Chapter 35

thirty-five

LIAM

Later that night, after Paul went to bed, I studied Amy's drawing. Beneath a big, shiny sun, three people held hands. They were surrounded by flowers, stars, and butterflies and, unsurprisingly, a family of mice.

My hand touched the image of Paul. Meeting him had changed my life. It had made me reevaluate what was important and question some of the decisions I'd made after my daughter died.

Paul and Amy had been through a lot of heartache, but they'd survived. With a lot of courage and determination, Paul had created a new life for them. It was completely different from what he'd imagined, but he'd never once said he was angry or disappointed.

I thought about my own life. The first year after Lacey died was the hardest. I'd blamed myself for what happened. My life had stopped, and I'd never wanted to make things right with the people I loved. Until now.

Picking up my cell phone, I scrolled through my contact list. I hadn't spoken to my dad in more than four years. My aunt kept me up to date with family news, but nothing could replace the sound of my dad's voice or hearing what was happening in his life.

With a trembling hand, I tapped the call button. A part of me hoped he wasn't home. We'd said a lot of hurtful things to each other. It would be a miracle if we could ever repair our relationship.

"James Nelson speaking."

A lump formed in my throat. "Hi, Dad. It's me." The silence on the other end of the phone wasn't reassuring.

"It's been a long time."

My dad's voice had the same deep, slow drawl that I remembered. "It's nearly Christmas. I thought I'd call to see how you're doing."

"Your aunt said you spoke to her last month. Nothing much has changed."

I refused to end the conversation there. My dad was one of the stubbornest men I knew. He was also proud, and what we'd said to each other would have cut his heart in two.

"Are you still planning to visit Paris next year?" My mom and dad had always dreamed of visiting Paris in the spring. When my mom died unexpectedly, my dad gave up the idea of going anywhere. But for whatever reason, he'd changed his mind.

"I bought my tickets last week. There was a special and I…" His voice faded.

"Are you still there?"

"I'm still here. Why did you call me?"

I shouldn't have expected anything less from my father. He was still as blunt as ever. With my hand gripping the phone, I prepared myself for what I needed to say. "It's been a long time since we spoke. I wanted to tell you I'm sorry for what I said. "

More silence. This was a mistake. In my dad's eyes, admitting you were wrong was a weakness, something to avoid at all costs. Listening to his son say he was sorry would be reinforcing everything he'd said after Lacey died.

"You don't need to apologize." His strained voice echoed down the phone. "I said things I regret, too. A lot of things."

After all this time, I could still hear my father telling me I'd killed the only good thing to come out of my marriage. My father blamed me for the accident, told me I was irresponsible and reckless. It had taken me a long time to come to terms with what happened and, even now, there were days when the blackness threatened to overwhelm me.

I took a deep breath. I'd extended an olive branch. It was a start. A good start. "We were grieving. Lacey meant the world to both of us."

"I knew Victor was going to leave Chicago. He didn't want Lacey. All he wanted was to hurt you."

My sharp, in-drawn breath filled the silent living room. An hour before the accident, my husband had called to say he had Lacey. They were catching a train and leaving Chicago. Leaving me. I'd jumped into my truck and raced across town. Somehow, I'd convinced Victor to come home, to give our marriage another chance. When we were almost at our house, our lives changed forever.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you needed to sort out your own marriage. There was no point in me telling you how to look after your husband. I never understood why the two of you got together in the first place." My dad cursed. "I did it again. I shouldn't have said that. You must have loved each other."

"It's okay. When I look back now, I don't think I ever loved him, not the way I should have," I admitted. "I was young and naive. Victor told me everything I wanted to hear, and I believed him. At least he's happy now."

"What about you, Son? Are you happy?"

I thought about everything that had happened since I'd last seen my dad. I looked down at Amy's crayon picture. The best part of my life had just started, and I wasn't letting it go.

"I've met someone I care about. His name's Paul. He looks after his six-year-old niece."

"Does he live in Boulder?"

"Paul and Amy live in Milwaukee. I'm thinking of moving to be closer to them."

"You'll be near Chicago."

I heard the unspoken question in my dad's voice. Why did it always have to be like this? My dad should have been able to come straight out and invite me to visit. But unless I made the first move, it wouldn't happen.

"I could come and see you. If the Blackhawks are playing a home game, I'll get some tickets." Ice hockey was my dad's favorite winter sport.

"I'll look forward to it."

"It won't be for a few more weeks. I'm on an assignment at the moment, but I'll call you as soon as it's over."

My dad took a deep breath. "Don't take too long. I've missed you."

I dropped my head to my chest. "I've missed you, too." With a final goodbye, I ended the call.

It had taken four years to take the first step. Our relationship wouldn't heal overnight, but at least we were trying.