Chris continued thinking everything through while he lifted. The more his muscles shook as he lifted the bar, the clearer his thoughts became. His arms strained under the weight and sweat beaded on his forehead as the realization hit him while he counted out his last rep.
“Ten!” He needed to go to his daughter by any means necessary.
Chapter 15
MALLORY
The house looked exactly as she remembered it. True, five years wasn’t very long, but it was a long time to avoid something. Memories of walking up the sidewalk hand-in-hand with her mother flashed unbidden across her mind. That was another thing that bothered her as she got older. Not only did her father replace her mother, but the new wife just moved in and literally took her mom’s place.
A cold chill washed over her, despite the early summer heat. Giving her head a small shake, she slowly made her way up the cracked sidewalk and to the door. Without having a plan, there was no telling what she was going to say if her father was home. She was wrong and needed to remember that when anger began to creep back up; even though it wasn’t right that he had kept things from her. Would she have accepted that information when she was younger? Probably not, but it wasn’t up to other people to decide what she could handle. As a child, maybe, but not as she got older.
“Sammy?” Her stepmother’s voice tore her from her thoughts. “Sammy, itisyou!”
She looked up to find Sheila bounding out of the front door. As usual, her graying hair was pulled into a bun, and she was dressed in jeans and a long tunic. The smile on her face was genuine and her eyes crinkled as she stopped in front of Mallory, reaching her arms out but stopping short of pulling her into a hug.
“No one calls me Sammy anymore, remember?”
“I’m sorry, dear. Mallory. I’m so glad you’re here. Will you come inside? Your dad should be out of the shower by now. He just came in from mowing the lawn. He’ll be happy to see you.”
Mallory fell into step behind her and followed her into the house. Not much had changed in the five years she’d avoided the place. The distinct scent of “home” threatened to overwhelm her, but she was able to blink back the tears that filled her eyes. A paperback book lay face down over the arm of the recliner opposite the window, so she assumed Sheila had been reading when she noticed her making her way to the front door. The television was on but muted.
Declining a seat in the living room, she sat down at the kitchen table and let the memories wash over her as she waited for her father. The wooden table hadn’t been replaced since she was a kid. She rubbed her fingers over the lightened spot from where she’d spilled nail polish remover. Even though she wasn’t supposed to use the nail polish remover by herself, she had been too impatient to wait for her mom to finish what she was doing. Instead of her mom yelling, she’d helped clean up the mess then treated her to a manicure.
The refrigerator was new, but if she closed her eyes, she could see her artwork hanging by magnets. Her mother used to save everything. Even just the quick doodles she made while sitting down and waiting for an after-school snack had madetheir way to the refrigerator and bulletin board. She smiled to herself remembering the good times, before life stepped in and snatched everything away.
“Sweetheart? You’re here?” Her father stood in the doorway as if he was afraid she might disappear if he came any closer.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.
He slowly walked toward her, and her breathing grew faster with each step until she worried she’d hyperventilate. She wanted his arms around her. She craved the security that could only be brought to a daughter by her father.
“You were so young …” he trailed off, his icy blue gaze looking above her and out the window. “Then suddenly it seemed like it was too late. I didn’t want you to be upset with your mother, but I never imagined it would cause such a wedge between all of us. I just wanted you to be cared for and happy. Please know that.”
Relief washed over her as she listened to his words. She believed him. After so many years of running and avoiding, she was ready to stop. Running was exhausting. There was no more fight left in her and her shoulders slumped as she looked at the floor and took a slow, unsteady breath. Staying angry would not bring her mom back.
“Okay,” she breathed.
Her dad’s eyebrows shot up. “Okay?”
She nodded her head and repeated herself. “Okay.”
The next thing she knew, she was on her feet as her father held her close. Warm tears ran down her face and onto his soft cotton shirt. He smelled like sandalwood and fabric softener as she tried to take deep breaths in order to regain some ounce of composure. She squeezed him tight as she fought the sobs that shook her body.
“It’s okay,” he soothed. “Please don’t cry.”
“I’m sorry,” she choked out as she tried to catch her breath. “I’m so sorry I was awful to everyone.”
He squeezed her tighter as they rocked side to side. He was tall and her face barely came to his chest. “Don’t be sorry. You didn’t know, which is my fault. I’m just glad you’re here now. Will you stay for dinner? Sheila is making lasagna.”
Her initial reaction was to refuse, but for some reason she agreed. All the years that she’d lost with her family because of hurt feelings, pride, and misunderstandings wouldn’t be regained if she didn’t work hard to break the cycle. She craved the closeness of family. Spending time with Christian and his mom made her feelings undeniable, even to herself.
As soon as she agreed, Sheila appeared out of nowhere and began making a fuss over her. Cheese, crackers, wine, and water arrived at the table before she even knew what was happening. It was attention she didn’t deserve. She’d treated the woman terribly even though she never did a thing to warrant it. Her eyes welled with fresh tears as Sheila poured her a glass of wine.
“I’m so sorry, Sheila,” she uttered in a strangled whisper. “You shouldn’t be doing all of this for me.”
Sheila set down the wine bottle and placed her hands on Mallory’s shoulders, giving a comforting squeeze. “Honey, don’t you dare apologize. Just let us sit here and enjoy you.”
And just like that, things were different. They had all said what they needed to say and agreed to move on. Just like that. They sat at the table talking and catching up. She sat in the seat she’d claimed as a child, and her dad sat across from her. Sheila flitted about the kitchen, pouring refills and checking on dinner as the three reacquainted themselves. A comforting warmth draped over Mallory as she took it all in.
