His Answered Prayer. Lois Richer
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hung up with the advice still ringing in his ears.
But you’re not better suited, not at all. It’s just another lie you let people believe, his conscience reminded him. You couldn’t possibly take that boy from the one person who loves him more than life. You have nothing to offer him. At least, nothing that really matters.
“What do I know about being a father?” he whispered, worry overtaking his brain. “How can I be sure that I won’t do something wrong? That I won’t scar him or cause something that will make him unhappy years down the road, after I’m gone?”
It was a prospect he had to deal with. He knew how easily that could happen. His father hadn’t wanted to leave his son the memories he carried. At least, Gabe told himself that, hoping it was true. But Daniel, Sr., hadn’t been able to accept the son he’d fathered, either. Gabe simply didn’t fit the baseball and fishing mold his father had set.
In fact, Gabe hated sports. All he’d ever wanted was to create things, to build things. To use his brain. Being sent to his room in punishment had provided hours of solitude to do just that.
“I won’t force Daniel to be a replica of me,” he assured his tired brain. “He doesn’t have to like computers. If he wants to fish, I’ll fish. I can learn that stuff. The company’s okay, now. I’ve got all the money I’ll ever need. I owe it to myself to take some time off—to see if Blair and I can make a go of it.” He thought about Mac’s letter. Why had it arrived when it had? Was God giving him a second chance?
“I owe it to him to do better than my dad did for me.”
Which shouldn’t be hard, given the past.
You owe him love.
That word sent a shiver of worry through his brain. Love? Gabe didn’t think he had it in him. Not the kind of love the songs were about, the kind of love he’d read about in stories and poems. Certainly not the emotion that required you to give away everything you valued for the sake of someone else, the kind of love that made you vulnerable and weak, prey to others.
“He doesn’t need to see that part of me,” Gabe told himself. “He’ll never know about that. I’ll make sure of it.”
But as he lay in his hotel room thinking about a black-haired little boy and his too solemn mother, Gabe wondered how he’d keep that shriveled-up, scared part of himself locked away when he’d spent such a large part of his life wondering where the next con to get his money would come from.
“One day at a time,” he reminded himself. “With God’s help, I’ll face this one day at a time. That’s what Pastor Jake said on Sunday.”
Surely if you kept your eyes on the future, you couldn’t get caught up in the past?
“Daniel’s my only chance to make amends,” he whispered, eyes closed as he prayed for help. “At least if I mess up, and I probably will, I know that Blair will make sure my son gets all the love he needs. He won’t end up like me.”
Please, God, don’t let him end up all alone like me.
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