“I can’t live my life afraid of my own shadow,” I say. “The man’s dead, so it’s not like anything will ever come of it. I have to let it go, and so does he.”
She twines her fingers. “But he’s convinced that—”
I stand and come close, pull her fingers apart and give her hand a squeeze. “I know. He told me. The whole town knows Jonathan Bridger was no saint. Maybe he truly was that evil. I mean, I just found a dead body on his land.”
Her lips thin and she goes pale. “Which is why your father’s concerned. Who knows what else is happening on that land?”
Maybe Mom’s concerned too.
“But Jonathan Bridger is dead, Mom. The land belongs to his sons now, and they’re good men, all three of them.”
“You hardly know them.”
I shake my head. “That’s not true, and you know it. Chance and I went to school together. I’ve known him since I was a kid. We didn’t hang out in the same circles, but he’s a good guy. He was the one who bullied the bullies. I’m sure you’ve seen him around town a time or ten. People might talk about the elder Bridger, but Chance? I only hear good things. And Miles is funny and nice. And Austin…”
“Austin,” my mom echoes, her eyes brightening. “What about Austin?”
“I’m having feelings for him, Mom. Feelings I didn’t think I’d ever have again. It’s scary, but it’s also wonderful. I don’t want it to stop. I’m not ending things with him just because Dad had issues in the past. Austin wasn’t even here.” I sigh. “I want to make things right with Dad, with you both, but I can’t give Austin up.”
Mom lets her hands drop to her sides. “It about killed your father when you went home with Austin this afternoon instead of with us.”
Probably hurt her, too.
“I know it did, and that’s why I’m back. Part of the reason, anyway. I do need to make things right with Daddy. And you. You know how much you both mean to me.”
“Sweetheart, I don’t think you understand the guilt your father feels. The guilt we both feel.”
I frown. “What for?”
Her mouth opens for a second in stunned silence. “How can you even ask me that? For not protecting you.”
“Protecting me? You mean from being taken?”
Her eyes well with tears, but she blinks them back.
“I was twenty-two years old,” I say. “I wasn’t at home. I was up at Millie’s, out in public. Everyone in town eats there. I wasn’t on a dangerous street corner in a big city. No one imagined something like that could happen here in Bayfield. You couldn’t have stopped it.”
She sighs. “Yes, we know that objectively. I’ve talked to a therapist about it. Your father won’t.”
I ache with the knowledge that they were so hurt by my disappearance. “Maybe he should.”
She nods. “Yes, he probably should. But I wouldn’t bring that up to him right now.”
She has a point. One battle at a time. “All right. But I do need to talk to him.”
Her smile is soft, as if I’ve eased her mind somewhat. “I know. Thank you for coming home. Thank you for seeing what’s important.”
“I do know what’s important,” I say, a little hurt that she thinks I don’t feel she and my dad are important. But I’ve changed. Maybe quickly, but I have. I’m a grown woman and they’re going to have to come to terms with my disappearance and me living my own life. Making my own decisions, even if they don’t like them. “You and Dad are both very important to me. I love you. But Austin is also important to me. I won’t be giving him up. No matter what. You were married to Dad before you were my age.”
“I had you before your age,” she added. I watch her brain process that, and then her lips form another straight line because I’ve pointed out something obvious. She had her own husband, house and child by the time she was my age. She did what she wanted, separate from her parents. “Go talk to him. He’ll be glad to see you. Neither of us wants to make this hard on you. You’ve had enough difficulty to last a lifetime.”
“It’s true that I’ve had more difficulty than most, but we all need to move forward. That includes you, and that includes Dad. As long as he’s letting these wounds fester, trying to figure out whether Jonathan Bridger had something to do with me being taken, he won’t be able to move forward.”
I don’t wait for my mother to reply. I kiss her on the cheek and walk to the den. The door is cracked, but I knock anyway.
“What is it, Darla?”
I open the door. “It’s me, Daddy.”