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“How do you …” My question fades as it dawns on me. “You had Dyson look into them.”
“Of course I did,” he says matter-of-factly. “They’re legal guardians of my child. I needed to make sure there weren’t going to be any surprises.”
Those words—my child—stir an odd emotion in the pit of my stomach that I can’t quite decipher. “From an eighty-four-year-old couple? Such as?” I struggle to hide my exasperation. Sometimes Henry is too much.
“Debts, criminal records, history of drinking or abuse. Anything that could affect Violet negatively.”
Worse than her mother’s crimes?No use speaking ill of the dead. “And what did you find out?”
“Howard worked as an electrician, Gayle was a teacher. They paid off their house twenty years ago and don’t owe anything else. Howard has had one speeding ticket in his life, neither drink, and they spent a lot of time helping Audrey out around her house.”
Dyson’s been busy, invading privacy and ferreting out information. I don’t know how he finds out half the stuff he does, and it’s best I don’t. “So, you’re saying they’re good people.”
“Yes. They’re good people,” he admits. “Who are going to struggle with a teenager who lies and takes trains into Manhattan. Gayle broke her hip five years ago, which is why she walks with a cane now. They were on a waiting list to move into an assisted living center but pulled their names off a year ago. I assume it’s because Audrey’s condition was deteriorating quickly and they knew they’d have Violet to take care of.”
There’s only one reason I can think of why people would want to move into one of those places, and it’s because daily life is getting too difficult to manage on their own. But that begs the question that’s been lingering in my mind and I’m sure has crept into his. “How long will they be able to take care of her?”
“Violet turns sixteen in January, so they just need to hang on for a little over two years, until she’s an adult and their legal responsibility is over.”
“They’re not going to kick her out on her eighteenth birthday. And a lot can change in two years when you’re in your eighties.”
“I’m aware of that, Abbi, but what amIsupposed to do?” His body stiffens with tension beneath me. I’m sure he’s been dwelling on the answer to that question. “Please, tell me, what’s my role here? Because I’ve been asking myself that all day, and I can’t find the answer. I don’t know the first fucking thing about being a parent.”
“No one does when they start out—”
“This is not starting out. This is having a teenage girl dropped at my doorstep. Is that whatyouwant? A fifteen-year-old—a stranger—suddenly living with us?”
No.I open my mouth but can’t utter the cruel answer, even if it’s the truth. We’ve only just started our lives together. Adding Violet to it would changeeverything. “This isn’t about what I want.” I wouldneverwant Henry to see me as the person coming between him and his daughter.
“Violet clearly doesn’t want it. You were there, you heard her.”
“She needs time to come to terms with everything.” How much time, I can only guess.
“And then what?”
“I don’t know. Look, you’re both processing. No one expects you to know how to deal with this on day one. For now, Violet has a loving home with her grandparents. She’ll be well taken care of, and she can help them. And maybe, once this initial shock is over, she’ll be willing to let you in.”
His chest lifts with a deep breath. “Children terrify me.” He says it softly, like a confession.
“Which children?”
“Allof them.”
My stomach clenches. Is this where he tells me that he’s changed his mind, that he doesn’t want them anymore?No. I stop myself from heading down that path and instead ask, “What’s so scary about them?”
He pauses. “The way they can change your life in a heartbeat. One minute they don’t exist and then they do, and everything suddenly feels different.”
“Different, but not bad, right?” I hold my breath.
“No, not bad,” he admits after a moment.
I release the softest sigh of relief. “You didn’t have time to ease into the idea of this. There was no nine-month countdown, no cute little helpless bundle.” Henry got a furious teenager in muddy Chucks, throwing a contract at his feet before storming off.
“She’s been alive for almost sixteenyearsand I had no fucking clue.Sixteen years.” His voice grows husky. “How many times did that kid ask about her father? How many times did she wonder why I didn’t care?”
My heart aches for him as he struggles with his conscience. “That wasn’t your fault.”
“She seems to think it is.”
