She shrugged. “I did what I had to to survive.”
There was one thing he still didn’t understand. “But why run away at all? Why not go to boarding school and finish your education?” They reached the sand dunes, the fine red sand scattered with the footprints of small animals.
Amy sank to the ground, bringing her knees to her chest. “Defiance, I guess.” Her fingers brushed the soft sand. “I was exhausted from caring for Mum, from all the funeral arrangements, and I was still grieving. I figured if Dad believed I was old enough to deal with all of it on my own, then I was old enough to do what I wanted.” She picked up some sand and let it run through her fingers. “After that, it was stubbornness. No way was I going back for him to tell me I told you so.”
Stubbornness was a strong trait in their family. “I wish I’d been there to help you, Ames. I’m so sorry you had to go through it on your own.”
“It’s done now.”
But was there any way to repair their relationship? A small lizard scurried from a nearby grass clump, stopping to look at them before scurrying across the sand to the next clump a few metres away.
“Why didn’t you come to my wedding?”
He let out a long breath. “Because I was too weak to stand up to Dad.”
“What happened?”
“When Brandon called and told me he’d found you, I was excited. I made the mistake of thinking Dad would be too.” He shook his head. “I don’t know why. You were a forbidden topic, but in my head, I justified it because he was upset you’d left.”
Amy snorted in disbelief.
She was right. He’d been foolish. “I guess I made excuses for his behaviour. He had a lot of stress and responsibility, he had to be beyond reproach.”
“He hated anyone who didn’t agree with him, anyone who didn’t fit the mould he wanted.”
Arthur nodded. “When I told him about you, he said he had no daughter.” From here they were slightly elevated and could see over the Ridge land. Birds fluttered through the trees and insects buzzed. “Word must have reached him that the team had asked for leave to attend your wedding.” He closed his eyes. “He ordered me to his office and told me he had a special mission for me.” His view of his father had shifted when Arthur had told him about Amy, but it had really cracked that day. “When I mentioned your wedding, he asked where my loyalty was. He had stood by me my whole life and you had left us. He said if I didn’t go on this mission, he’d see that my career would never advance.” Arthur looked at Amy, hoping she would understand. “The army was my life. If I gave it up then, every decision I’d made where I’d put it ahead of you would have been for nothing. I would have wasted my adult life.”
“Did Dad really have that power?”
“He knew everyone, and I guess I still wanted him to love me.”
Amy sighed and squeezed his hand. “He really did a number on both of us, didn’t he?”
Arthur looked down at their joined hands. Did she actually forgive him? “I was so stupid, Ames. So stubborn in my defence of him, in my reliance on the army as my identity.”
“I understand. I clung to my independence, on the idea that I didn’t need anyone else. It wasn’t until I came here, and discovered what a real, supportive family was like, that I realised I didn’t have to do it all on my own.” She smiled. “A real family can argue, but still love and support each other.”
“Brandon rarely talked about his family, but the one time he did, I saw just how much he missed them.”
“It took him some time… no, it took everyone time to get used to having him back, but they all forgave him.” She let go of his hand. “Why didn’t you tell us about your accident?”
Us, not me. They were already a unit. “I wasn’t strong enough. I assumed you wouldn’t come and that would have broken me. My decisions to trust Dad would have been for nothing.”
She bumped his shoulder. “You’re such an idiot. Don’t you remember what we were like when Dad wasn’t around? Don’t you remember how quickly I forgave you for being a douche bag after he left again?”
“It’s been years, Ames. I didn’t know who you’d become. And more importantly, I couldn’t forgive myself, so I couldn’t see how you could forgive me.”
In a quiet voice, she asked, “Is that why you overdosed?”
The question speared him, and he shifted. “No. I was in pain, Ames. The nerves in my leg ached and stabbed all the time. It was exhausting. I just wanted it to go away.” He sighed. “But if I’m honest, I didn’t care what happened to me after I took the pills. I couldn’t see a way out of the pit I was in.”
“Sam tried to help.”
“I know, but I resented him. He was whole, he’d voluntarily chosen to leave the army, he was living his best life.”
She bumped his shoulder again. “It’s easier with help.” She tapped his leg. “What’s the pain like now?”
Her question stopped him. “It hasn’t been as bad since I’ve been here. The constant ache is less than it was.” He’d heard the doctors suggest it could be partially psychosomatic, but he hadn’t believed them. “Sometimes I get shooting pain, and the prosthesis rubs and because I haven’t kept up with my therapy, I’m further behind than I should be.”
