FanStory.com - Miracles - Chap 29by Begin Again

Indecision weighed heavily on Garth as he stood outside Matthew's hospital room, his hands clasped tightly in front of him. Allie's visit had given him a glimpse into Matthew's burden, a heavy load of pain and missed chances. He knew the man had endured more than most — amnesia, regret, anger.

But Garth wasn't without his struggles. His thoughts were a tangle of emotions, most centered around Rebecca. Allie's visit had brought clarity — her blessing to move on, to find happiness with Rebecca, had untangled a knot he didn't even realize he'd been holding onto. It wasn't just about letting go; it was about understanding the connections that bound him to both women and the future he now dared to hope for.

Still, his mind drifted back to Matthew. Could Donatelli find that same peace? Or was he still trapped in the past, shackled by wounds too deep to heal?

For Jenna's sake and baby Margaret, Garth knew he had to try. Regardless of their differences or their difficulties, he wanted Matthew to rediscover the kind of love he'd shared with Allie. Perhaps even the kind he was beginning to believe in with Rebecca.

Drawing a steadying breath, Garth exhaled slowly, opened the door, and stepped inside.

"Matthew," he said softly, easing into the chair beside the bed. "I hear bits and pieces are coming back. That's good. Should have guessed you'd wait till the dust settled and the bad guys were cuffed, huh?"

Matthew squinted, his brow furrowing as he stared at Garth. The voice was familiar, but pinning it down felt like chasing smoke. Slowly, a grin broke through the haze. "Cowboy? I think I remember — a bar? Or maybe — a fight. Someone got clobbered."

Garth chuckled, leaning forward. "Close enough. You were set up. Doyle pulled the strings. Arranged the fight, planted the guy in your car — and the lake."

Matthew blinked, fragments of scenes flickering through his mind like an old film reel. "Doyle. He's in prison, isn't he? He — he was selling something. Paintings? Or — no, that doesn't sound right." He pressed his temples, frustration clouding his face. "It's all — scrambled."

"You're on the right track," Garth said gently. "Stolen paintings, yeah. That's how he funded the frame job. But don't push too hard. It'll come when it's ready."

Matthew exhaled heavily, staring at the ceiling as the fog in his mind swirled. "I keep — seeing pieces, but they don't fit yet. A pool table — a fight, maybe someone yelling. Feels like — it happened to someone else."

"Give it time, partner," Garth said, his voice reassuring. "The pieces will fall into place. Just glad you're starting to see them."

"Everything's so jumbled."

"You can worry about that later. Right now, we need to talk about Jenna."

Donatelli's eyes were closed, his face drawn with exhaustion, but he turned his head slightly. "So, news travels fast."

"News — you mean the baby?"

"Baby? I was referencing Jenna's false attacks."

Garth exhaled slowly, unsure how to approach what he knew he had to say. The last few months had been full of tension and confusion for both of them, but now, as he sat there watching Donatelli stew in the aftermath of his outburst, he knew they both had to settle their disagreements.

"I've made mistakes too," Garth said, his voice firm. "And nothing's gonna get better if we keep letting this anger tear us apart. I'm not here to tell you what to do or to judge you. I know what it's like to lose someone you love, to get caught up in regrets." He paused, swallowing hard before continuing. "I've been carrying my guilt, especially about Rebecca."

Donatelli turned his head slightly, his brow furrowing, but he didn't speak, so Garth pressed on.

"Allie's gone. I know you know that. But I've struggled with moving on. And then Rebecca came into my life. At first, I felt like I was betraying Allie — like I wasn't supposed to feel anything for Rebecca because she was her twin. But Allie — she came to me — to tell me to be happy, that I deserved to move on."

Donatelli's eyes softened, but he didn't say anything yet, so Garth continued.

"I can't pretend it's been easy. But I know now that we can't keep holding on to the past and let it keep us from living the life we're meant to live."

Donatelli let out a heavy sigh, and for the first time, he looked directly at Garth, his eyes filled with regret and sorrow. "I don't remember much about what happened, but I do regret the look I saw in Jenna's eyes this afternoon. I let my anger blind me. I thought if I pushed her away, I wouldn't feel the pain of losing." His voice cracked slightly, but he quickly regained control. "I thought if I held onto my anger at you, it would help me forget how much I screwed up."

Garth's heart tightened. "I'm not blaming you. I'm not. I — I know you love Jenna. And I know you regret what you said to her. But it's not too late to fix it. You can still make it right. Don't throw away your chance with her over pride or fear."

Donatelli was silent for a long moment, lost in thought. Garth could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle between the man who wanted to change and the man who had been consumed by past mistakes. But Garth didn't give up. He could see the man Donatelli could still be, and he wanted to give him the push he needed to get there.

"Jenna needs you, Donatelli. She's hurt. She needs to know you're still there for her. And I think deep down, she wants to forgive you. But you've got to show her that you've changed. That you're willing to put the past behind you, to make amends."

Donatelli looked at Garth, his jaw tight with emotion. "I don't deserve her forgiveness."

"You do," Garth said softly. "We all do. But you won't get it unless you let go of the anger. Let it go and take a step forward."

Donatelli's hands trembled on the arms of his chair. He looked like he was battling with himself, fighting the urge to give in to the anger that had kept him from reaching out to Jenna.

Garth stood up, preparing to leave the room, but turned back. "There's one more thing I want you to see, something that might help you understand how important it is to make things right. Something that's been missing from your life."

Donatelli frowned, but Garth didn't wait for him to ask questions. He smiled and wheeled him toward the door.

*****

The NICU's fluorescent lights were soft and dim, casting a calming glow over the rows of incubators. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic, and the soft hum of machines provided a comforting backdrop to the otherwise quiet room. Garth wheeled Donatelli into the space, the tension thick between them. But this time, it was different. Their words had softened, and now it was time for something that might finally heal them both.

As they approached one of the incubators, Donatelli's gaze shifted. His eyes widened when he saw the tiny figure inside, the fragile form of a baby who seemed impossibly small. Her chest rose and fell with each delicate breath, and monitors beeped softly in the background.

Garth wheeled Donatelli closer to the glass. "Her name is Margaret."

Donatelli froze, his gaze locked on the tiny figure, then slowly shifted to the plaque beside the incubator. His eyes widened in disbelief.

Margaret Donatelli.

His heart stopped. He didn't speak at first; he just stared, his breath caught in his throat. For a long moment, he could hardly believe it. But the more he stared at the tiny baby, the more he realized — this was real.

"She's your daughter," Garth said, his voice barely above a whisper.

The words hit Donatelli like a punch to the gut. His breath caught in his throat, his chest tightening as he looked at the small, fragile girl who was his flesh and blood. For the first time in ages, the walls around his heart cracked. A raw, aching emotion surged through him as he reached toward the glass, his hand trembling. "Jenna—" he swallowed hard. "She gave her my last name."

Garth nodded. "She loves you. She gave you the gift of fatherhood. Don't squander it."

"She's so small," he whispered, his voice breaking. "So tiny. I — I didn't know. I didn't know —"

Garth's hand rested gently on Donatelli's shoulder, the gesture of support, not pity. "She needs you. Right now. Don't let your anger or guilt rob her of the father she deserves. If you love Jenna, which I think you do, make things right before it's too late."

For a moment, Donatelli didn't speak. He just looked at Margaret, tears welling in his eyes. Finally, he nodded, his voice shaky. "Jenna tried — I — oh, God, Garth, what have I done?"

"You can fix it."

"No, I — it's too late."

Garth's eyes softened. "It's never too late. But you have to act now."

Tears welled in Donatelli's eyes, and his voice broke as he spoke, "I don't deserve this. I don't deserve her."

"You do," Garth said firmly. "But only if you're willing to fight for it. Jenna and Margaret — they're your second chance. Don't waste it."

Matthew's hand remained against the glass, trembling as he stared at his daughter. His daughter. The words echoed in his mind, stirring something raw and powerful. Regret, guilt, and a fierce, unfamiliar protectiveness swirled in his chest.

"I've missed so much already," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "How do I make up for that? How do I —fix it?"

Garth crouched beside him. "You start by being here now. By showing up. Not just for Margaret, but for Jenna. Let them see you're willing to fight for them —not out of guilt, but because you love them."

Donatelli closed his eyes, swallowing hard. Fragmented and incomplete memories began to resurface — the warmth of Jenna's laughter, how she'd looked at him once, full of trust and hope. He'd shattered that. Yet this tiny, fragile life offered him a chance he didn't think he deserved.

"I thought pushing her away would protect her," he said hoarsely. "But all I did was hurt her. And now..." His voice broke as he looked at Margaret again. "Now there's this little life depending on me, and I don't even know where to start."

Garth leaned in closer, his voice low but firm. "You start by forgiving yourself, Donatelli. No one's asking you to be perfect. Just be here. Be her dad. Be the man Jenna fell in love with."

Donatelli's eyes filled with tears as he nodded, his fingers pressing lightly against the glass. "I don't deserve her," he whispered.

"Maybe not," Garth said quietly. "But she doesn't care about that. She needs you to show up. Jenna, too. And for what it's worth, I think you have it in you to do right by both of them."

For a long moment, Donatelli didn't respond, the silence filled only by the steady beeping of monitors and the soft hum of the room. But then, with a deep, shuddering breath, he straightened, a flicker of determination in his eyes.

"I need to see Jenna," he said finally, his voice steadier than before. "She deserves to hear me say I was wrong. And — I need to tell her I'll do better — for both of them."

Garth stood, his hand squeezing Donatelli's shoulder. "Good. But don't just tell her. Show her. Actions speak louder than words."

Donatelli gave a slight, hesitant nod, his gaze drifting back to Margaret. The sight of her filled him with fear and hope — fear of failing but hope that it wasn't too late to start again.

"She looks so much like Jenna," he murmured, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I'll fight for her, Garth. For both of them. No more running."

Garth nodded, a sense of relief washing over him. "That's what I wanted to hear."

Donatelli stayed silent momentarily, his hand still pressed against the glass. The rise and fall of Margaret's tiny chest seemed to steady his breath. Slowly, he nodded as Garth's words sunk in.

"I'll try," he said softly, his voice raw but resolute. "I don't know how to be that man yet, but I'll try — for her. For Jenna."

Garth's gaze softened. "That's all anyone can ask. But you've got to mean it, Matt. They're giving you a gift. Don't waste it."

Donatelli glanced over his shoulder at Garth, then back to Margaret. A tear slipped down his cheek as he whispered, "Hello, sweetie. I'm your daddy."

With that, Garth left Donatelli alone with his thoughts and his daughter. He had done what he could, and now it was time for Matthew to take the reins.

As Garth walked down the hallway, he felt an unfamiliar lightness in his chest. The knots in his own heart, too, had loosened, and his guilt and confusion about Rebecca were no longer so overwhelming. Maybe he, too, was starting to move forward.

When he reached the elevator, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw Rebecca's name flashing across the screen.

He stared at it momentarily, then answered with a steady breath. "Hey, it's me."

"Garth," Rebecca's voice was warm and familiar, but there was something different, something deeper in it now. "I'm missing you."

His heart skipped a beat. There it was — the moment he had feared and hoped for all at once. "I'm missing you, too," he replied, his voice softer than he expected. "Can't imagine a better place to be except with you."

The elevator doors slid closed. The future was still a question, but it wasn't as scary as it once seemed. He had faced his own ghosts and had helped Matthew face his. Now, it was time to see what came next.