Chapter Thirty-Two

“Oh! she said, I have knocked off brother’s head, and then she wept and wept, and nothing would stop her.”

Frowning, Mattie stopped reading and looked at the cover of Rory’s favorite fairytale, The Juniper Tree. The cover looked innocuous with a brightly colored forest landscape.

“Read the rest, Mat,” JJ encouraged.

Blade clapped his hands. “More, more.”

“Er, okay,” she mumbled, wishing Rory hadn’t left with CJ and Grant a couple of hours ago. She could ask him about—

“Wead, Mat,” Blade ordered.

“With this he went on with his dinner, and said, ‘Little Marleen, why do you weep? Brother will soon be back.’ Then he asked his wife for more pudding, and as he ate, he threw the bones under the table.”

JJ and Mattie stared at each other, processing the fuckery she’d just read.

“Did the stepmom make pudding out of the son?” JJ asked for clarity. “And the dad…”

Nausea swirled in Mattie’s stomach. How could this be Rory’s fairytale when Momma had read them so many less brutal ones over the years?

“Wead,” Blade said again.

“I don’t think—”

He slapped the book. “Wead.”

“Read before he throws a tantrum,” JJ said.

“I don’t like this book anymore,” Mattie said.

“We don’t care. We like it,” JJ replied. “Stop being such a baby.”

She didn’t feel like arguing with her brother. She lifted the book again. “Little Marleen now felt as lighthearted and happy as if her brother were still alive, and she went back to the house and sat down cheerfully to the table and ate. The bird flew away and alighted on the house of a goldsmith and began to sing:

‘My mother killed her little son;

My father grieved when I was gone;

My sister loved me best of all;

She laid her kerchief over me,

And took my bones that they might lie

Underneath the juniper-tree

Kywitt, Kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!’”

Glaring at JJ, she threw the book aside. “I’m done. Read that stupid book yourself.”

Unsurprisingly, Blade burst into tears. He sat next to her, dressed in a footed, long-sleeved onesie, decorated with fire trucks.

“Wead, Mat,” he sobbed.

“If you don’t stop crying, Ella will take you to the nursery,” Mattie soothed, lifting her youngest brother and sitting him on her lap.

He leaned his head against her and cried bitterly.

Mattie knew that Ella was just about finished with Blade’s laundry. At least the pieces not requiring special care. Soon, she’d swoop in and take Blade anyway, but at the first sign of rambunctiousness, she’d stop her chores long enough to order Blade upstairs. He’d sit alone in his room until she was finished.

It was how things had been going most nights recently. Even before Momma locked herself in her office until all hours and Daddy still convalesced at the club, Blade was rarely allowed to stay up past his nine o’clock bedtime. He especially didn’t hang out in the media room with Mattie and their brothers, listening to a tale about murder, cannibalism, haunted birds, and revenge.

Tonight, Momma was at the taste-testing party for Lolly’s upcoming Mardi Gras Ball. Mattie wasn’t sure if Daddy accompanied her. He still hadn’t called Mattie.

Blade sat up, his little face pinched with fatigue. “I want mommy.”

“Yeah, Mat, what kind of food is she tasting?” JJ added. “She’s been gone all evening. I miss her.”

JJ adored their mother as much as Mattie. Rory was solidly Daddy’s son, while Blade was still too young to make an informed decision. Outside of Ella, Momma was his primary caregiver.

“She goes to this stuff every year, JJ,” Mattie reminded him. “It doesn’t seem as if she’s gone any longer than usual.”

“Mom hasn’t been going many places lately,” he argued. “Suppose something’s happened to her?”

Both her brothers looked at her. She tried not to think too hard about all the bad things. She plastered a bright smile on her face. “Mom’s fine.”

“I certainly am, darling,” Momma announced, breezing into the room. She wore a beaded lace pantsuit with a plunging V-neck. Her matching embroidered pumps gave her even more height.

“Mommy!” Blade greeted, swiping his wet cheeks, sliding off Mattie’s lap and running to their mother. He lifted his arms. “Mat mean. She won’t wead more.”

Momma picked Blade up and settled him on her hip. “She might be tired.”

“Nope,” Mattie said. She pointed to the book in question. “That’s horrendous.”

“I miss the days of ‘Jack and the Beanstalk’and ‘The Princess and the Pea’,” Momma admitted.

“I do as well.”

At first Mattie thought she imagined her father’s voice. Then, Momma stepped aside at the same moment JJ yelled, “Dad!”

“Dad!” Blade parroted, wiggling until Momma set him and his feet and he raced after JJ to where Daddy stood, leaning against the doorframe.

Momma sat next to Mattie and took her hand in hers, squeezing gently. “Your father wants to talk to you, darling.”

Her belly clenching, Mattie jerked her hand away, balling it into a fist.

Instead of taking offense, Momma pulled Mattie into her arms. “If you aren’t ready to see him, I’ll send him away.”

Mattie wanted to see her father more than anything. She just wasn’t ready to hear his disappointment and criticism.

“He isn’t moving back home, Momma?” she asked, comforted by her mother’s arms.

“He can’t be my husband if he isn’t your father, Mattie.”

She doubted Momma meant that. She’d gone to the taste-testing with Daddy. “Him being my father doesn’t matter. I know how much you miss him. I miss him, too,” she added softly.

It wasn’t a lie. When her father was kind and caring, he laughed with her, read to her, and listened to music with her.

Momma sighed. “How about I prepare a guestroom for your father. He’ll be here, so you might feel more at ease in his presence in a few days.”

Definitely not. The longer she waited, the more her nerves would overtake her.

“No. I-I’ll talk to him tonight.”

She didn’t know what she’d say. What he’d say. The idea that he’d look at her with disgust frightened Mattie, but she wanted the meeting behind her, so she knew where she stood in his life and his heart. She’d been longing for a chance just to see him again.

Momma stood. “Chin up, darling. Don’t bow to anyone. Not even your father. Love him if you must. Respect him if you can. Cower to him never.”

Mattie nodded.

Bending, Momma kissed Mattie’s forehead and tipped her chin up. “I’ll see to Blade while JJ brushes his teeth. As soon as the boys are settled in, I’ll come back.”

“Okay,” Mattie croaked, just wanting to hide behind her mother or run away.

“You can wait to talk until I’m done.”

“I will talk to him now,” Mattie mumbled.

Momma kissed her forehead again, then smiled and straightened, ushering the boys out.

The moment Mattie found herself alone with her father, she felt as if she couldn’t breathe. As if the room had shrunk and stolen all the air.

He stayed in the doorway, studying her for a full minute before he walked in and closed the door behind him. Walking to the mini fridge hidden behind the bar, he pulled out a bottle of his favorite red. Silent, Daddy opened the bottle of expensive wine, grabbed two glasses, and walked over to where she sat. He set the glasses and the wine on the table, straightened and looked at her, his expression unreadable. Quietly looming over her and studying her from head to toe.

Too late, she remembered she wore neither shoes nor slippers. She started to pull her legs up and underneath her. Sitting cross-legged was another no-no. Even though she wore pajamas, Daddy would still see it as unladylike. She curled her toes, the plush area rug underneath the sofa and chairs tickling her. She dug her fingernails into her palms to keep from trembling.

Finally, he sat and poured wine into two glasses. He took a sip and sighed in appreciation.

Unsure why he’d prepared wine for two, Mattie glanced at the door, wondering if Momma intended to return sooner than expected. Sometimes, it took an hour for Blade to fall asleep.

Daddy sipped again, staring at her.

Mattie scrambled for a topic. Ladies were supposed to be interesting and elegant. She zeroed in on the wine. “Should I get a decanter so it can breathe?”

Daddy considered her, pausing the glass midway to his mouth.

Squirming, she damned her question. She couldn’t remember if she was allowed to discuss wine.

But then…he smiled. The kind that made his eyes twinkle and his features lighten. “Why does wine need to breathe, Mattie?” he asked, amused.

Suddenly shy, Mattie lowered her lashes and thought for a moment. “To remove the bite. Once the tannins settle and oxygen mixes in the wine, the taste changes. It becomes smoother.”

He looked duly impressed. He nodded to the bottle. “I poured that for you. Take a sip. Wait ten minutes before you taste it again. If there’s no change in flavor, drink.”

He sipped from his glass again and held it up. Obviously, it didn’t need to breathe.

“I prefer mature reds. Much more mellow. Breathe time is thirty minutes, if it’s needed at all.”

She didn’t pick up the glass. “Are older wines more expensive?” She hoped she asked the right question.

“Definitely, sweetheart. A wine’s age affects everything from the flavor to the complexity to the price.”

Unsure how to respond, she nodded.

“Taste it,” he insisted, tipping his glass to hers. “Tell me what you think. Personally, I can drink it the moment I uncork it.”

She hesitated. Daddy might be tricking her. If she took a drink, his fa?ade of friendliness and understanding would vanish.

Setting his glass down, he drew in a harsh breath. “Matilda, sweetheart, I’m so sorry for not being the father you needed. For failing you and making you believe I’m not proud to have you as my daughter.”

Mattie’s heart began to beat in a painful rhythm. Daddy sounded real and honest in his regret but hoping that was true left her open to disappointment. If she didn’t look a certain way, he didn’t compliment her. If she didn’t sit like a statue and sound like a robot, he chastised her.

“I don’t…” He pressed his lips together, rubbed the back of his neck, and shifted. “I don’t even know where to begin. What to say to you or how to apologize.”

Her hands unclenched and her belly eased. “Just say sorry,” she said quietly. “And mean it.”

Beyond that, she didn’t know what she wanted to hear.

I love you?

That would’ve been a nice expression, but Daddy was so filled with hate, he’d forgotten how to love.

Her lips trembled and her head was beginning to throb.

Daddy poured more wine into his glass. “I couldn’t wrap my head around that fact that my sweet daughter wasn’t a…”

His brows snapped together and he sat the bottle next to the glasses.

He tried again. “My little girl had had…”

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he ground his teeth together.

“My baby knew what it was like to have…”

A blush burned his skin. He grabbed the glass and drained it, then snatched hers and polished it off, too.

“You’re not like them,” he said finally. “Or I didn’t think you were.”

“Th-them?”

“Rebel and Harley. Promiscuous.”

Her unease returning, Mattie frowned. Since the shooting, she and Rebel were texting regularly again. At the moment, Rebel was over the moon because she’d met a guy she really liked. She couldn’t text fast enough so they’d FaceTimed. Rebel’s giddy excitement, blushes, and giggles pointed to inexperience. Despite what Daddy believed.

“Rebel isn’t innocent,” he continued, scoffing.

His timing was so perfect, Mattie shook her head.

“No matter how much Megan puts CJ on a pedestal, I’m sure he’s seduced Harley. But you were the sweet angel. Pure and innocent. It was why I didn’t want you around them. I knew they’d influence you sooner or later.”

She couldn’t speak, too undone by Daddy’s words. Was he there to reconcile or spin his own reason for her behavior?

Daddy glanced at her and his eyes widened. “Mattie? You look upset.”

She shook her head.

He poured more wine for himself. “I’m fucking this up.”

Just another day in her life.

“I’m so sorry, Mattie. I don’t…I don’t know what to say to you. I sound so fucking judgmental and I’m not trying to be.”

“Do you hate me?” That was her biggest fear. No matter how her father treated her, she always believed he might still love her somewhere underneath.

She wanted to cry. Pretend she was so crushed, she could only cry. Tears would serve her well right now. Usually, they came on command, and she’d learned to use them like a weapon. Now, though, her insides felt frozen, her emotions like a concrete block.

A pained look crossed his face. “I will always love you, sweetheart. I don’t hate you. Please, believe me.”

Tears rushed to Mattie’s eyes then, and she sniffled.

Daddy leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Barring those two motherfuckers who Christopher killed, who else hurt you? Who…?” He straightened, floundering again. “What…? Your first…? Consensual?” he pushed out.

She didn’t want to think about her first time. Or any of the other times. There was nothing special about sex. It could be a weapon too. Wally used that weapon against her. She, on the other hand, used it against other people as payment or just to feel close.

She didn’t want anyone to see her as special. Treat her as special. Daddy placed her on a pedestal, above everyone, and held her to a standard she wouldn’t ever live up to. He used her as a different kind of weapon. She was supposed to have been the Madonna to Rebel’s Jezebel.

“Can I ask you something, Daddy?”

He grabbed the bottle of wine and swigged from it. “Sure.”

“Why are you making such a big deal of me having sex but you don’t care about Rory?”

“You aren’t supposed to know about that!”

She folded her arms and gave him an ‘are you kidding me’ look.

“Fuck, Mattie. He’s a boy. He intends to join the club. There are certain things I expect him to do that I’d never dream of allowing you to do. I wish Kendall would’ve eased me into you growing up the way I eased her into Rory being my son.” He swigged more wine. “Let me try to explain—”

“There’s no need, Daddy. I don’t know what you see when you look at Kendall Miller Donovan, but I see a strong, capable woman, who gave Rory to you ages ago.”

Daddy cocked his head to the side. “I don’t follow you.”

Of course he didn’t.

“I don’t know everything that went on so many years ago, but I hear snippets,” she admitted.

Eric and Billy used to tease her and vow to break her out of her mother’s propensity for highbrow activities. Once, they claimed, she’d held herself above everyone and looked down on the club.

“The only thing I know Momma as is your wife, my mother, and club property.”

“Kendall isn’t property.”

“At the club she’s your old lady, Daddy. She doesn’t wear her Property of John Boy cut often, but she has several. If it’s true that she didn’t want Rory in the club, it’s because she knew what that meant. But then she made peace with it and let him go. Knowing all the danger that meant. The bikes. The guns. The death. You didn’t have to ease her into anything with Rory,” Mattie said quietly. “Because she’d already come to terms with it.”

She’d never discussed anything that Eric and Billy told her. Mostly, she tried to forget her time with them. They were brutal. In private, though, she sometimes thought about what she would learn.

“Momma fell apart when you disappeared. I think she believes you’re invincible. If something happened to Rory, it would devastate her, but she understands that it is a big possibility.”

Another conclusion Mattie reached was that none of her aunts understood all the connotations of raising their sons in the image of their fathers.

Her father was staring at her, a blank look on his face.

“Anyway, uh, what about the club girls?”

He reanimated and lifted a brow. “The club girls?”

“They have sex with a lot of brothers and no one blinks an eye. All the guys, including you and my uncles, joke about it. Why does it matter if I’ve had sex?”

His eyes widened and rage purpled his skin and hardened his eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about? You’re my daughter! You just turned thirteen.”

On the same day as Ryder.

“Those whores wish they were you!”

“Sometimes, I wish I was them.”

A gamut of emotions ran across his face—hurt, shock, and frustration.

“They’re so free, Daddy. Everyone loves them.”

“Everyone pretends to love them,” he snapped. “Our girls are protected. Girls at other clubs? They’re in danger. It’s bad enough society looks down on loose women and thinks they’re nothing but dirt—”

“Daddy, we aren’t regular members of society. We’re on the fringes, too.”

“Mattie—”

“You just don’t understand. Who am I supposed to be?”

“My daughter!”

“Your daughter as long as I’m not a loose woman that society looks down on.”

He scowled.

“Not that it matters how anyone feels about me except my family. The girls at school call me a snob. The bigger world would see me as lesser because you’re an officer in an infamous biker club. An outlaw club. There, I’m seen as untouchable or a snob. I’m even seen as an extension of Momma. Not the good kind either, but bad, wrapped up in her illness.”

The anger and outrage dropped from his face and he gave her a stark look.

“Rebel and Harley were my best friends. They are the only ones who can identify with what I face, but you came between us. You don’t want me with them.” Not mentioning how she and Rebel were once again growing close, she pointed to the wine. “I don’t know if I should drink it or if you’ll hate me or holler at me or…or hit me.”

“That was so unworthy of me, Matilda. Something I’m truly ashamed of. I’m so sorry. I’ve done you such a grave injustice.”

“More than one,” she grouched.

He smiled. “More than one. I was so stuck on turning you into my idea of perfection that I didn’t stop and see what an intelligent young lady you’ve become.”

“I don’t know what anyone wants from me, Daddy,” she whispered.

“I want you happy,” he said. “Healthy. Safe. Smiling. Expressing yourself just as you are now. I thought…no, I won’t tell that lie. What I did was for my happiness, not yours or anyone else’s.”

Standing from the recliner, he closed the small distance between them and sat next to her. He settled an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, kissing the top of her head.

“This is all new for me. I swear I’ll do better. Make myself worthy to be your father.”

“All I ever want is to make you proud of me. To have your love and approval.”

“I’m very proud of you, sweetheart. And I love you so much.” His gaze fell on the book she’d been reading earlier. His eyes lit up. “The Juniper Tree!”

“You like that?”

Grabbing the book, he flipped through the pages. “My grandfather introduced it to me and I introduced it to Rory.”

“It’s disgusting.”

“It’s a tale of morality.”

“Aren’t most fairytales, especially by the Brothers Grimm?”

“This is a story about the perils of desire. The boy’s mother wanted a child and it led to her death. The stepmother’s desire to take care of her daughter led to murder.”

She lifted a brow. “I think it’s about the consequences of jealousy and deceit.”

Her pointed look flew over his head. “Did you read the entire thing?”

“Nope, and I don’t intend to.”

“Well, it’s a dark and complex narrative that can be interpreted in a variety of ways.”

“None of which I care to explore.”

He stood. “Come to the bar. I’ll pour you a glass of wine, so we can discuss this further.”

“We can discuss it all night, Daddy, you aren’t changing my mind. They are all psychos. Jealous psychos.”

“At least hear me out.”

She sighed. “Fine.”

Fifteen minutes later, Momma came in, grabbed a glass, filled it halfway and sat on one of the barstools next to Mattie.

“Let’s toast, my darlings.” Momma raised her glass and smiled at Daddy. “Welcome home, Johnnie.”