Chapter Six
Istared down at the phone in my hand. Never before in my life had such a small object filled me with dread.
To be fair, it wasn’t the phone that had me nervous. It was the name flashing across the screen.
Papa.
I’d meant to call him as soon as I’d returned from my walk with Callum, but no sooner had Callum seen me to my door than the phone had started to ring. I'd mumbled a quick goodbye to Callum, who hadn’t pressed for an explanation. I knew he’d seen the name, and his sharp eyes hadn’t missed the worry on my face.
“I’ll be ‘round later if ye need to talk,” he’d said, dropping a kiss on my cheek before turning and leaving. I stared down at the phone for another ring before I answered it.
“Papa? Hello?”
“Mija?”
I felt the lump in my throat loosen at my father’s familiar voice. I’d missed hearing his voice more than I realized, and the gentle term of endearment uttered from half a world away had me blinking back tears.
“I’m sorry,” I croaked, voice cracking as I shuffled toward the couch. If I was going to have this conversation with my father, I was going to need to sit down.
And a drink, but seeing as I was already on the phone the drink would have to wait. I slumped onto the couch as my father’s sigh reached my ears.
Was he disappointed? Hurt at my sudden disappearance? Angry, even?
I swallowed hard at the last thought and reconsidered my decision to hold off on a drink.
“Don’t be sorry,” my father said, and I held my breath. “I’msorry.”
“What?” I whispered. In all my imaginings I always thought I would be the one offering apologies. Not my father. “What do you have to be sorry for? I’m the one who left in the middle of the night.”
“I’m sorry because you felt like you had to do that, mija,” my father told me with a note of sadness in his voice. “I put too much on you. I asked you to do too much.”
“No, I wanted to help you. You didn’t ask too much of me.”
“I didn’t protect your space either,” my father countered. “I knew what your brothers and sisters were doing, and I didn’t stop it. I forgot that you might have a different dream than mine. That you could want something different from this world than I do.”
My shoulder shook as I took in a sharp breath. I hated the despondent tone in my father’s voice, but I said nothing because I needed to hear it. I needed to hear the admission that something had been wrong at home. It validated my feelings and turned my escape to Scotland into something that was understandable and wholly deserved.
“You shouldn’t have been put in the situation you were in. I know you don’t want to disappoint me, and I don’t want you to think for a second that you have. I’m so proud of you, mija. So proud.”
“Papa…” I whispered, clutching my cell phone.
“I hope you’re happy, Del. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you. I hope you’re living and seeing everything you ever wanted. Are you?” my father asked. I laughed, thinking of the way Scotland had captivated me, Agnes’s warm friendship, my newfound place at the bakeshop, and the tenderness blossoming between Callum and me.
“Yes,” I told him, “I’m very happy.”
“The people are treating you good?”
“Yes, very good. I’m glad I came.”
“Good, that’s perfect, mija. You deserve good things and good people. Not just work. I’m sorry,” he said again, making me frown.
“No more sorries,” I told him, wishing I could hug him. It seemed I had encountered the first pitfall of traveling. Phone calls were one thing, but not being able to touch those I loved stung. “How is everything over there?” I asked, steering the conversation to less painful topics.
My father chuckled. “Do you mean things or people?” he asked.
It had crossed my mind in my journey across the Atlantic that my siblings would be served their just desserts when forced to deal with my absence. “People,” I said making my father let loose an outright laugh.
“It’s been tough. They’ve all cried at least once. Inez was begging for you to come home, but I haven’t told her where you went.”
