. But I would hope he would at least know how sorry we are.”
I was having trouble hiding my own emotion. I let the moment linger a bit longer, then I said, “Everyone makes mistakes. The real question is, what have we learned from them.” I pushed back from the desk. “The thing about buying an agency is that we’re not buying bricks and mortar. We’re buying an organization. A past and, hopefully, a future. Jacobson has been a winning team for nearly thirty years. And you two men may share in the blame of this unfortunate incident, but you also share the credit for a lot of good work. Most of all, you have learned a valuable lesson.”
I turned away and lifted my glasses to wipe my eyes. Then I turned back to them.
“The thing about life that is most interesting to me, is how often good comes from evil. If you hadn’t banished your brother, you probably would still be resenting him . . . and he wouldn’t be here today to save you and the agency.”
Both brothers looked at me quizzically.
“I don’t understand,” Rupert said.
I took off my sunglasses. “Rupert. Simon. It’s me.”
They still didn’t recognize me.
“. . . Your brother Joseph.”
I saw the light of recognition come to Rupert’s eyes. “Joseph?”
“You don’t know your own brother?”
Rupert began to cry. “J.J.”
Simon sat there, staring in disbelief.
I walked to the front of my desk. Rupert also stood and we embraced. Then I turned to Simon. He was afraid to look at me. Ashamed.
“This was all my fault,” he said, shaking his head.
“Then I have you to thank as well,” I replied.
“I’m so sorry.”
“I know you are. You just proved it.”
He stood and we embraced. Then he began to cry. Actually, he began to sob, perhaps the release of years of guilt and remorse. “How can you forgive us after what we did to you?”
“That’s what family does, brother. Forgive. Besides, you did me a favor. My life never would have been this full if it wasn’t for you.” I stepped back from Simon and smiled at them both as tears welled up in my eyes. “It’s so good to see you again. Now come on. I’ll show you the town. We’ve got a few years to catch up on.”
CHAPTER
Thirty
Life relishes irony. Only in losing my home have I truly gained it.
Joseph Jacobson’s Diary
That evening I took my brothers to one of my favorite restaurants in the city, Keens Steakhouse. I shared with them all that had happened after I left Denver. Not surprisingly, they wanted to meet Leonard and beat up Potts.
My biggest surprise of the evening was learning that just five months after I left Colorado, Ashley had married Chuck Teran, the fifty-two-year-old owner of UpHill Down. In fact, she had convinced him to drop our agency—just before moving with him to Palm Springs. I was truly in my brothers’ debt.
Rupert and Simon flew home the next morning. I made them promise not to tell my father about me. We would tell him together when I came out to close on the purchasing of the agency. I thought it would be best that way.
Ten days later, only a week