“It’s not as bad inside as it is outside,” Maddie assured her. “Dad’s really getting better. He goes shopping and does the dishes. We hired a housekeeper who comes by once a week.”
Rachel swallowed. Here she was to make everything worse again.
“You’re not making it worse,” Lucy chimed in as if reading her mind and hooked arms with her. “He deserves the truth, and you deserve a life without the guilt.”
She nodded firmly, but clutched her arm tighter as the door opened.
Her father had always seemed oversized to her as a child. So strong. But now he was swimming in his clothes and seemed to look up at her from his full height. His gray hair was slowly thinning, but seemed neat, as were his clothes. This was actually an improvement from last time: At Christmas, he hadn’t seemed so fit. But she had also tried not to look too closely.
Now she looked. The grief was no longer deeply embedded in his wrinkles. It wasn’t gone, but it was diminished. And her father’s eyes widened as genuine joy spread across on his face.
“Rachel, finally, you’re here,” he said, and the next moment, he hugged her.
He smelled of musty lavender, and the scent was so familiar that Rachel’s eyes welled up. As if she hadn’t cried enough in the last week.
“Yes, I’m here,” she murmured, squeezing back. “Sorry it took so long.”
“That doesn’t matter!” Here was the kindness he’d passed on to Maddie. “Good Lord.” He let go of her and took a step back. “When was the last time I had you three girls alone in my house? Without your hockey players or your mother?”
At her funeral. That had been the last time.
“Hey, Dad,” Maddie said softly, kissing him on the cheek before walking past him into the kitchen. “Dad!” she called. “What did I tell you about leaving your dirty dishes in the sink?”
“It’s only two plates,” he replied.
“Two plates is a bad start,” Lucy said wisely, squeezing his hand. “Have you showered?”
“Yesterday.”
“Good, and the fridge is full too.” Maddie poked her head out of the kitchen. “If you would just water the lawn now…”
“We’re in a drought, we need the water for other things,” he said with a sigh.
Familiarity resonated in every word. Apparently, they had a ritual. They were checking to see if he was taking care of himself and the house.
And she wasn’t part of it. Until now.
“Dad, how often do you look at your photo album?” she asked because it was on the table right next to the front door.
“Once a week, maybe. Tell me, is this a visit or an interrogation?” he asked, frowning.
“A little bit of both,” Lucy said. “We’re here because Rachel wants to talk to you.”
He pressed his lips together. “If this is about me going to therapy again…”
“Not today,” Maddie promised.
“Although it is important,” Rachel added apologetically.
They went into the living room and sat on the couch while her father sat in the big armchair.
“What’s this about?” he asked suspiciously.
Rachel took a deep breath…and just let it out, no more excuses. It was easier to confess to her father now that her sisters knew and were sitting next to her, literally holding her hand.
Her father said nothing. He let her speak, looking at her and his hands until she finished. “I didn’t want to visit you…because I felt so guilty. Because I knew. I was afraid it would slip out. But that doesn’t make up for not taking care of you, I know that. So…” She nodded and closed her mouth.
Silence fell over the room as her father continued staring at her. He wasn't shocked. He wasn't angry. More like…sad.
