Finn #2
I was taken aback. The man who told me my tattoos were disgraceful, the man who wore custom suits and had a collection of watches worth more than most people’s homes, was nowhere to be found.
This man was humbled. This man was broken.
Gus and Jude made small talk with him. As usual, my father was most interested in Cole. His questions focused on how many of his games we had caught and if he had a chance of being called up.
My brothers exchanged subtle looks more than once. Clearly, they were not going to break the news about Cole today. He had always been Dad’s favorite.
And for a long time, I resented that. But now, as an adult, I was grateful to have escaped his interest. I’d had half a chance to grow into a functional human because of it.
In fact, I had the sudden and intense urge to drive straight home and give my mom the biggest hug.
The five of us would not have stood a snowflake’s chance in hell of growing into decent humans if left with my dad.
Our mother had always loved and supported us, while giving us firm boundaries and morals to uphold.
As bad as this situation was, at least he hadn’t dragged Gus or Jude down with him.
I cleared my throat, ready to get on with it. We only had forty minutes, and I didn’t want to waste it. Grabbing my notebook and the No. 2 pencil that security had allowed me to take inside, I attempted to get this meeting on track.
“We’re here because we have some questions,” I said, grasping for control.
“About the business,” Gus added. “I’m doing my best, Dad. We’ve made some big sacrifices, but I think I can get us through the worst of it.
Clenching my fists, I fought back the anger that bubbled up in my stomach.
I didn’t want to hate Gus, but seriously, man?
We were visiting our father in prison, and he was still desperate for the bastard’s approval.
Still vying for the top spot on his list of favorites.
And for what? He was a thirty-eight-year-old man.
At some point, he’d have to live for himself rather than for Dad.
Successfully curbing the urge to snap at him, I went through the questions Owen had laid out for us.
My father’s memory was shit, but he did point us to various employees to follow up with, the location of some of the records we were after, and his contact at the specialty mill in New Hampshire where he had been offloading cedar at a premium for the past few years.
I couldn’t decide whether I was angry or relieved that this had been a productive conversation. He was concise and careful, and from what I could tell, he was actually trying to help us.
I’d expected him to be his usual self, ranting about his innocence and telling us what to do and how to live our lives.
I envisioned him complaining about prison and trying to justify his actions.
But he never once said a word about any of it.
Like maybe he’d accepted his fate and understood that he would never be free again.
I supposed that’s what nine months in lockup could do to a guy.
And, strangest of all, he seemed happy to see us. Grateful for our visit, even. So depressing and strange. I was ready to wrap up and get out of here when Jude finally spoke.
He had sat at the end of the table, totally silent, for the entire visit. He didn’t take notes or ask questions or even lift his head. He’d only stared at the gray cinderblock walls as he listened.
But here he was, finally entering the chat.
“Dad, you’ve got to cooperate,” he said, his eyes full of tears. “Tell them something. You could get yourself out of this.”
Deep down in his heart, he wanted Dad to be innocent.
Wanted there to be some explanation for what he’d done.
When our parents divorced, he’d taken it the hardest, and all these years later, he was still wishing they would get back together.
My mom had always said Jude was the deep thinker and the deep feeler of the family, but some days, those thoughts were far too idealistic.
Dad shook his head. “No. I will not do that.”
His eyes got glassy, and for a moment, I worried he would cry.
I had never seen my father cry. Until this moment, I wasn’t sure the man had tear ducts.
He had always taken a great deal of delight in making others cry.
It was one of his specialties. He’d never, in all my life, been the one doing the crying.
“I can’t do that, Jude,” he urged. “There are others. You boys and Merry, you’re all I care about. ”
I snorted. Sure. Now he cared about us.
He tilted forward and lowered his voice. “There are powerful, ruthless people out there. And I will never, ever compromise your safety. I’ll rot in here forever before I let them hurt you.”
“Dad, what are you saying?”
“Stick together. Take care of one another. And your mother. And Cole. Please don’t punish him for my mistakes.”
“We never have,” I said, sitting up straight and crossing my arms over my chest.
“I know that, but you all need each other more than ever right now. I screwed up, and I took my brother down with me. Learn from my mistakes, boys. Take care of each other. Watch out for each other. You’re all you have on this earth.”
“But the business…” This from Gus.
“Sell it. Move on with your lives. Fuck the trees and fuck the bats.” I had no idea what bats had to do with anything, but the conviction in his voice was surprisingly moving.
“Dad,” Gus said.
He looked at his oldest son, the one he was closest to, the one who had bent over backward for him his whole life.
“Son,” he said. “Don’t put that kind of pressure on yourself.
I lost the business. I’m the one who tarnished the family legacy.
I’m the one who failed my father and my grandfather and my great-grandfather. This is not your battle to fight.”
“It’s our legacy too.”
“It doesn’t have to be.” He ran his hand through his thin, white hair, his face deeply lined with worry.
“So many of my choices were colored by my obligations to the business, to the legacy. It’s another thing that could hold you all back.
Tie you down. So go live your lives. Forget about Hebert Timber. Forget about me and all this shit.”
My stomach twisted into knots at the unexpected warnings.
My father was the king of lectures. We couldn’t hold a conversation with him without being scolded for falling short on every measure.
Dad had lots of opinions about how each of us could do better.
This was something else entirely. He was owning up to his actions and trying to steer us onto a better path. It was almost… fatherly?
Eventually, we said our goodbyes. Gus and Jude gave him long hugs while he apologized over and over again, wiping away tears.
When I held out my hand for a shake, he pulled me in close. “Finn,” he said, waiting for Gus and Jude to step out of the room. “I know I can count on you to keep everyone safe.”
“Is Merry in danger? Mom?”
He shook his head. “No. I don’t think so.”
“That’s not good enough, Dad,” I hissed. My heart lodged in my throat, and anger once again brewed in my gut. After everything he’d put us through, he was hinting that the trouble wasn’t over.
He held up a hand. “There is no reason to believe anyone is in danger. Just keep an eye out and live your lives. This goes far beyond me. There are people in Lovewell who are compromised.”
“Who?” I demanded. “Give me names. Dad, we can’t live like this.”
He closed his eyes and took a step back. “I can’t tell you. Promise me you’ll stay alert and keep an eye on things. You’re the practical one, the protector.”
I gaped, angry at having this burden placed on my shoulders, that he wouldn’t even give me a straight answer.
He grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me into a tight hug, shocking me with his strength despite his frail appearance.
“I love you, son.”