Chapter 14 #3
My dad shakes his head like I’ve told him I’m joining the circus. “That’s just pregnancy hormones, Hazel. Your mother got like that in her third trimester. Wanted constant affection and reassurance.”
“My mom liked physical affection?” That’s hard to believe. Also not really the point. “Luke’s a good man. And he’s going to be a great father.”
“He’s not living with you, is he?”
“Luke has his own place.” I learned from the best how to dodge direct questions.
The best gives a snort of dismay. “You gave him a key, didn’t you? Let him into your home, your bedroom. Your heart.”
I hate how he’s making me feel like a child who spilled juice on the carpet.
“I appreciate your concern, but this is my life.” Clenching my hands at my sides, I deliver my best defense.
“Luke paid his debt to society. He’s a good man who cut criminal ties from his life.
He’s been loving, supportive, and kind throughout this pregnancy. ”
“That doesn’t mean he’ll be a good father.”
“He will,” I insist. “He’s patient and sweet and playful and wants these babies as much as I do.” I pause, then decide to appeal to his ego. “He grew up without a father, and I grew up with a devoted one. Luke knows the difference, and he’s determined to be a great dad.”
If his ego is stroked, my dad doesn’t show it. “You know that’s a red flag, don’t you? Growing up without a father figure? It’s not his fault, but a man can’t be a good dad unless he had a good role model.”
“That isn’t true.” I need to believe that.
“Honey,” he says softly. “I only want you to be happy.”
“I am happy.” My nails dig into my palms. “I’m happy and in love with the father of my children.”
My father blinks. “Love?”
“Yes, Dad. Love. I love Luke.” My voice is so sharp that a guard looks over, but I keep going.
“I know in my heart that he’s honest and good and kind.
I don’t care about his past. What matters to me is our future together.
You can support that or you can sit in judgment, but either way, we’re planning to raise these babies together. ”
My father closes his eyes. He’s silent for so long that I’m starting to wonder if he might just ignore what I’ve said.
When he opens his eyes, he looks like he’s aged twenty years. “I didn’t want to have to tell you this, Hazel.”
“Tell me what?”
“He was here.”
“Who?” My pulse starts to race. “What are you talking about?”
“This young man you insist cut all criminal ties. Luke was here yesterday.”
“No.” I’m certain he’s making it up.
“He visited a man called El Matador.”
“A bullfighter?”
My dad shakes his head. “That’s the Portuguese word for killer. The man has a reputation as a violent offender.”
“That can’t be true.” Even as I say it, I think about Luke’s former cellmate. The man who taught him to read and speak Portuguese. “Why would a violent criminal be in a minimum-security prison camp? That makes no sense.”
“That’s a very good question,” he says. “One I can assure you the other inmates are asking. Rumor has it he was placed here temporarily. For his own protection.”
“Yes, well rumors aren’t always true.” It’s why I refuse to believe Luke was here. Dad must be getting this wrong.
“I promise you sweetheart,” Dad says. “I saw this Luke person with my very own eyes.”
“He would have told me.” I’m certain that’s true. “If he came here and saw you, he’d have mentioned it.”
“I don’t think he knew I was here. He seemed focused on his conversation with this Matador character.” Dad leans back in his chair, looking thoughtful. “This was yesterday morning. Maybe nine, ten a.m.”
My cheeks feel hot and my eyes start to sting. “I don’t believe you.”
“Ask the guards to show you the guest log,” he insists.
“And I’m not surprised Luke wouldn’t mention it.
If he promised to keep his nose clean, he’d hardly tell you about meeting up with a dangerous criminal.
” Dad gives a humorless chuckle. “Take it from a guy who got pretty good at covering his tracks.”
My mind begins racing, filled with the echo of Luke’s words on the phone last night.
I didn’t do much. Ran errands mostly. Went to Salem to try on twin baby slings at that new baby store.
He would have told me if he’d come to a prison. If he’d crossed paths with my dad.
Except as far as he knows, my dad’s still at the federal prison.
“His real name is Enzo,” my father continues. “The man Luke came to visit? El Matador recently had his sentence extended for assault on another inmate.”
“This isn’t about Enzo or El Matador or whatever his name is.” I know my dad doesn’t care about that. “You don’t think Luke is right for me.”
“That’s true,” my father agrees. “You deserve better than a man with a criminal record. A man who’d lie to your face.”
I want to point out that Dad did those things. His lies led him here and earned him a criminal record of his own. “How do I know you’re not lying now? It would hardly be the first time.”
My father stares at me, stone-faced. “I deserved that.”
“Dad, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“He was wearing a shirt that said ‘I create clones.’ Does that sound familiar?”
There’s a roar in my ears and a sickening swoop in my belly. “No,” I whisper, willing it not to be true. “No, it can’t be.”
“Sweetheart?” Dad looks concerned. “You’re really pale. Should I call someone over to—”
“I have to go.” Bolting up from my chair, I feel the floor swooping beneath me. Gripping the table, I steady myself. “Enjoy the book.”
Dad looks down at his copy of Numr Ne Randpa. When he looks up again, there are tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry, honey. For everything.”
“Me, too.” Choking back sobs, I hold on to the table for dear life. “Me, too.”