Page 47 of Finding Home

“I know you wouldn’t.” A slight wobble shook her voice.

“I was jealous of her because she got you.” Pete frowned. “I remember standing in front of the glass watching you in the hospital nursery the day you were born. Everyone else was in the room, visiting your mom and dad. I was there watching you. I swore you could tell I was there, when I put my hand on the window telling you I was your Uncle Pete, and you better get used to me because I’d always watch over you.”

Elle drew a shaky breath. “And you have.”

“I think if I had been watching closer, if I had done a better job…I would have seen what was happening. I worry that you stayed away for so long not just because of your mom failing you but also me failing you.”

“Pete.”

He shook his head. “I worry that I put too much on you. You’ve always been so grown up, so independent. I keep thinking about when your dad left and how I told you your mom needed you. Then when your mom came back from the hospital, I sent you back with her. I sent you back every fucking time.” He slammed a hand on the table, and she flinched.

She’d never seen Pete this angry, not at anyone and not at himself.

“She was my mom. You were just doing what you thought was best.” She laid a reassuring hand upon his larger fist.

“You were hers, not mine. That’s what I kept saying. Each time I sent you back. Each time I dropped you off from a school event she didn’t make it to. Each time I grabbed you for dinner because she was out. I saw the disappointed coolness of acceptance in your eyes that this was just how it was.” He blew out a harsh breath. “Each time I told myself to keep you, but I didn’t… I was wrong.”

Her heart both broke and swelled. This man had been so much to her. Her rock. Yet, he felt lacking, just as she had.

“I am yours,” she affirmed, standing and walking to him and wrapping her arms around him.

He wasn’t just Uncle Pete; he was her dad. Dads aren’t made by blood but by the big and small things a man did out of love. Pete was the man who’d wiped tears that accompanied skinned knees. A man who’d taught her to ride a bike without training wheels, holding on ’til she screamed “Let go.”

Here sat the man who put together this chair and unknowingly was helping put her back together. Pete always had, and always would, love her like a father.

“I am yours,” she repeated and added, “I love you, Dad.”

“I love you, kiddo,” he sniffled, placing his hand on her head gently stroking the soft strands.

He is hers and she is his. They are enough.

EIGHTEEN

“She had been forced into prudence in her youth, she learned romance as she grew older: the natural sequel of an unnatural beginning.”

~ Jane Austen,Persuasion

No more running!Certainty pinged through Elle’s veins as Clayton parked at Letchworth State Park. She asked if they could skip the run and do something different. It wasn’t her plan, but as she surveyed the forest’s edge at the end of the parking lot, she knew she wanted to change their morning routine. She wanted to change how she handled moments like what happened with Pete. The urge was still there to hold it in, letting the thoughts meander until they were packed away in keyless lock boxes but dulled with her resolve.

It felt right to do it here. Letchworth was one of her favorite places as a kid. She had memories from this place for each changing season. It was the perfect place to make a change. To do something different.

Perhaps her favorite spots in the park were the sets of three waterfalls along the Genesee River that flowed through thecenter of the park. A set of one hundred weathered stone steps led up a steep climb along the falls.

Clayton laced their fingers together as they took the first step. They were the only ones in the pre-dawn park. Clayton’s gaze flipped between the well-traveled steps watching for ruts and debris that dotted the path and at Elle, as she shared what happened with Pete the night before. She confessed her fear of changing her and her mom in Pete’s eyes if she told him the real reason she stayed away so long. She’d missed so much by staying away from Perry.

“This ispartof your story. It’s not your entire story. You decide which chapters and paragraphs to share. No matter what you decide, you are still my favorite book.” His warm, earnest eyes held her gaze as he lowered his head to kiss her.

“Thank you.” She smiled, placing her forehead against his, breathing in his tantalizing scent.

“Keep going?” He gestured to theNo Trespassingsign stapled to the tree.

They had reached the top of the stairs, but there was so much further to go. She knew his question wasn’t just about their walk.

“Absolutely.” Taking his hand in hers again, they continued.

There had always beenNo Trespassingsigns on so many doors within her heart. Things she wouldn’t say, wouldn’t let herself feel, or let others feel for her. It was time to knock those signs down and let people in and herself out.

Clayton lifted her up onto the plateau at the top. They walked along the old wooden and steel tracks toward the bridge. Rust-covered iron rails lined each side, providing a thin protective line between tracks and the river one-hundred feet below.

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