Should she be delighted or terrified? A tremor began deep inside, and she put the lantern on the floor for safety.
She couldn’t look at him. Tears blurred her eyes because her father had gone to his grave never learning that his son had survived. He had survived! Liam Malone was nothing like who they’d imagined Willy would grow up to become, but her father would have rejoiced no matter what.
“I wish my father could be here to see this.” She still couldn’t look at Liam. If she saw mockery or triumph in his face, she would snap.
“I wish so too.” Liam’s voice was a little rough but not unkind. “My own dad wasn’t someone I’d wish on anyone.”
She rose on legs that felt like water. What was she supposed to do now? Liam Malone wasn’t what she expected or wanted. She’d harbored an irrational dream all her life that her big brother might someday miraculously reappear, so why wasn’t she happier?
She must not let her emotions show. Too many conflicting feelings warred inside, clawing their way to the surface and beyond her control. It was cramped and stifling in here, too many eyes on her.
“Excuse me for a moment.” She rushed for the door to the garden, slamming it shut the moment she was outside. The night air was damp and humid, and she sucked in a deep breath, willing her heartbeat to slow.
Behind her, the door opened.
“Gwen?”
It was Patrick. The good-natured epitome of sainthood was probably ashamed and embarrassed by her. She didn’t want him seeing her like this.
“I’m alright. I just needed some air.”
Footsteps sounded as he drew up alongside her, staring out into the moonlit garden. “I understand this must be a shock for you. Perhaps not an entirely welcome one.”
There was no point in hiding; he could see right through to this small, unworthy part of her.
“I expected him to be different,” she whispered.
Patrick rested a hand on her shoulder, and it felt like strength and understanding flowed from his palm into her. She leaned her cheek against his hand for a moment before standing straight again.
“He’s not a bad man,” Patrick said. “I’ve seen much to admire in him. The two of you are very different, but people of good character can disagree and still be admirable.”
She nodded, knowing it was true, but a tangle of emotions still warred inside her. “It doesn’t seem fair. My parents suffered so much. I don’t understand why God put them through such suffering only to bring Willy back after they’re dead. It’s pointlessly cruel.”
Patrick’s face was carved with compassionate understanding. “I’ve had more time to come to terms with this than you,” he said. “What happened to your parents was a tragedy, but I think that sometimes the Lord sends us into the valley for a reason, even if we don’t understand why. Would your father have torn himself free of the bank and created the college were it not for the loss of his son? We’ll never know, but the Lord was with your father throughout all the sorrow and the pain. And good came out of it. Do you believe that, Mrs. K? Because I do. That’s the meaning of faith.”
Gwen bowed her head. The college wouldn’t have been formed but for what happened to Willy. Patrick’s mother and countless others had been saved because of the college, but what happened to her parents was still hard to accept.
And there were more challenges ahead. Liam was going to be trouble. Her father would have moved heaven and earth to bring William back into the fold of the family, but now it was her job, and it must begin tonight. She would give Liam the same welcome her father would have lavished on his long-lost son. It was the last gift she could give to the generous man who gave so much of himself to the world.
She reached for Patrick’s hand and kissed the back of it. Once again, he had come through for her in her moment of doubt. “I still think you would have been a good priest, Patrick.”
“It’s a good thing I’m not,” he said with a wink at her.
She swallowed hard and led the way back inside. Liam hadn’t moved from the wingback chair, and she took the seat opposite him. The fireplace hearth stretched between them, and Patrick sat on it, almost like a mediator between the two of them.
“Someone attacked you?” she asked, opening the awkward topic.
Liam nodded. “I think one of the Blackstones was behind it.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she snapped. “Our family spent a fortune looking for you. They wouldn’t do anything to harm you.”
Patrick set a calming hand on her knee. “I think it’s possible,” he said gently. “It seems to me your uncle and your grandfather both stand to lose a lot if William Blackstone shows up alive and well.”
“They won’t lose a dime,” she said. “My father left everything he owned to me. I’m the only one who stands to lose anything. Half of everything I own, to be precise.”
Liam glanced nervously at Patrick, as though seeking advice. “I don’t need half,” he stammered. “I’ve got a big hospital bill hanging over my head, though, and I’d be grateful for help with it.”
His voice trailed off as he clenched and unclenched his fists, and she noticed his fingernails were badly bitten, gnawed down to the quick. They hadn’t been that way when he confronted her outside the courtroom. A tiny bit of sympathy awakened.
