Dating A Saint (19 page)

Barrett had earned every penny of his retainer this month, Jim thought.

“So Margaret is really filing for divorce,” Sam said in awe, looking at the paperwork.

“Yes, it appears she is,” Jim said. “My attorney says it will be about a month before it’s final. I’ll make sure you get copies unless you prefer me to just keep them for you.”

Jim watched Sam shake his head.

“No, that’s okay. I’ll give my copies to Hector. He’s keeping my personal things now. I’ve told him what is happening,” Sam said, measuring the relief inside him and feeling shocked at how widely he felt it throughout his body.

Sam hadn’t known how much he wanted not to be tied to Margaret Simpson until he read the words on the page and knew it was possible at last. Dissolving his marriage to the wrong woman was like severing the last strand linking him to his father. The relief was overwhelming and Sam closed his eyes to say a prayer of thanks.

“Sam? You okay?” Jim asked, growing concerned as the gentle man across from him just sat there holding the paper in his hand, looking like he was going to pass out.

“Relief—the feeling is very strong,” Sam tried to explain to Jim, raising his gaze at last. “Did she ask for more money?”

“Yes, but it’s only a one shot deal and then she’s on her own. It’s worth every penny as far as I’m concerned,” Jim said easily, because it truly was worth the money if even one of them could end a fraction of the farce their lives had been for years. Jim had made that decision the day he wrote the check for the first third of Sam’s divorce settlement. If all he could ever do was live vicariously through Sam’s freedom, so be it. He’d paid half a million dollars for a lot less satisfying things.

“Sam, regardless of what happens with my situation with Cassandra, I am glad this has worked out for you,” Jim said sincerely. “Lord knows someone around here deserves a happy ending.”

A knock on the doorway drew both their attention. Sam’s smile was immediate when he turned his head. He held out the paper to the young man who walked into the room to stand by Sam.

“Gracias, padre,” the man said, smiling back at Sam before starting to read.

*** *** ***

Hector Samuel Gonzalez knew his mother would have been very unhappy if she had caught him eavesdropping outside James Gallagher’s office door. But this was about his father. When Hector had decided a year ago to become a real son to the man, he had worked hard to understand all of Sam’s life—the good and the bad of it.

Hector was a man who took all of his commitments seriously, so he preferred making his own judgments about the man who controlled virtually everything in his father’s life. His mother was the man’s biggest advocate, and time and again Rosa Gonzalez-Jones had told her firstborn son Mr. Gallagher was a saint for what he was doing. Hector had not disagreed with his mother, but it was more satisfying to have it validated for himself.

He also couldn’t help wondering how much money Gallagher had paid his father’s greedy wife for the divorce.

Sam’s gaze was glued to Hector, but he spoke to Jim. “Jim—this is my son, Hector.”

Jim stood and walked around the desk, reaching out a hand to the young man. He looked for physical evidence of Sam in Hector Gonzalez’s face, but saw none. Jim hoped his wariness wasn’t obvious to Sam.

“Mr. Gonzalez, your fath—Sam has told me a lot about you,” Jim said, impressed by the firm handshake and the direct gaze meeting his own.

“I can say the same,” Hector replied, deciding he liked James Gallagher’s handshake at least.

“Sam, when do you have to collect Sandy?” Jim asked, smiling at Sam to soften trying to find some private time alone with Hector.

Sam swung a startled gaze to the clock. He’d forgotten the time. The moment of panic started growing, then Hector’s hand on his shoulder reminded him it was okay. Time didn’t matter anymore. He relaxed immediately and patted the boy’s hand gratefully.

“I should probably go now,” Sam said to Jim, his voice much calmer than the emotion swirling through him. “Is that okay?”

Sam looked at Hector, who smiled warmly.

Hector spoke back to Sam in Spanish. Jim was surprised when Sam answered in kind and laughed. Neither of them were aware Jim understood every word they’d said to each other. Whatever the real nature of their relationship, it was obvious Hector Gonzalez cared about Sam and seemed to understand the challenges of Sam’s life.

“If I do not see you later,” Hector said to Sam as he was leaving, “we’ll come by this weekend. Elaina is missing her abuelo. She made me promise.”

Sam smiled, nodded, and headed away.

After he left, Hector walked over and took the chair his father had vacated. It sort of forced James Gallagher to go back to his own seat, which though rude was fine by Hector. This conversation was a year overdue as far as Hector was concerned.

“I can tell from your doubtful expression you are not convinced I am Sam’s biological son,” Hector began.

“I am neither convinced nor unconvinced,” Jim said easily. “Sam kept you a secret until last week. I haven’t had time to look into the matter. He agreed I could talk with you about it. Are you his biological son?”

“My mother is a wonderful woman, Mr. Gallagher. My stepfather who raised me is a very good man. I was twenty-two and home from college when my mother told me they had found my biological father. She has been watching over Sam for several years now because she says a part of her heart belongs to him. My stepfather actually helped her find him originally. She does not come to see him here, but agreed a year ago it would be good for me to tell him the truth. I now bring my family to see him. They don’t know of his illness, but they do know Sandy has a few problems. We are careful with them both. Love finds a way,” Hector said softly.

Jim studied the man’s face. It was a pretty speech, he thought, wanting to believe Hector was sincere.

“I do not blame you for doubting, Mr. Gallagher. Here,” Hector said. He reached into the pocket of his shirt and pulled out a photo, handing it to Jim. It was a picture of Sam holding a blonde-haired girl of three or four, and hugging a small boy not much older who looked just like Hector.

“My wife is Hispanic also. My son looks like us, but my daughter favors her grandfather, don’t you think?” Hector asked, fascinated with the play of emotions in Gallagher’s eyes as he studied the picture.

“Have you done DNA testing?” Jim asked.

“For what purpose?” Hector asked. “To prove my mother is truthful? To prove my biological father is more real? There is nothing to gain from more knowing than I already possess. My love and caring for Samuel Simpson is a choice, Mr. Gallagher.”

“Jim,” Jim corrected. “Call me Jim. And we might need more proof if what I’ve done works.”

Hector inclined his head in a single motion that he hoped would show his understanding. “If there is need, we will do what must be done.”

“Your father told you about the divorce?” Jim asked, handing the picture back.

“Yes,” Hector said. “And my father said I might have to prove my heritage to become his legal guardian. I am willing to help him in any way I can. Will you tell me what you had to pay Margaret Simpson to divorce my father?”

Jim sized up the anger in Hector’s voice and the glare of disgust with a businessman’s perusal. He was about to find out what the young man really thought about things.

“I’m paying Margaret Simpson half a million dollars to divorce your father. I’d rather you didn’t share this information with Sam. It would only disturb him more.”

Hector closed his eyes and swore—English and Spanish. He slapped his hands on the chair arms, stood, and paced around the office. He closed the office door as easily as he could considering he wanted to slam it, and then he made himself walk back to sit in the chair. There was nothing he could do to remove the anger or the hurt from his gaze before he looked at the man across the desk.

“My business is thriving, but I can only pay half of his—ransom from that woman,” Hector said sadly. “You have just convinced me my mother was completely right about you.”

“Pay half? You mean you want to give me money?” Jim asked, shocked at the offer. The man wanted to help him pay for Sam’s freedom. Jim couldn’t take it in. “Can you afford to pay half?”

“Most of it. Not completely yet,” Hector said with shrug. “But I will find a way. It is not fair for you to bear such a financial burden alone, not after all this.” Hector swept his arm toward the wall, meaning the whole facility.

Jim didn’t know what to say. No one had ever offered to help him financially before. It was several moments before he could recover from the shock enough to speak.

“I don’t need you to pay for any of it,” Jim said quietly, but firmly. “Money has never been my problem. I’m not saying half a million dollars is not a lot of money. I’m just saying I will never miss any of it. I do need you to be willing to become Sam’s legal guardian if he doesn’t pass the medical exams. And I would like you to promise me you will never do anything to harm his relationship to Cassandra—she’s still legally my wife, but she belongs to Sam.”

Hector swore in Spanish before he caught himself. “Holy Mary Mother of God, so it is true?” Hector asked, his voice reverent and shocked. “Mama told me, but I did not completely believe it. Sandy tells everyone you are her brother. Her stories are very convincing.”

“My life would be so much easier if Sandy’s stories were true,” Jim agreed softly. “Cassandra is my wife in name only. I am still married to her because it allows me to legally control her care. I’ve been paying Sam’s wife for the last five years so Sam and Cassandra can be together. Sam is the man my wife loves and thinks of as her husband. I take care of both of them because it is the right thing for all of us.”

Hector closed his eyes and prayed. He prayed more fervently than he had for anything before.

“But who takes care of you?” Hector asked, the unfairness of it assailing him. His wife, his children, his mother—Dios, they were his true joy. “Who gives you the type of love you give to my father and your wife?”

Jim thought about the question. He had been lonely for many years, but he’d never wanted anyone to care for him—until he let himself care about Lauren.

“There hasn’t been anyone in my life to worry about, at least not until recently, but I am not willing to change my marital situation if it means I lose the ability to care for Cassandra and Sam. Cassandra’s parents are in their seventies, and there is no more family. If they died, Cassandra would become a ward of the state. The state might not let me care for her or Sam in the way I wish to provide for them. The legal risk is too great to take.”

Hector swore again in Spanish. “This situation cannot be so restricting. If there is a heaven, this cannot be so. Do you believe in God, Jim?” Hector asked.

“No offense to you Hector, but I don’t know that I’ve given much thought to a deity,” Jim answered.

“Well, my mother raised me Catholic. I believe very deeply in God and my faith is strong. I will pray for a miracle for you,” Hector said, rising. “My money is yours anytime, but more importantly, I would like you to feel you are not alone in caring for Sam and Sandy anymore. Ask me what you will—I will do it if I can.”

Jim stood and walked Hector to the door. “I appreciate both offers. I truly don’t need your money. I’d rather have the help with taking care of Sam.”

“This woman in your life—does she know about all this?” Hector asked.

“Yes,” Jim said, thinking of Lauren. “She doesn’t seem to care about sharing me with my—other obligations. I’m the one with the problem.”

“You should accept your woman as a gift of God,” Hector told him. “Sin is about intent as well as actions. Only God can judge us, and I do not believe the Holy Father would find any sin in your life—despite the laws of man. You have supported my father and Sandy’s loving relationship for five years. That’s a longer period of grieving than most men do over a divorce or a death before replacing a spouse. You deserve to have happiness just like everyone else, Jim.”

Hector’s words were such an echo of what everyone else had been telling him, hope rose inside Jim before he could push it back down.

After Hector walked away, Jim closed the door again and sat for a long time just staring at the wall.

Jim rang Lauren’s doorbell with no small amount of trepidation, cautioning himself to be polite to her, no matter what she was wearing or who she was with today. When she opened the door to him, he was a little surprised to see her wearing a dreary calf length dress and frowning. But it was the distress in her gaze that had him barging in without waiting for an invitation.

“This is not a good time,” Lauren said tightly. “My mother is here. I know we need to talk, but you have to come back later.”

Jim looked at her face, trying to decide. She looked—defeated, he thought. He didn’t want to leave her alone.

“Lauren, don’t leave company standing in the doorway. Where are your manners today?” Lydia McCarthy chided, walking into the foyer from the living room. “Oh. James. What are you doing here?”

Jim looked at Lauren one last time, and finally swung his gaze to her mother. He didn’t know what had put the browbeaten look on Lauren’s face, but he’d be damned if he left her alone with a woman who wanted her to go back to Jared Smith.

“I came by to see if Lauren wanted to go to dinner,” Jim told Lydia.

“Go to dinner?” Lydia said, surprised. “Will your wife be joining the two of you?”

When Jim smiled at her mother evilly, Lauren almost reached out and put a hand on his arm to restrain him. It was the same look he’d given Jared at the fundraiser. Lauren feared it more now than then because she had seen the temper he normally restrained.

“Let’s go into the living room and have a chat,” Jim said to Lydia. “Lauren, could I trouble you for some water? I drove straight here from Maryland and never stopped along the way.”

Lauren looked between Jim and her mother, but decided to ignore the trepidation she felt. Instead, she turned on her heel and walked to the kitchen. She was so sick of her mother’s haranguing over her ex-husband, she almost didn’t care what Jim said to her. At least he’d give Lydia McCarthy something else to talk about for a little while.