50 Harbor Street - Debbie Macomber [113]
“I thought we should tell them one at a time.” She met his eyes. “Is that the way you’d like to do it?”
He nodded. Telling his children…This, above everything else, would be the most difficult part of the whole situation.
Mack arrived at nine. Roy didn’t know what Corrie had said to persuade him to drive from south Seattle to Cedar Cove this early in the morning. Generally, Mack avoided his father. And thinking back over the last few years, Roy accepted the blame for their estrangement.
He wasn’t completely sure when this rift between them had started—when Mack was in high school probably. Roy had wanted his son to play football the way he had; Mack chose soccer. In his disappointment, Roy had refused to attend any of Mack’s games. That had been childish, and he regretted it deeply. From then on, their relationship had degenerated into a clash of wills. It almost seemed as if Mack had made a point of provoking his father. Corrie’s heartbreak was something else Roy laid at his own door.
Mack stood awkwardly in the living room, hands tucked in his pockets. “Mom. Dad.” He acknowledged each one with a curt nod. “You wanted to talk to me?”
Corrie nodded and indicated he should sit down. Mack did, perching on the outer edge of the chair, presumably in case he needed to make a fast getaway. He was a fine-looking young man, Roy thought, studying his son as though he were a stranger. As tall as Roy was himself, he had curly hair, which he wore longer than Roy liked—no doubt why Mack had chosen that style.
Roy looked at Corrie and she looked at him. They should have discussed the best way to broach the subject beforehand. He understood why they hadn’t. Talking about their first daughter was just too painful.
“Your mother and I have something to tell you,” Roy announced, sitting beside Corrie on the sofa.
She reached for a tissue and wadded it tightly.
Mack went very still. He frowned. “Are you two…splitting?”
Roy shook his head. “Never,” he said, taking Corrie’s hand. “Your mother’s stuck with me for the rest of our natural lives.”
That seemed to reassure their son, who smiled briefly.
“Before we explain why we asked you to come over this morning, there’s something I need to say first.” Roy cleared his throat. This seemed to be the day for difficult conversations. “I love my wife and I love my children.”
Mack shrugged, seemingly indifferent.
“What I’m attempting to tell you, Mack, is that I love you. You’re my son. My only son. I know we’ve had our differences over the years, and I blame myself for those. From the time you were a teenager, I gave you the impression that you were a disappointment to me. You weren’t. And you aren’t. I expected you to live up to what I felt was your potential—not that it was my right to determine what you should be or do. But despite everything, you followed your own path. That took grit and character.” He paused and looked away. “I’m proud to call you my son.”
Mack stared at him hard, as if he wasn’t sure what to say.
Roy stood, extending his hand. Mack met him halfway but it wasn’t a handshake they shared, it was a hug. By the time Roy sat next to Corrie again, his eyes were moist, and he saw that Mack’s were, too.
Corrie didn’t pretend to hide her own tears, which streamed down her face unchecked. “There’s…more,” she said after a few moments.
“More?” Mack glanced at Roy, who nodded.
“There’s something else you need to know,” Roy said, studying his hands. “It isn’t easy to say this.”
Mack leapt to his feet. “You’ve got cancer!”
When Roy shook his head, Mack subsided into his chair but still looked apprehensive.
“You mean this father-son thing doesn’t have anything to do with…why you asked me to come over this morning?” he asked.
“No, but what I’m about to tell you will come as a shock.” And he launched into the whole story.
Their news did astound Mack. He held up his hand and stopped Roy halfway through. “You mean to say you got Mom pregnant when you were in college?”