The Perfect Secret

Chapter Twenty-Two

Dan stood in the living room, looked at his watch, and glanced at Tess’s door, which was still closed. He tapped his foot and pulled out his phone. Glancing again at her closed door, he scrolled through emails. Finally, he gave up.

“Tess, we need to go or we’ll be late!”

As expected, there was no answer. Two minutes later, her door opened. “I just have to fix my hair.”

He bit his tongue rather than ask why she hadn’t already fixed it. Fathers of fifteen-year-old girls knew better than to ask those questions. With a sigh, he sat on the sofa. Five minutes later, she emerged.

“You look beautiful. Ready to go?”

Actually, she looked no different than earlier that day, but having already proven he was no dummy when it came to parenting teenaged girls, he didn’t mention it.

Tess headed to the door, Dan behind her. She was silent the entire trip to school. Only when she found her friends who were also displaying their work at the art show in the school commons did she smile and talk. Never once to Dan.

He greeted the other parents he recognized, introduced himself once again to her art teacher, helped himself to some snacks, and wandered the show. Tess’s work was fantastic. Her charcoal drawings of people were phenomenal. But it was her last piece that knocked the breath out of him.

It was a portrait of him and Hannah at the pumpkin farm. The field was in the background. She’d captured them mid-stride, Hannah holding one of the pumpkins. Dan held her hand. The entire picture was charcoal, except for the pumpkin, which she’d colored with pastel.

His vision blurred. It was the most stunning picture he’d seen.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Her art teacher walked over and talked about the portrait as if its existence was the most natural thing in the world.

He could only nod and he gripped his cane so hard he’d swear the wooden handle became one with his palm.

The art teacher moved on. Dan willed himself to walk away. Anywhere, as long as it was far from this portrait. At the refreshment table, he pretended to be interested in the sweets—as the ones he’d already eaten roiled his stomach—until his heart rate returned to normal and his palms stopped sweating. It took another minute or two to release his hold on his cane, and he opened and closed his hand in an attempt to regain circulation.

Spying Tess across the commons, he headed toward her. “Are you ready to go?”

“Not yet.”

They were the first words she’d spoken to him all day. Rather than argue, he took another turn around the exhibit, avoiding the picture of him and Hannah, before motioning to Tess they needed to go. With a roll of her eyes and a flip of her hair, she stormed past him out the door.

Great.

By the time they reached their apartment, Dan had had enough. As Tess brushed past him to go to her room, he let loose. “Hold it!”

She stopped, her back to him.

“Turn around, please.”

She turned in a slow circle, her face a stony mask.

“Come here, please.”

Her gaze fixed somewhere beyond him, she walked toward him.

“Can you please tell me what your problem is?”

“It’s your fault.”

“What’s my fault?”

“They weren’t there.”

“Who wasn’t there?”

Tess bit her lip and Dan blew out a breath in frustration. “I can’t fix anything if you don’t clarify the problem.”

“I invited Hannah and her grandma to the art show and they didn’t come. All because you had the stupid idea to break up with her. I hate you!”

Racing past him, she ran out of the apartment.

Tess burst into tears at Hannah’s door. “I hate him!”

Hannah pulled Tess against her as she led the girl into her apartment. All of Hannah’s own pain leaked out of this girl. Hannah’s heart ached anew. She led the sobbing teen to the sofa. Together, they sat until she calmed down. Drawing gasping, stuttering breaths, Tess accepted the glass of water Hannah’s grandmother offered. Bubbe sat across the room, silent, but watchful.

“Don’t hate him because of me, Tess,” Hannah said.

“I don’t. I mean, I do because of that also, but it’s not the main reason.”

Feeling stupid, Hannah shrugged. “Okay, do you want to tell me why you hate him?”

“Because he hates me.”

“Oh, honey, no he doesn’t.”

“Yes. He does.” She pulled away from Hannah with a glare.

“Okay, why do you think he hates you?”

“When he thinks he likes something too much, he gets rid of it. It’s why he broke up with you. He doesn’t want to tempt himself to overdo it, to become addicted to it.”

Addicted.

Bubbemade a sound. Hannah started to shake and clamped her jaw to suppress her teeth from chattering out of her head.

“It’s why I hate him. Because he must hate me or he wouldn’t want me around either.”

Hannah grasped Tess’s face between her hands, forcing the teen to look at her. “You may be right about everything else, but I know he loves you more than life. Never, ever doubt him. You’re the one person in his life he’ll never throw away. In fact,” she drew a deep breath, “I think it’s why he got rid of everything else. Because he wants to make sure he can take care of you.” No matter what she might think of him, Dan was a great father.

Dissolving into tears, Tess leaned into Hannah and Hannah held her while she tried to brush off what Tess had said. It was just a turn of phrase, she told herself, as Tess launched into a second round of sobs. Dan couldn’t really be an addict. Teenagers were dramatic. When the second round of sobs quieted, Hannah smoothed Tess’s hair away from her face. “What happened to make you fight?”

“Why weren’t you at my art show?”

Hannah’s stomach dropped. The art show. It was on her calendar, but she’d assumed Dan wouldn’t want her there. She also assumed Dan would explain things to Tess.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m sorry. I assumed we were no longer invited. I didn’t realize you’d still want us there.”

Tess picked a piece of lint off her sleeve and Hannah pulled her into another hug. “I’m sorry.”

“I am too,” Bubbe said. “Does your dad know you’re here?”

Tess shook her head.

“You should text him to make sure he doesn’t worry about you,” Hannah said.

“He won’t care.”

Hannah shook her head. “Tess, I’m telling you, you’re wrong.”

“You don’t want me here?”

“Of course I do. I’ve missed you. You’re welcome to stay as long as you want. But your dad needs to know you’re safe.”

Hannah suppressed a laugh at Tess’s dramatic sigh as the teen texted her dad. Her phone buzzed immediately.

“Was that him?”

Tess nodded and stuffed her phone in her pocket.

“Do you have photos from your art show?” Hannah asked.

Tess’s face brightened. “Most of them.” The three women sat on the sofa and looked through the pictures. Tess’s talent impressed Hannah, and she complimented her. A knock on the door interrupted their study of the artwork. Hannah rose to open it and stood face to face with Dan.

Her mouth went dry. Her heart thudded in her chest. His wood, musk and spice scent wafted around her and created a longing deep in her soul.

“Where’s Tess?” Dan looked past her into the apartment.

Hannah swallowed. All desire fled. He’d thrown her away. No matter what reason Tess gave, the sooner Hannah got over him the better. She stood back and pointed down the hall, and followed him as he rushed toward Tess, unsteady, but faster than she’d ever seen him move.

“She’s in the living room.”

When he stopped at the entry to the living room, he wobbled. She reached out a hand to steady him.

He shook her off and barked at Tess. “Come on, Tess, we’re going home.”

“No.”

“Tess.” He ground out the word between clenched teeth. Hannah sucked in her stomach at the anger he tried without success to bank.

Tess glowered at him and folded her arms against her chest, sinking into the sofa as if she planned to become one with the chenille cushion. “I don’t want to go anywhere with you. I want to stay here.”

“You’re fifteen. What you want doesn’t matter.” His hand shook. He clenched it at his side.

Hannah’s eyes widened. Under normal circumstances, she’d disappear with her grandmother into the kitchen, to give them the privacy they needed. Dan would understand it. He might not acknowledge it, but he’d realize her motives. However Tess wouldn’t. She already thought Hannah abandoned her by not going to the art show—an unintended casualty of the breakup with her father. What would Tess think if Hannah walked away now?

Tess’s eyes filled with tears. “I hate you.”

“I know.” Dan remained motionless except for the tic in his jaw.

With a mutinous look on her face, Tess flung herself off the sofa and marched past her father out the door. Hannah watched them go. As Dan reached the door, Bubbe pressed something into his hands. He stiffened and left.

“What did you give him?” Hannah asked her grandmother.

“Help.”

He gripped the pamphlet Sylvia had given him as he sat in the cab next to Tess. Next to might be a slight exaggeration. Tess huddled against the opposite door, leaving as much space as possible on the ripped vinyl seat. He had a feeling if there were a way for her to melt into the door, she would. Actually, if there were a way for her to throw him out of the cab, she’d probably do it.

Once inside their apartment, he forced his fist open and looked again at the pamphlet. Narcotics Anonymous. Crumpling it between his fingers, he threw it in the trash. He didn’t need their help. He’d conquered his addiction. He was fine.

As long as he paid no attention to the paralyzing fear he’d felt when Tess disappeared. Assuming she’d gone to Lexi’s, he’d waited ten minutes, giving her a chance to calm down before he’d walked down the hall and knocked on Lexi’s door. When he found out she wasn’t there, the building tipped. He’d had to use all of his strength to remain standing. Flashbacks from when he’d found the apartment ransacked years ago clicked through his mind on an endless loop, broken only by the concern of Lexi’s mom. With a brief nod, he’d limped to his apartment to figure out what to do next. In the thirty minutes it took for Tess to text him, he’d crafted a plan to find her that would have been the envy of SEAL Team Six. Only when her text dinged had he calmed down. Now, he told himself for the fifth time—or was it the sixth—he was fine.

Someone disagreed with him, though, because throughout the rest of the week, the damn pamphlet, wrinkled but readable, reappeared in the strangest of places—the kitchen counter, the bathroom mirror, under his pillow. Each time he found it, he threw it away. Each day, it reappeared somewhere else. The most creative place was his pants pocket.

He let it continue because he knew this was Tess’s way of communicating with him, and if she was communicating, he wouldn’t stop it. Especially since she’d given him the silent treatment for the past four days. But when he opened his briefcase in the middle of a meeting at work and found it, he put an end to it. After a quick trip to the shredder in the mailroom, he knew he’d won.

He had a sneaky suspicion it was a pyrrhic victory.

That night for dinner, he brought in Tess’s favorite—Thai food. She picked at it and wouldn’t look at him.

He sighed. “When are you going to talk to me again?”

“When are you going to get help?”

“I don’t need help, Tess. I’m fine.”

“I don’t need to talk to you. I like the silence.” She stuck a forkful of rice into her mouth and rose to clear her plate.

“You won’t win this, Tess.”

Standing facing the wall, she replied, “I lost this a long time ago. I lost it the day you chose drugs over me. Even though you cleaned yourself up, you got rid of anything you cared about. But you kept me.”

The Pad Thai threatened to come right back up as she turned, shoulders slumped. “No matter what Hannah says, I’ll never win.”

If she stomped out of the kitchen, maybe he’d feel better. But she slipped out, barely making a sound, as if there was no point anymore. It scared the hell out of him. Her door clicked shut; he hobbled after her and opened the door. She lay face down on the bed, shoulders shaking. He sat next to her and patted her back. “I love you, Tess. How can you doubt me?”

“Because you get rid of everything you care about. You threw away your puzzle. You no longer eat chocolate. You stopped talking to your friends.”

“I could never get rid of you. Ever.”

“It’s obvious you don’t care about me as much as you do anything else.”

“Tess, you don’t understand.”

“You’re right, I don’t. And since you won’t get actual help, I never will understand.”

“I’m not addicted anymore.”

“Then why don’t you trust yourself?”

It was a great question. One for which he didn’t have an answer.