“Bring Jason with you,” Catherine urged. She knew her daughter well enough to recognize that her current boyfriend was someone special.
“Mother,” Carrie chided, “I don’t—”
She was interrupted by a terrible clang. For no apparent reason, a table full of freshly cooked crabs toppled over, scattering them in every direction. Most of the contents slid across the pavement toward a strikingly attractive older man who leaped out of the way with enviable dexterity.
Catherine recognized Greg instantly, but she soon discovered that his gaze was focused on Carrie. He frowned, as if confused.
“Catherine?”
Carrie turned toward her mother and Greg’s gaze followed. Catherine looked him full in the face, was looking at him for the first time in thirty-five years. Her lungs felt frozen and for a moment she couldn’t breathe.
So this was Greg.
During the past decades Catherine had sometimes wondered how she’d react if she ever saw him again. Now she knew. Her mouth went dry, and the remembered pain of what he’d done made it difficult to swallow.
“Mom?”
Carrie’s voice sounded as if it was coming from a great distance.
Catherine had to make a concerted effort to pull her attention back to her daughter.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Carrie said worriedly.
“I’m fine,” Catherine assured her daughter, but in fact, she was seeing a ghost. The ghost of a man who had destroyed her ability to love and trust. Time had dulled her bitterness toward Greg Bennett, had changed her feelings, but even all these years couldn’t minimize the shock of seeing him so unexpectedly.
Before she could decide if she should approach Greg or ignore him, he took a step toward her, then hesitated. Catherine remained still. He slowly came closer until they stood face-to-face.
A flurry of activity went on about them as several people scurried to pick up the spilled crabs, but Catherine barely noticed.
“Catherine.” Greg’s voice was low, a little shaky.
“You know my mother?” Carrie asked, taking Catherine’s arm protectively.
“Greg’s an old friend,” Catherine explained when it became apparent that Greg wasn’t answering. She saw the way he stared at her daughter, and then she understood why. “Greg, this is my twenty-five-year-old daughter, Carrie Thorpe.”
He picked up her message quickly. This wasn’t his child, his daughter, and to his credit his recovery was smooth. “You’re just as beautiful as your mother. When I first saw you I thought you were your mother.”
Carrie blushed at the praise. “People tell me that all the time.” She suddenly glanced at her watch. “Oh, no. I hope you’ll forgive me, but I have to rush back to work.”
“Of course,” Greg said as Carrie turned away.
“Goodbye, darling,” Catherine called after her. “We’ll see you and Jason Sunday for dinner.”
When she was gone, Catherine looked at Greg. She’d always known this might happen, that she’d encounter Greg again, but now that she had, she wasn’t sure what to do or what to say.
Greg seemed equally flustered. “It’s been…a lot of years.”
She gave a quick nod.
“Would you care to sit down?” he asked, then offered her a shaky smile. “Frankly, my knees feel like they’re about to give out on me.”
Catherine didn’t feel much steadier herself. “That sounds like a good idea.”
Greg led her to a sidewalk café, and when the waiter appeared, he ordered coffee for both of them. Although she normally drank her coffee black, Catherine added sugar to help her recover from the shock.
“Does Carrie have any older siblings?” Greg asked after a moment of stilted silence.
“A brother…I…had a boy seven months after you left,” she said.
“You kept the baby?”
“Yes.”
“You raised him?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
She merely nodded this time, her throat thickening with the memory of the hardships she’d endured in those early years—the long hours, the hard work, the sleepless nights. “I…married when Edward was eight,” she managed after a while, “and a year later Larry adopted him.”
“So I have a son.”
“No,” Catherine told him, but without malice. “You are the biological father of a child. A wonderful young man who matured without the opportunity of ever knowing you. Without your ever knowing him.”
Greg stared down at his coffee. “I was young. Stupid.”
“Afraid,” Catherine added softly. “We both were.”
“But you weren’t the one who ran away.”