Chapter 22
F elicity crossed the porch and draped her arm around her grandmother. “Are you okay?”
Darlene slipped on a smile and nodded, but she could tell Felicity wasn’t convinced. “I’m fine, sweetheart. We knew he was leaving eventually.”
“I know… but it seems so final. So definite now. And before you two…”
“It just is what it is.” She shrugged.
“You could ask him to stay.”
She shook her head. “No, he has to do what he needs to do. And he needs to do this. Maybe it will help him move on with his life.”
They both turned at the sound of someone approaching up the walkway. Darlene frowned, trying to focus her vision. Because it couldn’t be…
She froze as he walked up the sidewalk, the late afternoon sun catching the streaks of gray in his hair. But he looked the same—just as handsome as the day he’d walked out on her. Her heart stuttered, and she gripped the porch railing.
“Gran?” Felicity’s voice seemed far away. “Who is that?”
She couldn’t find her voice. The years melted away in an instant. The same confident stride, the same strong jawline, the same blue eyes that had once promised her the world. Only the silver at his temples and the lines around his eyes marked the passage of time.
“It’s Dean,” she finally managed the words.
Felicity’s grip tightened on her shoulder. “What? But you said he’s never come back?—”
“I know what I said.” She straightened her spine, drawing on every ounce of strength she possessed. The young, heartbroken girl she’d been was long gone, replaced by a woman who’d built her own life, raised her son alone, and created a successful business.
Dean stopped at the bottom of the porch steps, his hands shoved in his pockets—the same nervous gesture she remembered from their youth. His gaze moved between her and Felicity, lingering on their similar features.
“Hello, Darlene.” His voice was deeper, raspier than she remembered. “It’s been a long time.”
She felt Felicity’s protective presence beside her as she lifted her chin. “Yes. Yes, it has.”
Her fingers curled around the porch railing as she studied the man who’d left her pregnant and alone all those years ago. Dean’s scrutiny made her skin prickle, especially the way his gaze kept darting between her and Felicity, no doubt noting their shared features.
She resisted the urge to smooth her hair or adjust her blouse. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her flustered. Instead, she drew herself up, channeling the strength that had carried her through raising her son on her own.
“What are you doing here, Dean?” The words came out steadier than she felt.
His eyes settled on Felicity again. “Is this?—”
“This is my granddaughter.” Her tone held a hint of pride, mixed with warning. “Felicity.”
Dean’s expression softened. “My granddaughter?”
“No. My granddaughter. You are not part of our family.” She felt Felicity’s hand squeeze her shoulder. The gesture steadied her, reminded her that she wasn’t that vulnerable young woman anymore. “You still haven’t answered my question. Why are you here?”
He shifted his weight, looking exactly like the uncertain young man who’d promised her forever, then vanished before dawn. “I’ve been thinking about the past. About choices I made.” He glanced down at his shoes. “Bad choices.”
Her heart thundered in her chest, but she kept her voice level. “That’s quite an understatement.”
“I know.” He looked up, meeting her eyes. “I know it is. Anyway, we need to talk.”
“I don’t need to do anything you say.”
“Darlene, don’t be like that.”
“And you don’t get to tell me how to act, how to feel, what to do.” She snapped at him as anger surged through her.
Dean climbed the stairs and turned to Felicity. “Felicity, can you talk some sense into your grandmother?”
Heat seared through Darlene at Dean’s presumption. How dare he try to manipulate Felicity against her? But before she could speak, Felicity stepped forward, her eyes flashing.
“Gran always does what she wants. She does what’s right, even if it’s hard.” Felicity’s voice rang with conviction. “She’s raised an amazing family and built a wonderful life here without any help from you.”
Pride swelled in her chest. Her granddaughter stood tall and strong, defending her with the same fierce determination that had gotten Darlene through those early years alone.
Dean blinked, taken aback by Felicity’s response. He shifted his weight uncertainly.
Felicity planted her hands on her hips. “Do you know what Gran did after you left? She worked two jobs while carrying my father. She saved every penny to buy this place. She turned it into something beautiful.”
She placed her hand on Felicity’s arm, touched by her fierce protectiveness. She’d never wanted her family to carry the weight of that old hurt, but here was her granddaughter, defending her with such passion.
“And you don’t get to waltz in here after all these years and act like you have any right to tell her what to do.” Felicity’s words carried the heat of long-simmering anger. “Gran taught us what real strength looks like. What real love looks like.”
“And you know what else?” Felicity continued. “She never once let your abandonment turn her bitter. She taught me to be kind, to be brave, to believe in myself.”
Tears filled the corner of her eyes. She’d spent so many years wondering if she’d done enough, been enough. Now, listening to her granddaughter, she realized just how much her choices had mattered.
Dean scuffed his shoe against the porch floorboards as a swatch of red swept over his face. He finally looked at Felicity. “I… I deserved that. And so much more.”
He turned to Darlene. “I know saying I’m sorry won’t help after all these years. But I am. I was young, scared, and foolish.”
“And you don’t think I was scared? And you left me all alone to deal with it.”
He nodded. “I did. And it’s my biggest regret in life.”
“Telling Gran you’re sorry doesn’t change anything. You never even wanted to meet my father. Or me.”
A wistful look came over Dean’s face. “I did come looking for you once. Saw you out on the beach with Darlene and your dad and mom. I spent an hour watching my son playing with you in the waves. You were just a little thing then.”
“Why didn’t you come over to us? Say something?”
“It just looked like things had turned out fine for everyone without me.” He shrugged. “And…” He turned to Darlene. “I couldn’t quite face your Gran.”
“So you left without saying a word.” Felicity’s tone was cold and accusing.
“I did. But I’d like to say a few things now. If… if Darlene will let me talk to her.” He shook his head. “But it’s your choice, Darlene. I don’t blame you if you don’t want to speak to me.”
She studied Dean’s face, searching for traces of the young man she’d loved, the one who’d promised her the world and then disappeared with only a scribbled note she found days later.
The years had changed him—silver threaded through his dark hair, and there were lines etched around his mouth and eyes.
But something in his expression reminded her of that young boy who’d made her heart flutter so many years ago.
“Fine.” She bobbed her head once, then turned to Felicity. “Would you mind giving us a few minutes?”
Felicity’s protectiveness flashed across her face. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, sweetheart. I’ll be fine.” Darlene squeezed her granddaughter’s hand.
“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.” Felicity shot Dean a warning look before heading inside.
Darlene gestured to the porch chairs, and after he sat down, she took one across from him. She wouldn’t sit next to him, wouldn’t let him that close.
“You have fifteen minutes,” she said. “Then I need to start prep for tomorrow’s breakfast.”
“The B&B looks amazing.” He glanced around the wraparound porch. “You’ve done well for yourself.”
“I didn’t have much choice.” The words came out sharp and clipped. “A single mother needs to provide.”
Dean’s shoulders slumped. “I know I hurt you badly. Left you in an impossible situation.”
“You left me with nothing but a note saying you couldn’t handle being a father.” The old pain rose in her chest. “Do you know how many nights I cried myself to sleep? How scared I was?”
“I was a coward.” He met her eyes. “Plain and simple. I’ve spent over forty years knowing that.”
She wrapped her arms around herself, fighting the urge to flee inside where Felicity waited. But she’d spent too many years wondering why. Maybe it was time to hear his explanation.
“Say what you came to say, Dean.”
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I got remarried. Had two more kids.” He paused. “My wife passed last year. Makes you think about things differently. About mistakes you’ve made.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” she said quietly. Despite everything, she meant it.
“Cancer.” He cleared his throat. “Before she died, she made me promise to try to make things right with my first family. Said no one should leave this world with regrets that big.”
Her throat tightened. All these years, she’d imagined him living carefree, unburdened by the choices he’d made. Instead, he’d carried this weight too.
“I don’t expect forgiveness,” Dean continued. “I just wanted you to know how sorry I am. For everything.”
Her fingers traced the arm of her chair as Dean’s words settled around her. The life he’d built after leaving her—a new wife, more children—it was everything he’d run from when he’d abandoned her. Her chest ached with an old, familiar pain.
“So you weren’t too young for a family after all,” she said bitterly. “Just too young for one with me.”
He shook his head. “I was different back then. Selfish. Scared. By the time I met Janet, I’d grown up enough to handle it.”
The casual mention of his wife’s name stung more than she expected. This woman had shared his life, raised his children, grown old with him—everything that should have been hers.
“I saw an article about our son in the business magazine.” Dean’s voice held a note of pride that made her bristle. “The tech company he founded…”
“You’ve kept tabs on us?” The thought unsettled her.
“Just… checking in from afar.” He shifted in his seat. “I wanted to know you were okay.”
She let out a harsh laugh. “We were okay because we had to be. Because I made sure we were.”
The sound of Felicity moving around in the kitchen drifted through the screen door, grounding Darlene in the present. Her granddaughter’s presence reminded her of all she’d built from the ashes of Dean’s abandonment.
“You know what’s ironic?” She ran her finger over the smooth wood of her chair, needing something to do with her hands. “I spent years wondering what I did wrong, why I wasn’t enough. But here you are, telling me you managed just fine with another family.”
“Darlene—”
“No, let me finish.” She held up her hand. “I just realized I don’t need your explanations anymore.”
But even as she said the words, she recognized the lie in them.
Part of her—that young, pregnant girl he’d left behind—had always needed to know why.
But now she had her answer, and it was both better and worse than she’d imagined.
He hadn’t wanted a family with her. Hadn’t wanted her enough to stay and raise their son.
“Now that we both agree what an incredible fool I was, and what a terrible person I am, have one more thing to tell you, then I’ll leave.”
She stiffened, eyeing him suspiciously.
“And I’m not bragging here, honestly. But I’ve built quite a successful business. Real estate development. Made some good investments along the way.”
“Good for you.” She kept her voice flat, unimpressed.
“I want to make things right.” He pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket. “I’ve set up a trust fund. It’s substantial. Here is the paperwork.”
The words hit her like a physical blow. After all these years, he thought money could fix what he’d broken? Her hands clenched in her lap as anger bubbled up inside her.
“I don’t want your money.” The words came out sharp enough to cut. “I didn’t need it then, and I certainly don’t need it now.”
“The paperwork’s already done.” He held out the envelope. “Take it. Give it to Felicity if you want. Donate it to charity. I don’t care what you do with it—it’s yours to decide.”
“You think you can just throw money at this and make everything okay?” Her voice shook. “That you can buy your way out of more than forty years of absence?”
“No.” He set the envelope on the small table between them. “But I can try to leave something good behind. Something that might help make up for what I didn’t give before.”
Darlene stared at the envelope, her throat tight with emotion. All those years of struggling to make ends meet, of pinching pennies to give their son everything he needed—and now Dean wanted to sweep in with his money like some fairy godfather?
“Take it,” he said softly. “Please. Even if you never forgive me, take it.”
He shoved the envelope into her hands, and she stared down at it.
“And… one more thing.”
She looked back up at him as a strange expression crossed his features.
“Just so you know, the money is payable upon my death. And you’ll get the money soon. My doctors have given me only a few months to live.”
His words took her breath away as she stared at the haunted look in his eyes.
“So I know that I had to make one last try to… I don’t know. Make amends. Not that I think the money will do that. Nothing can change what I did. I had to come and say I’m sorry. I am so very sorry.”
She tried to breathe as she studied Dean’s face more carefully. Now she noticed the pallor beneath his tan, the slight tremor in his hands, the way his jacket hung loose on his frame. The signs had been there, but she hadn’t wanted to see them.
“Cancer?” The word slipped out before she could stop it.
He nodded. “Same thing that took Janet. Guess there’s some justice in that.”
The bitterness she’d carried for so long shifted inside her chest, making room for something else—not quite forgiveness, but perhaps understanding.
She thought of all the times she’d imagined confronting him, telling him exactly how much pain he’d caused.
Now, faced with his mortality, those rehearsed speeches felt hollow.
“I don’t want you to die thinking I hate you,” she said softly. “I did, for a long time. But I learned to let that go. Had to, for my own sake.”
“You’re a better person than I ever was.” His smile was weak, but genuine. “I watched you build this place, raise our son, become someone amazing. I was too much of a coward to even say hello.”
Her fingers brushed against the envelope. Part of her wanted to throw it back at him, tell him to take his guilt money and go. But she saw the desperation in his eyes, his need to leave something behind that might help balance the scales.
She rose from her seat. “I expect you’re hungry after your trip. Come inside and I’ll get you something to eat. We’ll get you a room for the night. You look tired.”