49. I Don’t Think You’re Picking The Right Fight
I Don’t Think You’re Picking The Right Fight
Cara
‘This is lovely, sweetheart.’
Dad leans back in the deck chair on the porch of the place we rented for a couple of nights. It is lovely. We’re in the middle of the woods, and there’s the sound of a brook babbling a little off in the distance. The sun streams through the gaps in the trees in ribbons of gold as the birds and bugs provide an unforgettable soundtrack.
I wanted a little log cabin. Somewhere we could just escape together. I hadn’t taken into account the fact that it was the height of summer and everything is booked up, so I ended up paying a fortune for the only place I could find available: A five-bedroom log mansion with a pool.
Regardless, being alone with my dad was just what I needed. We have talked about so much. He confirmed what Jessie told Doug and what was in Mum’s letter, that Bevan Lavell took advantage of Mum, and I’m the result of that. It’s hard to accept, but hearing how strong Mum was made me feel so proud and made me determined to get through this hurt. If she could get through that, I can get through anything.
She called it out. She confronted Bevan and his father. She told her parents and refused to bend to what they wanted. She kept her head high and stood her ground, and when she found out about me, instead of seeing me as a reminder of what had happened, she saw me as a chance for a fresh start, a reason to reach for more. I won’t crumble now. I won’t let this crush me because she raised me better than that.
My phone vibrates on the table between us, and the message from Doug lights up the screen for just a minute. I asked him to leave me alone and thought he was going to, but it seems seeing me again has renewed his need for contact. I hate that I like it. I hate that even though I don’t reply, my tummy flips every time he sends me a message.
‘How long are you going to torture that boy?’ Dad’s question shocks me, and I snap my attention to him. He tilts his head to the side. ‘Sweetheart. You miss him. He misses you.’
‘Dad.’ I stand from my chair abruptly, causing the birds in the nearest tree to take flight. ‘You know what he said, what he accused me of. I’m not torturing him.’ I turn to look at my dad, surprised at his words, but he doesn’t move, just relaxes back in his chair and smiles softly.
‘My lovely wee girl. You are a strong, special woman, and I love seeing you standing your ground finally, but I don’t think you’re picking the right fight.’
I huff out a breath in shock. How could he say this to me?
‘This is the only fight, Dad. I trusted him. I let him into my life because he made me feel safe. He made me feel like he knew me better than anyone ever had, that I knew him, and then he showed me that I didn’t know him at all. The things he said, Dad.’ I turn my attention to the trees and breathe deeply, determined not to let any more tears fall over this. ‘He didn’t know me at all if he believed me capable of all that.’
‘Cara, sit down.’ I swallow hard and turn to look at Dad as he nods to the chair at his side, and obediently, I sit. ‘He believed you capable because it was in front of him in black and white.’
I gape at him, my mouth falling open as I prepare to argue, but he continues.
‘You told me this story, you, not him, so everything I’m about to say comes from your words. You told him, whilst in a frantic panic that you had lost a box of letters that were important and that you didn’t want anyone to see. He was then given the box and the letters telling him that you had blackmailed your way into that house. He came and asked you if they were yours, and you said yes.’
‘I meant the box…’
‘I know, but he didn’t. Cara, he reacted emotionally—just like you are now and have been for the past couple of weeks—because he thought the woman he loved had betrayed him.’
Loved. He never said it, but I felt it. I still do. I inhale deeply, unable to speak.
‘He had black and white evidence in front of him, sweetheart, that you didn’t deny. You’ve both made mistakes,’ I flinch at the word and bring my gaze back to him. ‘But we both know that mistakes don’t always mean the end.’
‘Dad,’
‘I almost lost your mum.’ My mouth snaps closed at his words, and he looks off into the distance. ‘I loved that girl with every beat of my heart. I met her on my first day in the States, and that was it. I was done for. We became friends, then after a couple of months, she kissed me, and I knew those would be the only lips I kissed for the rest of my life.’ He smiles, and I swallow hard before reaching up to wipe my tears. ‘We were happy. We would steal the moments together when we could. I’d tell her all about Scotland and all the places I wanted to take her to, and she asked me to stay in America. I said an easy yes. I would stay for her. We would have to get married. I knew that. I wouldn’t just be able to stay otherwise, and that sounded perfect to me. I was preparing to ask her officially to marry me when she started to become distant, quiet. She wasn’t the bright, vibrant girl I’d fallen in love with. She was a shadow of my Charlotte, and I thought the magic was wearing off for her, and she’d changed her mind. Then one day, she broke down and told me she was pregnant.’
Oh, my poor dad. I can see the hurt in his eyes at the memory, and I reach out for his hand.
‘I knew you couldn’t be mine because we’d agreed to wait until she was at least seventeen, if not until we were married.’ He shakes his head. ‘I didn’t believe her, Cara.’ He lets go of my hand and stands, walking over to grip the porch railing. ‘I accused her of lying to me. I accused her of betraying me.’ I’m frozen to my seat as I watch him steady himself and hear the tremble in his voice. ‘She was furious with me, but I saw that I had broken her heart. I saw the light in her eyes dim even further as I threw the trust she’d had to be able to tell me back in her face. She told me to leave, go home to Scotland, and never come back.’
I gasp, unable to help it. My mum and dad were perfect. I’ve never seen two people happier or more in love, so to imagine them like this, broken up and hurting, like me and Doug… I swallow hard. This hurts.
‘I knew, right there and then, in the way she looked at me, the strength she held in her posture, the way she held her hands on her belly, protecting you when you were little more than an apple seed, that I was a damn fool to walk away from her without looking back. Unfortunately, she was just about done with me.’
He turns, leaning against the railing and shaking his head.
‘I managed it, Cara. Somehow, some-bloody-how, I managed to convince her that despite being a prized idiot, I worshipped the ground she walked on. I managed to convince her that I was so unbelievably sorry for jumping to the absolute worst conclusion. I told her that I would happily murder the scumbag who thought he could take from her without permission and would live out my days in prison with a smile on my face knowing I’d avenged her, but that I would rather take her away, make her my wife and raise you as my own, be a family and spend the rest of my life making sure she knew how loved she was—how loved you are.’
My hand comes up to cover my mouth as I cry, and Dad moves to crouch in front of me, taking my hands in his.
‘He loves you, Cara. He adores you. Let him show you that you can trust him.’
‘Aren’t you supposed to scare boys away from your little girl?’
He grins, then lets out a small laugh.
‘I told you. I promised to spend my days making sure you know how loved you are. I didn’t just mean by me.’
And like a ton of bricks falling from a great height, the heavy weight that’s been sitting on my shoulders smashes into a hundred pieces. It’s still there. I still need to clean up the mess, but I feel like I can breathe again, and all it took was some wisdom and honesty from my dad.
A few hours away, there’s a grumpy contractor who loves me, and I love him, and now I just need to figure out how I move forward from here.
Two days later, I find myself about to take the first step toward the rest of my life.
Spending time in the peace and quiet of nature and receiving my dad’s brutal honesty and home truths, and I knew what I had to do next. I have bridges to build, starting right here.
My heart is racing as I approach the front door. Am I crazy for doing this?
I try to swallow, but my mouth is dry with nerves, so I shake my hands out to the sides and will myself to get it together.
I raise my hand to ring the bell, but the door opens before I can, and I take a deep breath.
‘Cara.’
Eyes strikingly similar to mine stare back at me, and I exhale at the sight of her smile.
‘Hi, Jessie.’