Page 30 of Thick and Thin

“Where have I heard that before?”

My father grinned, because he’d told me that many a time—which had always been why my plan to leave Winchester started with getting an education, even if only a two-year degree. “She worked in the dining hall—and I thought she was a cute little thing. She knew it too. She could’ve had any boy on campus she wanted. But I wore her down, asking her to go on a date with me once a week. I always made her smile and laugh when I went through her line and she put food on my plate, so I knew she was interested.”

“Gosh, dad. What a romantic story.”

We both laughed, and I felt my shoulders relax, especially because we were talking about him and not me.

“I never claimed it was romantic. But, princess, I knew. There was something about her that I couldn’t resist.”

My mind returned to the morning after Sinclair had first kissed me. He’d said something about being so overcome with emotion that he hadn’t been able to help himself. Until that moment, I never would have guessed that he and my father would have something in common.

“And I just knew. It wasn’t on our first date and probably not even the first month we dated. But there was a moment when I knew she was the one—the exact second that I fell hard. Your mother didn’t talk much about her past, but I knew from what little she’d said that it had been difficult. One night, we were sitting in my car at Lake Pueblo looking up at the stars, and she was resting her head on my shoulder. Then she looked at me and said, ‘You make me feel safe.’ And that was it. I knew. I wanted to protect her and hold her and love her forever. Even though we talked about marriage after we’d been together a while, I didn’t propose until the month before graduation a couple years later.”

The microwave beeped again, this time telling me the lasagna was heated—and, as I got up to check it, I understood now exactly why my mother had left. My father knew it too, even though we never said it out loud…but that safe feeling she’d loved with him had probably disappeared when the town had turned against us. Probably just as I had felt when I’d first arrived at Sinclair’s mansion, she likely felt like a stranger when she moved with my father to his old hometown—and when everyone had seemed to turn against her, she’d had to leave. Even if she hated the place where she’d grown up, it was the devil she knew.

So many pieces were falling into place. I knew my parents had lived in Pueblo for several years after graduating—but when my mom got pregnant, they decided to move to Winchester. My mother’s first pregnancy had resulted in a miscarriage but she’d told me when I was young how desperate she’d been to have a child…so they tried again and she had me. My grandmother was still alive at the time, even though I didn’t remember her—but, other than my father’s mother, my own mom probably hadn’t had a chance to get to know enough people for it to feel like home for her.

In all my years, I’d been angry with my mother and sad that she was gone—and sometimes I’d even blamed myself, wondering if I had anything to do with her decision. But now I felt like I knew. I understood. And if I ever had the chance to meet her again, I realized I would be able to have an actual adult conversation with her.

When I handed my father his plate, there was no hiding the tears in my eyes. He said, “I miss her too—but she did what she had to do.” Nodding, I blinked the tears back and scooped out a smaller piece of cold lasagna onto my plate. “Part of me has always wondered why she didn’t take you with her.”

As I slid the plate into the microwave, I said, “Maybe she thought you could give me a better life.”

“Maybe. But she disapproved of what I was doing and constantly told me I needed to be thinking of you.”

I knew my dad, though. “You were. You were thinking of my future and what might happen if they started tearing down the mountains all in pursuit of the mighty dollar.”

His smile, though wistful, was also warm somehow. “That’s exactly what I was thinking—and not just your future but all the children in Winchester…and my grandchildren. I tried to get Tammy to see that, but she was in survival mode. I can’t tell you how many times I wished I’d majored in psychology instead of communications. Maybe I could have helped her.”

“Oh, dad. You can’t regret any of that. You always did the best you could.” When he nodded, he finally picked up his fork. “Would you have even liked psychology?”

Finally, he chuckled a bit. “I don’t know that I would have. I like people, but I don’t know that I would have wanted to dig around in their heads.”

When my lasagna was warm, I sat across from him at the table and we were quiet for a bit. I wondered if my father was thinking about the time he’d had with my mother, whether it was during the good days or bad days but, like I’d told him, he shouldn’t regret it. Had our lives been difficult? Of course they had, but I did remember my mother telling me more than once when I was little that life wasn’t fair and it was hard—and, before my father had grown sick, he’d worked for Human Services, and he’d said many times that, no matter how bad we thought we had it, there was always someone else who had it harder. We had to try to be grateful for what we had and try not to mourn what we didn’t.

And he was right.

If nothing else, the last few months had taught me that I was even stronger than I’d thought—and I’d already known that, if nothing else, I had fortitude. How else could I have returned to school day after day growing up, knowing that someone would make fun of me or punch me in the arm when no one was watching?

But I’d spent most of my life feeling distrustful of most people, of assuming the worst of them—especially if they had money. Falling in love with Sinclair had changed me…for the better. And for that I would always be grateful.

“I do love him, dad.” Part of me wanted to tell him I was sorry about that but I wasn’t. No matter what happened throughout the rest of my life, Sinclair Cornelius Whittier would always have a place in my heart.

“Does he feel the same way about you?”

“I don’t know. I know he cares about me on some level, but…” I trailed off, staring at my barely touched lasagna. “But that doesn’t matter. He told me that, once I finish the project I’m working on, I can come home—and I plan to. He seems to think I’ll be done in a week or two, but I don’t think I’ll be done for another month or so…especially taking breaks here and there to be home to take care of you.”

Dad placed his fork on the plate and pushed it away a bit. Still, he’d eaten most of it. “Princess, I don’t want you to come home just for me. You’ve got school starting in January, but it’s more than that. If you love him, you should see where that takes you. If he cares about you too—”

“No, dad. It will never work. No matter what I feel for Sinclair, his father will always be Augustus Whittier—the man who ruined you…ruined our family.” When my father nodded, I could see it in his eyes. He understood…and perhaps regretted what he’d done. But I didn’t want him to. Yes, our lives hadn’t been perfect, but one thing I’d learned from all the books I’d read and loved was that someone had to stand up to the bad guys. Someone had to be the hero of the story.

And, in my story, that man was my father.

Dad squeezed my hand, and it felt like he was reading my thoughts. “They say it’s better to have loved and lost than to have never experienced it. And part of me wants to call that bullshit, because you know full well I’ve never gotten over your mother leaving.” I knew that to be true, just as I knew I’d never fully get over Sinclair. “But I won’t…because if it wasn’t for the love I felt for your mother, you wouldn’t be here.”

That was what I had to remind myself, I thought as I got up and hugged my dad. Parental love would never fill that hole in my heart for Sinclair, but it would keep me going just the same.

Chapter 12

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