“That’s my good girl. I’m just at the other end of the phone and I’ll text you. I promise.” He lifts my chin and kisses my lips before packing the rest of his stuff.
I drop onto the bed as he busies around me, but it’s as if I’m not here, watching everything unfold like an out-of-body experience as Sawyer packs his life into a bag, along with my heart.
“You okay?” He lugs his large bag onto his shoulder and holds his hand out for me.
I take his hand in a daze, letting him pull me to a standing position. “Where will you go?”
“I’ll walk to the Black Crow.”
“Do you want to take my car?”
“No, you’ll need that. I’ll come back for the bike when the snow clears. Take care of her for me.”
I follow him down the stairs. Dad and Lorraine’s voices sound from the kitchen as they talk amongst themselves.
Sawyer hands me his keys, then stares over my shoulder, his jaw tightening as he faces my dad. “You know why she didn’t tell you where she was staying? Because she didn’t want to ruin your Christmas.” He points his finger towards Dad. “Your daughter’s the most selfless person I know, and even when her life was falling apart, she didn’t want to burden you because she wanted you and Lorraine to enjoy your first Christmas together. Her words were that you deserve to be happy. Shame you can’t show her the same sentiment.”
Dad glares at Sawyer, but Sawyer fixes his eyes on me as he walks out the door, mouthing the words I love you.
I close the door behind him and take a deep inhale, ready to face my father.
He stands in the kitchen, a large, formidable man, much like Sawyer. “You have some explaining to do, young lady.”
Usually I’d run into my daddy’s arms and he’d make everything better, but things feel different now. I feel different. No longer Daddy’s little girl. I’m a woman now.
Lorraine’s on her hands and knees in front of the cabinet with a dustpan and brush, as if trying to piece our family back together. But this family was broken when my mum had her accident.
“Dad, I’m sorry I’ve let you down.” I can’t stand the disappointment in his eyes. The last time he looked at me this way was when I lied about doing my homework.
“I can’t look at you right now.” He closes his eyes, his jaw tight as he breathes heavily through his nostrils. He brushes past me and stomps out the door.
I follow him, running out into the icy snow, hoping he doesn’t follow Sawyer, but he lights up a cigarette and walks around the back of the cabin out onto the pier, staring out at the lake, the water lapping in the distance.
Cold wraps all around me and I’ve never felt more alone. It’s like losing Mum all over again. I breathe in, the icy chill filling the void in my heart until I’m numb.
Walking back into the cabin, Lorraine’s still on her knees with a small handheld vacuum, sucking up the remaining glass from underneath the cabinet.
I kneel next to her to help clear up the mess. An image from my sixteenth birthday party sits beneath cracked glass. Mum, Dad, Sawyer, and me. I insisted he get on the picture because he’s always been like family.
Lorraine turns the vacuum cleaner off and places her hand on mine as it rests on my knee. “Don’t worry, my love. Just give your dad some time. He’ll calm down.” She shakes the cracked glass from the photograph into the bin and carefully slides theimage from the frame. “Your mother was a beautiful woman.” She admires the family photograph before handing it to me. “You look just like her.”
I take the photo. “Thank you.”
“It’s been hard for your dad to open up about her. He carries that guilt of her accident and blames himself for not being around. He’s been chain-smoking all day, waiting for you to call him back.”
“I’m sorry.” Guilt fills my lungs until I’m drowning in it. I should have been honest with Dad from the start.
“You don’t have to apologise. It’s not your fault, it’s just how your dad is. I know he’s overprotective and overbearing, but it’s only because he loves you so much.” She clears the rest of the mess away as I sit, gazing at the photograph in my hand.
Boots stomp into the kitchen. A shadow covers the image, blocking out the light. The familiar smell of his cigarettes clings to his clothes and the fresh scent of snow from his boots.
“I salvaged what I could,” Lorraine says.
Dad’s fingers trace the outline of Mum’s face on another photograph, then mine as a little girl in his arms. “Thank you, honey. I’m sorry I lost my temper. You didn’t need to see that.”
She gives him a warm smile and then flicks her eyes to me, kneeling on the floor. “Don’t worry about it. Sort things out with Angelica. She needs you.”
I pull myself up using the cabinet for leverage, my body like a dead weight and my legs like jelly. “Please don’t be mad at me, Dad.”
