Page 115 of The Singing Trees
As she started to apologize, he turned away from her and walked to the end of the grass to where the boulders lowered to the sea, looking at Celia for the first time, knowing that he was her father. She watched him, feeling pure misery for having kept his daughter a secret. Her crime was no lesser than Emma’s.
When he finally looked back at Annalisa, she couldn’t read what he was thinking. Sure, he was shocked, but was he angry too? He looked more deflated than anything, like a marathon runner who’d fallen short of the finish line, his feet bleeding through his shoes, his lungs running on empty.
“What’s her name?” he finally asked, misty eyed.
“Celia.” She said she was sorry with her eyes, knowing she’d screwed up everything, lied to the two people who mattered most to her in the world, and destroyed the best thing she’d ever had.
He repeated the name in bewilderment. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She almost reacted defensively but knew that wasn’t a fair response. “Because at first I didn’t want you to worry about us while you were gone. And then after the letter, from your...your sister, I was worried you and your family would take her from me.”
He winced, like he’d been shot in the shoulder. “Take her from you?”
“I was worried that you’d come home with your new girlfriend and start a new life and then try to take my baby. Or that your father would.”
“I’m not my father. I wouldn’t have let that happen.”
She knew that. She’d always known that inside. “I was a poor girl from the Mills, Thomas. I figured you or your parents could have found a way to drag me into court. I don’t know.”
She wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Besides, I thought you had moved on. Thousands of relationships were destroyed by that war. I thought we were destroyed too. You were different in Hawaii. It made sense.”
“Of course I was different.” His sadness carved deep lines in his face. “If you had seen what I saw, you’d be different too. Three days before I landed in Honolulu, I stuffed my friend’s intestines back into his body, watched his...” He stopped, sparing her the details.
She never could have imagined that he’d seen such terrible things, and she couldn’t handle the pain she saw in his eyes right now. He’d done nothing but love her and fight for his country, and she’d had such little faith in him that she’d left him and taken away his child.
He wept hard, each of his tears draining her of life. “Jesus Christ, Anna, tell me this isn’t happening.”
Those lines on his face grew deeper, and she braced herself for what was coming, worried he might turn into a shaking lid atop a pot of boiling water. She deserved it, though, and wouldn’t have blamed him. Everything was her fault. At worst, all he’d done was let a girl kiss him.
He surprised her, though.
Instead of anger came a smile that, starting with his eyes, covered his whole face. There was no boiling water to begin with. Returning his eyes to Celia, he said, “She’s really my daughter?”
“Our daughter,” Annalisa corrected him. “She’s eighteen months, born February 3, 1972.”
He blew out a giant blast of air, like he was letting go of anything else. “She’s so beautiful. So damn beautiful.”
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, a tiny cup of water on a wildfire. “So, so sorry.”
“Stop,” he said, walking up to her with a kind, understanding look, the creases on his face flattening. “My sister did this. Not you.”
Annalisa loved him for not hating her at that moment, even though she deserved that much and more. “Why aren’t you angry with me?” she asked.
With extraordinary compassion, he reached for her hand and said, “What good is that going to do? I’m here. Right now. With you. I woke up this morning not thinking I’d ever see you again, and now we’re standing here, and I feel...hopeful.”
Where her own hope was gone, a seed was planted. Did they still have a chance? Could he actually find a way to forgive her for what she’d done? Because she knew that she wanted one. She might not deserve one, but she wanted him back, and she never wanted to lose him again.
He took her other hand, only a small space between their bodies. “I’m not angry, Anna. Not at you, anyway. This was my sister’s doing. And as much as I’m fucking destroyed, I’m also hoping that you and I can...” He paused.
“Yes?” she said, hoping he’d take the leap and give her one last chance.
“That you and I can find what we lost.”
Had she not been looking into the depths of his soul, through his eyes that were now the color of jade, she might not have believed him.But she knew he meant it. That was how much he loved her, and that was how much he’d always loved her.
A river of tears poured out of her as she said, “Yes, that’s what I want too. I want you back, Thomas.” Forget her guilt. Forget her crimes. It wasn’t about what she’d done. It was about this moment and this man, who deserved so much more than her, but for some crazy damn reason wanted only her.
He pulled her closer, their bodies touching, their fingers interlaced. “You’re single?”
