“May I have a minute with Martha, please?” He asks the room, but his gaze never leaves mine.
A lead weight sinks in my chest. I can’t help but think back to the last time Mr. King and I talked in private. Will this be when he tells me that I not only don’t have what it takes to be an author, but I also don’t have what it takes to fit the role of Julien’s significant other?
Julien presses a kiss to my temple before trailing his mom out of the room. The nurse follows a second later after he finishes hooking Mr. King back up to the machines and jotting down his vitals.
Mr. King lifts his hand off the hospital bed and beckons me closer. I gulp down my trepidation but do as bidden. It’s not until I’m standing beside his prone body that I notice how much frailer and weaker he appears than in my memory. I always think of him as a powerhouse. Immovable and commanding. Untouchable.
Lying in the hospital bed, he looks ... well, he looks like an ordinary man. Tired and worn down. Clothed with all the years that he’s experienced. His thinning hair is disheveled, and there are age spots along his arms that have been hidden beneath his suit jackets. My intimidation of him slowly dissipates.
He holds out his hand, and for some reason, it doesn’t feelweird to slip my fingers into his palm. His eyes glass over, and he takes a shaky breath.
“Martha Aldridge, I owe you an apology.”
The man just likely had a ministroke. He doesn’t owe me anything in this moment. “Mr. King. You don’t have to—”
He squeezes my fingers, stopping my protest. “This apology is long overdue. I feel ashamed that it’s only taken me until recently to see that.” He pauses a moment, gathering his thoughts. “I could say how a deathbed changes one’s perspective about life and we’re faced with the regrets of our past, and that would be true, but I’m not going to lay here and philosophize. I want to own up to my mistakes, and the truth is, I was wrong all those years ago. In so many ways. I never should have said the things I did, nor treated you in such a careless manner. I hope you can forgive me.”
Tears gather in my eyes, but instead of blinking them back, I let them fall. I never thought I’d hear Mr. King apologize. His contrition doesn’t take the sting out of the memory of that day or the years I’ve lived with the wound, but I can allow the borders of my thinking to expand to include the fact that everyone makes mistakes. That we’ve all said and done things in our past that we aren’t proud of and that we wish could be erased.
“I forgive you.” My voice trembles as the sentiment tumbles from my heart.
He offers me a wobbly smile. “How I treated you wasn’t my only mistake. I was wrong about your writing as well. You’re actually quite gifted.”
“What?” I must be hearing things.
“I recently read your manuscript. It’s good, and I wish I’d snatched up the opportunity to acquire your talent when I had the chance.” He looks past my shoulder and juts his chin out. “Do you see my suit jacket over there?”
Dazed, I look behind me. His coat is hanging from a hook on the wall.
“There’s a business card in the pocket. Eva Jenkins is an acquisitions editor friend of mine. I sent her your book, and she’s eager to talk to you. All you have to do is give her a call.”
Like someone else is controlling my body, I walk over and retrieve the card. Is this what Charlie felt like when he held the golden ticket to the chocolate factory in his hands?
I look back over to Mr. King. “I don’t know what to say.”
“To me? You don’t have to say anything. This is all your own hard work.” He gives me a warm smile. “But I do have a message I’d like you to give to Julien for me.”
I look at him expectantly.
“Tell Julien not to waste any more time closing the deal.”
My brows lower. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but relaying a boardroom message in the hospital wasn’t it. Although, I shouldn’t be surprised, should I? Maybe I just thought this would be Mr. King’s wake-up call to change his workaholic habits.
“Of course.” I smile tightly, not wanting to fulfill this errand. Julien shouldn’t be worried about work-related issues right now. He has enough stress to deal with while waiting for the MRI results to see if his dad suffered any lasting brain damage. Although Mr. King seems entirely competent to me, I’m not a doctor.
Mrs. King ... er, Tabitha—one day Mom?—is standing outside of the room when I open the door. Julien is nowhere in sight.
“I sent Julien to the vending machine to get me a candy bar.” She points down the hallway. “It’s that way and to the left.”
I’m clearly being dismissed, so I follow her directions. When I turn the corner, Julien is bent over, pulling a Snickers bar from the slot at the bottom of the vending machine. He turns, sees me, and smiles.
“Want anything?” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the array of snacks behind him.
“No, I’m good. Thanks.” I rock slightly on my toes, still debating if I should give him Mr. King’s message now or not.
“How’d it go with Dad?”
Not at all like I expected.“He apologized and then told me there’s an editor waiting for my call to discuss my series.”
