Chapter 49
RHETT
The drive upstate was quiet. It was the kind of comfortable silence that only comes when two people are truly at ease with each other.
Clem sat in the passenger seat of my car, her hand resting on my thigh, occasionally squeezing when she sensed my tension building as we got closer to our destination.
I rarely drove except when I made the visits upstate, which was almost never.
“You okay?” Clem asked as I took the exit that would lead us to the correctional facility.
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s just, I don’t know what I was thinking, bringing you here.”
“You were thinking that you didn’t want to do this alone,” she said gently. “And I’m glad you’re letting me come along.”
I pulled into the visitors’ parking lot and sat for a moment, staring at the imposing concrete structure ahead of us. Gray walls, razor wire, and guard towers weren’t exactly romantic.
“This isn’t the kind of place you bring the woman you love,” I said, shaking my head.
Clem unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to face me fully. “Rhett, look at me.”
I did and saw there wasn’t a trace of judgment.
“Your father is part of your story,” she said. “The good parts and the complicated parts. I want to know all of you, remember? That includes this.”
I nodded, swallowing hard. “I just never imagined doing this. Bringing someone here to meet him. Hell, I barely come here myself.”
“How long has it been since your last visit?”
“Too long,” I admitted. “Six months, maybe seven. I keep telling myself I’ll go next week, next month, but then…” I shrugged. “Time passes. Things get busy.”
She squeezed my hand. “Well, you’re here now. We’re here now.”
The check-in process was as humiliating as I remembered.
Metal detectors, pat-downs, forms to fill out, stern-faced guards who looked at us like we were probably criminals ourselves.
Clem handled it all with grace, following the rules without complaint, even when one particularly surly guard made her remove her jewelry and put it in a locker.
“First time?” the guard asked her with a knowing smirk.
“Yes,” she said simply, not rising to the bait.
When we were finally cleared and escorted to the visitation room, I felt like I might throw up. The familiar smell hit me first. It was something distinctly institutional.
“Shit,” I muttered when the reality sank in.
“Hey,” Clem whispered, slipping her hand into mine. “It’s okay.”
We took our seats at one of the small round tables. Would he be angry that I’d brought someone? Would he be angry that I stayed away so long?
Then the door opened and inmates began filing in, and there he was.
He looked older than his sixty-two years, his dark hair now more gray than black, his face lined in ways that spoke of hard living and harder choices.
But he was still my father, still had those same green eyes I saw in the mirror every morning.
He still carried himself with that particular combination of swagger and wariness that had defined my childhood.
His eyes found mine across the room, and for a moment, we just stared at each other. Then his gaze shifted to Clem, and I saw surprise flicker across his features.
“Son,” he said as he approached our table.
“Dad.” I stood awkwardly.
“Good to see you, boy,” he said as he sat down. “You look good. Healthy.”
“Thanks. You too.” It wasn’t entirely true, but what else was I supposed to say?
He turned to Clem then.
“And who is this lovely young woman?” he asked, brows furrowed.
“This is Clementine,” I said quickly, suddenly feeling like a teenager bringing a girl home to meet his parents. “Clem, this is my father, Luke.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Voss.” She stopped. “Sorry, Mr. Voscari.”
I had explained I changed my name on the drive up.
“It’s been a while since you’ve come to see your old man,” Dad said. “And now you show up with a beautiful woman. Must be serious.”
“It is,” I said. “Very serious.”
He nodded once and smiled. “Well, good for you, son. About time you found someone worth bringing home.” He chuckled. “Well, not home, but you know what I mean.”
For the first few minutes the conversation was stilted and awkward. I kept waiting for him to say something inappropriate, or for Clem to look around and realize what a mistake this all was. But gradually everyone began to relax.
“I heard about that tour you did,” Dad said, leaning back in his plastic chair. It squeaked beneath his massive frame. “Feed America, right? Saw it on the news.”
“Yeah,” I said, glancing at Clem. “It was good. We raised a lot of money.”
“That’s a really good thing you did, giving back to the community,” he said, and the pride in his voice was something I hadn’t heard in years. “Maybe it’ll balance out some of the bad I’ve done.”
“Dad, it doesn’t work that way.”
“Doesn’t it?” He leaned forward, his eyes serious. “You think I don’t lie awake at night thinking about all the ways I screwed up your life?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but he held up a hand.
“Let me finish. I know I can’t undo the things I’ve done, the choices I made. But seeing you out there, using your talent to help people instead of hurt them? That means something. That means maybe I didn’t mess you up completely.”
Clem’s hand squeezed mine under the table and I was grateful.
“I should probably…” Clem said quietly, starting to stand. “Maybe give you two some time to talk alone?”
“No,” Luke said quickly. “You don’t have to.”
“It’s okay,” she assured him with a gentle smile. “Take your time.” She kissed my cheek before she left. “I’ll be right outside when you’re ready. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Voscari.”
After she was gone, Dad stared at me with a smile that said he knew everything.
“She’s good for you,” he said. “I can see it in the way you look at her, the way you almost smiled for a change. More settled than I’ve ever seen you.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “She makes me better.”
“How long since you’ve been here, son?”
I looked down at my hands. “Too long. I know that.”
“Why?”
The question was simple, but the answer was anything but. “It’s tough for me to visit, Dad. Not because of this place, exactly.” I gestured helplessly. “It’s because when I look at you, I see myself. And that scares the hell out of me.”
He shook his head. “You’re not like me.”
“I’ve spent my whole life trying not to be like our family.
Trying not to end up like the others. Trying to make something legitimate of myself, something clean.
And when I come here and see you?” I swallowed hard.
“It’s like I’m that little boy again, back in that house, watching everyone around me make choices that I knew were wrong but feeling powerless to do anything about it. ”
Dad nodded slowly. “I understand that.”
“Do you? Because sometimes I look in the mirror and I see your temper and your stubbornness. I have that same tendency to push people away when they get too close. I see all the ways I could end up exactly like you, and it terrifies me.”
“Good,” he said, surprising me. “It should terrify you. Because that fear is what’s kept you on the right path.”
I looked up at him, confused.
“You think I don’t know what kind of man I am, Rhett? What kind of father I was? I made my choices, and now I’m living with the consequences. But you? You’ve made different choices. Better choices. And maybe part of that is because you were so determined not to be me.”
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Don’t apologize for telling the truth, son.
You’ve got every right to feel that way.
” He leaned forward, his voice intense. “But let me tell you something. You might have my eyes and my stubborn streak, but you’ve got something I never had.
You’ve got integrity. You’ve got the courage to walk away from the easy money and shortcuts and all the bullshit that our family built their lives on.
You think that’s easy? You think that doesn’t take strength? ”
I swallowed. “It never felt easy.”
“I’ve been in here a long time,” he continued.
“Years of watching other men come and go and seeing what this life really costs. And in all that time, the thing I’m most proud of is that my son chose a different path.
That he had the balls to break the chain that’s been dragging our family down for generations. ”
“You make it sound so dramatic, Dad—”
“You might be the toughest of all of us, son. Takes more courage to build something than it does to tear it down. Takes more strength to walk away from a fight than it does to throw the first punch.” He paused, his eyes bright.
“I’m proud of you, son. Proud of the man you’ve become, proud of the woman you’ve found, proud of the life you’re building.
And if staying away from this place helps you stay on the right path, then maybe that’s what you should do. ”
The words hit me like a freight train. All these years, I had been carrying around this guilt that I was abandoning him. I felt like I was being a coward for not visiting more often. But he was telling me that he understood and he was proud of me for choosing differently.
“I don’t want to abandon you,” I said, my voice rough with emotion.
“You’re not abandoning me. You’re living your life.
There’s a difference.” He smiled, and for a moment, I saw the father I remembered from my earliest childhood, before everything went wrong.
“Besides, you came today. Brought that beautiful girl with you. That tells me everything I need to know about where your heart is.”
“Thanks.”
We talked for another twenty minutes about my restaurant and the charity work. We discussed his hopes for parole someday and memories of better times. When visiting hours were over, he hugged me even when a guard tried to tell him not to.
“Take care of that girl,” he said in my ear. “And don’t wait so long to come see your old man next time.”
“I won’t,” I promised.
The walk back through the security checkpoints felt different this time. Lighter, like I had set down a burden I’d been carrying for years without realizing it. When I finally made it outside, I found Clem leaning against my car, her face turned up to catch the weak winter sun.
She looked radiant in her simple black coat and dark jeans. She looked like hope personified, like everything good in the world wrapped up in one perfect woman.
I didn’t hesitate. I walked straight to her and kissed her with everything I had. It was full body, holding nothing back as I poured all my gratitude and love and desperate need for her into that single moment of connection.
When we finally broke apart, she was breathless and laughing. “What was that for?” she asked.
I cupped her face in my hands, marveling at the softness of her skin, the warmth in her eyes.
“Life is short,” I said. “People make mistakes. But you and me? We’re the farthest thing from a mistake.” I took a shaky breath. “I love you, Clementine Hartley.”
“I love you too,” she whispered.