Page 137 of Revere: A Legacy Novel

“Then you have to allow her to figure that out, son. Without your input. She’s twenty-five, now. It’s a bit late for you to finally put your foot down on something—especially something like love. All her life, you’ve made a conscious effort to take a step back and allow her to decide for herself. It didn’t matter if it was school, running with her cousins, or boys. Well look now, Dante, because she is a grown woman.”

“So?”

“So, she is grown woman who is accustomed to making her own choices now. No, you are not going to have any say regarding her life, or what she does with it. No, she is not going to allow you to lock her down in this house like you did when she was eighteen. No, she is not going to allow your displeasure with her choice of a partner sway how she feels. But you know what she will do, son?”

Dante exhaled heavily. “What?”

“She will lie to you about it. She will hide it from you. She will cover things, sneak things, pretend things, and do whatever else she has to do so that she can be happy, and you can be happy at the same time. It’s a game you both play with one another—her thinking she’s gotten what makes you displeased with her hidden well enough, and you pretending like you don’t actually know what’s going on because she’s happy. Yet, you’re still waiting for the other shoe to drop. That is what she has always done because you have allowed her to do that.”

Antony cleared his throat before he added, “This is your problem, Dante; you have helped to create it. And now you have to deal with it. That’s all. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Catrina hummed an agreeing sound under her breath.

“Don’t even, Cat,” Dante murmured.

“I have told you this for years, bello.”

“I said not one word.”

“He is right.”

“I know that!”

“Jesus, relax,” Catrina said.

“I know he’s right, Catrina.” Dante’s footsteps followed the long space of the office, from the door and then back to the far wall again. Once, then twice, and finally, a third time. Catherine had never known her father to pace, but that’s what he was doing. “I know he’s right, and you’re right, but what am I supposed to do now? I don’t want it to happen again—that night when I found her like she was, Cat, and how she was for the months that followed.”

“Cara helped her a great deal, bello.”

“Did she?”

“You know she did.”

“Then why have we never spoken even once to Catherine about her sessions with the woman? Why won’t she speak to us about the things that led to all of that? Why?”

“Because we were told by Cara not to ask unless Catherine offered, Dante. That was her request, for Catherine’s sake, and we abided by it. Mental health is a fragile thing; something we learned all too well with Johnathan over the years. Catherine wasn’t any different. That’s why.”

“Fine, but that was then, and this is now. She could just as easily dig herself into another hole. What if this time, I can’t pull her out? What if this time, no one is close enough to hear her shouting for help, Catrina?”

“What if it’s no longer your job to worry about those things?” Antony asked.

“It will always be my job—I am her father!”

“Dante, she is a lot better,” Catrina said quietly, “and she has been this way for a long time. She’s stronger, and happier. With life, with herself. She is not the same girl she was seven years ago. That time has done her wonders, honestly.”

“I’m terrified it’s going to happen again,” she heard her father utter. “That they’ll somehow find themselves in the same situation as last time, but Catherine is far higher this time around. She has a much longer fall before she will hit the ground. We all know how the saying goes, don’t we? The higher you are, the harder you fall. Then, what? What, then, Catrina?”

Catherine’s mother didn’t reply.

“What, then, Papa?” Dante asked Antony when he only got silence from his wife.

Still, no response came.

“So that’s it, right? You expect me to sit back and wait. Wait for the next fall. Wait for the next thing to happen. Wait for the next time I am standing outside a bathroom, begging her to let me in because bloody water is coming out from beneath the door. I should wait for that, I guess.”

“Dante—”

“Just don’t bother, Papa. I was wrong; you can’t possibly understand. This was not your reality with any of us boys, but shame on me for thinking you might understand why I stand where I do.”