Page 27 of Families and Other Enemies

“This should be good.” She folded her arms. Her eyes glinted and narrowed. “Go ahead. Father.”

“You were born when I was out of the country.”

“Serving in the military. Thank you for your service.” Sarcasm dripped from every word.

“Your mom sent me photos. Your first smile. It lit up the world.” He sighed softly, sank back into his wheelchair and closed his eyes. “You don’t smile much anymore.”

“No. There’s not much to smile about—” she waved an arm toward the kitchens “—here.”

He opened his eyes again, focused on her as if no one else existed. “I came back when you were five months old. I was a mess. The VA doctors prescribed pills. I took them. I talked to a shrink. I even meditated.” He laughed a little, and coughed a painful cough.

Kellen wanted to tell Bridget, Be kind. He’s dying. But no, it was better if Bridget could forgive him without knowing. Better for him. So much better for her. And if she didn’t...well, who could blame her? Because knowing the good he had done didn’t erase the neglect and the damage he had done to her. Worse, he’d been here for how long? A few years? If he’d told her the truth right away, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad now, but he’d never said a word. He’d made a fool of her.

Ralph continued. “Your mother tried to help me. She took me to meeting groups for veterans, but their stories about lost friends and explosions and...well, they upset me more. Camilla...she was a good woman, and I loved her.”

“Yeah. Sure you did. And how well you showed it.” Bridget’s words were broken by deep breaths, as if she needed oxygen to stay on her feet.

For the first time, he straightened in his chair. “She wasn’t perfect. She got impatient. She said between me and you, it was like raising two infants.”

Bridget clenched her fists; she wouldn’t brook criticism of her mother. “She was probably sleep deprived.”

“She was!”

Bridget looked taken aback by his vehemence.

“I had nightmares. I would scream and wake her up, and you up, and you would scream, too. Everybody told me you were so sweet, so friendly. And you were—to them. But you were afraid of me. I was your father, and that made me mad. I couldn’t sleep, so everything made me mad. I couldn’t work, I couldn’t support my family, and that rubbed me raw.”

“Mom worked. I never remember when she didn’t work. Two jobs, sometimes. It was never enough. After you left, after you abandoned us, we were poor.” Bridget—even-tempered, kind Bridget—had long hidden a fount of bitterness inside. Now it welled up. “But you...you were out there somewhere, still alive, so we couldn’t even collect your social security.”

“Bridget, I left because I got so exhausted, and you were so afraid of me... Your smiles were all gone—I hated that—and it got to the point I was afraid I was going to hurt you.”

“Easy excuse.” But something shifted in Bridget’s face.

“When your mother died, you had no one.” Ralph seemed smaller, more shrunken than he had when he’d started talking, as if his confession had left him depleted. “I’m sorry for everything, for leaving you without a loving father, without an income, without even a word, but most of all, I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you then.”

Bridget made a scoffing noise. “You’re the reason I’ve never been able to make a relationship work. You know that? Even when I was married, I always expected him to dump me and move on. I never trusted. He got tired of dealing with your ghost.”

“Easy excuse,” Ralph said.

Kellen stared at him in horror. Holy crap, what a thing to say. Not that it wasn’t true, but...what a gamble. Her gaze shifted to Bridget.

Bridget didn’t turn and run, she didn’t scream and cry, she didn’t tell him to go to hell. But from her chest to the top of her forehead, she was ruddy. She was silent and almost frighteningly still; she truly looked as if she was fighting the urge to ram Ralph’s wheelchair into the wall.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t. But you are still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, and I wish I could see you smile like you did when you were a baby.” Ralph coughed and sipped air with irregular efforts. He shook his head as if trying to keep himself conscious, and his breathing smoothed out a little. “Your smile is still in there somewhere, and it could light up the world.”

One tear welled, then another. Then a multitude of tears, irrepressible, unstoppable, began to drip down Bridget’s cheeks.

Dr. Nouvelle appeared at Kellen’s side and pressed a handful of napkins into her hand, then retreated again. The coward.

Kellen wanted to be a coward, too, but she’d been fainthearted enough these last few weeks, so she walked to Bridget and stuffed the napkins into her hand.

Bridget pressed the napkins to her mouth to stifle her sobs. She bent from the waist and cried with the agony of seedling dreams that never took root. She cried for a lost childhood. She cried for her mother’s weary days and lonely nights.

Ralph reached out a hand toward her head and almost patted her.

So close.

Then as if they’d been burned, he pulled his trembling fingers back and tucked them close to his chest.

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