Rina glanced around. She had to admit, she could probably sneak off for an hour and they’d survive.
But Colin was facing an emotional minefield. Would he welcome her presence? Or would showing up give him a reason to push her away?
Half an hour later, Rina walked into the hospital, and after meeting up with Corinne on Joe’s floor, was directed to his room. She strode into the doorway and paused. Colin sat in the chair beside the bed, his back to the door and his head bent close to the man he called his father.
The intensity in the room was fierce and a lump rose to her throat. Her pulse began to pound and her heart raced, anticipation and anxiety feuding inside her. She didn’t know what Colin was facing. But as much as she wanted to go to him, to hold his hand, she remained in the shadows, knowing he deserved his time alone.
Knowing, too, she’d be here when it was through.
CORINNE HAD LEFT Colin alone with Joe, destroying any lingering notions Colin might have had about her exerting undue influence on Joe. Not that he had many left anyway. After a solid week of watching her at Joe’s bedside, he was convinced of her sincerity, not that it was an easy thing to admit.
“Did you ever have a dream?” Joe asked.
“Of course I’ve dreamed.” Colin forced a laugh as the older man stared without speaking, an old tactic he’d used on Colin as a teenager. One that to this day never failed to elicit a response. “I’ve dreamed of running the paper.”
“Bullshit.” Joe spoke loud, clear and less slurred than before. The effort obviously cost him, because he leaned back against the white pillow. “You don’t know your dreams and until you stop running, you never will.”
A punch in the stomach would have been more gentle, but then, gentle had never been Joe’s style. Directness had, which was why Corinne’s power of attorney had taken Colin off guard. Joe hadn’t prepared him up front.
Seconds passed in which Joe just met Colin’s gaze and stared, while Colin tried to formulate a response when he had none. Because as usual, the older man was right.
Joe gestured to the water pitcher. Grateful for a minute to think, Colin poured the cold liquid into a disposable cup, waiting for Joe to take a few sips before taking the cup back and placing it on the tray.
“If I’d have asked you to run the paper when I got sick, months before I had the stroke, I’d have been forcing you to come home, for who knows how long. And you need to find your way without my influence.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve always considered you a son. Even when you couldn’t return the sentiment.”
Colin swallowed hard. “I returned it. I just couldn’t show it. I thought I’d be betraying my parents.”
Hard as Joe and Nell tried, Colin realized now they’d never completely filled the parental role, probably because he’d been old enough to maintain love and loyalty. And fear. Fear if he gave himself over to Joe and Nell’s love, he’d lose his parents for good. Never mind that he’d already lost them.
Joe’s laugh sounded more like a rasping wheeze, scaring Colin. “I knew that. Hell, Nell knew it, too. We never held it against you though. That sense of loyalty was what made you such a damn fine man, one I’m proud to call my son.”
Colin shook his head. “I never deserved you.”
“You damn well did. You still do. You think I don’t know you’re here now, fighting to save what’s mine? Only a son would do that for his father.”
Colin closed his eyes but he couldn’t shut out the truth. Joe knew him better than he knew himself. The older man understood things about Colin he himself had just come to recognize and accept. The running, the emotional barriers, all a result of his parents’ deaths, had distanced him from his life and the people in it. But no longer.
It had taken Joe’s stroke to bring him home, Joe’s seeming betrayal to shock him into looking deeper, but it had been Rina who’d taught him the biggest lesson of all in understanding, acceptance—and love.
He shook as the word ran through his mind, and settled there. He loved Rina. Something he’d deal with when he left the hospital.
And he loved the older man lying in the bed before him. “I’m lucky to have you. Always have been,” Colin told Joe. “But why didn’t you just tell me about giving Corinne power of attorney?”
Joe’s brown eyes clouded over. “Fate. Honest to goodness, fate. When I got sick, no way did I want to call you home, and when the doctors insisted I cut back, I put Corinne in charge.”
“She knows nothing about running a paper, Joe.”
“But I love and trust her, just like I do you. Just like I did Nell before her.” He gestured for the water and Colin passed the cup again, waiting while Joe finished soothing his dry throat.
Hearing how Joe felt about his wife made Colin’s mission to enlighten his father about the paper’s problems more difficult. Colin ran a hand over his eyes and groaned.
He didn’t know how to approach the issue, and since he still didn’t have a direct answer to his question, he focused on that first. “Why didn’t you tell me you put Corinne in charge?” he asked again.
“Because it wasn’t something I felt I could do long distance. I knew you’d come home for Christmas, even if it was a short visit. I planned to tell you then. But like I said, fate intervened and I had the damn stroke first.” Joe’s voice returned to a low whisper he had to strain to hear, but there was no mistaking the regret in his voice.
The vise holding Colin’s heart hostage eased with the realization that everything Joe did had been in Colin’s best interest. At the expense of his beloved paper.
Be true to yourself, Rina had said. The time had come. For father and son to work out a solution together. He rose from his seat and began pacing the floor, his gaze never leaving Joe’s bed. “The Times has limited space, and Corinne’s been sacrificing hard news for softer pieces.” He no longer considered Rina’s dreams fluff. Not since seeing how important they were to her and the reaction of people he admired, like Logan and Cat. “We’re not printing true news on the front page. Corinne’s hired a woman named Rina Lowell to write about relationships, while Emma’s doing a matchmaking column for the elderly. Circulation and advertising have suffered,” he said, forcing the words out.