A Winter Dream - By Richard Paul Evans Page 0,53

before Christmas, I flew home to Denver. Seeing the snow-capped Rockies out my airplane window sent a rush through my body. I can’t describe the happiness I felt to be home. Even the Blue Mustang didn’t look quite so demonic.

An hour after my return, I met up with the rest of the brothers. Rupert and Simon had already told them about our reunion, but I sensed they didn’t really believe them until they saw me with their own eyes. I hugged each of them. It really was good to be home again.

Rupert and Judd brought my father down to the agency under the auspices of meeting “Mr. Joseph.” My hair was still long and I was wearing my New York wardrobe, but my father recognized me immediately.

“Joseph,” he shouted. He rushed forward and threw his arms around me and kissed my face. “You’ve come home,” he said. “My boy has come home.”

“I’ve missed you,” I said, tears running down my cheeks. “Every day I worried about you.”

“Every minute I worried about you,” he said. “Every single minute.”

The brothers stood watching the reunion—silent, astonished and ashamed. When the climax of our reunion had died down some, Rupert and Simon stepped forward. I had never seen either of them so anxious. Rupert said, “Dad, it’s time you finally knew the truth about what happened.”

My father turned and looked at him. “I already know, son. I’ve known the whole time.”

“You knew we sent him away?” Rupert asked.

My father nodded. “Yes.”

“I don’t understand,” Simon said. “Then why didn’t you send us away?”

My father grew emotional. His eyes welled up with tears and he struggled to speak. “Because I was also to blame for what happened. I was careless with your feelings, and that too is a sin. I had already lost one of my sons. I didn’t want to lose any more of you.”

Ben looked at him sorrowfully. “You knew what I did?”

My father turned to him. “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you punish me?”

“You needed to learn that others will be hurt by your actions. You haven’t gambled since Joseph left, have you?”

“No, sir.”

“You owe your brother a huge debt of gratitude.”

“I know,” Ben said. His eyes filled with tears. He threw his arms around me. “I won’t let you down again. Ever.”

“I know,” I said. “I’ve missed you.”

Ben put his head on my shoulder and wept. After a few moments we parted. I said to my father, “Do you think I could have my jacket back?”

My father smiled. “I’ve been saving it for this day. It’s at home. But I think you’d better see your mother first.”

CHAPTER

Thirty-one

This month I’ve seen the fulfillment of two dreams.

Joseph Jacobson’s Diary

My reunion with my mother was beautiful. She had never believed the story she had been told about my disappearance. She knew something bad had happened to me—she just didn’t know what. And she never stopped praying that I would return home. “This is the greatest day of my life,” she said, kissing my face. “The absolute greatest.”

I made her promise that she would not hold what had happened to me against my brothers. She promised, but begrudgingly. “That doesn’t mean I trust them,” she said. “That, they’ll have to earn back.”

I spent Christmas in Denver. As joyful as I was to be home, my heart was still hurting. Being so close to Utah was difficult. I fantasized about flying to southern Utah and looking for April. But that’s all it was—fantasy. As creative as I was, I couldn’t wrap my mind around the ethics of the situation, let alone the practical problems. How do you find someone in a polygamist colony?

I told my mother about April.

“Time will heal,” she said. “Time will heal.”

My last night in Denver we had a family dinner at Mataam Fez, an authentic Moroccan restaurant on Colfax where you sit on the floor and eat with your fingers. (After I left Colorado, my father had dropped Giuseppe’s from his favorites list.)

On December 30, I flew from Denver to Chicago and stayed in the Monaco Hotel just a block from the Leo Burnett Building until I could find an apartment. Mr. Ferrell arrived that evening, and on New Year’s Eve we began the first of our meetings with the CEO of Leo Burnett Chicago, Mr. Edward Grant.

Mr. Grant was, of course, aware of the work we had done in New York and was eager to get the Chicago team plugged into our program. Being New Year’s, the agency closed at noon, so after just two