“I love you, Ben. If David is involved, you can rest assured that no one in this family will blame you in any way for your son’s actions.”
Her husband glanced up, and his eyes shone with appreciation. “Thank you,” he whispered, taking her hand at last. “If David did this, I’ll personally reimburse Justine and Seth for their losses.”
“Ben! You can’t possibly do that.” Restitution for The Lighthouse wasn’t his obligation—and it would wipe him out financially. “They have insurance.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I won’t allow my son to hurt you, directly or indirectly.”
Charlotte thought she might weep for his pain, for his disappointment in David and his nobility in assuming an obligation he didn’t need to.
But that was Ben, wasn’t it? And those were the reasons she loved him.
Forty
“Can’t you do something to help my wife?” Jon pleaded with the labor room nurse. The middle-aged woman with gray-streaked hair wore a name tag that identified her as Stacy Eagleton.
“Honey, I’m fine,” Maryellen whispered, her brow damp with perspiration. Her death grip on Jon’s hand said differently.
Jon was worried. Maryellen had been in labor for nearly twenty hours, and with each passing minute, his fears mounted. Everything about this pregnancy had been difficult. He didn’t know why he’d assumed the labor would go smoothly when nothing else had.
The hospital staff had all assured him that his wife’s labor was progressing normally. “These things take time,” Stacy had repeatedly told him. If one more person uttered that trite remark, Jon thought he might not be able to control his temper. Twenty hours wasn’t normal. It couldn’t be. Katie had arrived with far less effort on Maryellen’s part.
“Give her something for the pain,” he instructed the nurse.
His wife opened her eyes and lifted her head from the pillow. She’d grown so pale, so weak. “No,” she said in a surprisingly strong voice. “It’s not good for the baby.”
At this point, Jon was far more concerned about his wife.
Before he could try to convince her to accept medication, Maryellen groaned. Then, as if she couldn’t bear the agony another second, she tossed her head from side to side. Jon did everything he could think of to help her, but she no longer wanted him to touch her or massage her back. The most she’d let him do was count off the seconds, and that seemed so damn little.
“Excellent, excellent,” Stacy encouraged Maryellen, after checking to see if dilation was complete. “Everything’s looking good. I’ll get Dr. DeGroot for the delivery.”
Kissing Maryellen’s hand, Jon whispered, “It won’t be long now.”
His wife offered him a feeble smile. “I don’t think our baby is all that willing to be born.”
Jon remembered the elated feeling he’d experienced at Katie’s birth. The miracle of bringing a new life into the world had left him awed and humbled, although much of the labor remained a blur in his memory. How oblivious he’d been to the reality he faced now as he watched his wife struggle to give birth to his child.
He loved Maryellen deeply, but never more than he did just then. He laid a cool cloth across her brow and kissed her temple and whispered his love.
“Are Joseph and Ellen still in the waiting room?” she asked, looking up at him.
Jon nodded. Grace had called them, and as soon as his father and stepmother learned that Maryellen had gone into labor, they’d rushed to the hospital. The truth was, he didn’t want them there. All that prevented Jon from asking them to leave was his love for Maryellen.
“Have you talked to them?” she asked.
Although he knew he was a disappointment to her, Jon shook his head. “I’ve had the nurse give them regular updates.”
Her smile faded.
Jon leaned his forehead against the edge of the mattress. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept. But he knew the tiredness he felt didn’t compare to what Maryellen had endured during these twenty hours.
She moaned slightly, and her grip on his hand was punishing. Trying to help her, he softly counted off the seconds. The pain lasted a full minute and a half, and her contractions came so quickly now, there was barely a moment between them. When this latest one had passed, a tear rolled from the corner of her eye.
Dr. DeGroot arrived and nodded at Jon. “This seems like a good day to be born, don’t you think?” he said, as he took his position at the end of the birthing bed.
Everyone suddenly seemed to get busy. Several nurses surrounded Maryellen and there was a noticeable surge of energy now that the birth was imminent.
“Let’s see what we have here,” the physician murmured. “Okay, Maryellen, get ready to push.”
Jon felt a little extraneous, as though he had no real role anymore. There was some problem, but he didn’t completely understand it. Apparently the baby was facing up instead of down, which had contributed to the lengthy labor.
The pain that followed seemed to be the worst so far. Maryellen gritted her teeth and bore down with what appeared to be an excruciating effort. She half rose from the bed and groaned loudly.
“Good, good,” Dr. DeGroot said encouragingly.
Jon was mesmerized. He watched as the baby slipped free of Maryellen’s body and into the physician’s waiting hands with a lusty cry. The doctor smiled and turned to Jon. “Congratulations! You have a son.”
Jon smiled at Maryellen. “It’s a boy,” he told her unnecessarily.
“Is he all right?” she asked anxiously.
“He’s perfect,” Jon announced, although he couldn’t really see anything through the tears that clouded his vision.
“Welcome, little Drake,” Jon whispered. This was the name Maryellen had liked best. They’d discussed names a hundred different times, poring through baby-name books Grace had brought them from the library. Unreasonable as it seemed now, he’d assumed the baby would be another girl; if it was, they’d settled on Emily.
“We don’t have a middle name,” Maryellen said, reminding Jon that he’d promised to choose a second name. “Drake Jonathon has a nice ring to it.” She smiled up at him and he leaned forward and kissed her, putting all his love, all his pride in her into that kiss.
“There’s plenty of time to choose one,” he said, entwining his fingers with hers.
When he straightened, the nurse handed Jon his son. Maryellen was right; little Drake found the world the most irritating of environments. The baby cried until Jon rocked him gently, then placed him in Maryellen’s arms.
As if she needed to see for herself, she pulled back the receiving blanket and examined his fingers and toes. Drake gazed up at her and instantly settled down to sleep. Like Jon, his son had found his contentment in Maryellen’s arms.
“I believe your family’s waiting for the news,” Stacy Eagleton told him after finishing with Maryellen.
“Will you tell them?” Maryellen asked, her eyes imploring.
It was decision time for Jon. A part of him wanted to ignore the fact that his father and stepmother were even at the hospital. He’d vowed not to let them back in his life. He’d fought to maintain this promise to himself. He didn’t want to care about his father. The man had turned his back on Jon when he’d counted on his family to come forward with the truth. He’d lied. Even knowing his oldest son was innocent, Joseph had sent him to prison.
“Jon?” Maryellen whispered.
Her soft voice drew him from his reverie. As he stared down at his sleeping son, Jon’s heart filled with such overwhelming love that he thought it might burst wide open. For the first time, he understood his father’s dilemma.
Jon had two children now, too. Katie and Drake, and he loved them equally. If he had to choose to send one to prison over the other, which would it be? He didn’t ever want to find himself in such a horrible position—sacrificing one child to protect the other. Granted, Joseph had no legal or moral right to make such a choice, to play God in this way, but Jon could understand it now, at least a little. Yes, Jim had been guilty, but he was a weak and vulnerable man, easily broken. He’d lied about Jon’s culpability, and Joseph had backed him up. Joseph had chosen to sacrifice Jon because he was stronger than his brother. Prison would have destroyed Jim. In the end, of course, Jim had destroyed himself, despite Joseph’s attempts to save him with rehab and counseling and unstinting support.
“I’ll tell them,” he said.
Maryellen clasped his hand. “Thank you.”
“They’ve been here nearly twenty hours, too,” he reminded her.
As he walked into the waiting area, Ellen and Joseph immediately stood. Two other people who sat at the far end glanced over, then returned to their conversation. His parents looked at him, their eyes wide with expectation. They were both tired and disheveled, especially his father. Only the day before, Joseph had frantically stumbled through knee-deep running water in a desperate attempt to save Katie. His father, with a weak heart, had nearly suffered a heart attack while rescuing his granddaughter.
If he lived another hundred years, Jon would never forget the panic in his father’s eyes when Jon found him sitting on a fallen log, holding a sobbing Katie in his arms. He’d been panting with relief and physical exertion and was deathly pale. Seeing the embankment his father had clambered down in his struggle to reach Katie, Jon thought it was a miracle the old man hadn’t been swept away himself.
“We have a son,” Jon told them.
Ellen brought her hands to her mouth and tears streamed from her eyes.
“A boy,” his father repeated, grinning proudly.
“He’s perfect.”
“Maryellen’s okay?” Joe asked.
“She’s exhausted. I’m married to an incredible woman, you know that?”
Joseph grinned again and nodded in obvious agreement.
“How much does he weigh?” his stepmother asked.
“Six pounds, thirteen ounces,” Jon said. “He measured twenty-one inches.”
“He’s going to be lanky like his father,” Joseph commented.
“And grandfather,” Ellen added, looping her arm around her husband’s waist. She leaned her head against his arm. “Have you and Maryellen chosen a name?”
Jon looked at the two of them. “We decided on Drake,” he said.
“Drake. Drake Bowman.” His father seemed to test the name, then nodded approvingly. “I like it.”
“Drake Joseph Bowman,” Jon said, his gaze connecting with his father’s.
Joseph stared at him, and then his eyes filled with tears that ran down his cheeks.
“Oh, Jon.” Ellen was sobbing now. She held out her arms to him and after the briefest hesitation, Jon hugged his stepmother and then his father.
He hadn’t known he was capable of forgiveness until that moment. What he’d discovered was that when a man found love, the kind of love and contentment he’d discovered with Maryellen, there wasn’t room in his life for hatred.
