Chapter 27 #2
We have yet to address what I overheard at the hospital the morning Mama was admitted.
Not only did he tell Walker about her diagnosis and ask for his help with maintaining the house but he also swore Walker to secrecy—even after he learned we were a couple.
It doesn’t matter that it started out as a fake relationship.
He didn’t know that. And while I understand how painful it’s been for him to watch Mama’s decline, he eventually has to take accountability for the decisions he’s made along the way.
As if he can read my mind, Dad asks, “Can we talk?”
“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea,” I reply, managing a tentative smile.
He gives a small nod and heads down the hall.
I linger long enough to check on Mama one more time before easing the door shut and following him into the living room.
He settles on the end of the sofa beneath the bay window, sunlight spilling across the hardwood floors.
I take a seat beside him, clasping my hands in my lap.
He clears his throat, sending me a cautious glance.
“I owe you an apology, Birdie. I never should have asked Walker to keep our arrangement a secret. Hell, I shouldn’t have dragged him into this at all.
With everything piling up between work, your mother’s care, and keeping the house in order, I turned to someone I could trust to help. ”
I shift to face him, pressing my hands into the couch cushion.
“You’re right. It was wrong of you to keep it from me.
What hurt the most was how intent you were on keeping Mama’s diagnosis a secret, yet you went behind my back and told someone I would have given anything to share it with.
That decision left me feeling isolated and alone when it could have been used as a segue for us both to strengthen our circle of support. ”
I understand why he initially wanted to keep Mama’s condition under wraps, given all the uncertainties, but having our friends there for us would have made things easier in the long run. Even Mama was eventually open to sharing it, but she respected Dad’s wish for privacy.
He sighs, hanging his head in shame. “I’m sorry, kiddo.
I haven’t been the best husband or father, and there’s no excuse.
When I met Lizzy, she’d light up every room with that contagious smile of hers.
God, she was so pretty, smart as a whip, and loved to dance.
Every Friday night we’d drive to a honky-tonk that was an hour from Bluebell, and she’d move across the floor like she owned the place.
It made me feel like the luckiest guy alive to have her in my arms.” He looks back at me, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, and I scoot closer, taking his trembling hand in mine.
He’s never opened up to me like this before. Mama is the sentimental one, constantly reminiscing about her favorite memories.
“When you were little, your mother would put on one of her favorite records, and the three of us would dance around the room for hours. Your laughter echoes like music of its own. We were so damn happy, and then our world came to a halt the week after her fortieth birthday when we were told she had young-onset Parkinson’s.
” He falters as he releases a shaky breath.
“I don’t think I’ve ever told you, but we saw five different specialists early on, hoping someone would tell us it was a mistake.
Yet every single one confirmed the original diagnosis, and we were left with the reality that she’d eventually lose her ability to dance…
to live freely… and eventually be taken from us far too soon. ”
My chest tightens with a dull ache. “I’m so sorry, Dad.”
We’ve never talked about what it was like for my parents in those early days or how they were told about Mama’s diagnosis.
I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been to sit in a sterile doctor’s office, only given a few fleeting moments to absorb life-changing news before I assume he went to see another patient.
“I convinced myself that if I pretended nothing was wrong, life would go on as it had before. But as Lizzy’s health began to decline, I was forced to face the harsh reality that she wasn’t going to get better, and I’d have to watch the love of my life, my best friend, fade away.
” He stares out the window, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
“I’m not proud of it, but burying myself in work felt easier than facing it head-on.
If I stayed busy, I could avoid the grief and fear that threatened to swallow me whole. ”
“I understand it was difficult, but you haven’t been the only one watching someone you love slowly slip away, Dad. She’s my best friend too,” I say softly.
“If I could do it all over, I would. For starters, I’d make sure you never felt alone in any of this.
Asking you to keep this from everyone was wrong,” he admits, trying to steady the emotion creeping into his voice.
“I thought that if fewer people knew about your mom, I’d be spared the constant questions and conversations that would force me to face it head-on.
I was a selfish bastard. There’s no other way to put it,” he states solemnly.
“You deserved your friends’ support from day one, and I’m sorry I took that from you. ”
When navigating a rapidly progressing disease, there’s no manual for how to grieve—no reset button for mistakes made, words misspoken, or moments when emotion overtakes reason.
The only way to deal with the unimaginable is to lean on each other, offering compassion, patience, and unwavering love—and it begins with letting go of the hurt and resentment I’ve been holding on to.
I meet his apologetic gaze. “I forgive you, Dad.”
A few months ago, I might not have been ready to see things from his perspective.
But now, with Walker in my life, I can’t fathom the pain of watching him—the person who’s supposed to be by my side through it all—slowly fade, while being powerless to stop it.
I understand now why Dad immersed himself in work—it was the only part of his life he still had control over.
Sure, he could have done things differently, but he was put in an impossible situation with no easy choices.
Regardless of what’s happened in the past, what matters now is that we move forward together as a family.
“It’s not too late to make new memories and treasure the time you have left with Mama,” I add, echoing Walker’s earlier advice.
Dad nods slowly. “I see that now, and I’m finished living with regret. These past few days, I’ve done a lot of thinking about how to fix things… and I’ve decided to retire.”
I stare at him, stunned. “Wait… you’re stepping down as sheriff?”
His job has been his identity for as long as I can remember, and the thought of him willingly walking away is hard to wrap my mind around.
“Yeah, I am.” He shifts in his seat, swallowing hard.
“I can’t rewrite the past, but I can make sure I show up for your mother from now on.
She deserves nothing less. Whatever time she has left will be filled with love, laughter, and dancing again.
” He shuts his eyes briefly, a wistful smile on his face.
“I’ve drifted in a fog of grief for far too long, and I’m ready to live again—for your mother and for you. ”
Tears trickle down my cheeks, and I brush them away with the back of my hand.
It seems Dad and I are both ready to let go of past regrets and disappointments, eager to start a new chapter.
All I’ve ever wanted is for our family to find a way forward, free from the figurative distance that’s kept us apart all these years, and I can hardly believe it’s really happening.
I throw my arms around his neck, and he lets out a low grunt before returning the embrace.
“Thank you. Whatever comes next, I know we’ll be alright because we have each other.”
“We can get through anything as a family,” he murmurs in agreement as he wipes away a stray tear from my face. “Though I reckon Walker will be relieved to have more time with you. That man has more than proved he’s worthy of your heart.”
I smile. “I couldn’t be luckier.”
Walker has become my North Star, constant and guiding when everything else has felt uncertain.
He stood by me long before I knew the meaning of unwavering devotion.
I’ve never been more certain that he’s my person—the one I want to wake up next to every morning, drift asleep curled in his arms each night, and grow old and gray with.
I’ve fallen for him, utterly and completely, and I can’t wait another day to tell him exactly what he means to me.