Page 209 of Cursed Bonds: An Alpha's Destiny

“Not in the mood for a beer, sorry,” Kirsten responded, a hint of iciness in her voice.

Her dad looked flustered. “No problems there. Got none in the house.”

“No beer?” Kirsten asked. “What, just hard liquor?”

Her tone was harsh, and even I was feeling a bit uncomfortable. Her father shook his head and chuckled ruefully.

“Nope. I cleared it all out.”

Kirsten paused and eyed her father speculatively. “You got rid of all your alcohol? Really? Did you decide to just become a full pill head or what?”

Her dad placed a hand on each of his knees and took a deep breath. “I’ve started going to AA. I’m thirty-eight days clean as of this morning.”

“What?” Kirsten gasped. “You’re serious?”

“I am,” he said, giving her a proud but weak smile.

Kirsten blinked rapidly, as if her brain was short-circuiting. I was also surprised. She’d told me enough about the man that I’d thought I had a pretty good grasp on how he was. This was an interesting turn of events, to say the least.

He nodded to the box. “I suppose that’s the stuff Mom left me?”

Kirsten’s shock faded, and the coldness returned. “Yeah,” she said, pushing it toward him with her toe. “Might be some great stuff to pawn.” She sneered at the last word.

Her father, not noticing or caring, leaned down and lifted the cardboard flap. He froze. On top of all the items sat what looked like an antique dagger, inlaid with gold and beautiful. If he was going to sell this stuff, he’d make a hell of a profit.

He reached into the box and pulled out the dagger with trembling fingers, a faint smile on his lips. “I remember this,” he said, turning the blade over in his hands almost lovingly. “Mom used it to cut herbs and stuff. She only brought it out at certain times, and she’d let me help when I was little. Wow, I haven’t seen this in a really long time. Since I was a kid, I think.”

Kirsten’s brow was furrowed when I looked at her. She was staring at her father with confusion and possibly a little hope. He dug into the box more, pulling out other items, sometimes laughing in delight, and other times, sitting for several moments in introspective silence. ‘

The final item, an envelope at the bottom of the box, was a surprise to all of us. Kirsten hadn’t mentioned it when discussing the contents on the trip down.

“What’s this?” he asked, glancing up at her as he lifted it out. “It’s got my name on it.”

Kirsten shook her head. “Uh, I don’t know. I don’t remember seeing it when I sorted the items.”

He shrugged and tore it open carefully, sliding out two sheets of paper. Even from my vantage point, I could make out the precise penmanship on the paper, but I couldn’t read any of it. Her dad scanned it, then began to read more thoroughly. Kirsten and I sat in awkward silence as his eyes moved down the page. Eventually, his lower lip trembled, his face morphing into a mask of sadness. Tears glimmered in his eyes, and at one point, he let out a surprised laugh. He went to the second sheet, and by the end, he looked like a new man. His lips moved almost imperceptibly as he read the signature.

“‘Love, Mama,’” he whispered. He moved his hand across the page, as if trying to touch all the letters with his palm and absorb them through osmosis.

At last, he folded the paper reverently and held it to his chest, then looked up into Kirsten’s eyes.

“I’m…” He paused, swallowing hard, tears still shining in his eyes. “I’m sorry I wasn’t the father you wanted. The father you needed. I’ve been a piece of shit my whole life, and I’m only now starting to realize it.” He looked down at the paper in his hands. “It took losing Mom for me to really start seeing it.”

Kirsten’s jaw was hanging open, her face a mask of surprise. I reached over and wrapped my arm around her for support. Her dad continued patting the letter, running his hand down it like he was petting a treasured pet.

“I want to do better,” he said, then shook his head sadly. “I don’t know that I can be perfect, and I don’t know a lot about being a father, but I’d like to try. Better late than never?” He gave Kirsten a heartbreakingly hopeful look.

Whatever spell Kirsten was under, she snapped out of it, chuckling softly to herself. “Um, I guess we could try that, yeah. It would be good, too, since there’s more news you need to know.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

She took my hand in hers, and I could feel her girding herself, preparing to deliver the news and wondering how he’d respond. It was easy to say you wanted to be better, but it was much different to actually follow through.

“I’m pregnant, Dad. You’re going to be a grandpa.”

The man sat stock-still for several seconds as he processed the information. Slowly, a smile spread across his lips, and fresh tears—these ones apparently of happiness—slid down his cheeks.

“A grandchild? I’m going to be a grandfather?” He spoke the words the way I imagined a priest would speak holy words in a prayer. “Well, isn’t that something? Congratulations.”

---