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“There’s still a lot Iwannaask you,” I said, studying my tattooed hands, folded tightly on the table.
Levi hesitated before nodding. “Well, I guess you could write to me if you really wanted to.”
“Yeah, I could,” I said, considering the idea, “or, you know, I could just come back.”
He didn’t answer right away. He could only watch me with cautious suspicion, eyesnarrowedand mouth pressed shut. I could understand why he’d assume my motives were malicious, maybe thinking I had all intentions of seeking my own revenge on him for what he had done. The crimes he had committed. The murder he had taken the blame for.
But … I didn’t know. Call me crazy—and, hey, maybe I was—but didn’t we all deserve a little forgiveness for our sins? And if Levi was my only chance at getting to know the father I had been denied, then I didn’t see any reason why I couldn’t find it in my heart to forgive him just a little for his—even if I would never ever forget.
I mean, even Charles Manson had visitors in prison.
He laughed through his nose, shaking his head and eyeing me with disbelief. “You’d actuallywannavisit me again?”
“If you don’t mind.”
“No, I mean … it’s cool. I just … Idunno. I guess I figured I’d be dead to you as soon as you walked out of that door.”
I slowly stood up, shaking my head. “We’re each other’s last living relative, man. Might as well get to know each other.”
He didn’t reply. He just stared ahead at the empty chair across from his as his features softened around the edges.
I wondered for a moment if anyone had come to see him at all in the last four years. Maybe Tammi. Maybe some other specter from the past. But I knew I was kidding myself. Nobody had come to see Levi in four years. Nobody cared if he was alive or dead.
As the guard opened the door, I clapped a hand against Levi’s shoulder. He didn’t meet my gaze.
“I’ll see you in two weeks?”
I kept my eyes on him and watched as one side of his mouth slowly lifted.
“Yeah,” he replied gruffly, nodding. “Two weeks.”
Then, with a squeeze of my hand around his shoulder, I nodded to the guard and made my way through the door. Through the hall, through the detectors, and out the main entrance to head back to my car. I got in and started the engine with a quick glance toward the pictures I kept clipped to the visor. Grampa holding me as a toddler. Gramma and Grampa sitting with me ona ChristmasDay when I was a little kid. Billy and me on our bikes. Ray and me on a date at thediner. Noah and me on the dock. Ray, Noah, and me with the smallest member of our family, Miles, on the day he was born.
And asWayward’sgray stone exterior faded to nothing behind me, I drove toward two kids who needed me, and a wife who loved me, and a town that had shown me the forgiveness I needed, and a house in historic River Canyon that I knew Grampa would’ve been proud to know I called mine.
And so was I.
I was proud to call it all mine.
