Page 127 of Redeeming Harmony

“Too much like Mom,” she said. “Eventually, I’ll do exactly what Mom did to you. I’ll make his life miserable. I can’t do that to Nathan. He’s a good man like you are, and he’ll stay with me despite not being in love with me anymore.”

“I never stopped loving your mother, Harper,” Warren said. “I didn’t stay with her out of a sense of duty, and you know that.”

“I know you keep saying that, but -”

“But nothing. It’s the truth,” Warren said.

“She wasn’t good to you,” Harper said.

“She was a difficult woman,” Warren said. “I’ll give you that. But she loved me, and I loved her.” He leaned forward and cupped her face in his warm, rough hands. “I will say this once more and only once - I didn’t stay because of you. I stayed because I loved her. Even though I know that made me a selfish bastard and a bad father.”

She blinked at him. “Dad, you were an amazing father.”

He dropped his hands from her face and picked up his beer bottle again. “No, I wasn’t, Harper. Your mom was hard on you, and my biggest regret is that I didn’t make her get help so she wouldn’t be so tough on you.”

“You couldn’t have made Mom do anything she didn’t want to. You know that,” Harper said.

A faint smile crossed his face before it dropped away. “I know. Which meant I should have done a better job of protecting you, even if that meant divorcing your mom and taking sole custody of you. I stayed because I loved her deeply, but it’s no excuse for allowing her to make your life so miserable, and I hope you can forgive me for that.”

Harper stared at him in shock. “Dad…I didn’t… you have nothing to apologize for.”

“Oh, believe me, I have plenty. Parenting is a tough job, and your mom faltered with it, and so did I. But I convinced myself that I could pick up the slack and be the parent you needed while running a successful clinic. I was wrong. My focus on the clinic meant your childhood wasn’t an easy one, and I will spend the rest of my life regretting that. The best I can do is try to make up for it by being here for you now, poppet. Always.”

“Dad,” Harper didn’t want to cry, but she couldn’t help it, “you were amazing. You were the bright spot in my life. If it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t have… I didn’t hate Mom, but I couldn’t connect with her. I couldn’t love her the way I thought I should.”

“I know, Harper. She was a tough woman to love, and you did your best. And your mom loved you.”

Harper’s face must have shown her disbelief because her father said, “She did, poppet. I know it’s tempting only to remember the bad stuff, but there were good moments with your mom. The birthday parties - she always worked so hard to make them perfect for you. All those trips we took when you were a kid - she wanted that for you. She wanted you to have experiences and see what life was like outside of this small town. She wanted to prepare you for whatever you decided to do in life. Even then, she knew you were destined for great things. She knew you’d be a famous artist.”

Harper half-laughed and half-sobbed. “She thought my art sucked, Dad. She hated that I wanted to be an artist. She wanted me to do something practical like being a lawyer or a teacher. She told me that over and over again. She told me I would ruin my life if I moved to New York to pursue my art.”

Warren nodded. “I know she told you that, and she shouldn’t have. But, sweetheart, she said that because she was afraid. She didn’t want you moving away to the big city, didn’t want you to have your spirit broken if you didn’t succeed.”

“She was right,” Harper said. “I failed so hard.”

“Stop it,” Warren said. “You haven’t failed. And while your mom disapproved of your dream of being an artist because of her own fears, I can promise you that she thought you were an amazing artist. See that plastic bin over there?” He pointed to a big blue bin with a matching lid. “I brought that down from the attic last night. Go open it up.”

She stood and walked over to the bin, Winston at her heels. She lifted the lid and stared in surprise at the contents. The container was bursting to the top with… “Holy shit. Dad, is this…?”

“Every single piece of artwork that you drew from the very first time you picked up a crayon to the day your mama died. She kept all of it, poppet. Every single piece.”

Harper crouched beside the bin and rifled through the papers. Her father joined her and handed her the handkerchief she’d left on the couch. “Mop your face, sweetheart. You’re ruining your artwork.”

Her tears were splashing onto the top few pieces, smearing the drawings, and she wiped her face before standing and staring at her dad. “She kept all of it?”

“Every piece you gave her or left lying around or,” he pointed to a few that were crumpled and wrinkled, “you’d thrown away because you thought they weren’t good enough. She fished them out of the trash and added them to the bin. She was hard on you, and she didn’t always treat you the way she should have or the way you deserved, but she was proud of you, Harper. So damn proud.”

“I had no idea,” Harper said.

Warren put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, pressing a kiss against her forehead. “Even before your mom started suffering with her mental health, she was never that good at showing the people she loved that she loved them. You’re not like that, Harper. If you love someone, they have no doubt of your love for them.

“I know you’re worried that you’re like her, and, sure, there are similarities, but, poppet, you are all the best parts of your mom. The woman she was before. The woman who laughed and found joy and tried her best to do the right thing. She lost her way, and there was nothing we could do to help her, but that’s not going to happen to you. Do you know how I know that?”

She shook her head and started crying for a record sixth time in one day. Warren kissed her forehead again. “Because you’re just as stubborn as your old man, and you won’t let something like the fear of what might happen stop you from going after the career you want or being with the man you love.”

“I do love him,” she said. “I love him so much, and I’ve gone and fucked it up, and I don’t know if he’ll forgive me, but I have to try, right?”

Warren smiled. “Yep, you do.”

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