Her father turned toward her in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“The difficulty is that she isnotgone. She is everywhere, in everything you see and do. And, most importantly, she lives on in us. You hear her voice when Adriana speaks. You see your reflection in Bess’s eyes as if they were Mama’s. George has her dignity, Henry her sense of humor. And I, her artistic flair, though I sketch the world through words. We keep the memory of her alive. When her image begins to fade from your mind, you reawaken it through us. We are her heartbeat, her warm breath. If we go, she goes. And you are terrified of losing her completely.”
“Stop! That is enough!” Her father was shaking now, his skin clammy with distress.
But Sophia persevered. She must pull the barrier down with her bare hands if need be. She could no longer protect him. The only way to save her father was to hold him at the edge of the cliff and show him the danger before he pushed his entire family onto the rocks below.
“She was a wonderful woman, worthy of the degree to which you mourn her. But the manner in which you sustain it cannot continue. You cling so tightly to her memory that you have placed a strangling hold upon us all, squeezing the life out of us. And we have been so afraid to cause you further suffering that we have let you do it. We have not flourished. We have not dreamed of a life beyond these walls. We have claimed no other love for ourselves. And it has not helped you heal. Instead, we have morphed into a monstrous version of family, a miserable, haunted imbroglio. That is why Adriana left. That is why we will all choose to leave, or accept this fate as our final doom.”
She touched her father’s arm, a small act to reassure him that there was still hope and compassion, here, in this space, in this moment.
A strange guttural sound escaped his throat. Sophia jerked her hand back in alarm. His chest heaved. His shoulders scrunched forward. His arms folded in and he hugged himself. A rasping intake of breath followed, then a whimper, until finally her father’s body became wracked with anguished sobbing.
“Oh, Papa!” Sophia reached for him again. “Papa, I am here. Give me your hand. Everything will be all right.”
Her father looked up at her, at the extended hand. Through stuttered weeping, he unfolded his arms from his fetal pose. His hand took hers, gripping it as if it steadied him in a storm. Sophia held on to him until, gradually, his tears became a sniffle. He wiped his eyes roughly with his shirt sleeve.
“I am so ashamed,” he finally said, his voice hoarse from crying. “You must hate me.”
Sophia fixed an honest gaze upon her father. “I do not,” she declared. “But it was hard to accept what you had let yourself become.”
“How did I not see it?” He groaned. “All this time. The harm I have done…”
“It’s not too late. We all love you. We have just been waiting for you to find your way back to us.”
Her father smiled weakly. “You are so like your mother. She always knew how to guide me.”
“Thank you, Papa.”
He hung his head. “Adriana is like me. Willful. Stubborn.”
“And yet she is my dearest friend.”
The smile widened, then flickered and was gone. “I must make amends. So many years have been lost.”
“But not all.”
“No, not all.” Her father pondered this, nodding to himself. Then he looked up at Sophia. “I don’t know where to start.”
How long Sophia had waited for this! How many times she had imagined the conversation, without ever finding the courage to go through with it. Now, here they were, on the other side of it, ready to move forward. She knew exactly what must come next. “A letter to Adriana,” she announced. “Then, perhaps, a family meeting?”
“Yes, yes, I will begin at once.” Her father cast an anxious glance at her. “How can I ever make it up to you? You have suffered most of all.”
How strange, thought Sophia. Now that they had stepped back from the cliff once and for all, she felt no suffering. Nor would she dwell on what she had felt in the past. Rather, peace settled upon her like a healing mist. Within that peaceful center arose an image of Tobias, who had shown her the way. Allthat had stood between them was now dissolved, their paths converging at last, fully and completely. It just needed one final boulder to be rolled out of the way.
“Well…” Sophia’s lip twitched into a coy smile. “If you really want to make it up to me, I believe there is a neighbor who deserves an invitation…”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Tobias waited outsidethe study of Mr. Grant like a schoolboy waiting to see the headmaster. His neckcloth felt too tight. His collar itched. His heart beat a mile a minute.
He had expected the man to keep him waiting—a power play of sorts. But he stood uncomfortably for less than a minute before the door swung open and Mr. Conrad Grant appeared.
“Do come in, Mr. Mannerly,” he said, walking ahead to his desk and seating himself behind it. He indicated with an open palm, and Tobias strode forward to accept the chair facing his host and the sunny window.
“Thank you for receiving me, sir. I know it is a rare privilege.”
Mr. Grant merely nodded. “Your uncle is well, I presume?”
