Chapter 35
Penelope
Coffee progresses to tuna fish sandwiches and iced tea, and my tears to odd bursts of laughter as our memories of Mom collide.
“Oh, she had all sorts of weird rules.” Dad chuckles. “Shoes off at the door, don’t curse near a church, burgers for lunch but not for dinner.”
“And pizza was acceptable for dinner but somehow not for lunch,” I add, laughing. “Also, no junk food for consecutive meals.”
“Not even leftover pizza!” He shakes his head. Then, he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “But, there was this one time we were on the road. You must’ve been…four? Maybe five?”
I don’t respond, but my stomach tumbles at the idea of a memory he holds of me.
“We were somewhere in Pennsylvania.” He squints as if picturing it. “It was mid-morning, and we were starving. You’d been whining from the backseat for like an hour that you were hungry—”
I scoff. “I doubt that.”
“Oh, you whined,” he teases. “And your mom kept saying: ‘Just hold out, we’ll find a place with real food.’” He mimics a high-pitched voice. “Then we hit a traffic jam. Stopped dead on the highway, no gas stations, no diners, just miles of brake lights. And your mother—” He laughs, shaking his head. “She finally snapped. Yanked open the cooler, pulled out the cold pizza from the night before, and handed you a slice. Didn’t say a word. Just gave up.”
I can almost imagine it. Her begrudging sigh. The resigned set of her jaw as she went against one of her own rules.
Dad smiles. “You, of course, thought you’d won some kind of war. You made this big show of taking the first bite, all smug, like you’d just defeated a dictator.”
A laugh huffs out of me before I can stop it. “Sounds about right.”
“The best part?” Dad shakes his head, eyes glinting with something bittersweet. “She tried to act like she hated every second of it. But a few minutes later, I caught her sneaking a slice for herself.” He leans back in his chair. “Turns out, she could break the rules.” His jaw tightens. “Well, she sure did for me—many a time.”
I hesitate, watching the way his fingers drum against the table, restless.
“My grandparents didn’t approve of her being with you,” I say carefully.
“Nope. And it sucks that I proved them right.” He sighs, tipping his head back. “Turned out to be just like my old man, as much as I hated him. How’s them apples, huh?”
“But you broke that mold,” Laurie interjects, her voice firm. “You did the hard work to break the cycle.”
Dad glances at her, giving a wry smile, but then his gaze flicks back to me, his expression somber. “It came a bit late for Penny, though, didn’t it?”
“I don’t know about that.” Laurie folds her arms on the table. “After all, we just had lunch with your daughter, Sean. That’s got to count for something after all these years.”
A strange sensation makes me grip my hands together as Dad’s eyes well up. He sniffs hard, swiping a finger under his nose.
“It is great you came, Penny,” he says thickly. “I know there’s no way I can make up for the past, but—” He clears his throat. “I sure appreciate you coming here today. And I really hope it’s not the last time.”
Now it’s Laurie who reaches for the Kleenex and noisily blows her nose.
And suddenly, I see the moment for what it is. A quiet shift. A glimpse of my father without the walls I’ve built around him. He’s not the shadowy disappointment of my childhood. He’s an aging man, rough around the edges but softened by the years, shaped by his regrets, his struggles. I can’t erase what he did—how he let me go, how he wasn’t there. But Laurie might be right. Maybe we could get to know each other now. In a different way.
He and my mother were so different. She was pragmatic to the point of being bossy, always clear about what was right and wrong, steering me toward the correct path. Life, to her, was a choice—one direction or the other, no detours, no indulgences. It gave me drive and determination and made me independent.
But Dad? He doesn’t see life that way. His version is messier, full of bends and wrong turns. He’s proof that you can take plenty of missteps and still end up somewhere…whole.
Just as I ponder that, he gives a nervous cough.
“So,” he says, a little too casually. “What’s going on with you and that Tuck fella?”
My breath snags. “What?”
Dad rubs a thumb to his jaw. “He told me something.”
I brace myself. “Oh?”
“Said he wants to be with you, but you always shut him out. That true?”
My stomach plummets. “When on earth did he say that?”
“When he gave me a hard time about not going to the funeral.” Dad shifts in his seat. “Pointed out how I was copping out…again.”
I blink. “He did?”
“Sure damn did. And I’m grateful to him, truth be known.”
Dad juts out his elbow as he places his hand on his knee, and the casual motion is so familiar in my memory that I can barely speak.
“Well…I think it’s over. That he finally gave up on me,” I admit, my voice uneven.
“Bullshit.” Dad folds his arms. “That guy doesn’t seem like someone who’d give up too easily.”
I let out a short, humorless laugh. “No, really. He did. Because it was far from easy—I didn’t make it easy. Quite the opposite. And he finally saw we can’t work out.”
Dad tilts his head, studying me. “Do you love him?”
I hesitate, grappling with the weird reality of talking this through with the most unlikely person of all time. But then, the overwhelming need to discuss my warped feelings wins out.
“We’ve known each other forever. Ever since we were kids, when Mom and I settled in Blue Mountain Lake.”
“That wasn’t the question, now, was it?” Laurie asks gently.
I shift uncomfortably, crossing my arms. “The thing is, we don’t fit, Laurie. We’re total opposites. We’ve somehow managed to have this…thing all these years that kind of works, and I’m not sure we should change anything.”
“Ah!” Laurie blurts. “You’re scared .” The lilt to her voice suggests somehow that’s a good thing.
I push my hair back, suddenly flustered under their scrutiny. “Okay—yes. I’m scared that if we tried, we’d fail. Just like all my previous relationships.”
I pause, suddenly reluctant to throw the blame for my relationship failures directly at the feet of my father. Is it fair? Perhaps. Maybe it is all his fault. But something stops me. What good will continuing to blame him achieve?
“And his, for that matter,” I add. “Tuck’s relationship longevity peaks at about three years, then it’s over. Three years with me? He’d probably want a stiff drink of arsenic.”
Laurie doesn’t look the least bit concerned. If anything, she’s smug, like a Cheshire cat. She leans forward to tap my father’s hand and winks at him.
I narrow my eyes. “What?”
“Oh, Sweetheart.” She gives a sympathetic smile. “You already answered the question.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“It’s how you know for sure. Trust me, the more terrified you are of giving it a shot, the more likely it is that you love him.”
My heart stumbles.
Because that’s the thing, isn’t it?
I am fucking terrified.
Terrified to be with him.
And terrified I’ve finally lost him.
A hiss from the kitchen breaks the moment. Dad jolts to his feet as Laurie flutters her hands in alarm.
“Sean! That’ll be the batch of fish stock I put on when I made the sandwiches. Can you turn it down? Oh—and skim it, please?”
She watches him stride toward the kitchen, then turns her green eyes on me.
“You being here?” She smiles. “It means the world to him, Penelope.”
I chew my lip. “I actually came here because I was angry, Laurie. I didn’t expect…this. I didn’t expect to sit down and talk like this.”
Her smile softens. “Caitlyn always said you were a straight talker.”
My stomach lurches. “Wait—what? You spoke to her? You knew my mother?”
Laurie waves a dismissive hand. “It’s not like we were best buddies. But we spoke on the phone a couple of times. Even became Facebook friends! And there were the emails, of course—”
“What emails?”
She blinks. “Sweetie, you don’t know about the emails?”
She glances toward the kitchen before raising her voice. “Sean! Did you hear that?”
Dad reappears, brows knitting together. “What did I miss?”
“She doesn’t know about the emails!” Laurie exclaims. “With Caitlyn gone, Penny should really know about the emails. Surely?”
I’m so thrown that I let the ‘Penny’ thing slide—it’s one thing from my Dad, but there has to be a line, especially when I’ve railed against that version of my name since my teen years. Although the way Laurie says it holds a strange fondness, as if my name is something familiar to her…like they’ve spoken of me enough that she’s adopted Dad’s nickname for me.
But that’s not my focus right now.
“What damn emails?” I look between them.
Dad eases into the chair next to me. “Well, after all the arguments about me seeing you, Caitlyn cut off contact for a while. Wouldn’t even accept money when I finally managed to save some—after I got clean.”
“But when we got engaged,” Laurie interjects, “I told Sean he should try reaching out. That you both deserved to know. So I emailed Caitlyn via her workplace in Newcombe.”
Dad gives a sheepish shrug. “Typical Laurie, thinking everyone’s up for mending fences. Even invited Caitlyn to the damn wedding.”
“It was worth a shot,” Laurie says unapologetically. “You’re not much older than my kids, Penelope. I was caught up in the moment, in love with your dad, and I wanted everyone who mattered to be a part of it. But…I understand now that might have been a step too far.”
“But it did get us talking again,” Dad adds quietly.
“Caitlyn started sending us updates about you,” Laurie says. “Every month or so, she’d let us know how you were doing.”
I stare at her. “Are you serious? For how long?”
Laurie tilts her head, thinking. “Well, let’s see…the last one was in February?”
I scoff. “You mean this year?”
She nods. “Yes, there was a link to an article about…hmm, I feel like it was the fake leather story. Can you really make leather from mushrooms ? Gosh, what will they think of next?”
I barely hear her. My mind is spinning. I combed through Mom’s emails after she passed, but only for bills and subscription links—never for something like this.
Laurie is already scrolling through her phone. “I save everything,” she mutters. “I’ve got my kids’ baby teeth in a kitchen drawer—don’t ask why—I even hoard stuff online. I downloaded everything from Hotmail days, for heaven’s sake.”
“But she never told me.” My voice is strained.
Dad tips his head. “Sure about that?” His voice is gentle, but the question lands heavy.
I lift my gaze.
“Caitlyn told me she did ask you,” he says carefully. “When you were twenty-one. And again, a few years later. If you wanted to meet up with me.”
I open my mouth to argue, then stop. My shoulders sag as I drop my eyes to the table.
Because I remember.
I remember the conversation. I remember shaking my head, telling Mom it was too late. That I didn’t need him. That I was fine. And the fact that he married Laurie and was a stepdad to her kids? That made me hate him more.
I squeeze my eyes shut. “I didn’t know she was actually communicating with you.”
“Penny. I don’t blame you one bit for saying no.” Dad’s voice is thick with emotion. “You have to understand, I’m just so damn proud of you, no matter what. You’re stubborn, just like your mom. And so creative and talented. You made a life for yourself beyond anything I could have imagined. You didn’t need me.”
“Apparently, I did, Dad.” My voice cracks, and fresh tears rise. “Because it still hurts. Even when I understand why—even when I tell myself I get it—it still fucking hurts.”
“Sweetie.” Laurie’s green eyes soften. “I know it must. And I get it. That’s actually why I didn’t go to the funeral. I was worried about me being there…well, that it might somehow have been the wrong thing to do and upset you more. But if losing your mom so tragically has taught us anything, it’s that we have to love the people in our lives while we still have the chance.”
I nod as she reaches across the table to squeeze my hand.
“And, most importantly, Penelope?” she questions sharply. “To do that, you have to love yourself first.”
“Sounds so easy.”
My words are encased in bitterness as I consider all the mindfulness stuff I’ve tried, the CBT sessions…the wristband I used to ward off bad thoughts that gave up the battle.
“It’s not,” Dad mutters. “But I didn’t start turning my life around until I learned to accept myself. Because hating yourself? It’s like being trapped in a cage. You’ll do anything—drugs, booze, whatever it takes—just to escape for a while.”
He exhales heavily. “But when you start believing you deserve better, when you stop seeing yourself as some worthless screw-up…that’s when you get moments outside the cage. And eventually, if you fight for it hard enough, the cage disappears.”
He glances at Laurie, and for a moment, his tough exterior cracks, something vulnerable slipping through. “And when you finally get there, when you crawl your way out of the dark—life doesn’t just look different. It is different. Like you never realized how damn bright the world could be. How things you thought were out of reach…suddenly aren’t. And you wake up every day counting your blessings, wondering how the hell you almost missed it.”
I sit transfixed by his vulnerability. And I so want to believe him—that it’s possible to shed the weight of insecurity and self-doubt. To stop carrying the past like a stone in my chest. But my cynicism still lingers, stubborn as ever.
“So, that whole screw-up thing—you think that’s from your side of the family then?” I ask, only half-joking.
Dad barks out a laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, my darling, no doubt about it.”
His smile fades, something unguarded settling in its place. “And I’m sorry. With all my heart, I’m damn sorry, Penny. For everything I ever did to make you doubt yourself, to make you feel like anything less than enough. Because all you’ve ever been to me is perfect, Penny. The greatest achievement of my life.”
The words press against something fragile inside me.
And I don’t know if I can let them in.
Not yet.
But for the first time, I want to try.