“Standard procedure, Cami. You know we do surveys on all of our properties, even if we don’t pave the way for something new.”
Well, if that didn’t cool her jets a bit. “Right, well, still, I know you hate the inn.”
“Did Ben tell you I stopped by as he was ranting about me and Akron?”
“He might have, but he was too busy canceling the contract.”
“I don’t hate the inn.” Dad came around his desk and sat in the chair next to Cami. “It just has so many memories for me. Your mama and I used to go down to the inn all the time before the business took off. We’d dream and plan, then you girls came along, and we thought the inn was the perfect home away from home. We didn’t have an ole family homestead, with both grandparents living out of state. Vern, Jean, and the inn provided that for us.”
The tenderness in his voice raised her tears. For the first time in years, she was talking to her father. Her daddy. “Then I ruined everything. She died on my watch. And you hated me for it.”
Dad angled forward and covered his face with his hands. “I hate myself for it, Cami. I got so busy with the business, putting my success above everything. When Mama died so suddenly, so young, I was angry and hurt. Angry at God. Your mama was a kind, loving, praying woman. Why did He take her? Why had I put her and you girls in second place? All I cared about was myself and my achievements. If I’d known?—”
“But you said I let Mama die because I tried CPR before calling nine-one-one. If I’d called them first, she might have lived. You looked right at me and said it, Dad. ‘You let your mother die.’ Then you said you hoped Annalise was around if anything ever happened to you.”
The great and powerful Brant Jackson dropped to his knees, sobbing softly, his hand on Cami’s knee. “Forgive me, Cami, please.” His shoulders shook as the sobs took over.
“Oh, Dad—” She slid out of the chair and knelt next to him. He held her as they wept, washing away the last fifteen years. “I forgive you, I forgive you.”
As quickly as the tearful repentance had begun, it ended. Dad rose up and stepped away, dealing with the residue of his tears.
Cami yanked several tissues from the box on the bookshelf.
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you for years,” Dad said. “But you were so angry at me when you were a teen, and I thought bringing it up would only make you angrier. Plus, every speech I rehearsed in my head just sounded like I was defending myself. Annalise assured me you knew I’d only lashed out from grief. That I didn’t mean it. But, Cami, I should’ve manned up and asked your forgiveness.” Dad returned to the chair by Cami. “I’m sorry. Truly.”
She wiped the tears from her eyes and smiled at him. “I came over here to bawl you out and, look, I get repentance and healing. Who knew?”
“Your mother would say the Lord knew.”
Cami laughed and reached for another tissue. “Yes, she would. She’d be upset we stopped going to church and exercising our faith.”
“I’ve started going back.” Dad looked so cute, like a little boy admitting his parents were right. “Doug Reynolds reached out, asked me to a men’s meeting, and the moment I walked in, I sensed God’s presence. I figure if He could make Himself known to me after all my years in the wilderness, I should give Him a second chance.”
Cami answered with a soft, sweet sob. “Mama would be so happy. I’ve been giving God a second thought as well.”
“So you and I are good?” Dad said.
She nodded, then leaned on her father’s shoulder. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Cami-girl. Let’s do better going forward.”
“Absolutely.” She sat back, brushing away more tears. “We’re going to be the best papa and auntie for Annalise’s baby.”
“Yes, we are.” Dad gave Cami a fist bump. “When she told me she was pregnant, I knew I had to humble up and make things right between us. I don’t want offense and judgment in our family. I want us to love one another, be there for each other.”
“Does this mean you’ll finally let me decorate this place? Dad, come on, nothing but white with a touch of black? How can you stand it?”
Dad laughed. “Okay, okay, fine, you can decorate, but I have a picture I’d like you to use.”
He walked to the front closet and opened the door, pulling out a familiar painting: her red camellia.
“H-how did you get this?”
“Ben was kind enough to let me have it. And if you’re going to decorate, I’d like this front and center. Just keep things simple and tasteful.”
“Those words are my middle names.” Cami touched his hand. “Do you want the painting Mama hung in the inn lobby too? She painted it for you.”
“No, my girl, she painted it for you.”
