Page 72 of Salvation
With a sigh, I take one step and then scoop each of them up under my arm.
“Okay, little rascals, what have you done this time?” I ask, tickling their ribs as I carry them down the hall.
“We didn’t do anything, Uncle Campbell,” Indy says, looking at me from under long lashes. She’s perfected the look of innocence, and it usually gets her whatever she wants from my mom and dad. But I’m no fool, so I stare back at her with one brow cocked, waiting for the truth.
My niece breaks with a flourish, hanging her head to the floor and going limp in my arms so that I nearly drop her. “Fine. Wemighthave stolen the cookies grandma baked for the cookout tonight.”
“Like one of them?” I ask, not seeing the harm in one cookie before dinner. Except I should have known better with these two.
“Nope,” Indy says, popping her head back up with a grin. “All of them.”
“Indy,” Liam whines from my other arm, “Don’t you remember what Uncle Campbell said the last time? We are innocent until proven guilty. You just proved us guilty.”
I have to hold my breath to keep from laughing because laughing only encourages these two, and the last thing they need is to be encouraged to continue with their antics.
“Ah, dang it, Uncle Campbell. Can I take back my answer? I meant to say I plead the fifth.”
I nearly choke on my laughter. I knew teaching them all that lingo when we were playing cops and robbers was a bad idea. I just never realized it would be me who would get bitten in the butt.
“Too late, Independence,” I say, using the nickname I gave Indy when she was one and refused to let anyone help her learn to walk. That trait has now carried over to other things as well. I set them down and lower myself to one knee so I’m on their level. “Now spill. Where did you hide the stash?”
The twins glance at each other in unison, and then cross their arms, zipping their lips tight.
My eye twitches. “Okay,” I sing-song. “I guess I’m going to have to separate you then. See which one of you cracks first. Indy, well start with—”
Before I can get the words out of my mouth, they are rushing me and tackling me. I wrap each of them up in my arms to keep them from getting hurt as we fall. Their little fingers dig into myribs, tickling me just like I’d done to them moments before, and grown man or not, I’ll break every time in a tickle fight.
“Okay. Okay,” I cry. “I give. You win. You can keep the cookies. I won’t tell.”
A throat clears above us, and we all freeze, looking up to find my dad standing over us with his arms crossed over his chest and his glasses sitting low on his nose.
“Uh—that wasn’t what it sounded like.”
“Mmm-hmm,” he says, clearly not believing me. His eyes jump to the twins, who are still lying on top of me, frozen. “Go give your grandma back her cookies before you give her a stroke, and stay out of them before you ruin your dinner.”
They jump up like their butts are on fire. I get up, moving to follow after them, but my dad’s voice stops me.
“You’ve riled them up enough, son. Come to my office.” He spins without waiting to see if I will follow. Looking down the hallway, I debate whether I can make a run for it, but before I can, his voice rings out again. “That wasn’t a question, Campbell.”
When I glance back in his direction, he’s disappearing into his office. I have no choice but to follow, but I drag my feet anyway, taking my time getting there.
Growing up, it was never for friendly reasons when my dad invited any of us kids into his office. More often than not, it was because we had driven my mom to the point of insanity that day while he was at work, and she’d asked him to step in to handle it. It’s where every serious conversation I’ve had with my dad has happened, and walking in there now feels like I’m ten years old again, prepping myself for that.
Besides that day in their drive, we haven’t spoken since I dropped the news about Willow, so I expect him to ream me out when I step through the door.
Instead, I find him standing behind his desk, tears dripping from his face, and his knuckles turning white as he leans into the wood. The sight stops me in place, a mix of fear and confusion settling into my chest.
“Dad?” My voice cracks, and he looks up, his eyes finding me standing in the doorway. In the time it’s taken me to get to his office, he’s removed his glasses, giving me a better look at him. It’s been a long time since I’ve really looked at my dad, and I somehow missed how tired he started to become. The gray that had been creeping into his hair years before has fully taken over, and the bags beneath his eyes age him far beyond his actual age. “Are you okay?”
“You know, son,” he says, turning his head to look at the window, sadness taking over his irises. “I’ve spent my adult life trying to be a good dad, and it’s been a hard pill to swallow realizing that I failed.”
“Dad—” I start, but his gaze jumps back to me, shaking his head.
“No, Campbell, let me get this out. You’re different than me. You have been since you were young. You noticed things I never noticed about the world, and you have a sensitive heart. I was terrified of raising you weak in a cruel world, and I was taught that emotions make you weak. But I was wrong because you’re the strongest man I know. Stronger than I’ve ever been.”
For the better part of my life, I’ve had trouble believing in my strength as a man because of the voice in my head that sounded so much like my dad’s. He was doing his best, but it hurt me all the same.
“I don’t think you failed, Dad. I learned a lot of things from you—things I’m better for. But it’s unhealthy for us to suppress our emotions the way we do. You say we are different—and in a lot of ways we are—but everyone has feelings. And I’m tired of being ashamed of that.”
