Nathan frowned. “Why would that upset him?”
A trace of a sigh escaped her lips. “He said you wouldn’t forgive his mother and let her come home.”
The coffee soured in his stomach. He hadn’t realized Zach knew anything about Cynthia’s request to move back home. Or that he’d refused her. That might explain some of Zach’s anger toward him.
He met her curious gaze. “He’s right. Cynthia did want to come back...but I couldn’t let her. I couldn’t take her back on a whim.”
Paige bit her bottom lip, questions brimming in her eyes.
“You’re wondering why she left me.”
She shrugged. “You don’t have to tell me. I’m sure it’s very personal.”
“It is. But it may help with Zach.” He swirled the brown liquid in his mug, choosing his next words with care. “Cynthia got tired of coming second to my career. She couldn’t take my long hours and the constant demands on my time.”
“Sounds like a stressful job. What do you do?”
A nerve twitched in his jaw as a vision of Saint Stephen’s church rushed to mind. He was nowhere near ready to talk about his professional failure. Much too personal, much too painful. “That’s not important. Suffice it to say that Cynthia grew less and less supportive. I knew she was unhappy, but I never thought she’d leave.” His fingers tightened around the mug. Might as well tell her the rest. She’ll find out sooner or later. “The ugly truth is...my wife left me for another man.” The familiar surge of humiliation rose up to swamp him.
A mixture of disbelief and pity flitted across Paige’s face. “I’m so sorry.” She reached out a hand, but pulled it back before she made contact with his arm. “That must have been terrible for you.”
“You have no idea.” He gave a harsh laugh. “Then, after six months of misery, she told me she’d made a mistake and wanted to come home. Apparently her new boyfriend didn’t like being tied down with a child.” He shook his head. “As much as I missed Zach, I couldn’t take the risk of letting her back into my home or my life. I didn’t trust her anymore.” He glanced over to gauge Paige’s reaction. For some reason, it mattered that she understand his point of view.
A small frown creased her forehead. “Of course not. Not after what she put you through. She needed to earn your trust back again.”
His shoulders sagged at the lack of censure in her voice. “Thank you for saying that.” He closed his eyes against the wave of pain. “I only wish I could make myself believe that I did the right thing.”
His lids flew open at the feel of her warm hand on his arm. Compassion shone in her eyes.
“You feel guilty because she died before you could resolve things between you,” she said softly.
The unbearable weight of it crushed his shoulders. If only it were that simple. He swallowed what felt like shards of glass. “I feel guilty,” he said, “because I’m responsible for her death.”
* * *
Paige reeled from the shock of Nathan’s words. How could that be? “I thought your wife died from a brain aneurysm.”
He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “The aneurysm happened after I refused Cynthia’s request to reconcile. The doctor said stress was a significant factor in causing the rupture. I might as well have put a gun to her head.” The bitterness in his voice tore at her heart.
She shifted in her chair, leaned in and squeezed his arm. “You’re wrong, Nathan. You can’t take the blame for Cynthia’s bad choices. That type of guilt will eat you alive.” Long-dormant emotions bubbled up like a geyser to flood her senses. She knew all about dealing with guilt. Guilt that ate at your soul and prevented healing.
Nathan barked out a harsh laugh. “Tell me about it.”
For the first time, Paige understood the pain behind his coldness and anger. And the reason he hadn’t been able to be there for his son.
Nathan was emotionally paralyzed.
She knew this, not only from the textbooks she’d studied, but from painful, personal experience. “I understand exactly what you’re going through,” she said softly.
Paige had never told a stranger her story. As painful as it would be to reopen the wound, if it could benefit Nathan and Zach, how could she hold back?
She bit her lip, trying to decide if she had the courage to go through with it. Before she could make up her mind, her cell phone went off. She glanced down at the display from Jerry. “I’m sorry,” she said to Nathan. “They need me down at the water.”
“Of course.” The shuttered look had returned.
Paige rose and gathered her music book. “Thank you for the coffee. Maybe we can continue this conversation another time.” Perhaps then she’d be better prepared to share her story.
Nathan rose, as well. “I’d like that.” Despite his gruffness, he seemed sincere.
She nodded and turned to descend the stone steps. It might have been her imagination, but as she made her way down to the beach, Paige could almost feel him watching her.
Nathan threw the book of sudoku puzzles onto the coffee table, leaned his head back against the sofa cushions and closed his eyes, wondering exactly when he’d become a hermit. Holed up in his hotel room with an odd assortment of puzzles for company.
Nathan sighed, trying hard not to think about everyone outside celebrating the Fourth of July with a barbecue, while he ate a cold sandwich on the couch. Alone.
Part of him yearned to join in with the festivities, to forget his anguish for one night, and pretend to be someone other than a washed-up minister with a son who hated him. But no matter where Nathan went, he couldn’t escape his past. Inevitably someone would ask him about his family, or his job. If only he were good at inventing vague answers. Unfortunately, the talent to fabricate stories seemed beyond his skill set.
Memories of past holidays stormed through his mind with the relentless fury of a freight train. Memories of the church picnics in the park, of families playing Frisbee, tag and hide-and-seek, waiting for the annual fireworks display to begin. Memories of happier times with Cynthia when they’d carry a sleeping Zach home to bed and tuck him in together.
Desperate for a distraction, Nathan grabbed the remote and clicked on the TV. If he were lucky, some mindless criminal show would capture his interest until it was late enough to go to bed.
He’d flicked through all the channels when a loud rap at his door startled him. He pressed the mute button and got slowly to his feet, annoyance climbing through him. Probably either George or Catherine, trying to coerce him to come out. His friends meant well, but couldn’t they understand he’d come up here for solitude and quiet?
A second knock, louder this time, echoed in the room.
“Who is it?”
“Paige McFarlane.”
Nathan jolted to his full height. What was she doing here? He flung open the door.
Dressed in her usual Wyndermere polo shirt and jeans, her hair loose around her shoulders, Paige stood poised ready to knock again.
“Is Zach okay?” he practically barked at her.
“He’s fine.” Her citrus scent swirled around him, irritating his already foul mood even further.
“Then why are you here?” Maybe if he was rude enough, she’d leave him be.
Instead, she hiked her chin, green eyes flashing.