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The Barker triplet’s father, Trent Barker, died a few weeks into the new year. It didn’t matter that his end was inevitable or that his family knew it was coming. It hurt. The man was much loved and the community, his children and all those he knew mourned him.
On a cold, gray, Sunday afternoon, Matt and Grace attended the memorial service. Hundreds turned out and much later, the family gathered together at the Barker place. Herschel’s heart was broken—no parent should ever have to bury their child—but the man had backbone like Matt had never seen. He would be okay.
He knew where the girls got their strength.
And now it was late, after midnight, and he couldn’t sleep. He’d woken up with one thought—the envelope Mrs. Jefferson had given him in Phoenix. What the hell had he done with it?
Without waking Grace, he slid from bed and, naked, padded across the bedroom. He searched his armoire but came up empty, and after slipping into a pair of track pants, headed downstairs. His bag. It had to be there.
Matt found it in the utility room, right there behind the periwinkle weekender. He searched through it and there, stuffed inside one of the compartments, he found the envelope. He stared at it for a few moments and then headed to kitchen. Rosie was asleep on her bed near the fireplace and Rookie was curled up beside her. The pup raised his head, saw it was Matt and then, with a groan, cuddled into his mother once more
Matt slid onto one of the barstools at his island and opened the envelope. Throat tight, he gazed at the bold script and started to read.
MATHEW
A lot of things go through a man’s head when he’s told that there is no more time. And I’m almost out of it. I have a lot to say and no strength to say it. I’ll do my best.
I WILL NEVER FORGIVE myself for turning my back on you. I won’t try to explain why or how it happened. I just hope that one day you can forgive me. I’m not being selfish when I say this, but I think it might help you.
I’VE KEPT my eye on you over the years and I know that things haven’t been easy. I’m sorry I didn’t have the strength to reach out. Sorry I screwed things up. Pride will do that to a man but I’ve seen the man you’ve become and I’m proud of you. I want you to know that.
I KNOW this is a lot to ask but I’m hoping you’ll check in on your brother. He’s not doing that well. Seems parenting isn’t my strong suit and Delilah is a mess I helped create. Justin needs a man. He needs someone more than what I was. I hope you can find it in yourself to right my wrongs. I hope you find happiness. I wish nothing but that for you, son.
DAD.
MATT WIPED at his wet eyes. He carefully folded it and put it back into the envelope, and after staring at it for a few more moments, tucked it into the pockets of his track pants. He went over to the dogs and, with a gentle pat, headed upstairs. He passed Justin’s room, took a moment to peek in on the kid, and then returned to his bedroom.
He slipped out of his track pants and slid into bed, his body immediately seeking the warmth of the woman who slept there. His woman. His love. His truth.
A few days after she’d moved in, she’d told him that she’d thought in December she thought she was pregnant. It was just a scare—said she’d missed taking the pill a few days in November. But he saw the yearning and the need and even though it scared the crap out of him, he was looking forward to starting a family with her.
Truth-be-told he was looking forward to all the work that went into making babies.
Matt listened to her breathing and felt her heart beat steadily beneath his hand. He’d found his happiness and for that he was grateful. Because not everyone did. Not by a long shot. He pulled Grace close and swept a kiss across her brow.
He was a lucky bastard and he knew it.
