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“Maybe that was the reason for all of it,” I said. “I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse.”
“Do you want to come home?” Dad asked. “For the Christmas holiday? The girls are dying to see you.”
“I can’t promise anything right now. I’m…I need to be here. I have to face all of this. And I’m enjoying getting to the know the Moon family again.”
“Should I be worried about you and Atticus?”
“Maybe. There’s something about him, Dad.”
My father cleared his throat. “Are you safe there? These people just never let up on you.”
“I’m staying with Atticus. It’s about as safe as you can get.”Other than my heart.
“I know you missed him after we left,” Dad said. “I felt terrible, but I couldn’t stay there. Not after what happened.”
“You did the right thing. For both of us. Your instincts were right. I would have always been known as the girl whose mother murdered her boyfriend and then committed suicide.”
“All that may be true, but you loved Stella and her boys. I’m sorry you missed out growing up with them. When your mother and I couldn’t have another baby…never mind. Anyway, I’m sorry for how it all went down. It was hard for me, obviously, but it’s worse for you. I could move on—fall in love with someone else. A girl can’t replace her mother.”
“You should never have to apologize for what happened with her. I was lucky to have you as my dad. Still am.”
“Do you think you and Atticus could turn into something serious?” Dad asked, his voice husky.
I flushed, embarrassed. “Let’s just say that I haven’t met anyone like him since I left Montana.”
“I’m glad Ben Potter is out of your life,” Dad said. “Leaves room for the right man to show up.”
I hesitated momentarily. Should I ask him directly if he minded me dating Atticus? Or having a future with him? “Dad, if something were to happen between Atticus and me, would you mind?"
“I’ll always be here for you. Whatever choice you make. Would the son of the man who wrecked my life be my firstchoice for you? No. A relationship between the two of you is messy and complicated. However, I would never stand in your way if you decided he was the one you wanted. Just be careful. All of this ugliness seems to be back in our lives suddenly.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “When I dreamed of being an actress, I never thought about how invasive fame could be.”
“These trolls have brought it back. You were fine before.”
“I know.”
“Please, honey, be careful. I can’t lose you,” Dad said.
“You’re not going to lose me. These idiot photographers aren’t dangerous, just annoying.”
He was quiet long enough that I wondered if we’d gotten disconnected. “Dad, you there?”
“Yeah, I’m here,” Dad said. “Do you resent me? For being the parent who lived?”
His question shocked me. How could he think that way? I loved him for taking care of me, holding me tight when she’d abandoned me.
Despite how close we were, we didn’t talk about the past often. I suspected he’d pushed the pain aside so he could live a new season of his life. Now my dear mother had thrown us another curveball, bringing everything back to the surface.
“I could never resent you for being the one who stayed, who dedicated his life to me. Don’t think for a moment that I don’t know how hard it was for you back then, yet you were a rock. I’m thankful for you and for Barb and my sisters. We started a new life.Youbuilt us a new life out of the ashes. I’m in awe of your strength and courage, Dad. And I’m so proud of you.”
“Stop. You’re going to make your old man cry.” His voice did indeed sound thicker than usual. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”
“I will.”
We hung up, and I sat in the stillness for several minutes. My thoughts wandered aimlessly, taking in the guest room as if forthe first time. It was a feminine room, now that I thought about it, with flower patterns on the chair fabric and dusty rose drapery. Eggshell-colored paint on the walls matched the rest of the house, but the accent wall behind the four-poster bed had been papered with a delicate pink flowered design. The guest suite was distinctly different from the rest of sleek, modern house.
My favorite color had always been pink, even though the hue looked terrible on a redhead. Since I couldn’t wear it, my mother had allowed me to have anything else I wanted pink, including my bedroom. She had spent the better part of a week on my room back then, painting walls and sewing a comforter, as well as putting new fabric on the lampshades. I’d come home on a Friday afternoon from school to find it completed.
