Page 60 of Married at Midnight

While his father stared off into the distance, Connor said, “Mom died from an inoperable brain tumor.”

His dad remained silent for a long moment, but emotion definitely stewed behind his hazel eyes. “Not sure what you think this all proves.”

“It proves,” Connor continued, determined not to let his father dismiss what he said, “that she was sick before she left us, though neither of us knew. It also proves that it wasn’t something we said or did or didn’t do that caused her to leave.”

Clark clenched his hands in his lap, his fingertips turning white. A sheen of tears came to his eyes. “She didn’t love us enough to stay.”

Connor shook his head. “I don’t believe that. Not after talking to the hospice nurse. I believe she thought she was protecting us in some way by keeping us from her disease.”

“I would’ve been there for her to the end. Watching her die would’ve been hard, but I could’ve done it.” Tears fell onto his father’s cheeks, and he sank back into his chair. “It would have been so much easier to actually grieve for her instead of harboring such hate for the majority of my life.”

Connor knew how his father felt in that moment where truth collided with past beliefs. But only once his father faced the truth would there be space in his heart for possibility.

“We aren’t hopeless, Dad,” Connor said, voicing his newfound belief. “And it’s not too late for both of us to find some happiness in this life.”

His father nodded absently.

A moment ticked past, then another, until his father finally dragged in a huge breath. “Thank you for telling me and for being brave enough to find out what happened. I have a lot of thinking to do and some apologies to make.” He eyed Connor approvingly, then looked down at his hands. He unfurled them, smoothing them on the legs of his pants. “I should have had the courage years ago to do what you did.”

Connor held his father’s gaze. “It doesn’t matter who did what, when. What matters is what we do with the truth. And, if you’d like to hear about Mom yourself from the hospice nurse, she’s agreed to talk with you.”

“I’ll think about it.”

A heavy silence pervaded the room as both Connor and his father were caught up in their own thoughts. After a long while, Clark sat up. “Will you stay for dinner? I’d really like to spend more time with my son.”

Connor offered his dad a smile. “Sounds great. What are we having?”

“Steak and beer sound good? I think a little celebration is in order.”

“A celebration?” Connor asked, slightly perplexed. What could they be celebrating when he’d just told his father about his mother’s death?

The muscles at the corner of his father’s mouth pulled up in a funny way, no doubt because the man hadn’t allowed himself a moment’s happiness in years. “It’s time we celebrated every one of those birthdays you missed. And it’s time I started being the father you deserve.”

“I love you, Dad.”

“I love you, son.” The smile he’d been trying to muster pushed its way forward, lighting his father’s face in a way that made him look ten years younger, changing everything.

A sense of satisfaction settled over Connor, leaving him feeling energized, because the impossible suddenly seemed possible. Love had transformed his father. Could it do the same for him?