“He killed himself?” Greg covered her hand with his, unable to imagine the sadness of that scenario, but able to read the reality in Tara’s shadowed eyes. “Tara, I’m so sorry.”
“Us too. We’d prayed hard and long for him to get better, but in the end it wasn’t enough.”
“Because God didn’t save him?” That would have ticked Greg off, but Tara’s quick shake of the head disagreed.
“Dad was angry about everything, and mental health services were expensive so he wouldn’t go for help. He didn’t want to go to church with us, or be around happy people. He avoided everything we considered nice and normal, so it’s hard to blame God when my dad refused to even try to meet him halfway. I don’t think God forces his way into our hearts and souls.”
She paused, thoughtful. “I think we invite him in, and my father was angry for so long that I think he forgot how to be happy. I decided I’d become an amazing lawyer. Strong. Smart. Dedicated. And when I say I’ll help people, I’ll do it. No matter what.”
Her words hit home. Had Greg ever considered the fallout of his legal actions? The innocent people who were affected by the firm’s wheeling and dealing? Did his initiatives leave other children out in the cold, scrabbling to get by? Probably. Could he afford to get sentimental over work? No. Degrees of separation were crucial in corporate law. Business was business.
Perfect! his conscience scoffed. Your father would be proud. So proud.
“We survived,” Tara went on. “My mom is a wonderful person. She works two jobs, and she’s always been there for me and my younger brother. We’re the first to make it through college, much less law school. So my success is really her success.”
Greg felt the same way about his own mother. She had groomed him for victory, but right now he didn’t feel all that victorious. A part of him felt like a little boy lost, wondering how to get home. A crazy thought, when he was on the cusp of something big. “My mom was like that too. They would have liked each other.”
She nodded, started to say something, then stopped. He helped. “What’s on your mind? I can tell you’ve got something to say and you’re not sure if it’s your place to do it.”
She hesitated, still frowning. “I do, but it might take a little while.”
“Food?”
She waved him off and looked embarrassed. “I wasn’t hinting for supper, Greg.”
“Well, I was.” He made a quick left, then a right. “Tim had chicken wings, but I need something more substantial.”
“But there’s another game.”
He didn’t care.
That realization should have unnerved him. It didn’t, because the prospect of spending time with Tara seemed better than a game. “Mexican?”
“Love it more than life itself.”
He grinned at her enthusiasm and pulled into a parking space down the road from a great little Tex-Mex place that looked like a dive but had the best food around. He rounded the car just in time to open her door.
She looked up, surprised and pleased. “Thank you.”
She smiled, and what he wanted to do was take her hand. Hold it. Walk with her hand clasped in his, just to see if last night’s reaction was a fluke.
He didn’t.
She was leaving for the valleys of northern Pennsylvania. He was destined for New York City. No sense starting something with so little time.
When the counter clerk served up their food on a burnt-orange plastic tray, he wondered if he should have taken Tara to a more upscale place. She was country at heart, but didn’t a woman like Tara deserve the best?
“Oh, be still, my wedding-loving heart.” She laughed when he brought the pile of food over to the table.
“You set the table.” He glanced at the paper napkins and plastic silverware. “Well done.”
“Doing my part.” She smiled at him, then at a young couple’s baby across the aisle.
The little boy promptly burst into tears—loud, yowling tears that forced his mother to get up and walk the little guy around.
“Your cheeks are red.”
“I’ve just scared a baby, and I’m about to tell you that your bridal store needs help. And I’m not talking about another clerk on hand. Of course my face is red.”
“The books have us in the black.” He raised his shoulders. “And whether or not we keep it open, the black is a good place to be.”
“Should I disagree now and risk the removal of my food, or wait until I’ve eaten?” She stared at the food with longing, as if assessing the possibilities.
“All right. Eat and talk. Your food is safe.”
“Elena’s is one-of-a-kind, purposely.”
He nodded. His mother had seen the value of the Old City shop at a time when the historic area of Philadelphia had fallen on hard times. She’d put together the payments to buy the store with the cool cash settlement Carlos paid out when he ended their marriage. From a dream broken came a dream fulfilled, which made closing the store harder than he ever imagined.