Kitobni o'qish: «Forever and a Day»
BOOKS BY SOPHIE LOVE
THE INN AT SUNSET HARBOR
FOR NOW AND FOREVER (Book #1)
FOREVER AND FOR ALWAYS (Book #2)
FOREVER, WITH YOU (Book #3)
IF ONLY FOREVER (Book #4)
FOREVER AND A DAY (Book #5)
FOREVER, PLUS ONE (Book #6)
CHAPTER ONE
“Dad?” Emily repeated.
She stared at the man on her porch step, a man she barely recognized anymore. Silver hair where once before it had been black. The shadow of stubble on his chin. Creases and furrows lining his face. But there was no mistaking it. It was her father.
Words failed her. She couldn’t catch her breath.
The crinkles at the sides of Roy’s eyes deepened as he smiled. “Emily Jane,” he replied.
That’s when Emily knew it was real. He was real. It was her dad.
She ran as fast as she could up the porch steps and threw herself into his arms. She’d imagined this moment so many times, wondering how she would behave if he ever came back to her. In her imagination she’d acted cool, been aloof, had risen above it all by not letting him see the pain his disappearance had caused her, nor the utter relief she felt knowing he was safe. But of course the reality was completely different. Instead of being standoffish, she wrapped her arms around his neck and held him like she was a child again.
He was warm, solid. She could feel him breathing hard, each expansion of his lungs betraying his emotions. Her tears came almost immediately. As though in response, she felt his own tears wet her cheeks and neck.
“You came back,” Emily managed to say, her voice cracking as she spoke. She sounded as young and vulnerable as she felt.
“I did,” Roy replied through deep sobs. “I’m – ”
But he stopped short. Emily knew instinctively that the only word to conclude that sentence was “sorry” but that her father wasn’t yet ready to deal with the torrent of emotions such an utterance would unleash. Emily wasn’t either. She didn’t want to go to those painful places yet. She just wanted to stay in this moment. Bask in it.
She lost track of how much time passed as she and her father stood there holding each other, but she felt a sudden change in the way her father held her, a tensing of his muscles, like he was suddenly uncomfortable. She moved away from him and looked over her shoulder to see where Roy’s gaze was now affixed: Chantelle.
She was standing in the open door of the inn, a look of bemusement on her face as though trying to comprehend the strange scene before her. Emily could read all the questions in her eyes. Who is this man? Why is Emily crying? Why is he? What’s going on?
“Chantelle, honey,” Emily said, extending a hand. “Come here.”
Emily saw in Chantelle’s hesitation an uncharacteristic shyness.
“There’s nothing to be scared of,” Emily added.
Chantelle took a few paces toward Emily. “Why is he looking at me like that?” she said in a stage whisper that Roy could clearly hear.
Emily looked at her father. His damp eyes were wide with confusion. He wiped the wetness from his lashes.
“You have a daughter?” he finally stammered, his voice thick with emotion.
“Yes,” Emily said, reaching for Chantelle and pulling the girl to her side, into a half embrace. “Well, she’s Daniel’s daughter. But I’m raising her like a mother would.”
Chantelle clung to Emily. “Is he going to take me away?” she asked.
“Oh no, no, sweetie!” Emily exclaimed. “This is my father. Your grandpa.” She turned her gaze then to meet her dad’s. “Papa Roy?” she suggested.
He nodded immediately. He seemed bewitched by the child, his pale blue eyes sparkling with intrigue.
“She looks so much like her,” he said.
Emily understood immediately what he meant. That Chantelle looked like Charlotte. No wonder he’d assumed she was Emily’s child; Emily herself sometimes struggled to believe that those were not Charlotte’s genetic characteristics expressed in Chantelle.
“I see it too,” she confessed.
“Who do I look like?” Chantelle questioned.
Emily felt like this line of questioning was far too much for the child to handle. She wanted to shut it down right away. Even though she felt like a trembling lamb she knew she had to step up and take command.
“Someone we used to know a long time ago, that’s all,” she said. “Come on, Papa Roy needs to meet Daddy.”
Chantelle brightened suddenly. “I’ll get him.” She beamed, bounding off back inside.
Emily sighed. She understood why her dad had been so shocked by Chantelle, but having a stranger stare at her like that – like she was a ghost – was the last thing the child needed.
“She’s really not biologically yours?” Roy asked the second the child had disappeared.
Emily shook her head. “I know, it’s crazy. She’s sensitive like her too. And kind. Funny. Creative. I can’t wait for you to get to know her.” Her voice hitched then, with sudden fear at the thought that Roy wasn’t staying, that this was just a flying visit. Perhaps she wasn’t even supposed to have known he’d been here. Maybe his plan was to avoid her altogether, to swoop in and out before she’d had a chance to realize he was back, like his covert trips in his beat-up car that Trevor had witnessed from his spying window. She rubbed behind her ear awkwardly. “That is, if you have the time.”
“I have the time.” Roy nodded, a small flutter of a smile appearing on his lips.
Just then, Chantelle returned, dragging Daniel along behind her. He stopped at the doorway and glanced at Roy.
“Papa Roy?” he said, raising his eyebrows, clearly repeating the name that Chantelle had so innocently relayed to him.
Emily saw the look that crossed between them and remembered how Daniel had told her about that summer back when he was a teenager and had needed a friend, how Roy had been there for him, had helped him get his life back on track. She could tell in that moment that Roy’s safe return to Sunset Harbor meant almost as much to Daniel as it did to herself.
Roy offered his hand for Daniel to shake. But to Emily’s surprise, Daniel took the hand and pulled Roy into a bear hug. She felt a strange clench in her chest, a peculiar emotion that was somewhere between joy and grief.
“I think you’ve met Daniel,” Emily said, her voice cracking once again.
“I have,” Roy replied as he was released by Daniel, taking him instead by the shoulders. He seemed overwhelmed with emotion, treading that fine line between weeping tears of joy and bursting into relieved laughter.
“We’re getting married,” Emily added, somewhat dumbly.
“I know,” Roy said, grinning from ear to ear. “I read your email. I’m so delighted.”
“Are you coming inside?” Daniel asked Roy, softly.
“If I may,” Roy replied, sounding concerned that he may not be accepted back into Emily’s life.
“Of course!” Emily exclaimed. She clutched his hand tightly, trying to tell him that everything was okay, that he was wanted here, accepted here, that his return to her was a joyous occasion.
Roy’s face seemed etched with relief. He visibly relaxed, as though a hurdle he’d been worried about jumping had been accomplished.
As they walked toward the door, Emily became suddenly aware of the fact that the house her father had abandoned over twenty years ago in no way resembled its former self. She’d taken over, changed it all, changed its purpose from a family home to an inn. Would he be mad?
“We’ve made some renovations,” she said quickly.
“Emily Jane,” her father replied in a kind, firm voice, “I know you’ve been living here. That it’s an inn now. It’s fine. I’m delighted for you.”
She nodded, but still felt anxious about letting him inside. Chantelle led the way and one by one they filed into the reception hall, Roy taking the tail, his gait slower and stiffer than Emily remembered.
He stopped in the hall and looked around him, his mouth open with surprise and awe. When he saw the reception desk, his eyes widened.
“Is this…?”
“The same one you sold to Rico?” Emily said. “Yes.”
The inn had been a guest house originally before the owners abandoned it. Roy’s story with the home mirrored her own in reverse. He’d wanted this place to be a family home, a haven for summer vacations. Emily had turned it back into a guesthouse, a business.
“I can’t believe he kept it all these years,” Roy said with surprise, still looking at the desk. Then he turned his eyes to Emily. “Do you remember the day I sold it to him?”
Emily shook her head silently.
“You were quite adamant that I shouldn’t sell it,” he said with a chuckle. “You’d put a Barbie in every one of the drawers. Said it was a hospital for your dolls.”
“I think I do remember,” Emily replied, feeling a little melancholy.
“Rico was very kind about it,” Roy added. “Helped you to ‘transfer’ your ‘patients’ to another location. I think you chose the cupboard under the sink.” He, too, became somewhat wistful, and tore his attention away from the reception desk and back to the renovation work. “This really is incredible. You’ve done a fabulous job.”
The sound of pride in his voice made Emily’s heart jolt. This moment was so much more than she could have hoped for. It was perfect.
“Do you want a tour?” she asked.
Roy nodded. Emily led him to the kitchen first. Inside, they could hear the sounds of the dogs barking from the laundry room.
“I don’t know what to take in first,” Roy exclaimed, glancing around him at the fully restored kitchen with its original retro appliances and decorations. “The amazing renovation work or the fact you have pets!”
“This is Mogsy and her puppy Rain!” Chantelle announced, opening up the utility room door and allowing the two to run inside.
They rushed up to Roy, sniffing him and trying to lick his cheeks. Roy laughed, the fine lines around his face becoming more pronounced, and scratched them both behind the ears.
“We don’t usually let them run around the kitchen,” Emily explained. “But since it’s a special occasion – ”
Her voice cracked as that pang of melancholy she’d felt earlier returned. Being with her dad shouldn’t be “special”; it had been made that way by him leaving.
From his crouched position, he looked up at her, his expression filled with regret.
All at once, Emily felt a surge of anger. Some of her deeply buried hurt was beginning to bubble upward.
“Let’s go to the dining room,” she said, hurriedly, not wanting it to surface.
They went into the room with the large oak table. Straightaway Roy noticed that the heavy drape curtain that had once hung over the ballroom door was no longer there.
“You found the ballroom,” he said.
Something about the comment irritated Emily further. This wasn’t a game of hide-and-seek. She felt hotness creep into her cheeks.
“Found it. Restored it. Soon to be getting married in it,” she said, as they passed along the low-ceilinged hallway and emerged into the huge ballroom.
She could hear the snappiness in her voice and took a deep breath to calm herself.
“Well, it looks beautiful,” Roy said, either oblivious to her mounting anger or not yet willing to confront it. “I’m surprised the stained glass looks so good after all this time.”
“Daniel’s friend George renovated it,” Emily explained.
“George?” Roy said, raising his eyebrows. “I remember him when he was this big.” He gestured with his hand to his waist to indicate a child’s height.
It occurred to Emily then that Sunset Harbor was more her father’s town than it ever had been hers, that he knew people from this place better than she did, that in the years he’d lived here he’d planted more roots than she could ever hope to. A new emotion of jealousy wormed its way into the complex mixture of feelings she was already trying to keep at bay. She tried her hardest to keep a neutral expression on her face.
They went upstairs next and Emily showed Roy the master bedroom, the room that had once been his and Patricia’s, then, presumably, his and Antonia’s when she’d visited, before finally becoming hers and Daniel’s.
“This is fantastic,” Roy exclaimed. “The colors are so fresh.”
He’d been far more into his dark colors, the sorts of crimsons and navy hues that she’d decorated the guest bedrooms in. The crisp white and eggshell blue had been far closer to her mother’s tastes, and Emily realized for the first time as she looked at her room that her style was a perfect blend of them both. Roy’s penchant for antiques – seen in the huge bed, the vanity desk, the ottoman – and Patricia’s cleanliness in the white colors. Emily felt like she was looking at the room anew.
“My room is next door,” Chantelle said.
Emily was relieved for the distraction. She guided Roy out of the room and into Chantelle’s, where he took in the delightful animal-themed furniture Emily had purchased for her. Chantelle waltzed around the room, proudly showing off her shelf of books, her wardrobe filled with dresses, her pile of cuddly toys, her wall of artwork.
“Chantelle, you have quite a lovely room,” Roy said kindly, reminding Emily of that soft way he had with children, of the gentleness he’d spoken to her with back when he’d been in her life.
Chantelle beamed with pride.
“You chose not to put her in the room you and Charlotte shared?” he said. “The play room with the mezzanine?”
Emily felt a little jolt of pain in her chest to hear him refer to her childhood room. He’d locked it up after Charlotte’s death, forcing Emily to switch rooms. That had been the first sign, Emily realized now, that her father wasn’t going to process Charlotte’s death, that her dying was going to become the catalyst to him abandoning her.
“That’s the bridal suite,” Daniel explained, taking over while Emily remained mute. “The mezzanine was a great selling point. Plus, we wanted Chantelle close to us.”
The emotion was getting to be too much for Emily. She had no idea it was possible to feel so many conflicting, complex things at once. It suddenly dawned on her that once this tour was over, once they sat down in the living room face to face, she would release an explosion of rage at her father.
She felt her father’s hand on her arm suddenly, steadying her, reassuring her. She looked into his blue eyes, saw the grief and regret within them, mixing with utter relief. He was silently telling her that it was okay, he understood her anger. She didn’t need to keep hiding it.
They traipsed through the rest of the floor, glancing into a few of the guest rooms so that Roy could get a taste of the decor. He hovered briefly beside his study door. The last time he’d been here he was two decades younger, his hair black instead of gray, his body slimmer and more agile instead of the slight paunch that now sat above his waistband.
“It’s the same,” Emily replied. “I haven’t changed it.”
He nodded, but didn’t say a word. She wondered if he was thinking about the myriad of documents he’d locked inside his desk, ones she had now read. The letters and secrets she’d found of his. Emily knew there was no way of knowing what Roy was thinking. The man was as much a mystery to her now as he always had been.
They went to the third floor and Roy lingered for a while beside the stairs up to the widow’s walk. Was that New Year’s Eve evening on his mind? Emily wondered. The one where he’d told her not to be scared, to open her eyes and look at the fireworks? Or had he forgotten all those memories like she once had?
Chantelle skipped around, showing him into all of the empty guest rooms. She seemed excited to have him here, and so proud to show him her home. Emily wished she could feel as light as the child clearly did, but there was so much going on in her mind it filled her to the brim with anguish.
“I’m really amazed by the work you’ve done here,” Roy said. “It can’t have been easy getting all these en suites in.”
“It wasn’t,” Emily replied. “We only had about twenty-four hours to do it as well. Which is a long story.”
“I have time.” Roy smiled.
Emily didn’t even know how to respond to that. Time was not something she could take for granted with him. She couldn’t trust his sentiments.
“Let’s head to the living room,” she said, stiffly. “Have something to drink?” Then, realizing her slip-up in suggesting alcohol to an alcoholic, she added quickly, “Coffee.”
With each step down the staircase, Emily felt her anger growing stronger. She hated the feeling. She wanted this reunion to be a joyful one, but how could it be, really, when she had all this resentment inside? Her father had to hear about the pain he had caused her.
They reached the downstairs hallway. Daniel headed to the kitchen to make the coffee as Chantelle showed Roy into the living room. He gasped when he saw the renovations, the way Emily had blended new styles and old styles, the way she’d incorporated modern art and Kandinsky glassware.
“Is that my old piano?” he asked.
Emily nodded. “I had it restored. The guy who did it, Owen, he plays here sometimes. He’ll be playing at our wedding, actually.”
For the first time, Emily felt a sense of triumph. Having not lived in Sunset Harbor long, Owen wasn’t someone her father had known before her, for longer than her, or knew better than her. There were people here who were her own, who weren’t tainted by the unpleasantness of that shared past.
“Owen helps me with my singing,” Chantelle said.
“Oh, you sing?” Roy replied. “Can I hear a bit?”
“Maybe later,” Emily cut in. “Chantelle promised me she’d tidy up all of her toys today.”
“Can’t I do it later?” Chantelle wailed.
She clearly wanted to spend more time with Papa Roy and Emily couldn’t blame her. On the surface he was like a gentle giant, a Santa Claus of a man. But Emily couldn’t keep plastering a pretend smile on her face forever just for Chantelle’s sake. It was time for her and her father to talk like grown-ups.
Emily shook her head. “Why don’t you get it done right now, then you’ll have the whole day to play with Papa Roy, okay?”
Chantelle relented and left the room with a stomp in her step.
“You’ve opened up the speakeasy,” Roy noted, looking at the sparklingly renovated bar. He seemed impressed by the way Emily had kept the period of the place in the same way he had, an homage to a time gone by. “You know it’s original.”
She nodded. “I figured as much. Except the liquor bottles.”
Without Chantelle to buffer the situation, a tenseness rose between them. Emily gestured to the sofa.
“Will you sit?”
Roy nodded and settled himself in. His face had blanched of color as though sensing that the moment of reckoning was upon them.
But before Emily had a chance, Daniel appeared with a tray containing the coffee pot, cream, sugar, and mugs. He set it down on the coffee table. Silence swelled as he poured the drinks.
Roy cleared his throat. “Emily Jane, if you have questions to ask me, you can.”
Emily’s ability to remain polite and cordial broke. “Why did you leave me?” she blurted out.
Daniel’s head snapped up with surprise. His eyes were as wide as saucers. He probably hadn’t realized Emily’s joy at having Roy back had dragged up her anger as well, that she’d been carrying her emotion with her throughout the whole tour of the house. He stood then.
“I should give you both some time,” he said politely.
Emily turned her eyes up to him. He looked so awkward standing there, as though suddenly encroaching on a private matter, and Emily felt a little guilty to have turned the conversation sour so quickly in his presence, without giving him the chance to excuse himself in a more polite manner.
“Thank you,” she said as he hurried out of the room.
She turned her gaze back to her father. Roy seemed hurt by her evident pain but he breathed calmly and looked at her with gentle eyes.
“I was broken, Emily Jane,” he began. “After losing Charlotte I was a broken man. I drank. I had affairs. I alienated my friends in New York City until I couldn’t bear to be there anymore. Your mom and I split, though that was a long time coming. I came here to put my life back together.”
“Only you didn’t,” Emily replied, hotly. “You ran away. You left me.”
She could feel tears prickling in her eyes. Her father’s were growing red and misty too. He looked down into his lap, his expression one of shame.
“I was ignoring things,” he said sadly. “I thought I could pretend everything was okay. Even though it had been years since Charlotte had died, I hadn’t really let myself feel anything. I never went in the room you shared, moving you to a different one if you recall.”
Emily nodded. She remembered vividly her father blocking access to parts of the house, making certain areas out of bounds for her during her summer visits – the widow’s walk, the third floor, the garages, his study, the basement – until she’d all but forgotten they ever existed or what they contained. She remembered his increasingly erratic behavior, his obsession with collecting antiques that seemed to her like less of a hobby and more of a compulsion, his hoarding behavior. But moreover she remembered the diminishing contact, the way she’d spend less and less time with him in Maine until she reached fifteen and, one summer, he just never turned up to collect her. That had been the last time she’d seen him.
Emily wanted to be understanding toward her father’s actions. But though one part of her understood he was a broken man who had one day cracked, the torment his actions had caused her could not just be explained away.
“Why didn’t you say goodbye?” Emily said, the tears falling down her cheeks in torrents. “How could you just leave like that?”
Roy, too, seemed to be becoming overwhelmed with emotion. Emily noted that his hands were shaking. His lips trembled as he spoke. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been haunted by that decision.”
“You were haunted?” Emily cried. “I didn’t know if you were dead or alive! You left me wondering, not knowing. Do you have any idea what that does to a person? My whole life was on pause because of you! Because you were too much of a coward to say goodbye!”
Roy took her words like repeated punches to the face. His expression looked as pained as if they really had been physical blows she’d laid upon him.
“It was inexcusable,” he said, barely more than a whisper. “So I won’t try to excuse it.”
Emily felt her heart racing wildly in her chest. She was so furious she couldn’t even see straight. All those years of emotions were flooding out of her with the force of a tsunami.
“Did you even think about how it would hurt me?” she cried, her voice rising in pitch and volume even more.
Roy seemed gripped with anguish, his whole body tensing, his face contorted with regret. Emily was glad to see him that way. She wanted him to hurt just as much as she had.
“Not at first,” he confessed. “Because I wasn’t in my right mind. I couldn’t think of anything or anyone but myself, my own pain. I thought you’d be better off without me.”
He broke down then, sobs juddering through his body until he was shaking from the emotion. Watching him like that was like a stab to the heart. Emily didn’t want to see her father crack and crumble before her eyes, but he needed to know. There would be no moving on, no reparation without getting this all out in the open.
“So you thought leaving would be doing me a favor?” Emily snapped, folding her arms protectively against her chest. “Do you know how messed up that is?”
Roy wept bitterly into his hands. “Yes. I was messed up back then. I stayed messed up for a very long time. When I realized what damage I had done, too much time had passed. I didn’t know how to get back to where it had been, how to undo the hurt.”
“You didn’t even try,” Emily accused him.
“I tried,” Roy said, the pleading in his tone irking Emily even more. “So many times. I came back to the house on a number of occasions but every time the guilt of what I had done overwhelmed me. There were too many memories. Too many ghosts.”
“Don’t say that,” Emily snapped, her mind immediately going to images of Charlotte haunting the house. “Don’t you dare.”
“I’m sorry,” Roy repeated, gasping with anguish.
He looked down into his lap where his old hands were trembling.
On the table in front of them, the undrunk mugs of coffee were turning cold.
Emily took a long, deep breath. She knew her father had been depressed – she’d found the pill prescription amongst his belongings – and that he wasn’t himself, that the grief was making him behave in unforgivable ways. She shouldn’t blame him for that, and yet she couldn’t help it. He’d let her down so badly. Left her with her grief. With her mother. There was so much brewing anger inside of Emily’s heart even if she knew that blame had no place there.
“What can I do to make it up to you, Emily Jane?” Roy said, his hands in a prayer position. “How can I even begin to heal the damage I caused?”
“Why don’t you start by filling in the blanks,” Emily replied. “Tell me what happened. Where you went. What you’ve been doing all these years.”
Roy blinked, as though surprised by Emily’s line of questioning.
“It was the wondering that killed me,” Emily explained, sadly. “If I’d just known you were safe somewhere, I could have dealt with it. You have no idea how many scenarios I cooked up in my mind, how many different lives I imagined you were living. I spent years not being able to sleep because of it. It was like my mind wouldn’t stop conjuring up options until it found the correct one, even though there was no way for it to do so. It was an impossible, futile task, but I couldn’t stop. So that’s how you can help. Start by giving me the truth, by telling me what I didn’t know for all those years. Where were you?”
Roy’s tears finally slowed. He snuffled, dabbing his eyes with his sleeve. Then he cleared his throat.
“I split my time between Greece and England. I made a home for myself in Falmouth, Cornwall, on the coast of England. It’s a beautiful place. Cliffs and wonderful scenery. There’s a fantastic artists’ scene there.”
How fitting, Emily thought, remembering his obsession with Toni’s artwork, the way in which he’d hung one of her lighthouse paintings up in the New York City home he’d shared with Patricia, and how angry Emily herself had felt when she’d realized how brazen he’d been, how disrespectful.
“How did you afford it?” Emily challenged. “The police said there’d been no activity in your bank accounts. It was one of the reasons I thought you were dead.”
Roy winced at the word. Emily could tell how bad he felt to be confronted by the pain he’d put her through. But he needed to hear this. And she needed to say it. It was the only way they could move forward.
“I didn’t sell any of my antiques, if that’s what you mean,” he began. “I left all of that for you.”
“Am I supposed to thank you?” Emily asked bitterly. “It’s not like a diamond can make up for years of neglect.”
Roy nodded sadly, taking the brunt of her angry words. Emily began to accept that he was acknowledging her, that he was no longer trying to explain his actions but to listen instead to the hurt they had caused her.
“You’re right,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to imply that it could.”
Emily tensed her jaw. “Well go on, then,” she said. “Tell me what happened after you left. How you supported yourself.”
“At first I lived from one day to the next,” Roy explained. “I made money doing whatever I could. Odd jobs. Car and bike repairs. Tinkering. I found my feet making and repairing clocks. I still do that now. I’m a horologist. I make ornate clocks with hidden keys and secret compartments.”
“Of course you do,” Emily said, bitterly.
The look of shame returned to Roy’s face.
“What about love?” Emily asked. “Did you ever settle down?”
“I live alone,” Roy replied sadly. “I have since I left. I didn’t want to cause anyone any more pain. I couldn’t bear to be around people.”
For the first time, Emily began to feel sympathy for her father, imagining him lonely, living like a hermit. She started to feel as though she had released as much pain as she needed to, that she had blamed him enough to finally be able to hear his story. A cathartic wave washed over her.
“It’s why I don’t really use any modern technology,” Roy continued. “There’s a phone booth in town that I use to make my calls, which are few and far between. The local post office lets me know if anyone’s responded to my horologist ad. When I’m feeling strong enough, I go to the local library and check my emails to see whether you’ve been in touch.”
Emily paused, frowned. This was surprising to her. “You do?”
Roy nodded. “I’ve been leaving clues for you, Emily Jane. Every time I came back to the house I left another crumb for you to find. The email address was the biggest step I took because I knew as soon as you found it, it would provide a direct line from you to me. But the anticipation, the waiting, it was unbearable. So I limited myself to only a few checks a year. When I got your email I flew right here.”
Emily realized then that this was the reason for those additional months of anguish he’d put her through after she’d learned he was still alive and then had contacted him. He hadn’t been ignoring her or avoiding her, he simply hadn’t seen her email.
“Is that true?” she asked, her voice straining as tears filled her eyes. “Did you really come here as soon as you saw I’d been in touch?”
“Yes,” Roy replied, his voice barely a whisper. His own tears had begun to fall again. “I’ve been hoping and wishing and dreaming for you to get in contact. I figured that one day you would come back to this place, when you were ready. But I also knew you’d be angry with me. I wanted the ball to be in your court. I wanted you to be the one to make contact with me because I didn’t want to intrude on your life. If you’d moved on without me I thought it would be best to keep it that way.”
“Oh, Dad,” Emily gasped.
Something, finally, was released from within Emily. Something about this last, final, heartbreaking admission from her father was what she’d been needing to know all along. That he was waiting on her to make the move. He hadn’t been avoiding her, keeping himself hidden, he’d been dropping crumbs for her, trusting that once she put all the pieces together she’d make her own decision about whether or not she could forgive him and allow him back into her life.
