Chapter 42
FORTY-TWO
As I sat against my car, staring out across the cemetery, I waited for the urge to run to overtake me. For so long, I’d avoided this place, wanting to erase my last memories of it from my mind—memories of standing next to my mother, watching as they poured dirt over my father’s coffin. I was too young to grasp he was gone, at least until I watched them lower his coffin into the ground. It was so final, so heartbreaking. To know my father, who was so full of life, was suddenly nothing more than a memory gutted me to my core.
For the last fifteen years, I’d avoided his final resting place. Not only because it was too hard to come back here, but because the whole idea of visiting cemeteries never made sense to me. It might have been where his body was buried, but he didn’t reside there, not anymore.
But in talking to Marta about learning to let go of the past, I realized I’d never allowed myself to really grieve for the man I’d lost. For too long, when asked about my dad, I’d put on a placating smile and avoided the subject, not wanting to expose any of that lingering hurt. But that pain reminded me of how much I had loved him, how much I missed having him in my life. It was almost therapeutic. The scars that lived within us could never really heal if we left them for too long.
Once I started walking, it wasn’t hard to find his marker. Even though it had been years since the funeral, the path was ingrained in my mind. But now that I wasn’t weighed down with grief, I took in more of the surroundings, loving where my mother had chosen his final resting place. The last dredges of winter were starting to let go, allowing the world around us to fade from white and gray to a timid shade of green, almost as if spring wasn’t sure if it was time just yet. Tiny buds lined the tree limbs, and birds called out to each other. It was peaceful, almost calm.
My dad always loved nature and everything the Earth had to offer. On days like this, when the sun wanted to peek out over the clouds, he’d go down to the main deck of the Isadora with one of his many books, enjoying the fresh air as he read.
After walking up to his headstone, I dusted the last layer of snow from the top. It looked different from the last time I’d been here; signs of age and wear started to show on the polished marble stone. I took off my scarf and wiped down the front, reading the inscription as I went.
Peter Winters. Devoted husband and father. Taken from us too soon.
My fingers traced each letter as my eyes started to water. God, when did this crying thing start? It felt like my tears were always waiting in the wings now. When I was satisfied his grave was clear of debris, I leaned back and sat on the patch of grass, using my jacket as a buffer from the icy ground.
“Hey, Dad.” I pressed my hand on the ground in front of me. “Sorry it took me so long to come. Honestly, this still feels so weird to me.”
I sighed and sat back, staring up at the sky. “But I’ve spent so much of my life feeling lost. For the longest time, I thought it was because of Gray. Don’t get me wrong—that threw me off kilter, but I’m starting to see that maybe it started when we lost you.”
I chuckled and ran my hand over my face. “God, that sounds so weird. We lost you, like you could somehow be found.” I swallowed. “Because you really, you were taken from us. Stolen . Even if David wasn’t involved, something happened that night. I keep looking into your death with Laurel, and the more I do…” My voice trailed off as another group passed, bringing flowers to their loved ones. “Remember when you used to read me fairytales, but you’d twist the endings? You’d ask me who the real villain was, and I had to guess.” I smiled to myself. “And I’d get so mad because that wasn’t how the story was supposed to go.”
A memory ripped through me as my voice trailed off. It was one I’d pushed into the back of my mind, forgotten in my haze of grief and loss. About a month before he passed, my father arranged a camping trip just for him and his girls. While my mother stayed at the Isadora, he took us further into the mountains and taught us how to set up a tent and start a fire.
Laurel and Calla fell asleep first, leaving my dad and me alone around the fire as the stars lit up the sky. While I rested in his lap, he read me another fairytale, changing up the story like he always did.
“Why do you keep doing that?” I sighed as I rested my head against his chest. “When Mom reads it to me, she just says the words.”
“Ah,” my dad chuckled. “But where’s the fun in that? ”
“It’s what you’re supposed to do.”
My dad closed the book and shifted so he was facing me. “Maybe you’re right, Devyn. But there’s also a lesson I want you to take away from these stories.”
“That the story can change?”
He chuckled. “That’s part of it. Sure, in stories, we always know the ending. The villain is exactly who you think it will be. But life doesn’t work that way.” He brushed some of my hair behind my ear. “One day, hopefully a long, long time from now, you’re going to learn that lesson. People can hide the worst intentions behind beautiful words and actions.” He stared down at me. “What I want you to learn, my brilliant girl, is how to see through the smoke and mirrors. That no matter what happens, you have the strength to overcome even life’s hardest lessons.”
“Is that what you do?” I asked. My dad’s work fascinated me, and I loved to see him in his office, crafting arguments for court. He didn’t work a lot of cases that went to trial, but he always acted like he was heading into battle, wanting each of his clients to get the best of his abilities.
“Sometimes,” he chuckled and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Lately, it feels like it’s all I’ve been doing. There are a lot of people in this world who think they can use their money and power to hurt others.”
“That’s messed up.”
“Yeah, it is,” my dad agreed. “And as an attorney, it's my job to make sure that doesn’t happen, to make sure everyone is held accountable to the law.” He motioned for me to stand, and he grabbed a stick from the ground. “So right now, I’m working with someone who’s going up against a giant.” As he spoke, he drew images in the dirt. “And he tried for a long time to get someone to believe his story. But the problem is, he’s going against someone who’s very rich, and everyone believes he’s the good guy.”
“But he’s not?”
“Not at all, Dev.”
I frowned, staring at the drawing in the dirt. I glanced up at my dad, who was watching me with a keen eye. “But you believe him?”
“I do,” he said. “I think it’s my job to make sure his story gets told, that he gets justice.”
I scrunched my nose. “How are you going to do that, Daddy?”
He chuckled and pulled me into a hug. “Good question, Devyn. Honestly, I’m not really sure. But I’m going to figure it out, no matter what it takes.” As I stared up at him in admiration, he continued, “It can take one person to change the tides, Devyn. Just one person standing up for what’s right to make lasting change.”
By the time I come out of the memory, my face is drenched with tears. They streak down my face in waves, and as much as I dread what I look like, I feel free, like the ties of grief and doubt are no longer holding me down. These tears are the last ties to that broken little girl.
My father was my hero, and his quest for justice stayed with me all this time. I ignored its call for years, but Gray helped pull the veil away from my eyes. What had started as an inkling was now a call to action. It would be a shift, definitely a change in the way my life used to be, but I was no longer afraid; instead, I was honored to step into his footsteps.
As I thought back on that memory, something tugged at the back of my mind. I pulled out the journal in my bag, the one he’d written right before he died. I scanned through the journal, hoping the dates aligned. My thumb slowed, and I let out an excited chuckle as I found the same week as the camping trip, the one when my dad talked about the case he was working on. Playing back his words, I scanned the page again, searching for any hint of familiarity. There wasn’t much, but one of the meeting notes called out to me. I stared at them harder, trying to match the symbols to the rest on the page. There were only two—likely initials, if my instincts were correct.
“Wait…” I said as I dug my phone out of my pocket, searching Morse code guides in my web browser. We’d eliminated that from the rest of the words; there weren’t enough characters to make up all the dashes and dots needed to create a message. But the symbol for the initials seemed to be made up of just that, the code reimagined into two distinct characters. I could’ve been completely off track, but after days of staring at the pages and getting nowhere, I was willing to try anything.
“B…..G….” I said as I tried to match the symbols. It wasn’t exact, but they seemed pretty close. Maybe everyone else would think I’d lost my mind, but in my gut, I knew I was on to something. As I squinted at the symbols, I noticed a few more lined up in the margins. They were so faint, I’d brushed them off before as stray pen marks. I held up the book, following the dots and dashes until a pattern started to emerge. A date.
I shook my head. The pieces were there, waiting for me, but I wanted to check with everyone else before I continued down this path, wanted Gray at my side if this helped us turn the tides against David. I snapped a quick picture on my phone and sent it off in a group text before getting ready to leave.
As I stood, I placed my hand on top of my dad’s grave. “Thank you, Daddy. For loving me and showing me the way. You’ll be happy to know I found someone who loves me just as fiercely, who encourages and supports me, just like how you would have wanted. I’ll visit again soon and bring him with me.” I chuckled as I imagined my father’s face if he knew I was married to Grayson. “I think you’ll be a little shocked, but I promise, he’s the very best man for me.”
With one last goodbye, I put the journal back into my purse and started walking over to my car. But as I stepped closer, my blood ran cold, meeting the eyes of the last person I expected to see.
“Jack?” I called out, searching over my shoulder for anyone else in the area. My ex-fling was the last person I ever expected to see again, especially after our last meeting. Gray had threatened him into leaving town, and I thought Jack took that message to heart. I hadn’t heard from him since he got me fired, and I had no idea what he was doing here now.
I meant what I told Gray at the time—I could handle Jack. At least, I used to think I could. At the time, I thought he was harmless, just another spoiled, rich man throwing a temper tantrum. But seeing him now, there was no sign of the slick executive I met last year. There was something about the way he was watching me that set me on edge. His appearance was disheveled, his eyes wild, like an animal that had just been let out of its long-term cage.
“Surprise, Devyn,” he said as he stepped closer. “I think we need to have a little talk.”
“Not interested,” I scoffed as I stepped around him.
But before I could get to the safety of my car, he grabbed my arm and slammed me against the passenger side door. Jack snarled as he held my face in one hand, fumbling through his pocket with the other. “You seem to think you’re in control here, Devyn, but it’s about fucking time you shut up and listen.”
“Fuck you,” I snarled as I lifted my leg and tried to knee him in the crotch. Before I could make an impact, Jack twisted, turning so my knee slammed against the car. Pain radiated along my leg, but I bit it down, refusing to let him see any fear in my eyes.
“Here’s how this is going to go, Devyn. You’re going to take a little nap, and when you wake up, we’ll talk.” He pulled a rag out of his pocket, and I shifted, trying to break his hold on me. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get away. As the cloth covered my mouth and nose, Jack whispered, “That’s good. Just like that, Devyn. And if you even think about giving me any trouble, I’ll make Calla pay the price.”