At Bluebonnet Lake (Texas Crossroads Book #1): A Novel (34 page)

G
reg stared out the window, watching the puffy tops of cumulus clouds as the plane sped northwest. Roy was right. He’d been running away, first from his family and the expectations he could not meet, then from Kate and his fears. Both were wrong. He should have stood his ground. Admittedly, it would have been more difficult when he was a teenager, but he was a grown man now. There were no longer any reasons, only excuses.

He shouldn’t have left his parents’ home without at least trying to explain how his father’s abusive anger had made him feel unloved, and he most definitely should not have left Kate last night. Not without telling her he loved her. Not without asking her to be his wife. Instead, Greg had walked away when she needed him the most. He should have taken Roy to a hotel, then returned to be with Kate.

He could have sat with her while she waited to be allowed back into the ICU. He could have told her how much he’d enjoyed the way they’d worked together on the Easter party. He could have told her that, even though he had started to dream of a future that included both her and Rainbow’s End, she was the critical part of the equation. He could have told her that he would do
anything, even move to New York, if it meant they could have a life together. But he hadn’t.

He’d remained silent, and then he’d run away, grateful for the excuse she’d given him. That was a mistake, but God had been merciful. He had taken that mistake and turned it into something good. Greg knew without a doubt that Roy’s question and the dream that could no longer be called a nightmare were gifts from God. They’d forced him to face himself.

If the dream was right, Greg’s father was not the one-dimensional man he believed him to be. According to the dream, Kate had been correct in believing that his father had deeper, warmer feelings than Greg had ever acknowledged. Dad might refuse to admit them, but even if he did, Greg knew there were things he had to say and do before he could begin the next phase of his life, the life he hoped to build with Kate. The time for cowardice was over.

Greg took a deep breath before exhaling slowly. He loved Kate. He loved her, and he wanted her to be his wife. If they were blessed, he wanted her to be the mother of his children. Greg knew that with every fiber of his being. He should have told her, but he hadn’t, because he was afraid of failing. It was bad enough when his father and Drew had called him a loser, but Greg couldn’t bear to be a loser in Kate’s eyes. And so he hadn’t risked his heart. Until today. Everything would change today.

Greg rose and stretched, then helped himself to a cup of coffee from the pot the copilot had shown him when he’d boarded the private plane. He’d need caffeine—lots of it—if he was going to get through this day. Taking a sip, he headed back to his seat, reflecting on the things he hadn’t done because he’d been afraid to fail. That was the reason he hadn’t bought Rainbow’s End. Even though buying it would have been the answer to Carmen and KOB’s prayers, Greg hadn’t done it, because he’d been afraid he couldn’t make the resort successful.

He drained the cup and set it in one of the cup holders. As much as he’d come to love Rainbow’s End and the Hill Country, he knew he would not stay there without Kate. He loved her, and that was more important than anything else. But that discussion would come later when they were together. Right now, all he wanted was to hear her voice.

He reached into his pocket for his phone, startled when his hand came back empty. Greg shook his head in disgust. Would he never learn? Somehow, he’d left his phone in the cabin. Now he’d have to wait to talk to the woman he loved. Fortunately, he had her number and that of the hospital memorized. All he needed was a phone.

It was a half-hour drive from the small airport where he landed to his parents’ house. Though he tried to still the pounding of his heart, Greg couldn’t help wondering about the reception he’d receive. This was the first time he’d arrived unannounced. In the past, Mom had made a special dinner, and Dad . . . Greg doubted it was coincidence that his father always had important engagements with his buddies the nights Greg was in Orchard Slope.

The town looked more prosperous than he remembered, but perhaps that was only in contrast to Dupree. There were no empty buildings in Orchard Slope, and the sign welcoming visitors was freshly painted. Even the food processing plant appeared to have new paint. But though downtown might sport a few changes, the house where Greg had grown up was the same.

The two-story white farmhouse with the green roof and shutters looked the way it always had. A bed of daffodils softened the lines of the porch, while a wreath of silk flowers added a cheerful note to the front door. The wreath and flowers changed with the seasons, but everything else was unchanged. Was it only Greg who was different?

He parked his car on the street and walked around to the kitchen door on the east side of the house. As a kid, he’d have
gone in without knocking, but he no longer lived here, and so he rapped on the door. It took only a few seconds for it to be opened.

“Greg!” The blood drained from his mother’s face, and she gripped the door frame as if she feared she would fall. The sweater he’d given her a couple Mother’s Days ago had a spot of chocolate on one sleeve. That and the delicious aroma that wafted through the open door told Greg his mother had been baking. There was nothing surprising about that. What did surprise him was her appearance. Though it had been only four months since his last visit, Mom appeared to have aged several years. Her hair had more gray, and the lines on her face were more pronounced.

“What’s wrong?” she demanded, alarm coloring her voice.

It seemed Greg had made yet another mistake. He should have called to warn his mother. “Nothing,” he said, trying to reassure her. Judging from the way she was fussing with her hair, Greg guessed she would have colored it had she known he was coming. “I just wanted to talk to you and Dad.”

His mother opened the door wider and wrapped her arms around him in a quick hug as he entered the kitchen. “I’ve got some brownies in the oven, and your father’s watching sports. No surprise there.” She shrugged. “It seems he spends more time with that big-screen TV and the sports channels than he does with me.”

Nothing had changed since Greg’s childhood other than the size of the screen and the number of channels available.

“Debra, what’s going on?” Greg’s father called from the living room, raising his voice to be heard over the roar of race cars.

“It’s Greg,” Mom shouted in return. “He’s here.”

A creak of the recliner and the thud of feet on the floor told Greg his father was coming. He stood in the doorway to the kitchen wearing one of his favorite plaid shirts and a worn pair
of jeans. His hair might be a little grayer, perhaps a little thinner than the last time Greg had seen him, but his expression hadn’t changed. The green eyes, so like the ones Greg saw each time he looked in the mirror, were just as cold as ever.

“Did you get tired of South America or wherever it was you went?” he asked. That was vintage Linc Vange. No greeting, nothing more than a question that sounded more like an accusation.

Greg shrugged. He wouldn’t let the man intimidate him. Not today. “Actually, I was in Texas.” He glanced around the kitchen, wondering whether there were any new pictures of his sisters on display, but the arrangement on the refrigerator door appeared the same as it had at Christmas.

“Texas?” Mom slid her arm around Greg’s waist and looked up at him. “I thought you said you were going trekking somewhere there were pythons.”

“’Fraid not. The most dangerous thing I saw was a javelina.”

While his father made a sound that could have been a snort, Mom smiled. “I’m glad. I never did like snakes. Now, Son, how long can you stay?”

“Just for the day. I need to get back to San Antonio and the woman I hope to marry.”

His mother’s face brightened, and for a moment she looked as young and happy as the woman who’d cheered when he’d received his high school diploma. “Did you hear that, Linc?” she asked, turning toward her husband. “Our boy’s getting married.”

“If she’ll have me,” Greg cautioned. At this point he wasn’t certain of anything other than the fact that if Kate refused him, he’d ask again and again until she agreed to be his wife.

“Why wouldn’t she?” his father demanded. “You’re a fine young man.”

Greg blinked, astonished by the words of praise. This was
more than he’d expected. It was the first time he could recall a compliment from his father, and it warmed his heart more than he’d thought possible, making him believe he’d been right to come here. Perhaps, as he’d hoped, the dream had been a portent; perhaps today could be a new beginning for all of them.

He looked from his father to his mother. “I’m here because there are some things we need to talk about, and it didn’t seem right doing that over the phone.”

As if she had some inkling of what Greg wanted to discuss, his mother pushed him toward the kitchen table. “Sit down, Son.” She inclined her head toward her husband. “You’d better turn off the TV, Linc. It won’t hurt you to miss a few minutes.” When they were all seated at the round table that had been the scene of so many family meals, Mom smiled at Greg. “Tell us about your young woman.”

He held up his hand in the classic gesture for stop. “First things first.” He looked directly at his father. In the aftermath of last night’s dream, he had tried to view his childhood from his father’s perspective. “I want to apologize. I know I wasn’t the son you wanted, and I’m sorry.”

“What do you mean?” Mom asked, her voice shrill with emotion. “You’re a good son.”

Greg kept his gaze on his father. “I know you wanted someone who loved sports the way you do. Let’s face it: I was the laughingstock of Orchard Slope. I couldn’t hit a baseball or dunk a basketball. As for football, my only chance would have been as a referee, but they wouldn’t let kids do that. I know I was a disappointment.”

Linc Vange, the onetime star of every sport played at Orchard Slope High, nodded. “You’re right. I was disappointed. You weren’t the son I wanted.”

“Now, Linc.” Mom laid a cautionary hand on his arm, the movement releasing a whiff of lavender that mingled with the
aroma of brownies. The scents might be ordinary, but the situation was not. “There’s no need—”

“Let him talk,” Greg said, his voice harsher than he’d intended. It was too late for Mom to play peacemaker. “We should have had this conversation years ago. Go ahead, Dad. Tell me why you were disappointed.” It wouldn’t be anything Greg hadn’t surmised, but he couldn’t build a future until he’d put the past to rest.

“Sports were my whole life until I met your mother,” his father said, his eyes bright as he smiled at the woman he’d married. “More than anything, I wanted a son to share that with me.” And, though he didn’t say it, Greg suspected he’d wanted his son to achieve what he had not: a place on a professional team.

Dad’s eyes narrowed as he turned his gaze on Greg. “When you were born, I pictured us going to games together. I even figured I’d coach when you were old enough to play.”

“And that never happened.”

“No, it didn’t. Instead, you turned into a brainiac. I don’t know if you can imagine what it’s like, having your kid know more than you do. My buddies never said much, but I could tell what they were thinking—poor Linc.” He fisted his hands, then pounded one on the table.

“Linc.” Mom’s protest went unheeded.

“And then you started sending money. How do you think that made me feel? It seemed like you were rubbing my nose in the fact that I couldn’t support my family.”

That Greg had never considered this made him ashamed. He’d told himself his father had never understood him, but he was equally guilty. “You took it,” he said softly.

“For her.” Dad nodded at his wife. “I wanted her to have nice things.”

Mom sniffed and pulled a tissue from her pocket. Though Greg hated the fact that she was upset, he couldn’t stop now.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Would you have listened?” His father countered the question with one of his own.

“Probably not,” Greg admitted. It hurt to think of how callous he’d been. Like father, like son was no excuse. He should have known better. “At first all I wanted was to get away from here and stop feeling like a failure.”

Mom laid her hand on Greg’s arm and gave it a little squeeze. “You were never a failure.”

“I was in Dad’s eyes.” He waited until his father met his gaze before he continued. “You talk about how your buddies made you feel. Did you ever think that once—just once—I wanted you to look at me and see me? Me, Greg Vange. Not Linc’s son but a separate person. That’s what I wanted, and you never gave it to me. Instead all you did was yell at me and tell me I wasn’t good enough.”

His father lowered his eyes to the table as if the scarred wood held the answers. Though Greg had hoped for a response, some acknowledgment of the pain he had felt, he knew he would not get it.

“I was determined I wouldn’t come back until I proved to the world that I wasn’t a failure, but I learned something along the way.” And what Greg had learned had made an enormous difference in his life. “I discovered that it doesn’t matter what the world thinks. It doesn’t even matter what your parents think. All that matters is what God
knows
. He knows how I’ve struggled, and he knows how I’ve failed. But you know what? He loves me anyway.”

Her eyes filled with tears, Mom tried to smile at Greg. “We love you too.”

He’d always known his mother loved him. It had been his father’s love he’d doubted. Greg looked at his father. “Do you?”

“Yeah, I do.” The words were simple, but there was no doubting their sincerity.

“Then why didn’t you ever tell me?” Greg demanded. All those years of feeling unworthy and unloved could have been avoided if only his father had uttered those three little words.

For the first time that he could recall, Greg saw confusion in his father’s eyes. The mask of confidence had cracked, revealing the man behind it. “I don’t know.”

It was as if the dam had broken, releasing the words both men had held back for so long. They talked for hours, and as they did, Greg realized there would never be one of those made-for-TV-movie happy endings for him and his father. They were too different, their goals too diverse. But by the time his mother announced that supper was ready, Greg knew that even though he and his father might never become friends, for the first time, they understood each other.