Page 11 of A Princess, Stolen
Suddenly, for the second time today, I felt completely ungrateful for wanting to reject his gift; a gift that perhaps hadn’t been easy for him to give and that obviously meant a lot to him. So, I clumsily slipped the ring onto my finger. It actually fit like a glove. “It’s an absolute dream, Dad,” I said softly. Suddenly, there was a heavy weight on my heart. I couldn’t wear Mom’s wedding ring, but I couldn’t hurt Dad either. That was the last thing I wanted.
Dad looked intently at the ring that sparkled on my finger. “You know, your mom would have made the same decision.”
“You mean the thing with the ring?”
Now he looked at me again. “No, back then. She wanted me to save you. Not her. And if your mom had had to choose between you and me, she would have chosen you too. And that’s exactly what I would have wanted because that’s the only correct choice.”
I felt tears welling up in my eyes. It was so good to hear that, even though I still felt guilty. “I wish she was here today, Dad.”
“Yes.” His voice sounded rough and heavy. “Me too.”
I had to cheer him up again. “I think Mom would be happy if I wore her ring one day.” I watched him, unsure if I had said the right thing.
Dad’s sadness seemed to vanish as he rewarded me with a beaming smile. “I’m certain, darling! She would be proud of you.”
I spontaneously hugged him and he kissed my forehead. Suddenly, I felt even closer to him than usual. I mean by giving me Mom’s ring, he was proving that he absolved me of any guilt. Not that he ever blamed me, though sometimes he had that look—as if he was imagining a different reality, one in which he had saved Mom. But I could never sense his feelings because he hid them too well. And so I always wondered if he was happier in that other reality than in this one.
“Dad. I have to tell you something.” It just slipped out.
“You think the party is awful?” He appeared shocked, but it was merely an act.
“No.”
“You don’t like the snow roses?”
“No…it’s not that, Dad. It’s about Grandma Anna.”
His blue eyes abruptly darkened and my stomach clenched. “She wrote me a letter. I read it.” I bit my lip as I looked at him.
“She wrote to you?” He seemed irritated. “When?”
“Delilah gave me the letter yesterday. It was in with the junk mail. Grandma invited me to visit her.” I looked at him in anxious anticipation.
Dad sighed deeply, but luckily he didn’t seem angry. “Why?”
“She wants to talk to me about you and Mom.”
Dad made a sour noise. “I can imagine what will happen. She’ll try to convince you that I’m to blame for your mom’s death.”
“That’s completely absurd! It was an accident.”
“I know. But she still holds on to it.”
Dad appeared so upset that I didn’t want to force the issue, so I said, “She lives in Louisiana now. In Baton Rouge.”
“Yes.”
“You know?”
“My lawyer informed me the other day.” He looked at me seriously and I blinked a few times. “Willa, your grandma wants to drive a wedge between us; even back then, she wanted you to grow up with her so she could have a second chance.”
“Excuse me?”
“Isn’t it obvious? She lost her daughter. My fault, she believes. You could have been her second Ivy-Rose. Someone she could have a better relationship with because she and your mom…had their differences.”
The fact that Mom and Grandma didn’t get along well was news to me, besides, Grandma’s letter didn’t sound like that either.
We had magical summers there.
