Promises to Keep, Nan Rossiter [feel good fiction books .txt] 📗

“On Facebook,” Maeve said. She knew her sister wasn’t a fan of the social media site, so when Macey raised her eyebrows, Maeve admitted, “Yeah, I was snooping.” She reached up to turn off the lamp and noticed a sheet of blue stationery on top of the pile of papers—was it the same letter she’d seen in his Bible?

Macey had disappeared into the kitchen. “Want some coffee?”

Maeve looked up. “Sure, it’s in the cabinet next to the sink.” She picked up the letter and studied the long, elegant handwriting.

Dear Gage,

It was so good to hear your voice a couple of weeks ago! You don’t know how much I miss it! Anyway, I don’t know if you will remember when we spoke that I mentioned Dad hasn’t been feeling well—headaches and nausea—and on the day of your call, because somehow you know when he’s not around, he’d been to the doctor for some tests. Well, today, we both went back to find out the results . . . and as I sit here, tonight, I can barely believe the news I have to share. Gage, I know your relationship with Dad has been difficult, but he has just been diagnosed with a very aggressive form of inoperable brain cancer and the doctor has given him only a couple of months to live. As I write these words, I can barely see the page because of the tears that are welling up in my eyes.

For years, I’ve prayed that you two would find a way to reconcile your differences. We miss having you here—even having you visit, especially on the holidays. I know you come by when he’s not around, but that isn’t enough for your poor mother’s heart—a heart that aches to see and hug her strong, handsome son—the one with the sensitive old soul. It aches for all the time we’ve lost not being together while on this earth. Life is much too short.

Gage, I know you believe your dad blames you for some of the things that have happened, but I also know, with all my heart, that it isn’t true! He only blames himself. He blames himself for not letting you call Doc Jacobs when Chestnut was struggling; he blames himself for not being more understanding when you wanted to pursue your own dreams; and most of all, he blames himself for Cale’s accident. No matter how many times I’ve tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault—just like I try to tell you he doesn’t blame you (you two are more alike than you know!)—he doesn’t believe me. It’s something he will never get over. I know he seems distant and difficult and stubborn to you boys, but he loves you with all his heart . . . and he misses you. He doesn’t tell you these things, though, because, as you know, it’s just the way he is.

As I write these words to you on this summer night, the loons are calling—it’s such a haunting sound, but it reminds me of when you and Cale were little, when it was just the two of you, before your younger brothers all came along—and how you, especially, loved lying in bed, listening to them . . . and how you knew what each of their calls meant, thanks to Dutch, of course—someone else you should visit!

Oh, Gage, I know how hard it will be for you to come home and see your dad, but I truly believe if you don’t make amends and find it in your heart to forgive him, you will carry this unresolved sorrow and regret all your life, and I don’t want that for you. Dad loves you so much, and I know he would love to see you. His diagnosis has devastated all of us. Please think about coming home. God wants us to forgive, Gage, because when we hang on to the pain someone has caused us, we only end up hurting ourselves. Dad and I love you so much! Please come home and see him!

Love,

Mom

Maeve was still staring at the page when Macey came into the room, carrying two steaming mugs of coffee. “You still take it black, ri—?” she started to ask, but then saw her sister’s face and stopped. “What’s the matter?”

Maeve exchanged the letter for one of the mugs and waited while Macey read it. Finally, her sister looked up. “Wow, this is so sad. I know you said he’s had a lot goin’ on, but sheesh . . .”

Maeve nodded. “Now I really I wonder where he is,” she said softly.

Just then, Macey’s phone hummed, and she pulled it out of her pocket and read a text from Ben.

Are you still at the cabin?

Yes

Gage just texted—he’s gonna be away for a few days and he needs someone to look after the chickens.

Macey frowned.

Where’d he go?

Home to Tennessee, Ben wrote back. Family emergency

Macey took in a deep breath and slowly let it out.

“What?” Maeve asked.

“Gage is on his way to Tennessee—something must’ve happened.”

“Oh, no,” Maeve whispered.

42

CARS AND TRUCKS WERE PARKED EVERY WHICH WAY WHEN GAGE PULLED into his parents’ driveway. Gus sniffed the air excitedly, wagging his tail, ready to leap out and explore, but Gage just sat there, looking at the old white farmhouse. He needed to gather his thoughts . . . and his courage. What do you say to someone who is dying, especially after so many years of silence? Suddenly, he heard a commotion, and then the screen door swung open and a man emerged with his hands over his face. Gage frowned. Two of his brothers, Matt and Eli, looked so much alike they were often mistaken for twins, but Matt was taller, so when a second figure strode out behind him, Gage knew the one in front had been Matt. He wondered if Grayson and Chase were there, too. Of all his brothers, Matt had grown closest to their dad after Cale died, doing his best to fill their oldest brother’s shoes.

Gage opened his door, and Gus—finally free—leapt over his lap and raced across the