Her mother busied herself with putting cookies from the tray into a plastic container, as if the party was over. A classic Mother move. Clearly uncomfortable, she was in avoidance mode.
Dad dropped a curse word, slamming his fist on the counter. “I should have known you were lying to me! When I asked you why I never heard anything back from Scout, you said she didn’t want anything to do with me.”
Scout’s gaze flicked from her mother to her father, searching their faces. “What in the world are you talkin’ about?”
“Tell her, Lucille,” her dad said, his voice full of finality. “Tell her or I will.”
Mother let out a heavy sigh before finally speaking. “I might have ...” She cleared her throat. “Well, I might not have given you some of the correspondence your father sent.”
“Some?” Her dad scoffed again. “Some?!”
Mother lowered her gaze, her voice barely audible. “Your father would send a postcard now and then from wherever he was off to, gallivantin’ around the world. And I knew it would just upset you. So I ... threw them out.”
Scout froze. “You didn’t give me his postcards?”
“Not just postcards,” her dad huffed. “Letters. Pictures. Gifts. From all over the world. Tell her, Lucille. How often did I send something to Scout?”
Looking away, Mother said in a mumble, “I suppose ... every other week or so.”
“Every single week,” Dad said.
“Every week? Every. Single. Week?” Scout glared at her mother. “And you kept those from me? For how long?”
“Up until you graduated from college,” Dad said. “At that point, I figured you could find me if you wanted to, without your smother-mother hovering.”
Mother’s jaw dropped wide open. “Smother-mother?! Why, I never!”
Scout turned to her mother, the anger bubbling up inside her. “You told me Dad had divorced us both.” She turned to face him. “But he hadn’t, had he?”
Naki’s voice was low, almost a whisper. “Maybe because they aren’t divorced.”
“What?” Scout looked up at Naki, then at each parent. “Is that true?” She walked around the counter to sink onto the sofa, her head spinning. “I have the two craziest parents in the world.”
Her mother came to sit beside her, hands clasped tightly together, her voice thick with concern. “I only did what I thought was best for you. A mother knows best.”
“No,” Scout snapped, her words sharp. “No, Mother. You did what was best for you.”
Her mother flinched. “If that’s what it seems like, it’s only because your father’s influence was too strong on you.”
“Exactly,” Scout said, her voice rising with anger. “You kept him away, hoping you could turn me into a little Southern girl. You wanted me to be you.” She turned her gaze to her father, as if for the first time seeing him clearly. “But I wanted the life Dad showed me.”
“And you’ve got it, honey,” her dad said softly. “You’re living your own life, and I couldn’t be prouder.”
“Don’t.” Scout’s chest tightened. “Don’t sound so smug, Dad.” Her voice cracked, frustration pouring out like a flood. “You could’ve done more. You could’ve visited. You could’ve called. You could’ve been there for my high school or college graduations. You knew where I was.”
“Your mother made it clear you didn’t want me around.”
“Why did you believe her?” Scout said, astounded by her father’s gullibility. “Or maybe ... it was just easier to believe Mother, so you could traipse around the world without a care.”
His face clouded, as though struck by the truth of her words. “I cared, Scout. I do care. You were never an inconvenience.”
“Then why didn’t you try harder?” Scout’s voice wavered.
He sighed, suddenly looking older. “I suppose ... I always thought there’d be more time. But then you grew up.”
Tears burned Scout’s eyes, but she refused to blink them away. “Honestly, why didn’t you two just get divorced?”
Her father’s lips quirked. “We made a promise to each other. Till death do us part.”
