Page 19 of Tempt Her

“But he doesn’t get upset,” Ms. Carver assures. “He doesn’t have one of his spells. He eats a little and gets quiet.”

Is it true? My dad still knows me? His heart tells him I’m his daughter with the love of his life, Priscilla, but his mind wants to live in the years before with her instead of these with me.

I don’t blame him.

Humming, “Cluck, Old Hen,” my shoe nudges his door open.

It’s winter, and it’s still dark outside. He’s staring out the window when I enter, but he smiles and turns my way.

He always says, “Well, there are the muffins I love.”

I wear the biggest smile for him; it lifts from my soul, conjuring my mom too. “I sprinkled extra sugar on top for you this time.”

It’s the same dialogue. Same routine. The same fire down my throat, pushing down my tears.

Dad eats the first muffin, his shaking hand reaching for his juice next. He likes it as I sit at the edge of the bed, rubbing his right ankle while he eats.

When I was a girl, he broke it in our front yard planting gardenias for my mom. He was so excited to surprise her that he stepped into one of the holes he had dug. I can still hear his howls of pain inside the house where I was playing.

So while he recovered on the couch, cursing his mistake, Mom and I planted the flowers Dad bought for her. Back then, little money was left over on a teacher’s and a custodian’s salary, but my dad always found a way.

I still drive by our old house in Bluffton on the mainland and admire the gardenias we planted. Gentry can track my trip, but he can’t control my memories.

“You givin’ a tough test today?” Dad asks. “Gonna teach your students how to cure cancer?”

“Sure am.” My mom’s words open like gifts in my memory; all the life lessons she said chemistry could teach you. “Change of any sort is reversible, some.”

And the wisdom suddenly blesses me.

I can still change.

I can’t go back, but I remember who I am: a daughter born out of love—the love I can still find one day. I’m only thirty. Once this nightmare with Gentry ends, I’ll find love as my parents had.

I take that as my gift for my birthday soon, knowing it’ll be the only one I get.

A couple of hours later, my cell rings as I pull into the garage.

He tracked my trip.

“Yes,” I answer, grabbing my water bottle and purse from the passenger seat.

Gentry barks, “I called an hour ago.”

“I was in yoga.”

“Maybe I should cancel your classes if they distract you from your job.”

The peace yoga gives me vanishes with his threat.

Redirect. Redirect. Breathe and play the game.

“It keeps me looking fit for you.”

He huffs, “That’s debatable,” as the den of men laughing on a golf course fills the background. “Call the caterer,” he orders. “I want Bollinger La Grande Année for our New Year’s toast.”

Holy hell, I saw those bottles on the caterer’s list. They’re the most expensive. “Sure,” but I won’t debate the cost.

“Chuck Middleton just said it’s Earl and June Van de May’s favorite,” Gentry boasts at the intel he’s getting for our party. It’s not a celebration to him; it’s a G7 summit. “You invited their son, Silas, right? He’s coming withthat woman? And bringing his parents?”

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