“I found her,” he said softly. “I apologized. She forgave me.”
I nodded, my throat too tight to speak.
And then he stepped aside.
Standing behind him was the elderly woman from earlier.
Her gray hair glowed in the fading light, and her eyes, those piercing, knowing eyes, were now brimming with tears.
“Claire,” David said, his voice breaking. “This is my mother.”
The weight of her words from earlier hit me. She had risked everything to warn me, to save her son from the lies that had kept them apart.
And to give me the truth before it was too late.
“Thank you,” I whispered, hugging her.
She smiled.
“Thank you for giving him the chance to find his way back.”
David and I didn’t get married that day. But in the months that followed, he worked tirelessly to rebuild his relationship with his mother. And during those months, I made sure that he got his answers from his father.
“I will not have your father in my life unless he can explain why he was so ugly to your mother.
She needs love and car, David. She looks more aged and worn out than anyone her age, and don’t you think that’s because of your father? He did this to her.”
“I know,” he said, handing me a cup of tea.
“But what can I do? Demand to know why he’s such a horrible person?”
“Yes!” I exclaimed.
David, true to his word, did have a proper sit down with his father, and Alec came clean.
“I didn’t want you to choose your mother, David. I didn’t want you to be burdened with her issues, and if anything, I should have taken care of her.
I asked for the divorce because I didn’t want that responsibility. And now what? She’s back and she looks like she needs so much care.
It’s all my fault.”
David accepted what his father had to say, but I could see that their relationship would forever be strained.
And when we did finally get married, it was a small, intimate ceremony with Estelle, David’s mother, by our side.
We had taken her for medicals and gotten her treatment for her liver. We rented out a small apartment for her, because as much as she wanted to be back in David’s life, she wasn’t used to living with people.
Sometimes, love isn’t about perfect beginnings. It’s about finding your way back to the truth… and to the people who matter most.
What would you have done?
