Page 28 of Thick and Thin

“Mind you, I have no proof, but I will be convinced to my dying day that your father was behind all this.” My dad paused, his brow furrowed, and he reached for his glass. “I don’t need to tell you any more if you don’t want to hear it. It’s not easy hearing bad things about your parents.”

“There’s nothing you could say about my father that would make me feel less about him.”

My father’s shoulders drooped. “I guess I should have known. All these years my warnings still fall on deaf ears.”

“You misunderstand.” Sinclair sighed, putting down his fork. “What I meant was that my father has disappointed me throughout my life. Nothing you say will come as a surprise, and I want to hear what you have to say.”

It was as if a light had been turned on inside my father. “Ah…then perhaps you know of his tactics? I often accused him of guerilla warfare. To this day, I don’t know how he did it, but my reputation in Winchester was ruined, slowly but surely. I’ve often compared it to that scarred hill up there. One day it was a lovely sight, with so many trees and bushes, a beautiful view…and the next the earth was upturned—brown and red and barren and, on windy days, it was nothing but a dust storm. But it was more than that…the way some of the rock appeared underneath the dirt made it look like a literal scar, as if the skin of the planet had been ripped off and, in the midst of the damaged flesh, there was a gash that went even deeper.

“But, to my point, it seemed to happen so quickly, almost overnight—and that was how it felt with me, with my reputation and my relationships. Suddenly, people I’d been friendly with started giving me the cold shoulder or they made excuses for why they couldn’t talk. And then there was Lise. Oh, my sweet Lise.” For one short moment, he looked at me before shifting his eyes back to Sinclair. “She was shunned by classmates, bullied and tormented, even when I did my best to have teachers or their assistants intervene. And her mother just up and left one day, unable and unwilling to deal with it anymore.”

My father grew silent for a bit, but it was evident he had more to say. “It wasn’t her fight, she’d said more than once. Although it was a bit lonelier without my wife, it was at least quieter. This house once more became a haven…maybe more like a retreat, but it again became a place where I could let my guard down. Before Tammy left, we fought so much that even home wasn’t as comfortable. Still, I dealt with it. But not long after she left, Winchester got even worse, and I believe that was when your father finally decided he’d had enough—and I made that happen. I wouldn’t be silenced. The final straw was likely when I reported the mine to the EPA or it might have been after I’d contacted several news crews in Colorado. The paper here had made a few reports but who besides people in Winchester read it? And, even if they did, most everyone here had already made up their minds. A little article in the newspaper wouldn’t change that, and I knew it. I knew I needed the whole state to realize what was going on and we had a reporter from Colorado Springs up here interviewing me and other citizens. She’d told me she was trying to get ahold of your father to comment but neither he nor his spokesperson would return her calls. That report never aired but the mine was shut down—and I suspect your father had a hand in suppressing that report. But it didn’t matter, because the mine closed.”

I finally found my voice. “That was when it got really bad—people complaining about losing their jobs, saying dad had done it on purpose to drum up business for the Human Services offices.”

My father frowned. “I’m sorry you had to hear all that nonsense, princess. But that’s the worst part—I didn’t want the mine shut down. That had never been my intent. I just wanted them to run it responsibly. And I told people that over and over but they didn’t want to hear it.”

We were quiet for a bit, only the sound of my father’s fork scraping his plate—and, for that, I was grateful. This was the most he’d eaten since I’d been here.

Sinclair’s voice broke the silence. “I knew my father despised you, had called you a troublemaker and had said more than once that, when I did anything in Winchester, I needed to avoid working with the Millers at any cost—but I hadn’t known the details.”

My father said, “And yet here we are.”

Sinclair gave him a soft smile. “Yes. Here we are.”

Underneath it all, there was an air of defiance—from Sinclair but it was mingled with my father’s. How would everything have turned out if campus security and the police had figured out that I’d had nothing to do with the sabotage of the lab? Would we be having this lunch together?

Would my heart be aching, knowing that no matter how much I’d grown to love Sinclair Whittier, it would never work?

I felt grateful that my father didn’t have any more questions about Mr. Sherwood—but I imagined having the son of his enemy sitting at his kitchen table took his mind off everything else. That was evident by the way he was acting, more energetic than he’d been in years.

“But I’m going to make you a promise, Rowan,” Sinclair said, putting down his fork. “Lise will be home by Christmas.”

When my father’s brow furrowed, I said, “Don’t worry. I’ll be here for your infusion appointments too.”

“When you say Christmas,” he asked, “what do you mean exactly? How long will she be here then?”

“I mean I will be releasing her from her contract. She has a project to finish up for me—and it will probably be done before then—but, regardless of whether it’s done or not, I plan to let her go no later than Christmas.”

The tears that filled my father’s green eyes told both Sinclair and me that my presence would be the best gift of all. But, for me, there would always be a hole in my heart that only my sweet Cory could fill—but that could never be. Although my dad had seemed to accept the man I loved regardless of his family, now that I knew the whole story from my father’s perspective, I doubted a man like Augustus Whittier would ever allow his son to be with someone like me.

It would never happen.

We were never meant to be.

Chapter 11

After we ate lunch, Sinclair said he had to get back to Denver. Although dad had seemed to find a reserve of energy, the meal and discussion had worn him out. Once he was situated in his recliner, I walked Sinclair out to his BMW.

“When do you think you’ll be able to return?”

His tone implied that the decision was completely my own. As I considered my answer, I felt a sharp pang of melancholy, knowing that once I returned, the clock would begin counting down when I’d have to leave him for good. When I’d first arrived at the mansion, I couldn’t bear the thought of being there for ten whole years, and now I mourned that I only had days or weeks at most.

“I’m not sure. If dad keeps rallying like he is, maybe as early as Monday.”

“Just keep me posted.” As he used his fob to unlock the car, he asked, “How are you liking the Lexus?”

“It’s a really nice car.”

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