Epilogue #2
“I’m starting to get how you could forgive Warren.” Sydney’s tone grew more serious as she met Victoria’s gaze. “Even after he tried to kill you. And he did kill your friend.” Her mouth pulled into a frown. “I still can’t wrap my head around it. That he’d do anything like that.”
Victoria reached to cover the teen’s hand where it rested on Mariah’s blanket. “I know. I’m so sorry for the grief this is putting you through. But it wasn’t your fault. It was Warren’s decision to do those things.”
Sydney bit her lip and nodded.
“Have you seen him again?”
The teen took in a deep breath. “Yeah. I visit him every week. I’m the only family he’s got, and he was there for me when I messed up. Mom doesn’t want anything to do with him either now.”
“I’m sure he appreciates seeing you.”
Warren would have a long wait in jail before his case would come to court. Victoria’s dad had said the District Attorney assured him they would get a conviction and likely life in prison for the litany of crimes Warren had committed.
“He’s really sorry about what he did.” Sydney’s expression shifted to one of surprise. “Hey, did you know Cillian visited him? Warren couldn’t believe it.”
“Yes, Cillian told me.”
“Warren was afraid he was going to yell at him or something.”
Victoria smiled. Cillian had told her that he’d shared the Gospel with Warren, telling him how his sins could be forgiven, and he could be set free, even while in jail. Warren hadn’t come to faith yet, but Cillian intended to visit him again.
“I plan to visit Warren, too, now that I’m feeling better.” Victoria still had residual pain from scar tissue and a generalized weakness from inactivity, but she would keep at her recovery program and return to full strength soon.
“Wow, really? That’s super nice.”
“You know what I always say.”
“It’s not you.” Sydney smiled. “It’s Christ in you.”
“Exactly.” Victoria gave the girl’s hand a pat, then swiveled her head to check for her father before he could duck out.
He wasn’t apt to stay long. There he was, already walking toward the entryway.
“Leaving already, Dr. Weston?” Cillian’s question halted her father.
“I’ll talk to you again later.” Victoria touched Sydney’s shoulder as she stood and brushed past to hurry toward Dad and Cillian.
As unlikely and volatile a pair as one could wish to see.
And more alike than either would care to admit.
Though Cillian’s realization of those similarities, in the negative aspects, may have saved his life, sending him to the feet of Christ.
Victoria came alongside Cillian, drawing her father’s guarded stare. “Dad, could I speak with you in the other room, please?”
He transferred his gaze from her to Cillian, then back again. “I only have a few minutes.”
“Wonderful. Let’s go in Robert’s office.” She hooked her arm through Cillian’s, glancing up at him as they led the way to the office located off the foyer.
He placed his hand on hers where it rested on his arm, the loving, confident expression in his eyes reassuring her and giving her strength.
Thank the Lord they had learned that Marsha Faint, the woman who had sued her father for malpractice, had not actually been intimidated or mistreated by anyone.
Cillian had told Victoria about his investigation and his intentions to use the findings against her dad to help her.
But he’d learned that poor Mrs. Faint suffered from schizophrenia and had conjured the entire story while off her medication.
Without that information, Victoria and Cillian might have had to hold an even more difficult conversation with her dad.
Although this one would be quite hard enough for Victoria.
She walked to the center of the office, then turned with Cillian to face her father.
Dad stepped inside the doorway and stopped, folding his arms across his chest. “I suppose this is where you two tell me you’re getting married, whether I like it or not.”
Victoria shot Cillian a startled gaze.
But he simply grinned at her and then her dad. “Hadn’t gotten quite that far yet, but now that you mention it—”
“Cillian.” She reached her other hand over to squeeze his forearm. That was not what she’d said she was going to discuss with her father. And Cillian was supposed to be a silent supporter during this conversation.
He pressed his lips closed, but a twinkle still lit his eyes as he looked down at her.
She returned her focus to her dad. “I need to tell you something that you should know. I didn’t tell you before because of the havoc I knew it would cause our family. But now, I believe it’s time that you know what happened.” She drew in a breath, meeting Dad’s measured gaze.
Cillian put his hand on hers again.
“Sixteen years ago, the night Mom passed away, I wasn’t with her as I let you believe.”
No reaction. Dad didn’t even blink.
“I had gone out with Cillian. We were only gone for thirty minutes, but when I returned…” Her throat closed. Or perhaps the lump expanding there filled the space.
Cillian released her arm and slid his around her back instead, anchoring and holding her.
“When I returned, she was gone. I hoped she passed in her sleep, as I told you she did. But I can’t know for certain because…I let her die alone.” She forced herself to keep a steady gaze on her father. “I’m so sorry, Dad.”
He watched her—silent, immovable. It was such a similar expression to the one he’d given her that night, when she had dried her tears and found him in his office to tell him his wife had died.
Did that mean she had hurt him all over again?
That the pain of this confession was as great as the grief he’d felt then?
“It’s good to see you on your feet again.”
She stared at him. Disbelief seemed to paralyze her brain. Hadn’t he heard what she had shared?
Of course he had. This was Dr. Henry Weston, the brilliant, world-renowned neurosurgeon who was also the most intelligent man she knew.
And he’d just said so much that she’d nearly missed it.
He turned away and left the room.
“Did you hear that?” Victoria pivoted in Cillian’s arm, facing him.
“Yeah.” He glanced past her to the door. “Weird reaction.”
“No.” She put a hand on Cillian’s chest. “He was saying he cares about me. That he still cares.” A smile lifted her mouth as relief and hope spilled through her. “That he forgives me.”
“He said all that?” Cillian’s eyebrows scrunched with incredulity.
“Yes.” She beamed her smile up at him, placing her other hand on his chest, as well. “He did.”
“He didn’t even blink or anything when you told him, though.”
“I know. I think he knew.”
“He knew?”
“Yes. All this time, he knew.” She shook her head.
Why hadn’t he said anything to her that night?
She would’ve expected him to be furious she had left, especially that she had left with Cillian.
He must have at least been disappointed in her for leaving her mother and disobeying him.
But he hadn’t said a word. He hadn’t removed any of her responsibilities and had fully trusted her to become like a mother to his children.
A few weeks ago, when Victoria had returned home to finish healing from her bullet wound, Hank had told her that their dad had overseen her care at the hospital.
The night of the shooting, he had phoned Dr. Britton, the best trauma surgeon in Chicago, to ask him to drop everything on his night off and go to Rampart Memorial Hospital to perform Victoria’s surgery.
During her recovery, Dad had also often called the hospital to check in on her healing and care.
She wasn’t surprised that he’d watched over her essential needs from afar. That was his way with his children, his way of loving them.
But to learn he had known what she’d done that awful night of Mom’s death but hadn’t blamed or confronted her about such a failing was an unbelievable gift. The discovery lifted a burden off her shoulders that she hadn’t fully realized she’d been carrying.
“You know, I think there might be more to your old man than I thought.”
The humor in Cillian’s voice drew Victoria’s full attention to him. “Oh?”
“Yeah. Like when he guessed we wanted to tell him we were getting married.” Cillian closed both arms around her back, cradling her. “That’s the best idea he’s ever had.”
A flush of warmth rushed to her cheeks.
“There it is.” Cillian brushed his knuckles ever so gently against her cheek. “I love it when you get flustered.” His voice dropped to a whisper that sent a shiver up her spine.
Then he dipped his head, touching his forehead to hers.
“I’ll wait forever for you, Victoria Weston.
But it’s your choice. If you want me to, I will even leave.
But you know how I feel. What I want.” He drew in a ragged breath and lifted his head, his gaze staying locked on hers. “What do you want?”
She looked deeply into his dark eyes, the pools of the most intense love she’d ever seen. “I want you, Cillian. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
A broad, joyous grin split his face, and he wrapped her in his arms, lifting her off the ground as his lips met hers in a kiss that left her breathless and blushing.
When he finally ended the kiss and lowered her back to the floor, Cillian was breathing as hard as she was.
His eyes roamed her features. “Now that was worth waiting for.” He brushed a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.
“Want to do it again?” His slightly wicked grin spiked a thrill through her.
“I think we had better join the others.” She stepped back, but slipped her hand into his, threading their fingers together.
“Yes, ma’am.”
As soon as they crossed the entryway and rejoined the others in the living room, Spring’s eyes grew wide. “What were you two up to?”
Oh, my. Victoria reached for her bun. Was it disheveled from Cillian’s fingers?
“You’re red as a rose, Vicki.” Robert’s teasing smile said it all.
Mortification rose in Victoria’s chest. What an example she was setting for—
“That’s because we just got engaged!” Cillian’s announcement drew whoops from Hank and Robert and congratulatory exclamations from the others as they gathered around.
As Victoria returned their hugs and cherished their joyous response, her gaze found Cillian’s. In that moment, he seemed to be thinking what she was.
This was God’s timing, not theirs. They were together at last, exactly when they were supposed to be, ready to embark on a future with each other, walking with the Lord.
And in His providence, not a moment of their lives or their love story had been wasted.