AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Illegal. Trafficking. Kids. Boys especially. Young, good-looking boys. I did it. I told him where he could find you. I sold your brother and you to Uncle Fred for five thousand dollars.
Still numb. Still immobile.
But somewhere inside, smoke is rising. Guts are churning. Rage is tornadoing. It all starts low, and then moves slowly, andante, and then begins to crescendo.
Finally, I break free and rise, pulling my arms from the invisible chains binding me.
I’m Frankenstein’s monster. Alive for the first time.
Finally knowing the truth of my life.
Random. Nothing is fucking random.
No. Just a biological father who needed money.
“Why us?” I cry. “Why not sell your soul to the devil himself?”
“Don’t you understand?” he says softly. “I did.”
“Fuck you. Then only you would suffer for your deed. Donny and I suffered. Do you have any idea what those psychopaths did to us?”
He doesn’t speak.
He knows.
He knew then, and he knows now.
“How was fucking rehab, Dad? Was it worth it?”
Still no words from him.
And I know.
I know the truth.
He never went to rehab. He took the money he got for his children and bought more booze and pills.
And he ended up the sorry sight he is now.
“This?” I say. “This is why you dragged me in here on your deathbed?”
“I had to let it go,” he says. “Had to erase my sins before it was too late.”
“What the hell kind of answer is that? You can’t erase a sin, Floyd. The sin already exists. You can ask forgiveness, but you can’t erase it.”
He closes his eyes. “Will you… Can you…forgive me?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“I didn’t go to rehab,” he says. “I never got clean. I couldn’t. I had to live with what I did. I never forgave myself.”
“Then we have something in common,” I say. “Because I’ll never forgive you either.” I stride toward the door.
“Please. Son.” His voice is broken and cracking.
“Ask for forgiveness in hell.” I open the door and walk out, slamming it shut.
That horror. That perversion Donny and I lived through.
Perpetrated on us by our own father.
I stand outside the door to Floyd’s room when the machines start blaring once more. The nurse rushes by me and enters. Seconds later—
“Code blue!” she cries.
I stand against the wall as staffers roll in a crash cart in slow motion. Broken words meet my ears.
BP ninety over sixty. Septic shock. Kidney failure. Arrhythmia.
He’s gone.
I know in my heart. He’s gone.
They’ll try for several minutes to resuscitate him, but he’s already gone. In his warped mind, he did what he had to do. He spilled his last secret and begged for forgiveness.
Should I have given it to him?
I’ll never know the answer to that.
For I have my own secret. My own reason for needing forgiveness. If I ever reveal it, I’ll lose the love and respect of the person I’ve known the longest.
I can’t let that happen.
So I’ll take that secret to my grave.
Chapter Fifty-One
Ashley
I don’t work the harvest. Ryan gives me some paperwork to handle, and since it’s Saturday, he lets me go by three p.m. I head to Dale’s, let Penny out, and refresh her water. He’s still not home, and I haven’t heard from him since he left this morning. I send a quick text.
Hey, how is everything?
Call me, please. I love you.
Dale’s not a huge texter, but he does usually respond, albeit in very few words. When he doesn’t, I assume he’s driving home, which means he’ll be here soon.
I want to do something special for him. I’m not the cook that he is, but I have a few recipes in my repertoire. I surf through the freezer. Beef, beef, and more beef. If only he had some—
Aha! Fillets of cod buried under a pound of ground beef. Did he sneak it in after I told him I know how to prepare cod?
Warmth rushes through me. He must have. Tonight I’ll surprise him with cod à la Ashley. I can make a white wine and butter sauce with garlic and capers. I know he has those two staples in the door of the fridge. As for white wine, I have my choice from his wine cellar in the basement. No fresh vegetables other than salad greens, spinach, and peppers. Sautéed spinach will go nicely with the cod, and I can make a mock rice pilaf with the peppers, brown rice from the pantry, and Dale’s myriad spices.
Not perfect, but it will be good, wholesome food that will be ready soon after he arrives.
I head down to the basement to Dale’s refrigerated wine cellar. A dry Sauvignon Blanc is my white of choice for cooking. Chardonnay is a little too oaky unless it’s not aged in oak, and very few Chards aren’t. I choose a wine—not from Steel Vineyards—and head back up to prepare my feast.
A half hour later, Dale still hasn’t arrived. My brown rice is nearly done. Do I start the fish now? Fish only takes about ten to fifteen minutes to cook, and there’s nothing worse than overcooked seafood of any kind. It gets rubbery and tough. Cod has a tendency to dry out as well.
