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I’d been ready to launch into her. I’d had a litany of nasty words I needed to say after all these years. She’d hurt my father, betraying him. She’d betrayed her employees and her country. She’d lied and been deceitful her entire life, but there were faults with my determined hatred. Santiago was right. I couldn’t allow the rage to fester my entire life, or I’d lose out on all the wonderful things waiting for me to experience.
“I forgive you, Mother. I never believed you intentionally wanted to hurt me.”
Relief swept through her, but there remained uncertainty in her eyes. For right now, what I’d said was enough. Would I ever forgive? Maybe in time.
That is if time healed all wounds. I was afraid that would never happen.
She politely shook Santiago’s hand then did something with him that she’d rarely done with me. She threw her arms around him, whispering words that she didn’t want me to overhear.
We were led into my father’s study and while there were several plush leather chairs, no one wanted to sit. This wasn’t a social occasion. I pulled the envelope from my purse, running it through my fingers.
“Whatever the outcome, you’ll always be my daughter,” my father said.
He’d surprised me, his ability to forgive my mother something I still couldn’t understand, but I’d also always been taught that everyone makes mistakes. Who was I to crucify someone I couldn’t completely understand? I glanced toward Santiago, waiting until he smiled before peeling back the flap, pulling the folded piece of paper into my hands.
As I opened it, a single tear slipped past my lashes onto the page. Then I took a deep breath after reading the results. Unable to say the words, I handed it to my father. He had the right to see the results for himself.
There was no need for words for now, the results able to stand on their own. But as my father gathered me into my arms, for the first time that I could remember, I was honored to have my family’s last name of Cavanaugh.
* * *
One week later
Santiago
Five days.
Willow had been gone five days and it seemed like a lifetime. We hadn’t said goodbye because she’d insisted that wasn’t appropriate. We’d said ‘so long.’ But as she’d walked toward the plane, I’d seen tears in her eyes. The ache in my heart would never leave, the need to talk to her increasing every day. There wasn’t an hour that went by when I didn’t see a vision of her face in my mind, but I’d become determined to leave her alone, to allow her the time she needed. Maybe it would do me some good as well. I’d tried to put everything into perspective, but nothing else seemed to matter.
I’d sat in the hotel room for an entire day in the dark drinking whiskey. That hadn’t done anything including dull my senses. The pain of losing her was still fresh, harsh. She’d given me a piece of advice before leaving.
Talk to my godson.
Talk to my brother.
One of them I’d accomplish today. It was time. It was right. And seeing the little boy was what Justin had wanted. I’d been a terrible friend not to follow through with his desires. No more. I was determined to become a better man.
Her mother had whispered the strangest thing to me during the meeting regarding the DNA. She’d told me to never stop loving her daughter. How she’d known my feelings, I wasn’t certain, but they’d seemed genuine.
I carried the stuffed bear in my arms as I headed for the door to the small house. There were toys in the yard, pretty flowers in pots. Justin would be pleased. After knocking on the door, I was suddenly frozen, uncertain what to expect. The woman didn’t know I was coming. How fucking stupid of me. I almost backed away when the door was opened, the young woman staring back at me blinking several times.
Then a bright smile crossed her face. “Estoy tan feliz de verte.” I’m so happy to see you.
“You must be Maria.” I felt more awkward than I had in a long time. She was a beautiful young woman, her dark brown eyes filled with tears.
“And you’re Santiago. Justin talked about you all the time. Please, come in.”
I felt a sense of relief as well as sadness and as soon as I walked in, a little boy came running around the corner. Maria crouched down, pulling him into her arms.
“Justin. I want you to meet your godfather,” she said proudly. “This was your daddy’s best friend.”
The little boy wrinkled his nose, a frown crossing his face. Then he rushed toward me, wrapping his small arms around my legs.
“He’s named after both of you,” she said. “Justin Santiago Parker. I want my son to know his father and his godfather were men of honor, loyal to each other and to their country.”
Her words hit me right between the eyes. I picked him up, the tension easing from my body as he held me close. “Justin was a man of honor.”
“And so were you. I know what you did for him, the sacrifices and the way you encouraged him to find his peace.”
