Mary J. - The Wilders

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MARIE FERRARELLA, a USA TODAY bestselling and RITA ®award-winning author, has written more than one hundred and fifty novels for Mills & Boon ®, some under the name Marie Nicole. Her romances are beloved by fans worldwide.

To

Gail Chasan

And the Joy of

Family Sagas

He’d known this day was coming for a long time.

Death was not a surprise to him. As a doctor, it was all part of the circle of life. But while he always concentrated on the positive, Dr. Peter Wilder could never fully ignore the fact that death was seated at the very same table as life.

His mother, Alice, had died five years ago, a victim of cancer. Now that death had come to rob him for a second time, though, he felt alone, despite the fact that the cemetery was crowded. His three siblings were there, along with all the friends and admirers that his father, Dr. James Wilder, had garnered over the years as a physician and Chief of Staff at Walnut River General Hospital and, toward the end, as the chairman of the board of directors. Despite the cold, gloomy January morning and the persistent snow flurries, there had been an enormous turnout to pay last respects to a man who had touched so very many lives.

Despite all of his professional obligations, James had never failed to make time for his family, was always there for all the important occasions that meant something to his sons and daughters.

Now both his mother and his father were gone, the latter leaving behind incredibly large shoes to fill.

Peter had become the patriarch. As the oldest, he would be the one to whom David and Ella and Anna would turn.

Well, maybe not Anna, he reconsidered, glancing over toward her.

They were gathered around the grave. Typically, while he, David and Ella were on one side of his father’s final resting place, Anna had positioned herself opposite them. Ten years his junior, Anna was the family’s official black sheep.

While he, David and Ella had followed their father’s footsteps, Anna’s feet had not quite fit the mold. He knew that she had tried, managing to go so far as being accepted into a medical school. But then she’d dropped out in her freshman year.

Anna didn’t have the head for medicine, or the heart. So she had gone a different route, earning an MBA and finally finding herself when she entered the world of finance.

But there was an even greater reason why the rest of them considered Anna to be the black sheep. His father had been fond of referring to her as “the chosen one,” but the simple truth of it was, Anna had been a foundling, abandoned as an infant on the steps of the hospital to which the senior Wilder had dedicated his entire adult life.

Since James Wilder lived and breathed all things that concerned Walnut River General, it somehow seemed natural that he should adopt the only baby who had ever been left there.

Or so he’d heard his father say to his mother when he was trying to win her over to his decision. His mother tried, but he knew that she could never quite make herself open her heart to this child whose own parents hadn’t wanted her. Maybe because of this, because of the way his mother felt, his father had done his best to make it up to Anna. He had overcompensated.

For years, James went out of his way to make Anna feel accepted and a wanted member of the family. In his efforts to keep Anna from feeling unloved, James Wilder often placed his adopted daughter first.

Despite all his good intentions, his father’s actions were not without consequences. While they were growing up, Peter and his siblings were resentful of the special treatment Anna received. Especially David, who began to act out in order to win his own brand of attention from their father.

Slowly, so slowly that Peter wasn’t even certain when it actually happened, it became a matter of their breaking into two separate camps—he, David and Ella on the one hand, and Anna, by herself, on the other. The schism continued to grow despite all of their father’s efforts to the contrary. Time and again, James would try to rectify the situation, asking them each what was wrong and what he could do to fix it, only to be told by a tight-lipped child that everything was fine.

But it wasn’t.

He, David and Ella felt that Anna had their father’s ear and the bulk of his love and attention. At the same time Anna, he surmised as he looked back on things now, probably felt like the odd woman out, doomed to remain on the outside of the family circle, forever looking in.

Maybe now would be a good time to put a stop to it, Peter thought. To change direction and start fresh. As a tribute to his father, who simply wanted his family to all get along. They weren’t all that different, really, the four of them. And Anna had loved James Wilder as much as any of them.

Snow was dusting Peter’s dark brown hair, making it appear almost white. He brushed some of it aside. The sudden movement had Ella looking up at him. Ella, with her doelike eyes and small mouth that was usually so quick to smile shyly. Ella, whose dark eyes right now looked almost haunted with sadness.

Leaning her head toward him, she whispered, “I can’t believe he’s really gone. I thought he’d be with us forever, like some force of nature.”

Standing on her other side, David couldn’t help overhearing. “Well, he really is gone. They’re about to lower the coffin,” he murmured bitterly.

Ella’s head jerked up and she looked at David, stunned at the raw pain in his tone, not just over the loss of their father, but the opportunity to ever again make things right between them. James and David had not been on the warmest terms at the time of the senior Wilder’s death and Peter was certain that David chafed over words he had left unsaid simply because “there was always tomorrow.”

Now tomorrow would never come.

Peter turned away, his attention on the highly polished casket slowly being lowered into the ground. With each inch that came between them, he felt fresh waves of loss wash over him.

Goodbye, Dad. I wish we’d had more time together. There’s so much I still need to know, so much I still want to ask you .

Peter waited until the coffin was finally placed at the bottom of the grave, then he stepped forward and dropped the single red rose he’d been holding. It fell against the coffin and then, like the tears of a weeping mourner, slid off to the side.

“Rest well, Dad,” Peter said, struggling to keep his voice from cracking. “You’ve earned it.” And then he moved aside, letting Ella have her moment as she added her rose to his, her wishes to his.