32. Arthur

32

ARTHUR

S cott and Ryland tried their best to make me feel better. That was one of the many reasons they were my best friends and the two people I trusted most in the world. Even when I lacked trust in myself, they stood by me.

I held myself together while they talked and joked, their voices and the stories they told helping me to focus on the good times. They knew better than to allow me to fall into the deep abyss of my own thoughts where I would surely spiral into darkness.

“I’m going to try to talk to her again.” I smoothed the wrinkles from my shirt and pushed to my feet. “You two find somewhere else to be. No interruptions this time.” I smiled to let them know I’d be okay. “It’s Christmas, and there’s still time for a miracle.”

The distraction helped keep me from worrying about Hannah and whether or not she would allow us to adopt Liddy. The parentage of the twins would have to be decided later. I had plenty on my plate already with my daughter. I tucked the thought away and followed the sound of thumping music to Megan’s room on the second floor. I knocked three times on her door and waited.

The music cranked up louder. I knocked again, then opened the door. “That doesn’t work on me.”

“You’re not supposed to come in my room uninvited!” Megan screamed and threw a pillow at my head.

I knocked it aside. “That rule became null and void when you barged into my room, then turned pissy at what you saw.” I walked over to the large, upholstered chair tucked in at her vanity, turned it around and sat. “We need to talk.”

“Pretty sure our relationship is already on the broken up status. You can let up with the make-up sesh.”

“One of these days, I’ll understand what that means. Until then, I have something to say.”

She tucked earbuds into her ears and thumbed the music louder, raising her brows so high she looked just like her mother. My stomach cramped. “I don’t feel like talking.”

I moved faster than she anticipated. Before she knew what was happening, I yanked the phone and earbuds away. When she screamed and tried to run from the room, I blocked her path. “Sit down. Now.” I pointed at the bed. “You had your tantrum. You screamed and said horrible things, and then you ran away. You are now going to sit and listen.”

I had no idea if shock or curiosity drove her back to the bed, but she sank onto the mattress and pulled a body pillow across her lap. The pink plaid pajamas reminded me how young she truly was, and I almost regretted my harshness. Almost.

“Fine.” She waved a hand in a careless gesture. “Talk. Doesn’t mean I’ll listen, or that it will change anything. But while we’re at it, you can tell me the truth about your relationship.”

“No.” I returned to my chair. “I’m not talking about Hannah, or my sex life. To be frank, that is none of your business. What is your business is why your mother and I separated.” That snagged her attention in a hurry. The fingers picking at the pillow stopped and her head lifted.

“If you’re going to tell me it was all Mom’s fault, I’m leaving and never coming back.”

“Divorce is rarely any one person’s fault.” I stopped trying to bundle up my fears and hold them hostage in my heart. My daughter needed to know the truth. “I’ll admit I was a bad husband.”

A short pause gathered between us.

“My parents, my upbringing, they both contributed to that though there are many things that made me the way I am. Things like fear.”

Megan clasped the pillow tighter and leaned toward me. Her green eyes glowed in the reflection of the firelight. “You were afraid? Of what?”

“Of love. And your mother.” I laughed low and quick. “You have her temper. I loved her, never doubt that. I feared showing her how much I cared. My parents were not emotional. I suppose they loved one another, but they never showed it, therefore I never learned. Certainly not in the way your mother needed.”

Megan nodded along with my words, and for a moment, we seemed to connect as I laid my heart bare. If this was what it meant to love, to be completely transparent and lay it all out at her feet, then I accepted the penalty.

“Youth and stupidity were partially to blame. I didn’t know what I was doing, or how to love your mother properly. When she needed my words, I gave her my silence. I pushed her away, not realizing that my silence damned us to failure.”

“You never talked about feelings while you were married. That’s what Mom says.”

“She’s right. I didn’t. But I’ve learned through time and my mistakes that emotions are part of life, part of what makes a relationship healthy. Mine reside deep.” I fisted a hand over my heart. “Bringing them to the surface and talking about them feels like death. I’m not proud of what happened with your mother. My expectations for myself, my goals, and business aspirations turned me even colder and more silent. The more she pried and asked me to open up, the more I held everything in.”

I was still guilty of that, I realized earlier in the kitchen. Change was difficult, but not impossible.

“Why are you telling me all of this now? Why not explain it years ago?” The fact that she asked proved that her anger toward me might be overcome.

“I was not ready to. Another mistake of mine. None of this was ever your fault. If I’d been more clear and communicative with your mother, perhaps we could have worked things out.”

“Yeah, right.” Megan rolled her eyes but there was no venom in her tone. “Mom would rather eat volcano rock than admit she did anything wrong.”

We could agree on that but I refused to rise to the bait of talking bad about her mother. “I did try to spend time with you. Do you remember your fifth birthday? The gray pony?”

“Splash.” Megan leaned sideways and picked up one of the few framed pictures in her room. A photo of her atop the pony filled the frame. Her wide smile held so much joy. She’d been easy to please back then, but not her mother. “Wait.” She clutched the frame to her chest. “ You gave me Splash?”

“Yes. I was at your party that year. Your mother met me at the door but refused to let me see you. She said I’d ruin your birthday and she had worked too hard… well, let’s just say I was denied my right to see you.” The gall of it burned even now. I spent years attempting to bridge the gap she created between me and Megan. I’d tried everything I could think of, even a few unconventional things that always blew up in my face.

The Christmases she chose to visit me had been my last hopes of finally breaking through the walls between us. It was why I hesitated to discipline her when she acted out and brought all her drama into the house.

“Were there other times?” Megan returned the picture to the table. She stayed quiet and contemplative. I took that as forward progress and nodded.

“I always came to see you on your birthday. I was at your dance recitals in high school. Your graduation.”

“I thought I saw you but Mom said it was someone else.” Her green eyes closed and she rubbed her forehead the same way I did when struggling with a problem.

“My attempts to see you usually made things worse. That does not mean I loved you any less. Or your mother. We had our differences, but I did love her.” That love faded to tolerance after all she put me through with Megan, but I never regretted our time together. “I do not regret loving or marrying your mother. I do not regret that you are my daughter.”

Her silence stretched long and taut.

“I wish I’d been a better father, Megan. You never should have been put in a position to doubt my love for you. I want to be your family.” Every word rang with truth and conviction. I’d never spoken to anyone with my whole heart, though I came close with Hannah. Did I dare reach across the physical distance and touch her? Looking at her downcast eyes and fisted hands, I continued to hesitate. “I’d like to get to know you, if you will allow me. Please give me a chance to be the father you deserve.”

I’d learned patience at an early age, and it served me well through the years. I employed it in the ensuing silence as Megan contemplated my words, knowing that perhaps for the first time in her life, she would be able to make an informed decision about our relationship that was not pre-prejudiced by her mother. I focused on her, though curiosity prompted me to look around the room. I avoided this space when she wasn’t here, offering her privacy she’d never afforded me. Love was not a game where anyone kept score. I tried to give Megan what she needed.

“I’d like that.” She spoke so softly I almost missed the admission. When she looked up, that small bit of hope I’d glimpsed earlier shone brighter. “I’ve been mad at you for so long. I’m tired of it, Dad.”

Dad. A single word with the power to shake the pillars of my foundation. Words attempted to fail me once again. I ran through a dozen possible responses before landing on one that offered the biggest affection. “I love you, Megan.”

Her chin quivered, and she dragged the pillow tighter to her chest. “Thanks.” I offered no blame or anger for her refusal to return my declaration.

“I like these conversations with you. Is there anything else you want to discuss?”

She picked at the corner of the pillowcase, her lips scrunching to one side in a strange frown. I’ll try not to be a bitch, but I’m not calling Hannah Mom.”

A startled laugh roared out. It hit so hard that I rocked back in my chair with a hand over my chest. Megan glared at first, but then her smile appeared and she joined my laughter with her own. “Sorry.”

“No.” I waved a hand back and forth between us. “This is good. We were able to have a full conversation and no one yelled. And now we’re laughing. There is nothing to apologize for.” I swiped tears of laughter from my eyes and continued to chuckle. “You don’t have to call Hannah anything other than Hannah.”

Megan set the pillow aside and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “I like her.” Her head tilted to the side as she examined me. “You’ve changed this year. Is that because of her? And the twins?”

“Hannah has taught me that love can be unexpected and that it’s powerful enough to cross lines I never imagined.” I took her hand and patted it. “But my love for you has never wavered. You are my firstborn, my daughter. That will never, ever change.”

“Even if I decide that I never want to see you again?”

It was a challenge, and a plea, all wrapped up in one. “Even then. My love does not come with conditions. It is free. Always and forever, no matter what decisions you make.” No one ever gave me that kind of freedom. I refused to put my daughter in the same box I had grown up in.

“This might be the best Christmas ever,” Megan said, before getting up and hugging me, the embrace swift and far too short. I accepted it without asking for more and counted my blessings that she promised to try and help me mend our relationship.

“Is there anything you want to do while you’re here?”

She dragged a chair over to sit beside me and pointed toward the closed balcony doors. “Skiing? Snowboarding? Do you still have the snowmobiles?”

“Yes to all the above.” My knees ached from the mere mention of the first two activities, but I’d rather break every bone in my body than disappoint her again. “When would you like to go?”

“Tomorrow.” Standing, she stretched both arms over her head. “Today I want to decorate my Christmas tree.”

“Can I help?” The chance to make a new memory with Megan demanded all my attention. A smile that lit up her entire face bloomed. She bunched her hair into a low ponytail and nudged a box toward me. “Ornaments are in there.”