His brother wrapped him in a bear hug, both of them holding on longer than usual.
They broke apart. “Beth is pissed,” Matt said.
“She was scared. We all were. Getting mad is how she handles it. She’ll come around.”
Yeah. She would. But would Abby? He didn’t ask his brother, the possibility too terrifying to voice.
The back car door opened and Annie got out, pushing her way past him at a full run.
“Annie, stop.”
He caught her around the waist two steps from the street.
“Let me go!”
“No. I won’t let you go.”
She struggled against him through her pitiful sobs and choked words. “I said I didn’t want you to come back. But didn’t mean it.”
“Shh. It’s okay now.”
“I didn’t mean it.”
“I know, baby. It’s okay. There’s nothing you could ever do to make me not come back to you. Nothing. You can be mad, you can scream, whatever you need to do, but I won’t let you go. Not ever.”
Finally, she gave in and threw her arms around him even as she cried for him to let her go. He held her close, picturing what life would be like without her trust. It’d been so hard to win, more precious than gold, and now he’d lost it. What if he never got it back?
Would she ever come to him after a bad dream? Would the bad dreams be about him? Who would walk her down the aisle? Who would protect her from the world? He thought of the uncertainty in her eyes after Mary had been born, when she’d asked if she’d still be his princess.
When she was finally spent, he stood with her in his arms and put her back into the car. He didn’t bother with apologies or promises. He touched her braid. “You’re still my princess,” he said softly. She didn’t answer.
Matt drove the kids home. They parked, and Gracie and Jack ran for the backyard. After making sure Annie got into the house okay, he went around back too. Jack sat in the playhouse. Gracie sat slowly rocking on the swing. She didn’t know how to pump her legs yet. He’d teach her. Or maybe not. Once she learned, she wouldn’t want him to push her anymore.
He walked over to where Jack sat on the edge of the playhouse, his feet dangling. “Hey, bud.” Matt put his hands on either side of Jack’s thighs, making them almost eye-to-eye. “I want to talk to you.”
What had they told the kids? He hadn’t thought to ask. Or maybe he didn’t want to know. He recalled Jack’s words to him on the beach, when talking about his father: He’s dead. How he’d said it like he was saying the sky is blue. Had Jack repeated those words about him?
Matt let out a nervous breath. “I bet you were scared the last few weeks.”
“Yep.” Jack stopped swinging his legs. “I was wondering what kind of funeral we were going to have. They said you were gone, but nobody knew where you were.” He stopped and looked at his shoes. “I wanted to know, but…I didn’t want them to put you in a box.”
Matt didn’t think his heart could break any more, but there went another large crack. This little boy, who should be thinking about race cars and football—his boy had been trying to work out a complicated MIA memorial in his mind. Matt was sickened by it, knowing he was the cause. All because he hadn’t said no. Any father could die tragically any day of the week and leave his children to suffer the loss, but the pain he’d caused his family had been a choice.
All the times he’d cursed Josh for letting Abby and the kids down hadn’t come close to what he’d done.
He lifted Jack down from the playhouse and set him next to Gracie. He knelt before them, looking into their innocent faces so full of childlike faith, and he hated himself even more. “I made a bad decision. I chose what I thought was the right thing to do, but it wasn’t. It was the wrong thing. Do you understand?” His voice broke. Of course they didn’t understand. “I thought I could go help someone really quick and be right back, but…it didn’t work out that way.”
Gracie was out of the swing now, and he grabbed on to their arms in a pleading gesture. “I’m so sorry.” Matt couldn’t stop the tears that gathered in his eyes as he pulled them to his chest. He buried his face in Gracie’s hair.
It seemed like hours passed before Matt felt little arms creep around his neck from both sides, and the vice crushing his heart relaxed its iron grip just a bit. He cupped the backs of their heads and sank all the way to the ground, pulling them both into his lap. And he cried with them, kissed their fresh baby-shampoo hair, wiped the tears that ran down their faces, and thought that maybe he was starting to repair one of the many boards in the bridge he’d torn down.