"You most definitely were," Scott insisted. "I looked back here and you were all alone and I said to myself, 'Self, the most beautiful woman in the room needs you.' "

"My sister is indeed beautiful, but the most beautiful woman in the room at any wedding is always the bride," Roger chastised, "and especially in this case."

"Right," Scott agreed, "but Victoria is obviously not interested in me."

"I would hope not," Roger agreed, chuckling.

"So," Scott explained with perfect logic, "that leaves your sister, and I was simply staking my claim before any of these bozos took the lead."

Roger shook his head. "I don't think Abby's interested, Scott. I actually think someone else has dibs."

"Someone else?" Abby asked.

Roger patted her hand. "Just wait, sis. I have a small surprise for you."

"Which leaves me out in the cold," said Scott mournfully.

"Sorry, Scott," Roger said, without the least bit of contrition.

"Foiled again."

Abby laughed and so did Roger.

Scott was obviously a player. And she was sure that Roger had said someone had dibs on her just to deter Scott from hitting on her.

Her parents joined them and Abby stood. "Do you need a ride to the restaurant, sweetie?" her father inquired.

Before she could tell them she had a rental car, Scott interjected. "She can ride with me."

Abby's father arched his brows.

"Actually, I have a car, but thank you both," she said.

Her parents started out of the church and Abby stood and reached for her purse.

Scott remained stubbornly at the end of the pew. "You could ride with me and I could drive you back to the church after dinner," he suggested, as they walked out of the sanctuary.

"That seems like a lot of unnecessary driving."

"Maybe, but those few minutes alone with you would be worth having to backtrack."

Abby shook her head, both amused and flattered. "You really are a silver-tongued devil, aren't you?"

"You wound me," he said, and pressed his palm over his heart. "Won't you ride with me?"

"I appreciate the offer, I do, but I might want to leave the dinner early."

His eyes brightened. "With me?"

"No. It's been a long day and I'm exhausted."

Scott released a long, exaggerated sigh. "If you must."

"I must," she insisted.

The two walked side by side toward the parking lot. Abby wasn't fooled. Scott was a flirt and way too glib for her to take him seriously. Nevertheless, she couldn't remember an evening she'd enjoyed more ... and the festivities were just getting started.

Chapter 19.

Mich.e.l.le placed the last of the dirty dishes from their simple supper in the dishwasher while Josh wiped down the kitchen countertops. Richard had managed to swallow down a couple of spoonfuls of soup while Mich.e.l.le and Josh had sat with him.

Being with Mich.e.l.le reminded Josh of working in the kitchen with his mother when he was young. She'd made even the most mundane tasks fun. They used to sing silly songs while washing the dinner dishes. She'd never had a dishwasher until she married Richard. Instead, Josh had washed the dishes, and he'd so enjoyed the songs and simply being with his mother that he hadn't minded scrubbing pots and pans.

Kitchen time with his mother had been special. She'd let him mix and stir and on rare occasions they had baked cookies together. Those good times with his mother were memories he'd clung to through the years. He remembered how she'd talked to him while they worked together; how she'd encouraged and praised him. According to his mother, Josh had a brilliant mind and was capable of achieving anything he wanted in life. But she'd never failed to add that he had to create his own opportunities.

Those early years with her had been the happiest of his life.

In the evenings they sat around the table together while he did his homework. She'd look over his work, and because she made him believe he was smart, he always did well in school. To his way of thinking, their lives had been idyllic, until she met Richard.

When his mother and Richard had first started dating, it hadn't been so bad. Josh and Dylan had gotten along well and Josh had thought it was super cool that he might have a brother one day. When Richard proposed, his mother had talked the decision over with Josh. He'd a.s.sumed everything would continue as it had been and they would become a regular family.

"You're looking thoughtful," Mich.e.l.le commented as she closed the dishwasher and pushed the b.u.t.ton to start the wash cycle.

"I was remembering my mother." Even now he missed her and he knew Richard did, too. For all his faults, for all he lacked, Josh couldn't fault his stepfather for one thing: Richard had loved his mother.

"I remember Teresa." Mich.e.l.le pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down, as if weighed down by sadness over Josh's mother's death. "She was always such a joyful, happy person. Even after she was diagnosed with cancer, she never failed to be upbeat and positive."

"She was an eternal optimist," Josh recalled fondly. The sky was always blue and the sun was forever bright and shining in his mother's eyes. Life was a gift to be treasured; each day an adventure.

Josh and his mother had struggled financially before she married Richard, but Josh had never thought of himself as underprivileged or poor. He didn't get all the toys he wanted, but the one or two wrapped gifts under the Christmas tree had been more than enough.

"I'll check on Richard," Mich.e.l.le said.

"I'll do it," Josh offered, "I'm up."

Before he could go Mich.e.l.le stopped him with a question. "Did you ever tell your mother about the way Richard treated you?"

Josh shook his head. Really, he couldn't see the point. For the first time in his life, Josh had known his mother was content. She loved Richard and worked hard to keep a comfortable home for her new husband and his son. She took pride in a clean house and in preparing healthy, appetizing meals.

"No, I never did."

A frown marred her features. "Why didn't you?"

The temptation had been strong to run to his mother, especially in the early years of her second marriage. The problem was that the verbal put-downs had been hard to pinpoint, especially since Richard's behavior was mostly pa.s.sive-aggressive. Josh feared that he'd sound like a crybaby if he told his mother Richard had picked up Dylan after school, leaving Josh to walk home alone. If he were to complain, Richard would simply claim he hadn't seen Josh, or make some other phony excuse.

"Josh," Mich.e.l.le sighed. "I don't understand you."

"What's to understand?" he asked.

After a time, the changes in his mother became even more apparent to Josh. She was genuinely happy. She loved Richard and Dylan, and most important, they loved her. Yes, it meant he had to share his mother with these two other people. While that might have been cause for concern, Josh didn't mind because she deserved happiness.

She hummed when she baked elaborate desserts, and she planted flowers and started knitting again, all the things she'd given up because of tight finances. Richard and Dylan had lived without a woman's influence for several years, and the small female touches of gentleness Teresa brought into their lives made a difference, too. Josh recognized that and so he said nothing.

"My mother was happy," he said after a lengthy pause. "Richard made her happy."

Mich.e.l.le appeared to look at him with fresh eyes. "You were wise and mature beyond your years, Josh."

If that was the case then Josh had his mother to thank. She was the one who'd raised and nurtured him, who'd instilled a sense of honor in him.

Josh headed down the hallway to his stepfather's bedroom. He made an effort to silence his steps as much as possible as he approached the older man's room. After dinner, they'd given Richard his prescribed pain medication and he'd promptly gone to bed. Within minutes he'd fallen asleep.

The master bedroom door creaked as Josh opened it. He hesitated for fear it would wake Richard.

"I'm not dead yet, if that's why you're here."

Josh slipped into the bedroom and turned on the light. Richard lay half-p.r.o.ne, propped up by two pillows. "I figure you'll live another ten years just to spite me," Josh said.

"I should."

"Don't let me stop you. Do you need anything?"

Richard sat up and glared across the room at Josh. "Nothing you can give me. Why are you here?"

"I came to make sure you're resting comfortably."

Richard snorted and shook his head. "You were looking to rob me blind, weren't you? That was what you did before, so why should I trust you now?"

For an instant the old resentments flared back to life and he retorted sharply. "You know as well as I do that I didn't steal that money."

"You lied to me twelve years ago and you're lying now," Richard spat.

Josh could see that the argument had quickly tired the older man. A pillow toppled from the bed and onto the carpet. Josh came all the way into the room and retrieved it from the floor.

"Do you want it behind your back?" he asked.

Richard hesitated and then nodded.

Josh replaced the pillow and while he was there he straightened the blankets and smoothed the afghan his mother had knitted over the end of the bed.

"Thank you."

At first Josh was sure he'd misunderstood. Richard had actually thanked him. "You're welcome," he said.

Richard exhaled slowly, as though he found it difficult to breathe.

Josh started to leave and was about to ask if Richard wanted the light on or off. Instead he stood near the foot of the bed. "Mich.e.l.le and I were talking just now and, well, it doesn't really matter what led to this, but I want to tell you something."

"I don't want to hear it," Richard barked. "I'm tired, leave me alone. Now get out of here before I-"

Josh ignored the tirade and spoke over his stepfather. "I wanted to thank you for making my mother happy."

"Oh I'll-" Richard abruptly stopped speaking. "What did you just say?"

Josh was fairly certain the old man had heard him. "My mother was happy when she was married to you ... perhaps for the first time since she'd had me. You made her happy."

Richard glared back as if unwilling to trust what he'd heard.

Undeterred, Josh continued. "I wanted to thank you for giving her that small piece of joy. G.o.d knows she deserved it."

"Your mother was a good woman."

"You were good to her," Josh admitted, "especially toward the end of her life." Richard had taken good care of Teresa and for that Josh would always be grateful. His stepfather had encouraged and supported her, and in the last days of her life, he had simply sat by her bedside and held her hand. Josh had been there, too-on the other side of the bed. He'd wanted to be as close to her as possible, and was afraid of what would happen to him after she was gone.

To his amazement Richard's eyes clouded with tears. "I loved Teresa."

"I know you did."

"She was the best thing that ever happened to Dylan and me."

"And to me, too," Josh added.

Moisture slipped from the corner of the old man's face. "You ... you looked like your mother," Richard whispered. "I couldn't look at you without being reminded of what I'd lost."

It had never occurred to Josh that seeing him had been, for his stepfather, a constant reminder of all he had lost.

"When she died ..." Richard was unable to continue. "I thought ... and then I lost Dylan, too."

"I know," Josh whispered.

"No, you don't," he countered sharply. "You couldn't possibly know what that kind of grief does to a man."

Richard was probably right. Josh had no idea what it was like to lose a child. He didn't think G.o.d ever asked more of a parent than to claim one of their children. Richard had lost two wives and his only son; he was bitter and angry, but he was ent.i.tled to both emotions.

"I don't want to live any longer," his stepfather whispered.

Josh struggled to make out the words.

"I have nothing to live for."

"I'm sorry," Josh told him.