She shrugged as though to shift the weight. “To him, I was like one of those garishly colored shirts you bring home from your vacation in Hawaii because you want to hang on to the rainbows and the sea turtles and the blue waves. Then you put the hot pink shirt on in your bedroom in Bluffwoods, Illinois, and you wonder what the heck you were thinking, because it looks cheap and out of place. No rainbows, no sea turtles.”

“You never looked cheap,” Gavin protested.

She smiled. “He couldn’t figure out what to do with that Hawaiian shirt he’d brought home by mistake, so he tried to pretend it was plaid flannel.”

There was so much sadness in her voice that he wanted to beg her to stop, but she needed to tell him her story as badly as he’d needed to tell her his story.

“He used to watch you,” he said. “When you danced around the living room. He’d pretend to read the paper or stare at the television, but I saw his eyes following you.”

“Wondering what crazy thing I would do next,” she said with a strangled laugh. “When I got pregnant, he was proud but panicked. Now he was stuck with me. But you”—she looked at him with so much love that it was hard for him to breathe—“you were pure joy to me.”

He felt a surge of old anger and hurt. If she felt that way, why had she abandoned him? But he let it sink back into the past he’d left at Odelia’s house.

“One day Kenneth wanted to punish you for reading a book when you were supposed to be doing some chore or other, nothing important. I wouldn’t let him, but even worse, I challenged him in front of you. He hit me.” She shook her head, as though to rid herself of the memory. “I think it shocked him as much as it did me. We both knew I had to leave.”

Rage scorched through Gavin. He knew his father had done something serious to drive his mother away, but he hadn’t expected physical violence. “The bastard. I didn’t know . . . wouldn’t have guessed.” He realized why. “He never hit anyone that I saw.”

“Thank God!” She met Gavin’s gaze straight on as she twisted the stem of the wineglass between her fingers. “I made him swear on the Holy Bible that he would never, ever strike you. Every month for about two years I called him at the store to make him swear he had not done so. I was sure he wouldn’t lie to me.”

His father had found other ways to make his life miserable.

“It took me longer than I had hoped to scrape together enough money so that I could support both of us. By that time, you had a stepmother and sisters and a home. You were settled in school and doing brilliantly, according to your father.” Her mouth twisted as she choked on a sob. “Kenneth told me in no uncertain terms that my rented apartment and paralegal job weren’t secure enough to risk uprooting you. He said he’d fight me for custody.” Now the sob broke loose. “I knew the law well enough to be afraid he would win, so I just kept sending cards and money and hoping for a miracle.”

Gavin knelt in front of his mother, taking the wineglass from her fidgeting hands before he gripped them in his own. “Dad was a man of powerful convictions. We were both too young to fight him.”

She pulled her hands free and wrapped them around his shoulders. Bending forward, she buried her face on his shoulder and wept full out. He held her, letting all his loneliness wash away with her tears. If he had suffered, she had suffered even more, because she carried a burden of guilt on top of all the other pain.

It reminded him of the day Allie had comforted him, taking on the storm of emotions battering him. Until now he had not understood how hard it was to see someone you cared about suffer so deeply. But Allie had stayed with him, offering her body for him to escape into, and her healing to bring him back to himself.

She had given him so many gifts, and he’d ground them under his heel at the first sign of trouble. He had to swallow a groan at the agony twisting in his chest.

His mother’s sobs quieted, and she lifted her head, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands. “Thank you, my dear one. You’re a better son than I deserve.”

“I’m not a good son. I waited too long to find you,” Gavin said, putting his forehead against her knee. “I’ve also done a terrible disservice to a woman I care deeply about. A woman who has been nothing but generous and giving to me.” He looked at his mother and reached into his pocket to pull out the velvet jewelry box and open it. “I’ve kept this with me ever since you left. I would like your permission to give it to this woman if I can convince her to offer me a second chance.”

His mother touched the heart-shaped ruby at the center of the locket with her fingertip. “It was the only thing I had of value to give you. My mother was wearing it when she died, so the police passed it on to me. I don’t even know what its history is.” She dropped her hand. “You don’t have to ask my permission. I’ve forfeited any right to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do. However, I’m still your mother, so I would like to know who the woman is, if you would share that with me.”

Gavin came to his feet. “Allie Nichols. She began as my physical therapist but has become much more.”

“I’m so relieved. I was afraid it would be that actress.” Her lips thinned as she pressed them together.

He shouldn’t be surprised that she knew about his very public love affair. “No, I’ve been done with Irene since Dad died. Allie is as different from her as gold from arsenic.”

He passed the velvet box from one hand to the other and back. “May I ask your advice?”

Susannah raised one dark eyebrow. “How do you convince her to give you that second chance?”

He nodded.

“What I was prepared to do with you.” His mother paused. “Grovel.”

Chapter 32

Allie wished she were anywhere other than sipping mediocre wine as she stood beside Jane Dreyer in a fancy hotel ballroom at a literary-awards ceremony.

“Has your client arrived yet?” she asked the agent. Jane had invited her to the dinner to meet a prospective patient who was reluctant to embark on physical therapy. Jane thought Allie’s presence would persuade him. Of course, that reminded Allie of her first meeting with Gavin. She winced as hurt and a searing sense of loss twisted in her chest.

Jane glanced around the room and shook her head. “Not to worry. Writers are notorious for losing track of time. He’ll show up.”