“Yes, I did. For all of two weeks. And then Dad left, and so I came back.”
Lily stared at her for a moment, still nibbling her lip. “For me.”
“For everyone.”
“Why didn’t you go back?”
“When?” Rachel asked, exasperation creeping into her voice. “When could I have left you all to manage on your own?”
“I don’t know, when I was fifteen or sixteen? Old enough to cope?”
“Meghan had had Nathan by then.”
“So? Nathan’s her son, not yours.”
“It doesn’t feel like that at the moment.” Rachel turned back to the sink and fished out a few more disintegrating Cheerios. “I don’t regret my decisions, Lily. I wanted to be here for you and Mum and Meghan. And Nathan too.”
Lily was silent for a long moment. “Do you miss him?” she asked, and with a jolt Rachel realized she meant their father.
“No,” she said out of instinct, because she hadn’t ever let herself miss Joss Campbell. He’d chosen to dump them all in it when he’d walked out on an invalid wife and three children, the youngest who had been only seven years old. How could she miss someone who did that? And yet how could her beloved father, the man who had shown her how to use a lathe and told her to hold on to her dreams, have done that?
“I don’t even remember him, really,” Lily said. “I mean, a little. I remember seeing him sleeping on the sofa when I came downstairs in the morning. I remember him being really tired and grumpy.”
“He wasn’t always like that,” Rachel said. “He used to be a lot of fun, before Mum’s accident.” But of course Lily couldn’t remember life before their mother’s accident, when things had been chaotic and hard and normal. So wonderfully normal.
“Tell me?” Lily asked, her voice soft.
Rachel hesitated. She hadn’t accessed those memories in a long time. She never let herself, because they hurt too much. “He was funny,” she said slowly. “He used to tell these ridiculous knock-knock jokes. They weren’t funny, but he was.” A tightness had formed in her chest, and she focused on the Cheerios in the sink for a few seconds while she waited for it to ease.
“Knock-knock jokes,” Lily repeated. “I don’t remember those.”
“No, you wouldn’t. He stopped when you were little.”
“When Mom fell?”
Rachel nodded, her back to Lily. “Damn Cheerios clogging up the drain. I suppose Meghan just dumped Nathan’s bowl straight in.”
“Actually, that was me. I was in a hurry this morning. Sorry.”
Rachel’s breath came out in a rush, and she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Do you remember any of his jokes?”
“Oh no, I don’t think so....” Rachel trailed off, because of course she remembered them. She remembered everything. “Knock-knock,” she said.
“Who’s there?” Lily sounded as expectant and eager as Nathan would have.
“Impatient cow.”
“Impatient—”
“Moo,” Rachel interjected, and realization dawned across Lily’s face. She started laughing, and then Rachel started, and then they were laughing way too hard for a stupid knock-knock joke, both of them holding their sides and wiping tears from their eyes.
“That’s really bad,” Lily said on a gasp when she’d finally subsided.
“Yeah,” Rachel agreed. “They were all like that. And Meghan used to make them up, and hers were ridiculous. They didn’t make sense at all. But Dad—” She stopped abruptly, because she hadn’t actually said the word “Dad” in a long time. Not like that. “He always used to pretend they were funny,” she finished. “He always said, ‘That was a good one, Meg-o.’ That’s what he called her. Meg-o, and I was Rach, and you were Lil-lil.” The tightness was back, and she turned to the sink even though there were no more Cheerios to fish from the drain.
“You miss him,” Lily said quietly.
