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

up in heaven, reunited with Cale . . . and maybe even meeting Dale! After this weekend, I think we all have come to realize what an amazing person our dad was—a giant of a man who loved his family, and who, I learned, as I sat beside his bed, was also a hopeless romantic . . . because his last words to our mom came from their wedding song, ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water.’ Before he closed his eyes for the last time, he smiled at her, squeezed her hand, and whispered, Sail on, silver girl.” Chase’s eyes glistened visibly as he looked at his mom and smiled. “Sail on, Dad.”

Gage put his arm around his mom and watched Chase give Melinda a hug before stepping down from the pulpit, and as they stood to sing the next hymn, “How Great Thou Art,” tears spilled down his cheeks. His brother’s wise words and open heart made him feel ashamed of his own closed mind and hardened heart, and they rendered him unable to speak, never mind sing. Why hadn’t he tried harder—or tried at all—to make amends with his dad? His mom had begged him to come home, but he’d stubbornly resisted, harboring resentment and pride, and not only hurting his dad, but also hurting himself . . . and now it was too late. His dad had loved all his sons with all his heart for all his life. Even Chase had found a way to understand their father and forgive him . . . but he—after one disagreement that had been rooted in his father’s concern for him—had never found it in his heart to forgive. Instead, he had pushed aside all the wonderful childhood memories he had of him and, for eighteen years, allowed resentment and anger to fester in his heart. Oh, God, how wrong he had been! And now, he realized, his inability and stubborn unwillingness to forgive his dad had hampered his own ability to move forward, and he wished with all his heart that he’d come home sooner to tell him, in person, that he forgave . . . and loved him, and always would.

Libby looked up, saw her son’s head bowed in sorrow, and reached up and gently brushed away his tears.

52

MAEVE DABBED HER EYES WITH HER LAST TISSUE, THANKFUL SHE’D HAD the presence of mind—at 3 A.M.—to put on water-resistant mascara. Then she tearfully gathered her things and followed the stream of people making their way downstairs to Fellowship Hall, but when she spied a ladies’ room, she ducked in to use it, and then listened as two women talked about how moving the service had been.

“That Chase Tennyson always was the cute one,” one of the women said. “I can remember when he was little, riding on his daddy’s shoulders, but I had no idea he was gay!”

The second lady chimed in. “It’s always the cute ones,” she said, as if those in the LGBTQ community were from another class of people. “So eloquent and well-spoken, though,” she added, briefly redeeming herself. She then whispered, “Do you think that dark-haired young man is his boyfriend?”

Maeve tried to block out their conversation as she washed her hands and splashed cool water on her puffy eyes and tear-stained face. She dried her hands, slipped from the room, and stood resolutely in the hall—her stomach rumbling with hunger as the line to greet the family inched forward.

Twenty minutes later, as she neared the front, Chase saw her, and his face lit up with a smile.

“Oh, Chase,” she said, “I’m so sorry about your dad. Your eulogy was amazing and so heartfelt.”

“Thanks, Maeve,” he said, smiling.

“Did you have it written down? I never saw you look.”

He shook his head. “No, I knew what I wanted to say.

Maeve shook her head. “I could never . . .”

Chase smiled, and then looked puzzled. “How come you’re in that line and not this one?” he asked, gesturing to the receiving line. He frowned. “Does Gage know you’re here?”

“I don’t think so,” she said, and then she eyed him. “You know we broke up, right?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Has he lost his mind?!”

“That’s what I’m thinking,” she replied, laughing.

Chase smiled. “C’mon. You don’t belong here, and besides, I know someone who wants to meet you.”

Maeve started to protest. “I’ll lose my place . . .”

But it was too late. Chase had pulled her out of the line waiting to give their condolences to the family and guided her toward the woman she’d seen sitting beside Gage during the service. “Mom, do you know who this is?!”

As Libby searched Maeve’s face, a warm smile crossed her own. “You must be Maeve!” she said. “Oh, my goodness! I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for such a long time!”

“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, too. I’m so sorry about your husband.”

Libby nodded solemnly. “Thank you.” And then she pulled Maeve into a hug. “I’m so glad you came. Did you get in last night? Because you should’ve called and stayed at the house.”

Maeve shook her head. “I drove up this morning.”

“You did? You must be exhausted.”

“A little,” Maeve said, “but I’m really glad I came—the service was beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Libby said, and then she looked down the line of family members and frowned. “Chase, where is Gage?”

Chase followed her gaze. “I don’t know. Dutch isn’t here, either.”

“Well, would you mind seeing if you can find them?”

“I wouldn’t mind at all,” Chase said, glad to be released from the receiving line. “Just a second. . . .”

Maeve watched Chase walk over and say something to Liam, and when he came back, he said, “I think I know where he is.”

They walked across the parking lot, and Chase gestured to a stone wall behind the church. “This is Memorial Garden—it’s where the ashes of church members are interred. My brother is buried on the farm, and my dad will be buried next to him, but other family members are here, including my grandmother on my mom’s side, and I’ll bet that’s where Gage and Dutch are.” He smiled. “Gage