Obviously, he didn’t think I was capable of such a feat. Or… more likely he was formulating a plan to spin our tale of woe into a press opportunity. If that was his angle, he’d be sadly disappointed because Breeze would never become band publicity fodder.
But then, to my surprise, Tucker took a turn toward the unexpected as his bottom lip began to tremble. It only took a second before he regained his composure and, clearing his voice of sentiment, he replied, “Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Breeze. You seem like a lovely woman.” Shifting his focus my way, he smiled tightly. “Can we speak in private?”
“Why don’t you take your dad to the covered patio?” Betsy suggested. “I’ll bring you some cold drinks.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Tucker shot back. “I sincerely apologize for putting you out. Please let me know what we owe you.”
I cringed, as did every other person in the roomnotnamed Tucker. Why did he always assume everything had a price?
“They weren’t babysitting me, Dad. Jesus.”
He seemed taken aback by my reaction, and uncharacteristically contrite. “You’re right it was a stupid thing to say. I’m sorry, Betsy. Yes, we’d love something to drink. Thank you.”
Admitting he was wrong? What in the fresh hell was happening to this man? It was like he was a software program committing to memory each new interaction and then learning from his mistakes. Something had changed in him since the fire. Something significant enough that it was altering the very fabric of his being.
I gave Betsy a tight smile, then ambled toward the patio with Tucker a few steps behind. Was he dragging his feet? Did he suspect the turn our conversation was about to take?
Once outside, I turned toward him and was shocked when he pulled me into a surprise hug. I don’t think we’d done that since I was a child. “Thank god you’re safe.”
“I’m fine, Dad.”
“Are you sure? You’re walking stiffly, like you’re hurt?”
“No, it’s from yesterday. I’m sore. I was flying a kite and falling off swing sets.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because it’s fun. Haven’t you ever done something just for the fun of it?”
“When I was young, I guess.”
“Well, that’s where we differ, because my father never let me do things like that.”
It was the equivalent of a slap to the face and Tucker recoiled. Shifting his feet, he finally found his tongue a good minute later.
“You don’t think I already know I was a shitty father?”
“Do you?”
“I’ve done a lifetime of soul searching in the past few days. It hasn’t been real easy for me either, Bodhi. When I thought you were dead, I can promise you, I had an avalanche of regret.”
“Well, then that should make my next question easier. Tell me about my mother— the one you claimed died twenty-four years ago.”
Horror. Absolute gut-wrenching horror. It was painted all over his face.
“How did…” He swallowed hard as if his tongue were too thick to push the words out. “What do you know?”
“I met her this morning.”
His face crumbled. “No, Bodhi. Why? Why didn’t you come to me first?”
“Because you lied to me. What makes you think I’d trust a word out of your mouth?”
“Oh Jesus. Oh no. This is…” Stumbling backward, the color seeped out of his normally bronzed skin. “Bodhi, please, you have to hear me out. There’s so much you don’t know—about her, and about me.”
“Like you’re not my real father? I already know that, asshole.”
He dropped to the edge of a wicker loveseat, teetering back and forth and, for the first time, concern for his health sidetracked my need to make him pay for a lifetime of deception.
