Christmas Homecoming

They all knew his shame. They all knew his pain. Thanks to someone leaking his true parentage to their rival paper the Observer, everyone in Davis Landing knew that Wallace wasn’t Jeremy’s father. And while no one at church today had been unkind to him, Jeremy couldn’t help but feel their intense scrutiny. He’d been away; he was estranged from his powerful, sick father. He and his brother Tim had been feuding and at odds. Jeremy wasn’t at all surprised that the grapevines and gossip mills were going full throttle against him.

But Tim wants all of that to end, Jeremy reminded himself, still surprised that his high-maintenance younger brother had mellowed over the last few months. Maybe it was time for Jeremy to take some initiative and try to meet his brother halfway. Coming here today had been the first step, but now it seemed to be just one more bad decision.

Feeling determined after hearing Reverend Charles David’s impassioned sermon about King David and how he’d overcome all his mistakes, Jeremy held his head up, taking in the crisp noontime air. He’d go and visit his mother later, after he’d had some time to think. Right now, he only wanted to get away from the cluster of after-church minglers who seemed intent on laughing and talking their way out of the sanctuary.

Like David the shepherd crying out in the wilderness, Jeremy wanted to be alone with his torment. There were still so many things he needed to sort through—such as what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. He also wanted to contemplate who could be trying to destroy his family, since someone obviously continued to leak one scandal after another regarding the Hamiltons. The latest had involved his baby sister Melissa’s out-of-wedlock pregnancy. Thank goodness Melissa now had Richard McNeil to love and protect her. She could probably use some kind words from her oldest brother, too, Jeremy thought. He hadn’t been very kind to anyone lately.

Glancing around, he looked for Tim to tell his brother he was leaving. In spite of his tentative truce with his brother, and his mother Nora’s pleas for him to forgive and forget, he wouldn’t be attending Sunday dinner with the family today. Since his mother hadn’t been in church, she would probably be at the hospital with Wallace anyway, and Jeremy wasn’t going there. He couldn’t bring himself to take up where he’d left off. It didn’t seem natural. None of this seemed right or natural.

Closing his eyes, Jeremy sent up a prayer. I need Your strength, Lord. I need to feel Your love. Help me make things right again. Help me find my purpose here.

He opened his eyes to find Gabi Valencia and her girls exiting the church. He’d been both surprised and cautious about seeing her again, since he’d never divulged his identity to her. She looked pretty in her sensible brown coat and long corduroy skirt, her hands holding on to her daughters on either side. The maternal scene stood out in sharp contrast to Jeremy’s rebellious thoughts. On impulse, he hurried to greet her.

“Hello,” he said, waiting at the bottom of the steps.

“Hi.”

Her greeting was short and distant. And he thought he knew the reason why.

“I never did introduce myself,” he said, hoping she’d give him a chance to explain. “I’m Jeremy Hamilton.”

The two little girls gazed down at him with wide-eyed curiosity, while their mother looked everywhere but at him.

She finally lifted her head, disappointment and distrust in her eyes. “No introductions needed now, Mr. Hamilton.”

“Jeremy,” he said. “I’m Jeremy. And as I said the other day, it’s complicated.”

“And none of my business,” she replied, already distracted as one of her pretty little daughters ran off with some playmates. “Talia, we have to go.”

The child kept on running. “Veronica, go get your sister and take her to the car,” Gabriela said, pushing the other girl toward the cluster of kids prancing around the parking lot.

“I’m Roni,” the one she’d called Veronica said to Jeremy. “I’m the oldest.”

Gabi shook her head, a wry mother’s smile turning up her mouth. “Which you remind everyone of constantly,” she said. “Now, scoot.”

“Nice to meet you, Roni,” Jeremy said, taking the girl’s hand to shake it.

The slender girl giggled, pulling away to hurry after her sister.

“They’re both lovely,” Jeremy said, not willing to give up just yet. “Like their mother.”

She looked back at him then. But the smile was gone. Her expression held doubt, her dark eyes going cynical. “Thank you.”

Feeling awkward and completely at a loss for words, Jeremy looked around. “I’d like to meet your husband.”

She lifted her head, her eyes filling with a deep pain. “I…I’m a widow. My husband…died a few years ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Jeremy said, understanding that sadness in her eyes. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” she replied, a soft smile lifting her full lips. “It was good to see you again.”

She moved to go after her girls, but Jeremy reached out a hand to stop her. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you who I was. I just needed…some time.”

She seemed to absorb that as her distant stance changed and a flicker of compassion came into her eyes. “I understand. Being a Hamilton probably does carry a lot of complications.”

He nodded, feeling the gentle censure in that remark. “You know all about me, I’m sure. So I can honestly say that in my case, not being a Hamilton carries even more complications. But I hope you won’t hold that against me.”

Her eyes widened at his implied remark. “Oh, no. You think—you must think—Mr. Hamilton, I mean, Jeremy, it never occurred to me—”

“It’s okay. Everyone’s curious. It’s understandable you’d be put off by all the scandal surrounding me. I guess my coming to church today wasn’t such a great idea, after all.”

He turned to leave, his heart hurting with the weight of his shame. And the weight of her rejection.

“Jeremy?”

He heard her call out. He stopped, but refused to turn around.

“I don’t back off very easily,” she said in a soft voice as she came closer. “And I don’t judge too harshly. You could have told me who you were the other day. It wouldn’t have mattered to me.”

He looked back then, caught up in her understanding gaze. “I appreciate that, at least. And I hope to see you again.”

She didn’t respond in words, but she did smile. It was a bittersweet smile, as if to say, “Sure, we’ll see each other again, but that’s about it.”

It was obvious they were from two very different worlds. It was also obvious that Jeremy had too much baggage surrounding him to let a nice woman like Gabriela Valencia get involved in his problems. She’d told him everything he needed to know. She was a working mother and a widow. She was a faithful churchgoer who didn’t want a man like him in her life. She was nice, pretty, polite, and way out of the realm of possibilities, because Jeremy wasn’t ready for anything near serious with a woman, and because this particular woman’s whole attitude toward him had changed now that she knew he was a Hamilton, or rather, now that she had found out he was the Hamilton.

The one everyone was talking about, the one everyone was feeling sorry for. He could certainly understand her hesitancy and her doubt. He had too much to get straight in his personal life before he plunged into any kind of relationship.

That much was apparent.

But something else was also apparent to Jeremy. Gabi Valencia represented the beautifully chaotic, homey existence he’d somehow lost out on, the kind of life he’d only dreamed about. But he’d always put that kind of life on hold, all for the sake of Hamilton Media. Those days were over, maybe for good.

For the first time in months, Jeremy had something, someone, other than himself and his family to focus on. He liked Gabi. He was intrigued by her, he was interested in her. And he really did hope to see her again. Very soon.

Chapter Three

Bright and early Monday morning, Jeremy stood in front of the Hamilton Media building, memories floating through his mind with the same drifting rhythm as the puffy clouds moving through the sky over Main Street.

Standing here now, he recalled in vivid detail the first time his father had brought him to this building. Jeremy must have been around five or so, and for months, he’d been begging Wallace to take him to the newspaper office. Wallace had always had an excuse.

“You’ll get in the way, son.”

“I’m too busy today, son. Maybe another time.”

Finally, one morning at the breakfast table, her teacup in hand, his mother had gently pleaded with Wallace to take Jeremy to work.

“Show our son what you do all day, darling. Show him the legacy of Hamilton Media. After all, it’ll all be his someday.”

“His—and his brother’s and sister’s, too,” Wallace had replied, his eyes still on his paper.