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It was of her and her mom, when she was little.
“So you did know me. You knew my family.” She paused, holding her breath, waiting to see if I would lie to her.
“Yes,” I admitted.
“But. Why? How? I don’t understand. And why don’t I remember?”
I studied the picture, remembering that day. She’d spent the day with her mom in the garden, when Melanie’d heard, “Mom! I help!”
When she’d turned around, Summer had pulled most of the newly planted flowers back out. She was holding one up by the top, a proud smile on her face. In the picture, they were both holding up the plants by their yellow flowers, dirt splayed in their hair, faces, and shirts. Grinning.
Summer, creating chaos since birth.
I met Summer’s eyes, filled with anticipation and sadness, hope, and a spark of anger.
“Your father,” I took in a deep breath, steadying myself. I knew this day would come but only now did I realize that I hadn’t prepared myself. Not enough. “He lied to you.”
Her face jerked backwards, as if I’d hit her.
And maybe I had, because sometimes, the truth hits hard.
“I know you loved him. I know he seemed like a good father, but?—”
“I may have loved him,” she interrupted me, “but he wasn’t the perfect father.” Her words were clipped, and filled with anger. I waited for her to expand on her words but, when she didn’t, I continued.
“Your father joined the Magnolia when he was eighteen, just like you. He had big dreams—wanted to be rich. He was young and stupid. And they reeled him in and trapped him, just like you. Everything was good at first, of course, because that’s how they play the game. You don’t even see the threads they wrap around you. Little by little, they draw you in, and you don’t even know you’re trapped until they decide to tighten it. I’m sure you’ve discovered that on your own…”
Once again, I waited for her to speak, but she remained still, her eyes on the photo, and I knew that it was still my turn to speak. That I hadn’t actually answered her question.
“Once they had everything they needed to trap him, they forced him to do things he never would’ve…” I caught myself. “They forced him to do things, and he obeyed them because his number one priority was keeping you guys safe. This went on for years, until, one day, he disobeyed. And your mother suffered for his rebellion.”
Silence filled the room.
Her eyes were frozen on the picture in my fingers.
I placed it on the floor next to her but she didn’t touch it. Instead, she looked up at me, her voice wavering. “And that’s why he sent me away. After she died. To protect me.”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“And Callie?”
“Callie was safe, for a while, because she was too young. But, when she was old enough, he sent her to be with you, too.”
“So in the end, they took all three of us from him.”
“Yes.”
She nodded, as if she’d figured all this out on her own, and my words were only the confirmation of it.
“And you?” She spread her hands across the photos of a combination of Douglass, Melanie, and me. There was even one of the five of us—the day before I left for college, with Douglass and Melanie standing behind me, looking tall and proud. Douglass was holding Callie, a newborn baby. Summer was by my side and, instead of looking at the camera, she was staring up at me with an awed look on her face.
There was a dry, heaviness in my throat.
I’d never spoken of this to anyone, not even my closest friend, Tatiana. It took me a moment to decide how much of the truth to tell her.
The moment was so strange—seeing pictures of Summer as a kid, so trusting of me, always. And now, here she was again. In my home. Trusting me once more. And yet, I was a different person than I had been then.
I didn’t deserve her trust, not that.
