Page 101 of Pain in the Axe
Sitting back, his face suddenly gaunt, my father ran his hands through his thinning hair. “I can’t remember it all,” he said. “But it was such a difficult time.”
“It was awful for all of us,” I said, my patience thinning. “Particularly me, since I lost my mom and then my husband back to back.”
“When your mother died, I just lost it,” he said, his voice choked. “I had four kids to raise and no idea how to do it. I tried to do right by you.”
My heart sank. I was pretty confident that was an admission.
“You pushed me away,” I gritted out, my already cracked heart splintering further. “You cut off most of my contact with my family and friends and manipulated me into divorcing the man I loved.”
His face fell. Gus was right. There was so much more to this story than I’d ever known.
“Because you were destined for more than this place,” he argued. “More than this life. Mitch Hebert is a liar and a criminal. He may be behind bars now, but even back then, he wasn’t trustworthy.”
“But Gus is not his father.”
His face was red now, and anger radiated from him. “How was I supposed to know that? He was a kid. You were a kid. I had to honor your mother’s wishes. You were so smart and so accomplished. It broke my heart watching how hard you pushedyourself to take care of your mother and your siblings. You cared so much for her every day up until her death.”
“And you punished me for it.”
“No, Chloe. It made me realize you deserved better. I wanted more for you.”
“So you lied to me?”
He at least had the good sense to look a little guilty. “Yes. I did what I had to do in order to give you a bright future and a chance at something more than a shitty life as a logger’s wife in rural Maine.”
The admission knocked the wind out of me. “And the letter you gave me?”
With a long breath out, he lowered his chin, averting his gaze. “Mitch wrote it.”
My stomach churned, and my blood ran cold. I needed to get out of here and away from all of this. I’d been so resolute, so certain of what had happened. But everything I knew had been a lie. Sold to me by someone I trusted.
“Gus said he wrote other letters.”
“Yes.” He nodded once. “I still have some of them.”
My heart tripped over itself. “You do?”
Brushing at the knee of his khakis, he sighed. “I didn’t open them, but given the messages he was leaving on the answering machine, I could only imagine what they contained. I couldn’t bring myself to throw them away. So I tucked them aside and pretended they didn’t exist. Eventually, he stopped sending them.”
Hands fisted in my lap, I reined in the urge to lash out at him. “I want them.”
He heaved himself out of his seat slowly. “I have some things of your mother’s that I set aside for you too. Some of her books, jewelry, and other small things. There are a couple boxes in the basement. Give me a moment.”
My heart ached. I wanted every single piece of my mother that remained on this earth. But no object could ever fill the void that she’d left. Especially now, as I was beginning my own motherhood journey.
I was waiting at the front door when he came back upstairs. Without a word, I took the plastic bin from his hands and turned to leave.
“You don’t have to forgive me,” he said, his tone distraught. “I know I fucked up. But look at you. Look at all you’ve accomplished. Look at the strong woman you’ve become.”
I put the box down and turned to face him, disgust and anger boiling up inside me. “My accomplishments are no justification for lying to me. For manipulating me. Jesus, Dad. Do you hear yourself? You took away my free will and broke my heart in the process.”
He narrowed his eyes, his chest puffing out. “I did the best I could at the time. You’re not a parent. You can’t understand.”
“Turns out I am a parent.” I cradled my belly. “I’m pregnant. That’s part of the reason I came here, to learn the truth so I can move forward with my life.”
His face lit up. “A baby? That’s wonderful news.”
This should be a happy moment. I was telling my father about my child. But I was full of anger, and if I was honest, feeling detached. We’d never been close, and it had never been more clear why than in this moment. Because he didn’t respect me enough to tell me the truth and let me make my own choices.
