Page 30 of Gideon's Gratitude

Again, nothing I could relate to. There’d been some emotional abuse in my parents’ marriage, but they’d stuck it out. Occasionally I wondered why my mother didn’t leave, but—in my heart—I’d known the answer. Financial considerations. They were barely scraping by. Living just above the poverty line. Her leaving would’ve destroyed the family. For whatever that’d been worth. In the end, it’d been decimated anyway.

“Might I ask why you got divorced?”

Wow, talk about a personal question. “Since you asked nicely—”

Archer frowned.

“Basically, my husband couldn’t trust me anymore. I betrayed his trust, and he couldn’t forgive me. No cheating or anything like that. And even as I say the words, I can’t believe they’re true. I mean, I’d like to think I might be willing to forgive, if our situations were reversed. But, nope, he insisted the marriage was over. We’d been together seventeen years and had two beautiful children. Now? Nothing. Gone. Like it never happened.” Except the twice-monthly video chat with the kids.

“I didn’t realize you were gay.” Archer waved his hand. “Sorry, completely inappropriate thing to say.” He placed his hands flat on the table. “Have you lost custody as well?”

I bit my lower lip.

Don’t cry.

“Yeah, part of the divorce agreement. I’d love to say it’ll be revisited eventually, but likely not. I get video chats with the kids, but it’s not the same. They’ll grow older, and I’ll become a distant memory. I suspect there’ll come a time when they’re not interested at all. Or Leo will remarry, and I’ll be nothing more than an afterthought. Someone who used to be important but isn’t any longer, you know?”

“That does—to an outsider—appear a bit extreme. Was there abuse?”

I shook my head.

“Neglect?”

I shook my head. But then added, “Not intentional.”

“Often it isn’t.” Archer tapped his index finger. “If you want to fight for custody— some kind of parental rights—I can do that on your behalf.”

“I can’t afford you.” Plain and simple. I thrust down the flare of hope.

“I do plenty of pro bono work.” Something flashed across his face. “I mean, I wouldn’t be able to start for a bit, but likely before Christmas. If you need it sooner, I might be able to refer you—”

“I don’t need it sooner. I don’t need it at all. The judge signed off on it. My lawyer recommended it. His lawyer insisted on it. He demanded it. Everyone believes it’s a good idea. Who am I to argue?”

“You’re the father of those children, and you love them.”

God, that hurts. That really hurts.“Sometimes love isn’t enough.”

An echo of the words Leo’d said at our last meeting. That’d been the final blow. Because it meant Leo still loved me. Just as I loved Leo. Too high a wall to scale, this forgiveness thing.

“Fresh off the grill for you.”

Sarabeth’s appearance caught me off guard.

Archer as well, since he startled.

I leaned back while she placed the burger platter before me, and my companion pushed aside the glass to make room for the plate.

The grin he gave Sarabeth was wide and toothy.

Those damn perfect teeth again.

“You guys need anything?” She pointed. “Ketchup is on the table.”

When we shook our heads, she nodded and headed over to another table. Within moments, her laughter carried across the room.

“She seems quite content in her position.” Archer poked a fork at the hot dog. “I could make a joke about the size of this thing, but I suspect it would be inappropriate.”

That made me smile. The prim-and-proper lawyer making a joke about length amused me. I popped a French fry into my mouth. Then quickly sipped the shake. She hadn’t been kidding when she said fresh off the grill. To bide my time, I poured some ketchup off to the side.

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