Husband Potential. Rebecca Winters

story but you.”

      His father lifted his hand. “I have done nothing. It is all God’s handiwork, my son.”

      “Whatever you say, Father. Nevertheless, we’ll let you get your strength back so you can be the one to guide the interview.”

      “I won’t recover this time.”

      “Nonsense,” Andre snapped. To lose the father he had just found, the parent he desperately wanted and needed to get to know, was killing him. “I’m sending an ambulance for you. You should be in a hospital and waited on.”

      “No.” The older man wheezed, struggling for breath. “No hospital for me. I always hated them.”

      Another thing Andre and his father had in common.

      So many things.

      So many years gone by that they had been denied a knowledge of each other.

      “You’re my greatest earthly comfort now. Come closer. It’s a joy to talk to the son of my flesh. You’re a divine gift at my last hour.”

      That had to be a lie.

      Andre’s sudden appearance at the monastery ten days ago announcing that he was the Abbot’s son, had come as such a great shock, Andre was convinced his pneumonia had taken a turn for the worse.

      No matter how much his father denied it, Andre knew the truth. He was the one responsible for the older man’s present condition. It weighted Andre with fresh grief.

      “You are not to blame for anything, my son. Indeed, you are a victim, and my heart grieves that you’ve been robbed of your family.

      “If there is an accusing finger, it should be pointed at me for taking my pleasure with your mother before I said my final vows to become a monk. It was the most selfish thing I have ever done, and entirely unfair to you and your mother.”

      Andre’s head reared back. “According to Aunt Maudelle, my mother tempted you beyond your endurance.”

      He raised his hand once more, then it fell back at his side. “Maudelle was your mother’s elder sister. She never married, never knew a man. Her jealousy of Lisette made her say unkind things.

      “Don’t believe her accusations. A man cannot be tempted unless he allows himself to be, my son. You’ve been in the world. You know that’s true.”

      Andre did know.

      “Your mother’s family was French. She was very beautiful. I see so much of Lisette in your black hair, your eyes,” he cried softly before the coughing took over. “Though I had always wanted to serve God, I loved her, too. My heart was torn because of conflicting loyalties.

      “If she had let me know she was pregnant with you, I would have married her. Maybe a part of me was hoping it would happen. I told her I was being sent to Utah, but she remained silent. I never saw or heard from her again. I had no idea she died of complications after you were born.” Tears rolled down his flushed cheeks.

      “Make no mistake, Andre,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Your mother was the unselfish one. She deliberately chose not to tell me she was pregnant because in her heart, she knew of my desire to serve God. Otherwise why wouldn’t I have married her rather than enroll in the seminary in the first place?

      “In the end, your Aunt Maudelle did something even more unselfish. Despite her shortcomings and her jealousy, she raised you to be a wonderful man.”

      “She didn’t even have me christened with your name, Father.”

      “That wasn’t her fault. I’m sure she and your mother decided you should bear your mother’s name so there would be no scandal attached to my family name. Don’t you see? They wanted to protect me.

      “But Benet is a very fine name. Your mother’s name. Be proud of it. Oh, Andre— I don’t deserve such a blessing, but I do know God will reward Maudelle who must have secretly loved you like her own child. Just look at you!”

      He stared at Andre out of loving eyes. “I am so proud of you. You’ve been everywhere, done everything. You’re so knowledgeable about everything, you speak other languages. You’ve acquired a formal education, and have invested your money wisely. No man could ask for a finer son. I’ve told the brothers that you are my true-born son. I want to shout it to the world!”

      “You shouldn’t have done that, Father. No one need have known. I never meant to bring you shame.”

      “Shame?” He sounded truly angry. “You don’t understand! Why would I hide anything as miraculous as my own flesh and blood from the brothers I have served all these years? I’ve told them that when I’m gone, I want you to be free to stay here for as long as you like. This can be your home when you want it to be.

      “I’m not a man of the world. I can’t leave you a shop or a farm. I own nothing. But I can give you a quiet place of repose where you can come to be alone, to ponder. I see only one thing lacking in you. You’ve learned everything except the meaning of life. Maybe one day you’ll find it here. Then you’ll enjoy the peace which has eluded you for so long.”

      Andre marveled at his father’s insight and grasped the frail hand reaching for his. When he heard his father sob, it was like a dam bursting. Andre broke down and wept with him.

      “Andre?” he whispered some time later. “I know what’s in your heart. Besides the confusion and anger you feel against me, your mother, your Aunt Maudelle, you have questions. I’ll try my best to answer them all.

      “But you must promise me something in return.” Another battle for breath wracked his body.

      “Andre—promise me you’ll not let anger and bitterness rule your life!”

      His father was asking the impossible, but with Death holding her jaws open wide, Andre didn’t see he had a choice and gave his newly found parent the one promise he couldn’t imagine keeping.

      Fran couldn’t believe it was the middle of May already. Friday was the deadline for the July issue, and she still had to make that trip out to Clarion today to visit some of the descendants of the first Jewish settlers to the state and get pictures.

      “Line two for you, Frannie.”

      “I can’t take it right now, Paula.”

      “But the man called five times yesterday.”

      “What’s his name?”

      “He wouldn’t leave it. I told him you would be in for a few minutes this morning and now I’ve run out of excuses.”

      “Oh, all right.”

      She hated it when people refused to be called back, as if she lived to answer their phone calls. Pushing the hair away from her face, she put the receiver to her ear. “Fran Mallory here.”

      “Ms. Mallory. At last.”

      Fran recognized that voice.

      Without volition her body started to tremble for a variety of reasons she couldn’t explain. One thing was certain. Trappist monk or no, she refused to help him out. If that was uncharitable, then so be it. He’d been horrible to her.

      “Yes?” came her sharp reply.

      “I deserved that.”

      The unexpected olive branch caused her eyes to close tightly. Never in her life had she met a person less like a monk, even if she hadn’t personally known one.

      “If the Abbot is well enough to handle an interview, you should be talking to Paul Goates. It’s his story.”

      “I understand he’s on vacation. If you still want to do the article, come to the monastery now.”

      The line went dead.

      She held the receiver in front of her and let out a cry of frustration before banging it down on the hook.

      “Come