Richard’s mouth tightened. “I apologize. We should have told you.”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for. You and Grace took me in when my own flesh and blood disowned me.”
“You are our son.” Richard’s voice grew husky. “You have always been our son.”
Gabriel’s hands gripped the journal more tightly.
“Will it—offend you if I try to find out more about my biological parents?”
“Of course not. It’s your heritage and you have a right to know about it.”
“You’re my dad,” Gabriel observed quietly.
“Always,” said Richard. “And no matter what.”
“I put you and Grace at risk. You mortgaged your home to rescue me.”
“A parent’s love isn’t conditional. No matter what you did, you were always our son. I simply prayed that one day you’d come back to us. And you did.”
Gabriel’s knee began to bounce in agitation.
Richard’s gray eyes grew very intense as he watched him.
“We didn’t give birth to you, but you are our son. You belonged with us.”
“What did Grace say to my grandmother?”
Richard sat back in his chair.
“I think she explained who she was and what happened to your mother. I know she talked about you. She hoped she could reason with your family.”
“And could she?”
“No.” Richard appeared grim. “Your grandmother was too blinded by her own morality and her anger with her daughter. She disowned your mother when she became pregnant, and I doubt they saw one another after that.”
“What about my father? Did Grace call him too?”
Richard shifted his weight. “I know we spoke to you about this because it came up in connection with your birth certificate. Your father persuaded your mother not to list him, which is why it only names your mother.”
“So how did Grace find him?”
“Through your grandmother. She wasn’t in a hurry to help her grandson, but she was eager enough to name your father. She had his address and telephone number, which is probably what you have there.” Richard gestured toward the diary. “Grace knew better than to call him at home. She called him at the office. He refused to speak with her.”
“I can recall Grace saying that my father knew where I was but that he wasn’t coming to get me.”
“She hoped your relatives would welcome you, which is why she called them.”
“Grace thought the best of everyone.”
“She did. But she was no fool. After speaking with your grandmother and trying in vain to talk to your father, she let it go. You’ve been with us ever since.” He looked at Gabriel sadly. “Grace expected that she would be here when you found those pages. I know she would have wanted to talk to you about them.”
“I should have looked at them earlier.”
He thought for a moment about the vision he had of Grace and how she’d forgiven him. He still mourned her.
“Julianne is very fond of you.” Gabriel changed the subject, if only to free himself of his painful musings.
“As I am of her. I have her and you to thank for allowing me to come home.”
“This will always be your home.” Gabriel shifted in his chair. “She thinks that if God is like a father, he must be like you.”
Richard chuckled. “A high compliment, but an unwarranted one. I’m imperfect like everyone else.”
“Would that I could have one quarter of your imperfection,” Gabriel muttered, lowering his head.
“Grace and I always thought of you as a gift. But since she died, I’ve realized something even more profound.”
Gabriel lifted his head, turning to look at his father.
“I know that you feel some sort of gratitude to us for adopting you—as if we did you a favor. But you’re looking at things the wrong way.”
Richard’s eyes met Gabriel’s.
“God gave you to us because he knew we needed you.”
The two men exchanged a long look before gazing out at the orchard and losing themselves in silence. And if anyone had commented on the fact that Gabriel’s eyes were wet, he would have said it was because of his allergies.
Chapter Forty-four
September 9, 2011
Durham, North Carolina
April Hudson exited her apartment building with the intention of driving to campus, but she was stopped abruptly by a man carrying roses.
“Hi,” he said, smiling.
“Simon!” She ran to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and squealing. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you. And to give you these.” He lifted the dozen long-stemmed red roses he held in his left hand.
“They’re beautiful. Thank you.” She jumped up and down and hugged him.
He laughed at her exuberance and returned her embrace, burying his nose in her long, blond hair.
“I was worried I wouldn’t see you again. Do you want to come in?” she murmured against his neck.
He nodded, and she led him to the elevator.