Quit Me If You Can

40. Cade

40

CADE

I t took me two calls to figure out that Judge Hayes had gone fly fishing in the Adirondacks and won’t get back for another ten days. Ten days. An eternity. It takes every ounce of willpower I have not to hop on my bike and head out to the middle of nowhere to track him down. I keep telling myself that Kennedy needs these days to settle down and realize that we deserve a second… or maybe, a third chance.

Waiting for the judge to come back is the second hardest thing I’ve ever done. The hardest was disappearing from Kennedy’s life. With each passing day, it feels like I’m losing something crucial to my survival. The gap between us is widening by the minute. But I also know that talking to her father is the first step I need to take if I want a future with her.

Rushing things would only make everything worse.

It’s three days before the judge’s return and my nerves are on edge. I’m sitting at my desk, tossing my garage key into the air and catching it again.

I could reach Lake Champlain, where Kennedy’s father is fishing, in about five hours. I’d take the Ninja H2. It may not be one of my beloved 1950s vintage bikes, but it’s comfortable, relatively fast, and can handle a little off-roading.

Five hours to get up there, an hour or two alone with the judge, and then five hours back to where Kennedy is. In twelve, maybe thirteen hours, I could be holding her in my arms and sorting everything out with her.

The moment I stand up and head for the garage, the phone rings. Reflexively, I answer.

The voice on the other end is gruff. “Cade Gladwell?”

“Yes,” I confirm curtly.

“This is John Hayes.”

Silence. Not even a crackle on the line. My first thought is that the judge wants to make sure I never see Kennedy again. My second thought is that I could see her three days earlier than planned if I can keep my cool.

“It’s good you called,” I say, keeping my tone even. “We need to talk.”

“I know.”

The admission surprises me, but I quickly recover. “You’re back in New York?” I ask.

A surprised gasp comes through the line, and in a better world, it might have made me laugh. “I’ll meet you at 4:30 p.m. at the Hartford Lounge.”

“I’ll be there.”

We hang up simultaneously.

I spot him right away. Sitting at the table, eyes fixed on the door, he looks worn out. When our eyes meet, he gives a brief nod.

I walk right up to him, emotions laid bare. He needs to know exactly how much his daughter means to me it. “Judge Hayes,” I say, greeting him politely, and taking the seat opposite him. I place my helmet on the bench beside me.

He signals the waitress. I order a Coke. We sit in silence until the drink arrives.

“Do you love my daughter?”

I was expecting a surprising opening move from him, but not this.

The answer, of course, is clear.

“More than anything else in the world,” I say. “But that’s not the subject I need to discuss with you today. I need to know why you didn’t give me a choice back then.”

“I had my reasons,” he grumbles.

“You don’t really think I can let you off the hook so easily, do you? I want the truth. Now.” My voice is calm and controlled. And I’m not here for small talk.

Hayes suddenly looks less like a retired judge and more like a man burdened by countless decisions. “I love my daughter. I want what’s best for her. When I saw you by Herron’s car…”

“You knew whose car it was?” I interrupt.

Hayes nods, then shakes his head as he thinks better of it. “I mean, when I first saw it, I thought I knew whose car it was. I’d just begun working with at-risk youth in that neighborhood, and Herron’s name came up frequently. I knew that he was involved in drug dealing and I knew his car. I know better now, but when I saw you by what I thought was his car and watched you send the other man away and wipe away prints, I assumed the worst. That you were mixed up in Herron’s dirty business. You were scum, I thought. Just as bad as him.”

It adds up, I suppose—I have to give him that.

“I see your point,” I admit. “But why didn’t you hear me out? Why didn’t you give me a chance to explain? Instead, you handed me an ultimatum, with no room to negotiate, no choice in the matter.”

“When you love someone as much as I love my daughter, you might have to do things that are harsh and unfair to protect them. Until your lawyer Mr. Dahlberg put Herron away for the murder of your parents, I was convinced you were one of his henchmen.”

“But you could have spoken up then. You could have helped us fix things. You could have told Kennedy you were wrong. She would have forgiven you,” I say. “Just like she forgave me for disappearing from her life.”

“You’re right,” he concedes. “Fathers can be irrational when it comes to their daughters. I acted out of fear of losing her forever.” He looks me straight in the eye. “I’m sorry for the wrongs I committed, Cade. I would do anything to reverse the damage, if I could, but my actions were driven by a desire to protect my daughter.”

The silence stretches, thick in the air.

I look at him, the man who will one day be my children’s grandfather, the man Kennedy has always loved and admired. I can see that regret has taken its toll on him. It’s etched deeply into the lines of his face.

“Let’s make peace,” I finally say.

And we do.

A few minutes later we toast with fine brandy. “To Kennedy,” I say.

“To Kennedy,” he agrees.

It won’t be easy, but it’s a start.

Before he departs with a firm handshake, he asks for one more day before I reach out to Kennedy. He wants the opportunity to explain his side of the story to her.

Once that’s done, my path will be clear.