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“Oh, Dad,” I sighed, my chest aching.
“That’s why your mother hated Jude so much. He washerson. She took you away with her to hurt me and Jude. It did. The day she left with you, I wanted to die. Deep in my heart, I knew she’d make it difficult for me to see you, and I was right.”
“Why didn’t you fight for me? Tell me you wanted me to stay with you? She said you didn’t want me, but I was old enough to choose!” I argued.
“I planned to take her to court. But your mother threatened to ruin my career, threatened Angeline’s reputation to jeopardize obtaining custody of her kids, and she said I’d never see you again if I tried to fight her. I’d have sacrificed anything if not for the threats to you children. I couldn’t risk her disappearing with you and having Angeline lose her children. It was bad enough that she moved across the country and minimized our visits.” The look of regret on my father’s face was something I didn’t know how to handle.
Then I wondered how I was going to keep this from Angel. It wasn’t my place to tell him, but he deserved to know.
“It’s ironic, but I have you and Angeline to thank for Trace,” I finally murmured as I stared off into space, picturing my son as a newborn the first time they laid him in my arms.
“How so?” he asked curiously. Blinking out of my memories, I glanced in his direction. A sad smile curled my lips.
“Angel, I mean Jude, was home on emergency leave for her funeral. I was home for you. If those specific events hadn’t happened, no matter how tragic, I may never have crossed paths with him again. Meaning, I wouldn’t have Trace.” I heaved a ragged breath and scrubbed my hands over my face.
“I heard through the grapevine he was in that motorcycle gang. That worries me, sweetheart. I deal with those types of people every day. I’m not so sure Angeline would be happy about his decisions.”
“Club,” I corrected. “It’s not a gang. They’re like family, and they actually do a lot of good things.”
My father remained silent at my rebuttal. On that subject, we may need to agree to disagree. I also chose to ignore the fact that some of the things they did were definitely not on the right side of the law. He seriously didn’t need to know that.
“So will you be staying here in Iowa?” He’d known who Trace’s father was from day one. He’d been angry to find out Angel hadn’t wanted me or the baby. Except I always got the feeling that he never really believed that Angel would write off his child. During our visits, he’d always encouraged me to reach out again, but I’d balked.
“Yeah, that’s the plan,” I said as my lips curled hopefully. He returned my smile with a happy one of his own.
“Well, how about we bring those boys in here? I miss my grandson,” he admitted with a clap of his hands. I want to laugh at him referring to Angel as a boy. Though once upon a time, he was the boy I first fell in love with.
“Sounds good.” Sucking in a sharp breath, I said what I should’ve said years ago. “Dad, I love you. I hate that Mom manipulated everyone the way she has. She’s proven herself to be an evil bitch, and she’s finally going to pay for what she’s done,” I adamantly insisted as the tears I’d been fighting broke free. Wiping them away, I tried to gain control and failed.
“I’m sorry. I’ve been ridiculously emotional since Trace was taken.”
He moved to sit next to me as he enveloped me in his strong arms. For a moment in time, I was his little girl again and nothing could hurt me when he held me close. “Thanks, Dad,” I whispered.
“I don’t feel like I did much,” he choked out. “But I’ll put some feelers out to see if I can gather any information for you about your mother. I have a few, um, connections.”
As a criminal defense attorney, I’d bet he did. Too bad he hadn’t been as crooked as my mother. Maybe he would’ve used them before now to keep us together. Then again, I wouldn’t want him to be like her.
“Are you going to tell Jude?” My father cleared his throat. Nervousness was rampant in his brown and gold eyes.
“Not right now. Maybe that’s a talk you two need to have when you’re ready,” I murmured before I went to the french doors to the back yard. Watching through the glass, I gave a watery chuckle at Angel and Trace’s antics as they played in the snow.
I called out to them and shook my head as they tromped in with rosy cheeks and two big matching grins.
Trace exuberantly filled my father in on his life since my father’s last visit to Kentucky over hot chocolate. I was highly impressed that he didn’t once reveal his gift or the training he and his father had been working on. From the expression on Angel’s face, he was too.
We had a light lunch, and the boys went back outside to build a crazy-looking snowman.
Exhausted from my emotional breakdown with my father, I stretched out on the couch and dozed off. A couple of hours later, I awoke to a gentle shaking. With an extremely unladylike yawn, I sat up.
“It’s been a long day, babe. You ready to head back?” Angel was crouched in front of me, and he rested his broad palms on my legs. Absently, he stroked them up and down over my jeans.
“Yeah. Sorry, Dad and I had an emotional talk. It took a lot out of me, but I’m glad we had it.”
“Good. Now come on. Let’s get you home.”
My father walked us to the door, and Trace gave him a big hug.
“Wait,” he said as he opened the drawer of the sofa table. The clink of keys preceded him handing me a key chain. In confusion, I glanced down at what he’d handed me. Warmth filled my gaze.
