Page 55 of Wishes on Wildflowers
“Jasmine! There you are. Will you drive me home? I’m not feeling so well.”
“What’s the matter, Marietta?” Hailey edged closer, concern filling her voice.
Nonna shook her head. “Just tired, that is all. I’m not as young as I used to be, and weddings are exhausting.”
Jasmine had caught a ride to the church with Linnea and Logan, but she could borrow a car. Taking her grandmother home was the perfect excuse to get out of attending the reception. “I’ll get Dad’s keys. You wait here.”
“I’ll walk her out to the parking lot.” Hailey took Nonna’s arm.
Good idea. Jasmine nodded and ducked out of the small room, back into the throng. Worry for her grandmother only slightly clouded her relief at her chance to escape.
21
At the backof the funeral home, Nathan took Makenna’s arm, marveling once again at the genuine grief the new widow portrayed. How could anyone have loved Pops so completely? What had she seen in him, especially in the last few years, that no one else had? She must have hoped to inherit the house and whatever Pops might have in assets, but the will had deeded the house to Nathan. He didn’t even want it, wrapped as it was in so many unpleasant memories. But when he’d offered to sign it over to her, she’d turned him down.
“No, he wanted you to have it. I know he did. Don’t worry about me. Maurice left me enough, and I’ll go back to nursing. That’s my first love, anyway.”
So she hadn’t been a money-grubber all along, not that there’d been much left over.
And Nathan owned a house he didn’t want.
First, they needed to get through the funeral. Nathan’s three half-brothers filed to the front seats behind Makennaand him. A smattering of maybe fifty people dotted the chapel, folks come to pay their last respects to a man who’d once been a part of their community before he’d drifted away through drink and disease.
The service was short, and the chaplain’s words few. There wasn’t much to say. Those last days in the hospital, Nathan had talked to Pops about God’s love. Whether the dying man had accepted salvation, Nathan wasn’t certain. A good, caring son would have been part of his father’s life, would have lived out his beliefs in front of his father. Nathan hadn’t been that son. He hadn’t found his way back to God that long ago himself.
Afterward, Ray Santoro’s strong hand gripped his. “How are you holding up, son?”
For the first time, emotion threatened to flood Nathan. Perhaps it was the gentle voice calling him son. “Holding on, sir. Holding on.”
“It’s none of my business what happened between you and my daughter, Nathan, but I hope you two will give each other another chance. I know your father’s affairs have taken most of your time and focus in the past week or two, and that’s as it should be. But Jasmine is hurting, too, and I hope you’ll find your way back together.”
Terrible as it seemed, Nathan had been glad of the distraction Pops’s final days had provided. He hadn’t even minded missing the wedding they’d planned to attend together two weeks ago. Even so, his thoughts had spiraled back to Jasmine every spare moment. Had replayed their last words to each other. What could he have said differently? Renounced Basil for her sake? Agreed with her that God’s grace didn’t extend to her brother? He couldn’t.
He gripped Ray’s hand. “I really appreciate that, sir, butthe ball is in her court. I’m begging God constantly to work things out. I love your daughter, Ray. Though I went astray, I always have loved her. I want to marry her if she’ll have me.”
A sheen glistened in the older man’s eyes. “We’d be pleased to have you in our family. Grace thinks of you as one of her own.”
Emotion caught Nathan’s throat. “Thank you. I can’t tell you what your words mean to me but, right now, I’m not certain I’ll ever get the chance. She’s a stubborn woman.”
A half-grin poked at Ray’s cheeks. “She’s a lot like my mother. Both of them are all heart behind their crusts. They love deeply and forever.”
Nathan swallowed hard in an attempt to keep his emotions under control. He glanced around the thinning group in the chapel. Not far away, his brother Connor talked to a pregnant teenaged girl standing next to Peter.
“You keeping the baby?” Connor’s gaze flitted to the large belly then back to the girl’s face.
Dafne nodded, chin up. “I’ve tried to convince myself he’d be better off adopted into a real family, but I can’t do it. He’s mine.”
“It’s a boy?”
“Yes.”
Connor drove his hand through his carefully gelled hair. “Man, I’m sorry, Daf. I shouldn’t have, you know…”
“Got me pregnant? Took two of us.”
“No, I mean… yes. But, I shouldn’t have pushed you about the abortion. I just didn’t want to deal with it all.”
Dafne’s eyes narrowed. “You did a good job of not dealing with it.”
