The Billionaire's Obsession

  I stood nervously at the altar that was made of flowers and seashells. Holly and her mother had built it, with the shells they’d found on their many excursions to the beach. The baby loved the beach and Holly told me all the time that he was going to be some kind of seaman when he grew up. I didn’t know about that, but I did know that our little man was going to have every advantage and more importantly an abundance of love. He could be anything he wanted and I would love him all the same.

  I glanced again along the aisle made of flower petals. Holly had wanted everything to be natural and organic. Her friends and her had set it all up and today was the first I’d seen of it. They had done a beautiful job, I felt like I was standing in the center of paradise. Right now though, I was waiting for my own paradise to walk down that aisle, and it seemed like it was taking forever. I have to admit that although I’ve come a long way, I still had some residual abandonment issues. I tried not to, but for a second I let my head go back to that dark place, the one where Cecile left me and took the baby with her. I held my breath and closed my eyes and reminded myself that Holly wasn’t going to do that. We had worked through our issues. Nonetheless I was nervous until at last I heard the sounds of soft music and I looked up to see Holly’s mother being escorted down the aisle by Myra’s husband. Mrs. Valentine was beaming. I think today was a day that she had at one point given up on ever being able to attend, and here she was, a vital part of it. Myra’s husband was a good guy and we had become close. As the father of four little ones, he’d also been a great resource for me when it came to taking care of my own.

  Next, Rose came down the aisle on the arm of a friend of mine who was one of the ushers. Rose was a nice lady, and she had finally left that mean man she lived with. Holly and I helped her get set up in her own place and not long after that, we heard a rumor that she was dating none other than grumpy old Joe. None of the staff at the café would confirm or deny it, but from the way they looked at each other when Holly and I had them over for dinner and Joe’s sudden change from an old grump to a virtual picture of sunshine, I’d say it was a safe bet.

  Myra came next, escorted by my best man. I had thought long and hard about who I would ask. But it was always obvious who it should be. This man was much older and very distinguished looking. His hair was still mostly dark with just a touch of gray at the temples. He had dark eyes that seemed to dance when he smiled. He looked as happy as Holly’s mother to be here, I’m sure it’s a day he thought he’d never see as well. His name is Gregory Scott and he is my grandfather. The story of how we came together after so many years of bad blood is a long one, but let me just say that the woman who is about to become my bride was instrumental in bringing a family together.

  Finally, with all the bit players in place, the wedding march was struck up and a white carriage covered with white flowers and lace was pushed down the aisle by Joe, who actually cleaned up very well. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts and he was barefoot like me. Inside the carriage was Eric, mine and Holly’s son and the light of my life. Next to his mother, he was the best thing that ever happened to me. I couldn’t even look at him without my chest puffing up with pride. He was beautiful and smart…at one year old he was already walking and he said “Da Da” at nine months. I cried that day almost as much as I did the day he was born. He was trying to climb out of the carriage now and my grandfather went and took him. The old man’s smile lit up the entire island when he looked at the sweet little boy.

  Holly had asked Joe to walk her down the aisle. That brought him to tears. One of the reasons I’d picked her almost two years ago to be the mother of my child was the way that everyone around her seemed to fall in love with her. They all loved her in different ways, Joe like a father, Rose and Myra like a sister. But, because of that I should have known that I wouldn’t be able to resist either no matter how hard I tried, and most of the time I can’t even remember why I did try. I regretted all of that wasted time. This past year had been the happiest of my life. I had gotten into therapy, reluctantly, but because Holly asked me to. I learned things about myself that I never knew, things that surprised me. Most of all, I learned how to forget the past and move on, knowing that because one person had hurt me before it didn’t mean the next one would do the same.

  I looked at her now on Joe’s arm. She was wearing an off-white sundress with a wreath of beautiful flowers in her pretty dark hair that hung in curls to her shoulders. She was so beautiful, she took my breath away. I wasn’t a big believer in the supernatural, but sometimes I couldn’t help but wonder if it were fate that had led me to that café the first time I’d gone in there and saw Holly. I look at her now and I feel like we were destined to be here together. I can’t even imagine being anywhere else.

  HOLLY

  As I walked down the aisle towards my destiny I thought back over the past two years. Two years ago I was a lonely, miserable woman. I had no self-confidence and very little hope for the future. My mother was drinking heavily and I was in full-blown enabler mode. I did everything for her and it had taken me a long time to realize that had been a big part of why she continued to do what she did. I’d gotten so used to my situation that I got to the point of needing her to be sick in order to validate my own life. I didn’t know that until recently. I’d started going to some of her AA meetings so as a family, we can make sure history never repeated itself.

  I can see her now, standing near the front row, turned to look at me as the wedding march plays. She’s gorgeous in her apricot sun dress with her long, dark hair framing her face and hanging down her back. When she was drinking, her hair was dull and her skin a sickly yellow color. She’d looked sixty-five then, but now if I didn’t know her I would say she wasn’t a day over thirty-five. She was actually somewhere around fifty and she had a lot of good, sober years in front of her. She loved being a grandmother and she’d gotten a job at an antique store that she loved as well. It was so good to see her happy and thriving. She celebrated her one year sober anniversary nine months ago. She was already going on two. On top of her job, she was volunteering her time to counsel other lost souls through the long and arduous recovery process. It was so good to have my mother back.

  Joe was pushing the object of this entire relationship in his carriage as he led me down the aisle, my precious Eric. I had only had the pleasure of knowing him for a year now but I can’t even remember what life was like without him in it. He was healthy and robust, curious, sweet, precocious…he was a miracle, and I loved him so much that not only my heart, but my entire body was consumed with it. I could be having the worst day ever, not that there were many of those anymore, but one small smile from Eric was like magic that washed all the troubles away. I watch him grow every day and soak up the world like a sponge and I marvel at how lucky I am.

  Rose and Myra were constants at our house in the country. We sat by the big window in the kitchen sometimes and sipped our tea or our coffee and I think about that day I’d gone riding with Aiden. I hadn’t dared let myself hope that dream could become a reality back then, but here I was in the middle of it. Aiden had insisted that he didn’t want his son raised in the city so we’d moved into the house full-time not long after Eric was born. I didn’t argue with that. I was more than happy to live with my little family in the country. We took the baby on horseback rides every weekend and he had a dog and goats and sheep…he would grow up to be a regular farm boy, albeit a very rich one. I wanted him to be touched by the beauty of the life around him and the people who loved him before he discovered that. I wanted him to be rich in his soul before he ever knew how rich he was in his bank accounts.

  That thought brought me around to Aiden’s grandpa. After Aiden began to go to therapy, he started thinking a lot about “the old man” as he called him. He said he began to wonder if the man deserved a second chance, if for no other reason than he was family. He obviously hadn’t forgotten Aiden completely. He’d been putting money continuously into those untouched acco
unts for thirty years. I wasn’t a big advocate of showing your love in dollar signs, but maybe it was the only way the “old man” knew how. I told Aiden that I would support whatever he decided to do. I truly believed that everyone deserved at least a second chance, and if you loved them, maybe a third.

  Aiden started by investigating and researching him and he found out that he was a philanthropist now. He still ran his businesses but for the past twenty years he had given almost every cent he made during that time to different children’s charities. He had built hospitals and given aid to starving children in third world countries. The thing that impressed Aiden the most was that it was all hard for him to even find. “The old man” didn’t advertise it or talk about it in interviews, or accept public praise for it. He did it seemingly out of the goodness of his heart.

  “He couldn’t be all that bad, right?” Aiden had asked me one night as we lay in bed. “Someone who would do all of that, even if it’s to make amends for the way he’d already lived his life, he couldn’t be a completely worthless person, right?”

  “I don’t think so,” I told him. “If it is to make amends then that means he’s changed. Even if he did make mistakes before, trying to make amends would mean that he regrets them. I’m sure that his love of money cost him dearly. But maybe you need to meet him face to face and decide all of that for yourself.”

  For the next few months he talked a lot about “the old man,” but he never took the step of arranging a meeting with him. I knew that he wanted to, but he was afraid. I think mostly he was afraid of the reality destroying the image of the kind and giving man he had begun to hope his grandfather had become. Finally, just before Aiden’s thirtieth birthday I called him myself. I found the number lying on Aiden’s desk. I told him who I was and that I was having a surprise birthday party for Aiden. I told him Aiden had been thinking of contacting him and would like to finally meet him. I asked if he would have any interest in coming to the party. He cried on the phone. He cried again when I met him at the airport and he cried when he saw Aiden. His tears only doubled when he met Eric. He’d been in town for over six months now. He and Eric went to the park once a week and took the dog out into the field and ran and played every day. Not that Eric could really run yet, but his great-grandfather made sure he won every race. I don’t think he’s planning on leaving again anytime soon.

  When we reached the altar, Joe kissed me on the cheek and handed me over to my handsome groom. Other than our son, I’d never seen a sight so beautiful. It had taken us almost two years but here we were at last, standing with our bare toes in the sand of our own private island in front of God, our family and our friends, saying the vows to each other that I know we will both uphold. We had already been through the hard times. They were all in the past. Our future would be filled with family and love and truth and loyalty. No one was going to leave, and our son was going to have the best childhood ever…at least all of that was going to happen if I had anything to say about it.

  That day I heard the seven most beautiful words my ears had ever been privy to: I now pronounce you man and wife.

  Holly Rayner