“It’s never the same without you,” he replied.
I dipped the razor in the basin of water and carefully shaved along his jawline and under his chin. “It’s good to be back. But it was an interesting time away. I learned a lot.” I paused a few seconds, concentrating on my task, then rinsed the razor and tapped it a few times on the edge of the basin before I continued. “We need to have a talk, Dad.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed, and I looked into his eyes. They narrowed at me with concern.
Or was it fear that I saw?
Before speaking another word, I finished the shave and patted his face dry with a soft towel. He was quiet the entire time.
After I put away the shaving supplies, I sat back down. “What I want to talk to you about is pretty important,” I finally said. “But first, there’s something you need to know. I wasn’t honest with you last week. I told you that I was going to London for a conference, but that was a lie.”
“A lie?”
“Yes. I didn’t go to London. I went to Italy.”
His mouth clamped shut, and his eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “Why?”
“Because Anton Clark passed away,” I explained. “He had a heart attack, and he died.”
My father’s face reddened, and he blinked a few times. “Anton Clark ...?”
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Dad ... please. You know who he is. Don’t pretend that you don’t.”
He seemed at a loss for words, so I paused and tried again.
“I’ve known the truth about Anton since Mom died,” I explained. “A few hours before she passed, she told me that he was my real father, but she begged me to keep it secret from you because she was afraid it would hurt you to know that I wasn’t really yours.” I bowed my head. “She knew how much you loved me, and I knew it too. You were a wonderful father to me.” I took a deep breath and looked up again. “But you knew the truth all along, didn’t you? Yet you pretended not to. Why?”
A muscle twitched at his jaw, and he turned his face away, pressing his cheek into the pillow. “I don’t want to talk about Tuscany.”
I sat forward in the chair and took hold of his hand. “I’m sorry. I know those aren’t pleasant memories for you, but we have to talk about it.”
“I don’t know why you’re doing this,” he mumbled, “why you’re bringing it up.”
All I could do was try to explain the situation as best as I could, because we needed to be honest with each other for once. I was so tired of lying to him. “I know it’s hard, Dad, but I need to understand what you knew and what you were thinking and feeling all these years.”
“Why should it matter?”
“It matters because I love you,” I said. “And because I’m angry with you for keeping Anton out of my life. If we’re going to move forward, I need to understand what was in your heart ... and what was in your mind.”
He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut.
I tried again. “I know that it must have been very difficult, because Mom betrayed you and you were raising a daughter who wasn’t really yours—a daughter your wife lied to you about. Don’t you think it’s time we talked about that?”
He remained stoic.
“Please talk to me, Dad, because I went to Italy for another reason, and it’s important that everything is out in the open from now on, because I can’t go on living a lie. Not with you. You’re the only father I have left.” When he continued to look the other way, I told him the truth. “Anton named me as a beneficiary in his will.”
Finally, Dad turned his head on the pillow and looked at me, but still, he didn’t speak.
“That’s why I went there,” I continued. “I stayed at the winery, and I met his family—his two children, who are my half brother and sister. Dad, he left me everything. The whole winery. All his cash. Everything.”
My father’s brow furrowed with a deep frown. “He did what?”
“I know. I was shocked, too, because I never even met him, and he made no effort to contact me. All this time, I thought he was a terrible person. I didn’t want to meet him out of loyalty to you, and I thought maybe he raped Mom or something, but that wasn’t it, and it turns out you knew that.” I watched Dad carefully. “You knew that Anton loved Mom and that he spent the rest of his life missing her and that he kepta promise to her—that he would never reveal to you or me that he was my real father. Not as long as you were alive.”
The lines on Dad’s face deepened into an even darker frown.
“But you always knew,” I said, pressing on. “Mom’s enormous secret wasn’t really a secret at all.”
