He ran a hand through his hair, swore like hellfire, then turned around to get some control. When he could talk, he whipped back to face his father.
“How dare you, Dad? How dare you threaten to take Mom’s land from me? I’m your son. I’mherson. Did you forget that?”
“Logan,” Drake stuttered, his oxygen mask slipping down. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done what I did.”
“No, you shouldn’t have!” Logan’s shout echoed. It was so loud, so piercing, and full of grief. “You shouldn’t have.” He put his hands over his head as if he thought his head would explode.
“I failed you.”
“Yes, Dad, you did. You failed me,” Logan roared. “I can’t… This is…” He glared at his father. “I can’t believe you did what you did. Actually, I can. And that’s the worst part. My father, my own father, took away the only woman I have ever loved. You did that. You. The pain that you have caused…”
“Son, I did wrong. I am sorry.”
“Sorry isn’t good enough, Dad. You had years—years—where you could have admitted to me what you did, and you didn’t. You chose to keep me and Bellini apart every single day when you didn’t tell us the truth.” He swore again, his chest heaving.
Drake shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what he’d done, then he covered his face with his hands.
I went to Logan and hugged him.
“I’m so sorry, Logan,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I should have told you.”
He turned and pulled me close, our heads together, our tears blending. “I was so young. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want you to lose your land. I didn’t think you would be happy ever again if you lost it. It would have crushed you to have your own father sell the house your mom decorated and then see condos built right here. I couldn’t do that to you.”
“It’s not your fault, baby,” Logan said, his voice softening, but he was throbbing with anger. “I understand, I do. Oh my God, Bellini.” He put a hand on the side of my face. “This is why you broke up with me years ago? This is why you won’t stay in Kalulell after Christmas?”
I nodded. “Yes. I never wanted to break up with you, Logan. Never. I thought we’d get married and have a bunch of wild kids. They would ride horses and run barefoot and fish in the lake. I’d write books. You would build buildings. We’d live out here, in another house you would design for us.”
Something searing, something hopeful, flashed in his eyes, and I could tell that was what he still wanted, what he had always wanted.
“Dad.” Logan pulled away from me but left an arm around my waist. “You’re going to the hospital.” He was still steaming, barely controlled. “You need to be there because you need help. Don’t argue. I’m done, and we’re leaving.”
He picked his father up and carried him out to the back seat of his truck. I grabbed the blanket, turned off most of the lights, checked the stove, and put Drake’s sweater and a jacket over my arm. Logan came back in and packed up his dad’s medications and the oxygen tank. We stood together in front of the fireplace. He dropped a kiss on my lips and said, “Looks like we have some things to talk about, babe.”
“Yes,” I said. “We do.”
I put my arms around him and hugged him close and tight.
Logan and I stood on top of The Hill overlooking the town of Kalulell. The same hill where I broke up with him when we were teenagers. A light snow was falling as dusk descended, the town Christmas tree glowing gold and white in the distance. I stood in front of Logan, back to chest, his arms around me, my hands over his arms. It was cold but not freezing. We were used to it.
We didn’t talk. We took his father to the hospital and when he was stabilized, we drove him to the nursing home he had been in and out of for months. I knew that Logan was paying for it, not his father. His father hadn’t said a word on the drive in, but his face was pale, defeated, and exhausted. When we and the staff had gotten him settled in his bed, he’d held a shaky hand out to Logan. “I love you, son.”
“Do you, Dad? I want to believe that, but the way you treated me and Mom, what you did to Bellini, that wasn’t love. Love is action, Dad, and your actions showed no love. None. Ever.” Logan’s shoulders were rigid, his face grim. So much was boiling under the surface. “I’ve got to go. I can’t talk about this with you anymore.”
“I love you, Logan,” he whispered again. Drake shifted his gaze to me. He was small now, and sick. “I’m sorry, Bellini. I know now you would have been the perfect daughter-in-law.”
“Yes, I would have been,” I told him. “I would have been kind. Even to you.”
Two more tears slipped out and ran down the deep lines of his face, and I momentarily felt sorry for Drake. What a miserable life he had led. He had been a nightmare to everyone. I knew that if this were some sappy Christmas movie, I would forgive him, and everyone would smile under the mistletoe, but that’s not how real-life works. People do things that are unforgivable. You don’t need to dwell in it to heal. You don’t need to “work” to forgive the person, because that puts that person and whatever horrid thing they did to you back in your mind, in an endless, agonizing loop, untilyouforgivethem.
It puts the responsibility onyou, even though you were on the receiving end of whatever twisted thing they did. Like Drake did to us. Sometimes it’s best to shut the door on toxic people, to choose not to interact with that person again, to live in peace,and to look for the golden lights in your life that you do have and move forward.
Drake had finally apologized. It changed nothing of the past, none of the lost years were made good. But Logan and I would move forward into our own golden lights.
The view was sparkling on top of The Hill, the hill we’d been on so many times when we were younger and wanted to make out in his truck or mine, and it was private. We sat down on an old bench and started talking, slow at first, lots of space between sentences so we could hear each other and think about what the other said. Logan had heard the entire truth at his dad’s house. He had not gone outside to the barn to get my Christmas present, which had ended up being a pretty Christmas quilt that Laina had sewn that Drake wanted me to have.
“I’m sorry, Logan,” I told him. “I am truly sorry.”
He kissed me, and I sunk right into that sweet kiss. “Never say you’re sorry for what happened. There is one person who is at fault here, and that’s my father. Everything you did was for me and what you thought was best for me.”
