“I know,” I repeat. “I was going to…eventually.”
I was. My parents’ communication dwindled down to practically nothing after I turned eighteen. I got a full athletic scholarship to Lincoln, so Dad didn’t even have to contribute to tuition. He came to my college graduation, and Mom and I saw him at the hospital when Tommy was born. I think that might have been the last time they saw each other in person. It was the last time I’d seen my dad in person, until Cassidy moved back.
Despite my many issues with how he’d handled the end of their marriage, my plan wasn’t to keep Mom’s illness from him.
“She didn’t want you to know,” I add. “She wanted time to accept it herself.”
Dad glances at his lap, clasping and unclasping his hands. “I understand. She’s at Echo Glen?”
“Yes.”
“I looked it up. It’s very nice.” A pause. “Expensive.”
With my dad, it almost always circles back to money. He didn’t grow up with much, but makes a lot now. I’m sure he’s thrilled to be paying for Tommy’s preschool. I think he was almost disappointed he couldn’t pay for my college.
“It’s being handled.”
“How?”
I bristle. “Mom’s finances aren’t any of your business.”
“They are if they’re impacting my daughter’s.”
Did Cassidy imply that? Or is he assuming on his own? I haven’t had to pay for any of Mom’s care yet. But there’s a good chance her savings won’t cover everything. The book she’s working on is unlikely to ever release, and royalties tend to trend lower over time as new titles draw more attention and dominate sales.
I remain silent, neither confirming nor denying his statement.
“I’ve set up a trust to supplement your mother’s care in any way necessary. Your mother’s accountant has all the relevant details. You will never need to support her financially.”
I stare at him. Dad offering money isn’t a shock. For all his faults, my father has never been greedy. He gifted Mom this house. Paid her more than the allotted amount of child support, plus covered the costs of the travel teams and out-of-state camps I attended. Bought Cassidy a car when she turned sixteen and offered the same to me. But offering and doing are different actions. There’s always been a choice, not a firm decision already made.
“You-you didn’t need to do that. I’m not sure Mom would want?—”
“I broke vows to your mother, Claire, and I’ll be the first to admit that.”
I still. Since it happened, we’ve never discussed the divorce.
“Butsickness and healthisn’t one I’ll renege on,” Dad continues. “I’m not asking. I know she gave you power of attorney, that you could fight this if you choose to. But this is something I owe her. And I know, without a doubt, that it’s the right thing to do.”
Beneath the surprise and uncertainty, another emotion trickles in. Relief. The responsibility of possibly having to pay for Mom’s care was…heavy. A separate weight from the emotional burden of witnessing her lose parts of herself. And it’s…gone,just like that. Cassidy will agree with him. Mom might have, and it’s one of many things I wish I could ask without confusing or upsetting her.
Dad seems to understand I need time to process. “If you want to discuss details or have any questions, you know how to reach me. This is Tommy’s big day; I’m not trying to overshadow it with serious topics. But I wanted to talk to you in person, and that’s… Well, I don’t see much of you.”
I swallow hard, guilt resurfacing.
“You can talk to me about anything else too. I hope you know that. Even if it’s something you don’t… I’d rather we discuss the hard things than not talk at all.”
I nod, too overwhelmed to respond.
He smiles, stands, and heads for the doorway.
“Dad?” I manage.
I don’t turn to see, but I hear his footsteps stop.
“Thank you.”
30
