you
bought all the toys in FAO Schwarz the last time you were in New York."
"It's a grandfather's privilege to do a little spoiling," he argued.
"That's what we're meant to do."
Abby rolled her eyes. A few days of all that extra attention from Gram and now
Mick, and the twins would be little terrors by the time she got them back to
New York.
She realized that Mick was studying her over the rim of his cup. "You look
worn-out, Abby. You're working too hard."
"That's the nature of what I do."
"Does it leave you enough time for those sweet girls?"
"Not really," she admitted, then added pointedly, "but you
should know better than anyone what it's like to make hard choices, to do
what's best for your family." In some ways they were two of a kind, which
she supposed made at least some of her criticism sound hypocritical.
"I do know about hard choices," he said, not taking offense.
"And you should know as well as anyone what the cost was. I lost a woman I
loved. And not a one of you could wait to leave this place. So what good did
all this money and success do for me in the end?"
"Jess is still here."
"And not a day goes by that I don't wonder why."
"I think I know the answer to that," Abby said. "She loves it
here, more than the rest of us ever did. And she's still trying to prove
herself to you, here, in a place that once meant everything to you. I think she
believes it will create a bridge between you eventually."
"There's nothing she has to prove. My love for you, Jess, Bree and your
brothers is unconditional."
Abby saw that he honestly believed it was that simple and that obvious. She
decided to be candid for once, rather than skirting around the real issues this
family had. "Dad, when Mom left, you might as well have. From that moment
on, you passed through our lives when you could spare a few days, but you
didn't know anything about us. For Connor, Kevin, me and even Bree, it was
hard, but we were almost grown by then. Jess was still a little girl."
He frowned at that. "What are you talking about? I knew everything there
was to know about all of you. I knew when you were sick. I knew when one of you
won an award at school or scored a touchdown. I was there for graduation. I
paid the bills for college and saw the report cards."
Abby's temper stirred. "And you thought those things were all that
mattered? A private investigator could have told you any of that stuff, though
of course in your case it was Gram who filled you in. We needed our father
here, cheering for us, drying our tears, calling us on it when we made
mistakes."
His cheeks flushed and his tone turned defensive when he reminded her,
"You always had your grandmother for that."
"And she was wonderful. She did all of those things, but she wasn't you or
Mom." Abby shook her head, resigned to the fact that he would never
understand. "What's the point of fighting about this now? It's all water
under the bridge. We survived. Not every kid has an idyllic family, and our
lives were certainly better than most."
"I did the best I could," Mick protested.
She gave him a pitying look. "Perhaps you did, but you know what? Maybe
it's because I'm the oldest, but I remember a time when you were better than
that."
She stood up then, rinsed out her own cup and put it in the dishwasher.
"Good night, Dad. The girls are going to be thrilled to see you in the
morning."
She wished she could say the same. Though she knew with everything in her that
he'd come home to try in some way to help with Jess's predicament, she had this
awful feeling that his presence was only going to make things worse.
*
* *
Sunday morning Trace was sitting on the family's dock, his
feet dangling in the water, when Laila appeared. In her short shorts, halter
top and with her long blond hair caught up in a careless ponytail, she looked
about sixteen, not twenty-nine.
She handed him an icy can of soda. "How's the prodigal son?" she
inquired, kicking off her flip-flops and dropping down beside him
bought all the toys in FAO Schwarz the last time you were in New York."
"It's a grandfather's privilege to do a little spoiling," he argued.
"That's what we're meant to do."
Abby rolled her eyes. A few days of all that extra attention from Gram and now
Mick, and the twins would be little terrors by the time she got them back to
New York.
She realized that Mick was studying her over the rim of his cup. "You look
worn-out, Abby. You're working too hard."
"That's the nature of what I do."
"Does it leave you enough time for those sweet girls?"
"Not really," she admitted, then added pointedly, "but you
should know better than anyone what it's like to make hard choices, to do
what's best for your family." In some ways they were two of a kind, which
she supposed made at least some of her criticism sound hypocritical.
"I do know about hard choices," he said, not taking offense.
"And you should know as well as anyone what the cost was. I lost a woman I
loved. And not a one of you could wait to leave this place. So what good did
all this money and success do for me in the end?"
"Jess is still here."
"And not a day goes by that I don't wonder why."
"I think I know the answer to that," Abby said. "She loves it
here, more than the rest of us ever did. And she's still trying to prove
herself to you, here, in a place that once meant everything to you. I think she
believes it will create a bridge between you eventually."
"There's nothing she has to prove. My love for you, Jess, Bree and your
brothers is unconditional."
Abby saw that he honestly believed it was that simple and that obvious. She
decided to be candid for once, rather than skirting around the real issues this
family had. "Dad, when Mom left, you might as well have. From that moment
on, you passed through our lives when you could spare a few days, but you
didn't know anything about us. For Connor, Kevin, me and even Bree, it was
hard, but we were almost grown by then. Jess was still a little girl."
He frowned at that. "What are you talking about? I knew everything there
was to know about all of you. I knew when you were sick. I knew when one of you
won an award at school or scored a touchdown. I was there for graduation. I
paid the bills for college and saw the report cards."
Abby's temper stirred. "And you thought those things were all that
mattered? A private investigator could have told you any of that stuff, though
of course in your case it was Gram who filled you in. We needed our father
here, cheering for us, drying our tears, calling us on it when we made
mistakes."
His cheeks flushed and his tone turned defensive when he reminded her,
"You always had your grandmother for that."
"And she was wonderful. She did all of those things, but she wasn't you or
Mom." Abby shook her head, resigned to the fact that he would never
understand. "What's the point of fighting about this now? It's all water
under the bridge. We survived. Not every kid has an idyllic family, and our
lives were certainly better than most."
"I did the best I could," Mick protested.
She gave him a pitying look. "Perhaps you did, but you know what? Maybe
it's because I'm the oldest, but I remember a time when you were better than
that."
She stood up then, rinsed out her own cup and put it in the dishwasher.
"Good night, Dad. The girls are going to be thrilled to see you in the
morning."
She wished she could say the same. Though she knew with everything in her that
he'd come home to try in some way to help with Jess's predicament, she had this
awful feeling that his presence was only going to make things worse.
*
* *
Sunday morning Trace was sitting on the family's dock, his
feet dangling in the water, when Laila appeared. In her short shorts, halter
top and with her long blond hair caught up in a careless ponytail, she looked
about sixteen, not twenty-nine.
She handed him an icy can of soda. "How's the prodigal son?" she
inquired, kicking off her flip-flops and dropping down beside him
Similar Books
