“Okay, then,” he said, and the woman let go. They turned, the wife bearing the weight of her husband with his arm around her slight shoulders. The man’s other hand rested on the shoulder of his son like a short crutch.
Abby swallowed against the lump blocking her throat. That could be Jack, eagerly offering himself to his hero. That woman could be her, grateful beyond words, still struggling to process the miracle that her husband had returned. Her prayers—for someone like Matt to bring her husband home—answered.
She watched as they opened doors and gingerly maneuvered the injured, but living, into the car. She watched them back out of the driveway, then her gaze fell to the drawing in her hand. The colors swirled and wavered as her eyes filled with tears. This is why. The reason was right in front of her. This is why he’d left.
And he loved her so much he regretted it.
Oh, Matt. Would she have been strong enough to risk everything to save a life? She didn’t know. She didn’t feel strong. Though she had survived Matt’s death. Dark, bleak hours she didn’t want to remember.
She traced the mommy figure on the paper. Was that how her own mother had felt? Body and mind so black with grief over the death of her husband she couldn’t see anything else? Not even her daughter? All Abby’s life she’d wanted to matter, to be loved for real. Matt’s regret for hurting her…that was real. And his love, that was also real. As real as her love for him.
With the child’s drawing in her hand, she cried cleansing tears of relief and forgiveness, full to bursting with the unwavering knowledge that she was wanted. That she was enough, that maybe she’d been enough for her mother too. That Matt’s leaving hadn’t been about her. She smiled through the tears. He hadn’t changed his mind. And he wouldn’t leave her again.
Chapter 40
Matt stood at the front of St. Paul’s Catholic Church, right in front of the altar where he’d been baptized and he’d received his first communion . The winter sun was low, sprinkling bits of colored light through stained-glass saints. He and his brothers stood like a row of black and white penguins, with Jack directly in front of him, leaning against his legs.
As an honorably discharged Navy SEAL, he didn’t wear dress whites—that was for the enlisted or retired. And it was fine. Better than fine. Because that’s what he was. Former Navy SEAL.
It took everything in him not to check his watch. He alternately flexed and fisted his fingers against his leg. Focusing on keeping the beads of sweat below the surface, he scanned the crowd: His grandparents. An aunt and uncle he hadn’t seen in years. His buddies lining the back of the church, serving as ushers.
Jack cocked his head to look up at him, the question obvious. How much longer?
Matt answered with a reassuring pat on his shoulders, and Jack continued watching the doors at the end of the center aisle. So did he. She was here. She was coming. Of course every groom lived with the fear his bride might make a break for it at the last second. He wouldn’t breathe easy until he saw her walking toward him.
After taking the kids out last night, he’d driven to D.C. and been on Secretary Kedlar’s doorstep at eight o’clock this morning, papers in hand. Good thing the man liked him. Matt wanted it to be official. He wanted to hand these papers to Abby today, hopefully erasing every doubt in her mind that he wasn’t sure about how he wanted to spend the rest of his life.
Matt waited for that first note of music, the one that would have everyone standing. The one that would tell him the rest of his life was about to begin. The sight of his mom being escorted down the aisle by a teammate, Mary asleep in her arms, was a beautiful thing. They continued all the way to the front row and scooted in. His dad gave him a slight nod. Man code for all is well.
And then the music started. His sister came first, wearing a stylish black cocktail dress. All the sisters-in-law followed, each in a different style, but all wearing black. True to Abby’s nature, she’d insisted each woman wear what she felt most comfortable in.
Beth was last, holding her bouquet in one hand, a firm grip on Charlie with the other. A wise decision since his two-year-old Tasmanian devil kept bopping himself in the face with the ring-tied pillow the entire way.
Yep. A smile tugged at Matt’s mouth. Full of badness, that one. Charlie tossed the pillow like a Frisbee at Tony’s feet, then pulled away from Beth and dove into his grandpa’s lap.
Annie and Gracie walked side by side down the aisle. Their white dresses with black velvet sashes hung over white tights, almost touching the shiny black buckle shoes. Each girl wore a halo of white flowers in her hair; Gracie’s flowers were surrounded by a flurry of wild curls, while Annie’s hair was in braids wrapped around her head like a crown.