Page 154 of Mercy (The Sins Trilogy 3)
Chapter Fifty-Three
Anthony
I watch Ivy sleep. It’s early, barely eight, but she’s exhausted from the day’s events.
A small bruise is blooming over the spot under her chin where Caleb jammed her with his gun. Her knees are badly skinned from the fall when he shoved her, and other assorted bruises and scrapes discolor her beautiful legs and arms. I brush my fingers over her jaw, run my thumb over the perfect little mole. I wish I could take away all her injuries and make everything better, but she’s going to need time to heal.
After pressing a light kiss to her forehead, I walk out to filch some of Edgar’s whiskey. I should be tired too, but I’m not. My whole body’s humming with excess energy. I’m still grappling with the odd lightness in my chest. The sensation is weird, unfamiliar. I feel like an ox who’s been carrying a huge weight, only to be freed of the burden overnight.
Edgar is already in the parlor, legs stretched out and nursing a drink, in front of the gleaming bar. But he gets up and pours me one when I come in. “How’s Ivy?”
“Sleeping, thankfully.”
“Rest should help. Why aren’t you sleeping?”
“Because I’m not tired.” Edgar hands me the drink, and I sit down in the other armchair.
Edgar squints a little, giving me a once-over. “You look different.”
I down the whiskey, looking at him over the rim. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. More relaxed. And happy.”
A warmth that has nothing to do with the liquor spreads over me. “I am. All thanks to Ivy.” I swirl the ice cubes in my glass. “Listen… I never thanked you for standing up for me when Katherine died. So thank you.”
“I did what I knew was right. It wasn’t your fault. Anybody could see that.”
“Not Mother.” I can’t remember the last time I was able to say the word without feeling like I was choking on remorse. “And certainly not me.”
He finishes his drink. “But you do now.”
“Yes.” I breathe out softly. It’s so weird to not feel the knot in my chest. Ivy was right about that too. The guilt had been with me for so long that I’d stopped noticing it.
Edgar’s gaze flicks up. His posture shifts.
I turn and see Father walking in. I thought he’d gone home by now to be with Mother.
He’s still in the same suit from earlier. His face is pale now, haggard. For once, he doesn’t look like some kind of Atlas tirelessly holding up the world. He’s wearing every year of his age, deep lines along his forehead, sunken eyes and tight mouth sketching his pain.
“Father,” I say. I’m never certain what he’s thinking when he looks at me. The terrible son who killed his baby girl and ruined his family or the disowned son he might consider letting back into the fold. For too long, I’ve been the former.
“Have a seat,” Edgar says, gesturing.
Father sits, his shoulders rounding as he hunches forward. “I spoke with the lawyers. The sheriff’s office. They told me everything they know, and sent somebody to notify Charlene Brown’s family in Augustine.” He runs a hand over his face, then grabs an empty tumbler, pours three fingers of whiskey and knocks it back. His jaw works, and he closes his eyes for a moment. Finally, he turns to me. “I’m sorry, son. I had no clue Margot was involved in anything.”
If he’d said this in the morning, I might have demanded more. But now, it doesn’t matter. “Ivy’s the one who deserves the apology. She lost nine years—and her past.”
He sighs. “Is she going to regain her memory?”
“There’s no telling. The loss seems to be from the physical trauma, not just psychological. She has flashbacks here and there…but that’s it.” I’m calm. I used to torment myself over her partial amnesia, blaming myself for that too. But now I don’t. I just accept it for what it is—a sign that she’s stronger than anyone else I know. “It doesn’t matter one way or the other. Even if she doesn’t remember everything, she’s still my Ivy. I still love her.”
“You always did give your love unconditionally.” Father pours more whiskey and swirls the liquid in the multi-faceted crystal tumbler. His dark green eyes lose focus for a moment, then he lifts his head and looks at me. “I don’t blame you for what happened to Katherine, Tony. I want you to know that…despite what Margot may have told you.”
“Thank you.” I’m more surprised than relieved that he’s telling me this. It really doesn’t matter who my parents blame anymore. I realize that if he’d told me earlier, it would’ve been a nice balm, but I’d still have suffered because Ivy was right about the guilt. Nobody’s forgiveness could ever be enough unless I forgave myself.
Father’s expression turns grim. “You don’t care anymore. Well, that’s understandable. It’s been so long.” His lips compress until they’re flat. “I confronted Margot today. I told her if she’d told the truth earlier, none of this would have come to pass. Justice would’ve been served, and then…she lost her temper. Accused me of taking your side. She honestly doesn’t believe she did anything wrong. She feels like her actions were necessary to spare the family embarrassment. But she should’ve told the truth. Ivy should’ve never been used as a pawn by that greedy sociopath…much less my wife.”
Mother’s reaction is disappointing, but hardly unexpected, especially after the dinner yesterday. I would’ve been shocked—and suspicious—if she’d decided to be forgiving overnight.
“We’re separating,” Father says.
The announcement is so unexpected that I almost knock my tumbler off the table. Why is he doing this? She’s the center of his universe, much like Ivy is mine. “But you love her.”
“I loved the woman I met thirty-five years ago. But she’s changed…I just refused to see it. I looked the other way because she suffered so much from Katherine’s death. And by doing that, I encouraged her to stay on the wrong path. But the family has to move on. Your mother should’ve let go decades ago. I’m ashamed it took me almost losing you—and Ivy—today to fully grasp that and do something about the situation.” He glances away. Finally, he drains his glass and sighs. “Can you forgive me, Tony?”
I pour us more whiskey. The peace I’ve been feeling sinks deeper into me. Until today, I would have asked him to beg Ivy for forgiveness, but now I know what she’d want me to do. “Of course.”
