Chapter 7 #2
I press the palm of my hand flat against my chest, breathing through the shock. "You scared me," I mutter, my thumb automatically scrambling for the remote to change the channel.
"Uh-uh. Leave it on," he says, gesturing toward the screen as he walks into the kitchen. "Let me watch my son-in-law."
I immediately slide off the counter, my heels hitting the hardwood. "Okay, let me go and finish the laundry..."
"No, you're going nowhere." Dad cuts me off with a raised eyebrow, pointing a finger toward the sofa. "Come sit here, young lady."
I let out a soft sigh, dropping the remote onto the counter, and follow him to the living room. We sit side by side on the cushions, the sound of Noah's broadcast voice filling the space between us.
Dad leans back, his gaze tracking the movement on the screen before he turns his head to look at me. "Your mother said something about John coming around the studio. Now, what is that buffalo of a man doing around you again? Didn't he cheat on you or something?"
"Oh, yeah," I say, looking down at my bare knees. "He did."
"And with your best friend," Dad grunts, shaking his head. "He's such a sleazeball. Now, I hope you are well aware that I am firmly on the side of Noah?"
"I am on his side too," I whisper, the admission slipping out before I can filter it. I twist a loose thread on my skirt. "I just... I'm scared that I might lose myself again if I go back."
Dad opens his arms wide, the tension leaving his shoulders. "Oh, you won't, baby. Come here."
I lean into his side, letting him pull me into a tight hug. He presses a warm kiss against my forehead, the familiar scent of his peppermint tea calming the flutter in my stomach.
"So, what do you think I should do, Dad?" I ask, balancing myself against his shoulder as he crosses his legs.
"Huh? You're asking me for marital advice?" He lets out a low rumble of a laugh, then drops his voice into a quiet register. "I'll tell you a secret, Lily. Your husband was completely confused. He used to call me every single time your birthday was around the corner."
I pull back just enough to look at his face. "He did?"
"Yes," Dad says, nodding slowly. "He would ask me, 'What should I do?
I don't think she wants to talk to me, and I want to get her this and that.
' And I would tell him, 'Noah, do you know you're rich enough to buy her whatever she wants?
' But he would always say he wanted to get you something better, something grander.
I had to tell him straight out: 'You're running a race that isn't necessary, son, and it's entirely sponsored by fear. '"
I stay quiet, waiting for him to break it down.
Dad reaches over, tapping his knuckles gently against the armrest. "He's terrified of you guys becoming flat broke.
That fear drives him to work like a madman.
He hated the pitiful looks his peers would give him when his own father would come to pick him up at school.
He hated the limp his dad walked with after his stroke. "
He pauses, letting the weight of the family history settle into the room.
"He was angry when he was young," Dad continues softly. "Then that anger turned into a determination... probably sponsored by the fear of turning out exactly like him. I like the boy. He has good things in his mind. He just doesn't know how to adjust his priorities yet."
"What about me, Daddy?" I ask, my voice sounding smaller than I want it to.
"You just wanted to be heard," he says, reaching up to pat my hair with a gentle rhythm. "But he got too busy to give a listening ear, and that's a lonely place to be. Don't think too much about it right now." He pecks the top of my head. "But you miss him a lot, don't you?"
"I miss him every day," I whisper.
"This too shall end, sweetie," he says, squeezing my shoulder. "We just want him to realize exactly what he's done wrong. And I tell you, after this clears up, you're about to experience the best part of your marriage yet."
He pulls me back into a brief hug before checking his watch.
He stands up, smoothing his trousers. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have a prayer meeting to host in the study.
Come here." He pulls me up for one last embrace, whispering into my hair, "I promise you, that man loves you.
He's just been loving you the wrong way. "
I let out a long breath as he walks down the hall. A second later, the front door bursts open, and Liam runs into the foyer, bypassing the kitchen entirely to head straight for his grandpa.
"Come on, let's pray, buddy," Dad calls out, catching him by the shoulders.
Liam slumps his chest forward. "Aww, pray, Grandpa? Right now?"
"Yes, pray," Dad says, steering him toward the study.
"But I want to play with you!"
"Prayers before playing, boy," Dad says, closing the study door behind them, leaving the rest of the house behind as if nothing else exists.
My mother walks through the front door next, carrying a soundly sleeping Nora in her arms. "Your youngest girl is a whole lot of problem," she murmurs with a tired smile, nodding toward the heavy weight of the baby.
Hannah follows her into the kitchen, carrying two canvas grocery bags, with Ava trailing closely behind them.
Ava walks straight toward the counter where I am standing. She stops a foot away, her expression guarded. "Can I speak with you outside, Mummy?"