Where We Meet Again, стр. 65
“How can you be sure?”
“Because. Once upon a time, I knew him better than I knew anybody. Before Kiersten, before you were born, before my brother died, I had Law, and he was my best friend. That might have been what feels like an eternity ago, but those good qualities in people, honey, they’re made in the beginning, so I know. I know he’s not going anywhere for you.”
“They are?”
“Mmhmm.” I give her another squeeze. “It’s also how I know you’re going to be a wonderful, kind, selfless person, because that’s who you are now. That’s not going to change. But, honey?” I wait to continue until I have her full attention, because I need to make sure she understands this next part.
Using the blanket, she dries the last of the tears off her cheeks. “Yeah?”
“I’m sorry you’re missing out on not having a dad. But I need to know you understand that’s not what Law is to you. You need to let him be in your life how he can and not make him feel like he has to be something he isn’t.”
“I still think he’d be a good dad,” she mumbles, but the spark of attitude tells me she gets me.
“Evelyn.”
“I understand, Mom.”
“Good. Also, I love you more than enough for two parents, so you’re pretty lucky.”
“I love you too.”
We stay cuddled for a while, talking quietly about visiting Maggie soon. Once her sadness trickles away, she bounces back into my Evelyn and suggests we play a game. After nearly three hours of Monopoly, which she wins, I make us gourmet mac ‘n cheese (from a box), and we eat dinner in front of the TV, watching Grey’s Anatomy.
Too many people die in this damn show. I spend half the time blinking back tears and the other half trying to not choke on my mac ‘n cheese.
23
Law lowers the glass of whiskey to his chest, leans back in the black leather office chair, and regards the disordered mess of papers scattered over the oak surface of the desk. The evening light seeps through the drawn shades surrounding him; the four-seasoned porch bathed in a dim glow. One lamp is lit, the one to his right, and a single spotlight shines directly on the cream envelop he found just that evening. Days have passed, drunk off alcohol and the desperation to find evidence, anything to prove or disprove what she said.
It never once crossed his mind that his father, the man who gave him a life full of support and encouragement, not only when he lost his babies and his cheating ex-wife but all the time, hid something of this magnitude.
Cleaning out the house months ago, Law only came across one thing in the old office files that seemed strange. Even then, the single explanation most feasible for the monthly deposit into a secret bank account was that it was business related. The account was in his father’s name, a high interest savings account at a different bank than the one he used for his regular finances.
That was it. It was also the clue that led him to the envelope.
He’d been in town for a week when, hungover and desperate, he wracked his brain for a clue. It was then he remembered the bank account.
He checked for a safe deposit box. And with luck, he’d found one.
In the box holding a stack of bonds and investments that Law had intended to deal with later was the envelope. The moment his eyes hit the looping scrawl, he knew it was the one.
Now, days after his discovery, he just has to convince himself to open it.
There’s only so much a man can take, and when it comes to the woman he loves, he wants to take everything. Love, however, is an emotion like any other, and sometimes, it isn’t enough.
He wants it to be. The love he’s carried for her never left. Fuck, laying eyes on her in that coffee shop for the first time since she’d disappeared from his life, that love came surging back.
There hasn’t been a doubt in his mind; from that moment forward, he was going to have her. It wouldn’t be easy. They both had their work cut out for them, but she had belonged to him always.
But hearing those words come from her mouth, the truth he saw in her eyes and what that meant about what he knew about his life, it eviscerated him.
His life had been a lie.
That father of his, who seemed to selflessly provide him with his heart’s desires, had been a mirage. Like the illusion of water in the desert, the closer her words brought Law to the truth, the faster it dried up.
Poof.
Gone.
Answers wait in front of him, but all he’s capable of is lifting that glass to his mouth, taking a hefty swallow, and setting it back down.
Repeat.
So much time passes that the dim light fades, and a blackness creeps out of the angles of the room.
The chair beneath him creaks when he shifts his weight. Law’s head falls back, and he rubs a hand over his eyes, willing himself to get it over with.
Her ghostly voice echoes in his ear, urging him.
Pick it up. Pick it up, Law. Pick it up.
He picks it up, turning the smooth cream paper in his fingertips.
Open it!
Law runs his thumb over his name written on the front. It’s his full name, a name he’s loathed since he was a kid. She used to call him that when she was ticked and trying to make him the same.
Why he tried to force her to call him that in Arrow Creek, he didn’t know. It was more torturous to him than it was to her, he’d put money on