Page 14 of In All My Dreams

He’s never openly hated me. He’s never treated me with anything but politeness. He could’ve easily turned into one of those fathers who turned to drinking as a way to dull the spells of grief. But he didn’t do any of that. He got up, said good morning to me, went to work at the oil rigs, and came home and kissed me good night. Every single night. Rinse and repeat.

He was there in body, but he was absent in heart. And I think that destroyed me just as much as my mother’s death did.

“Mommy!You’re awake!” Auden comes running out from behind the branches of the willow tree and nearly tackles me to the ground with the force of her hug. “I missed you so much. You slept and slept for so long, and I missed you,” she says in earnest.

There’s nothing better than knowing your child loves you so much that she misses you when you sleep.

I hug her back, lifting her up, and we both laugh when we both go in for a kiss. “I missed you, too, kid. How were your blueberry pancakes?”

“Those were for Horton, and he didn’t even touch them,” she says as she rolls her eyes dramatically. “Ian made me eggs and bacon and made them look like a happy face just like you do at home.”

As she says this, Ian comes strolling out from behind the willow tree with his hands in his pockets. He’s wearing khakis with a sage green sweater that fits him perfectly, showing off those usually hidden arms and shoulders nicely.

Not that I’m looking.

“So you know all about the happy face breakfasts?” I ask him over Auden’s shoulder.

“Your mini-me made sure I was very well informed as I was in the middle of making Horton his pancakes,” he says with a smile.

“Don’t tell Mommy, but your bacon was better,” Auden turns and whispers to him, very loudly.

“Hey! My bacon is perfectly crispy!” I protest.

Auden squirms out of my arms and goes and stands next to Ian, grabbing his hand like they are long-lost best friends.

Or like father and daughter.

They both gaze up at me, and it hits me how much she looks like him, like Irene. I’ve been in denial over that fact since the moment I laid eyes on her after twenty-eight hours of labor.

She looks so much like him. They have the same eyes, the exact same shade of hazel, with gold flecks sprinkled in.

My two galaxies colliding, waiting to explode together as they orbit around me and all my lies.

“Georgia, is that you?”

I turn toward my father’s voice, and the sight of him nearly brings me to my knees. He looks awful. His skin is sickly pale and pulled taut against his bones. His auburn hair is almost completely gray now and is thinning more and more. The freckles we share are still there, but they contrast horrifically against the white-yellow pallor of his skin. The red-and-blue flannel hanging loosely around his thin frame...so unlike the burly mountain of a man I knew all those years ago. It’s as if this house is sucking his very life force out bit by bit.

He limps over slowly, using a cane to lean on. It shakes furiously in his grasp.

Tears well in my eyes as he stops a few feet from me, his breathing ragged and coming out in gasping pants.

“Hi, Daddy,” I finally croak out, closing the gap between us and hugging him gently. “I missed you.”

He hugs me back hard, surprising me with the strength still left in his frail body. “I missed you too, Bug.”

The tears come out in full force when I hear the nickname. He hasn’t called me that since before my mom died. I hug himharder, tampering down the past ten years of resentment and hatred I’ve had stored in my heart.

“Why don’t we all go sit inside and catch up?” Ian says from behind us.

I release my dad and nod to Ian, who is still holding Auden’s hand. “Why don’t you help my dad inside? We’ll be there in a moment,” I tell him, holding my hand out to Auden. She happily takes it, and we watch as Ian and my dad slowly make their way back toward the house.

“Mama, why do you hate him?” Auden asks once they’re out of earshot. “He seems very nice.”

I kneel down to her height, looking into those golden-flecked eyes of hers with concern. “Hate who?”

“Papa.”

I smile at her and shake my head. “I don’t hate him, hun. He’s my dad. I love him a lot. Who told you that?”

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