Violet was not on good terms with him, but he was still her father, and he was old. How could she have been so remiss with him? She should never have let Keira tease him. His heart was too weak for scares, and she knew that more than anyone. If anything happened to him, she would never forgive herself.
She rushed to him. “Father, are you all right?”
She tried to take him into her arms, but he brushed her off and turned away.
The bench he sat on was old and precarious. She was worried it would give at any moment. The leg where he rested his weight was merely two broken slate slabs being held together by memory. But how was she to help him when he refused to let her touch him?
“Father, I know I have not been a good daughter, but please let me help you.”
She knelt in front of him and slowly reached out her hand. When he let her touch his coat, she grew more confident. She grabbed his hands and tried to pry them away from his face. That was when she heard it.
“Father, are you crying?”
Relief washed over her.
He was not hurt. He was safe. So why was he crying?
She still worried about the bench, but getting him to look at her was the most she could accomplish.
“I am so sorry,” he said in a hoarse voice.
She squeezed his hands. “What do you have to be sorry for?” She tried her most comforting voice.
Slowly, he raised his head, and his sniffling ceased. His face was wet and ruddy. Other than that, there were no signs of injury.
“You looked so happy.”
“Do you not like that?” Her grip loosened.
She knew he did not want that life for her, a life where she was happy in Clan McLeod. He believed she deserved to be in London with people he did not consider beneath her, and shewas scared he was going to try to force his will on her. His word had always been law.
“I have never seen you so happy. No, I have always known you were happy. I just did not want to accept it, and I tried to take it away from you.” She balked. “How can you ever forgive me?”
His words pierced her heart, but did not fill her with warmth as she had expected. She had waited all her life for him to say those words to her, for him to grant her her independence, allow her her identity. Watching him in the state it took him to give all that broke her.
How magnanimous could her body be?
She felt a sting in her eyes. Her words took time to form. When they did, they rose slow and heavy like a critter navigating a foreign hole. She had never been faced with an opportunity to communicate with her father in a manner that showed he understood her.
“You don’t need to apologize.”
She felt a strong sense of disbelief, like she had followed a phantom and it had knocked her unconscious. Now, she was under the haze of an impossible dream.
Despite her suspicion, she pushed forward. She would rather speak to this ghost than none at all.
“You thought you were doing your best. You had my best interests at heart.”
“No, you know I didn’t.”
When he looked away, she forced him to look back at her. She wanted to be sure he was speaking to her.
“I—” He broke off, and she thought it was over, that he was finally returning to his senses, but then he continued. “I only thought of myself and others. I was being selfish and cowardly.”
“I forgive you, Father.” Her lashes became heavy, and she blinked away her sadness. It rolled down her cheek in one solitary tear.
“I am sorry it took me all these years to see what you really want—to see the real you.”
“Stop apologizing, you’re hurting me.”
