He looked at his father’s door, wondering if he had the strength to go through with this. Why had he come here? Why, after all this time, had he come?
Nick had no answer. He supposed it was to do his duty, but he knew he also wanted his father’s forgiveness. Didn’t all children long for the approval of their father, heavenly or earthly?
Lord, please let him be willing to receive me. Let him forgive me.Nick felt the muscles in his chest tighten.Let me not be too late.
He opened the door without knocking. “Father?”
He moved into the dimly lit room. A fire burned in the hearth, and a single wall lamp was lit. The flame was set low.
“Father, it’s Nicodemus.” There was a chair beside the bed, and Nick stood behind it for a moment, using the back for support.
The man in the bed looked small and fragile, perhaps even dead.
Nick called to him again. “Father.”
This time the old man opened his eyes. He studied Nick for a moment, then held up his hand for just a second. “Is it ... really you?”
Nick smiled. “It is. I heard you were sick and came to see you.” He moved from behind the chair to take his father’s hand. He had no way of knowing whether the old man would despise him for the act of tenderness or cherish it, but it seemed worth the risk. If for no other reason than that Nick needed to feel that connection.
“The letters,” his father murmured.
Nick shook his head. “What letters?”
“The ones ... you sent Mrs. Schmitt.” His father seemed a little more alert as the stupor of sleep lifted.
“What about them?”
“I read them.”
Nick was surprised by this and tried to remember everything he’d ever said. “Why? I thought you never wanted to see me again or know anything about my life.” He regretted his words. He’d not meant to sound accusing.
“I know. I was ... wrong.”
Nick had never known his father to apologize or admit wrongdoing. He couldn’t keep the surprise from his face.
“It’s true. I know it comes as an unexpected ... confession.”
His father struggled for breath, and Nick wondered if he should do something. “Can I help you sit up? Would that be better for your breathing?”
Father shook his head. “No. Nothing ... will help.”
Nick could hardly bear watching his father struggle. He fought to focus on something less difficult. “If you read the letters, you pretty much know everything about me and the years between us.”
The older man’s breathing was raspy but returned to an evenness that suggested calm. “I do. You’re ... a ship’s captain.”
“I was. I’m working as a first mate right now. I’m on theMary Elise. I’ve met the woman I intend to marry.”
“Elise,” his father whispered.
“Yes.” Nick smiled at the mere mention of her. “I think you’d like her.” He never would have said this to the man he knew as Father ten years ago.
“She sounds strong ... and smart.” His father closed his eyes for a moment. “Like your mother.”
In all of his years, Nick had never heard his father regard Nick’s mother as either strong or smart. He ignored the old feelings of bitterness. There was no good purpose served by holding on to them.
“Yes. Like Mother.”
“I’ll see her soon. Much ... to apologize for. To you ... as well.” Father reopened his eyes. “I am sorry.”
