Page 62 of Keeping Lucy

“You weren’t good for each other, though. You brought out the worst in each other, I think, sometimes. All your wild impulses.”

“That’s true.”

“There were nights I’d wait up until I heard you both pull into his driveway. Only then could I get some sleep, without worrying that I’d get that knock on the door from the cops telling me you were dead. Jake was our responsibility from the moment his mother died, and I couldn’t have dealt with letting her down like that.”

His somber words twisted in my gut like a knife. When we were so young and wild and stupid, we never gave a thought to who we might hurt. It was always only about chasing the next high, getting the next rush of adrenaline, anything to drown out the gnawing restlessness. That’s how it was for me, and I knew it had been the same for Jake, too. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, son.”

His simple acknowledgment meant more to me than I could put into words. I realized then, like I never had before, exactly what he had done for me. He’d saved me. That awful night, when I had nowhere else to turn, when I was so eaten up by guilt, fear and remorse that I could barely see straight, this man had saved me. “How did you know?”

He shot me a questioning look.

“That the air force was what I needed,” I clarified.

He grinned. “Simple. It would give you all the adventure you craved, but never let you get out of line.”

Oh my god. I’d said as much to Lucy in Seattle. “Very wise,” I said wryly, smiling when he chuckled.

“It’s been good for you.”

“It has.” I looked up the river, to where Jake was standing. “Maybe Jake should have signed up too, once he got well enough.”

“No. He’s not one for wandering too far from home.”

I gave that some thought. “Guess not.”

A comfortable silence settled over us and I let my thoughts wander, imagining what it might have been like to have a more stable, dependable father. Like Bruce. Close on the heels of that thought was a stab of guilt, edged with a little shame. After everything he’d done for me, I was lying to him. He believed that my marriage to his daughter was totally legit, a forever thing, till death do us part, like his own marriage. Fuck. I couldn’t seem to escape the influence of my old man, doomed to repeat his bullshit my whole life.

“You are very different from your father.”

Could the man read my mind? “Nah. The apple falls very close to the tree, I’m afraid.” I heard the bitterness in my voice, and it seemed Bruce did too, because he shot me a surprised look.

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, you know…” As I stood there, the cool mist on my skin, memories of the past came drifting back. My mother, “You’re just like your father,”or, “Aah, Dante, so like my Angelo,”patting my cheek and looking at me with doting affection. I’d loved it at first, thrived on it, because he was the man I most looked up to. I was proud to be like him, with his devil-may-care attitude. Until that attitude had almost cost Jake his life.

“I only met your father a handful of times, but in my opinion, you could hardly be more different to him.”

I shrugged. “It’s genetics, though, isn’t it? There’s no competing with or overcoming that.” I could feel him watching me, but I kept my eyes on the water, feeling hot prickles of discomfort at his close scrutiny.

“I’d have thought genetics was more about eye color than attitude, but if you say so.”

Relief washed through me when he didn’t say anything more, just stood next to me, patiently waiting for the next fish to bite. I wasn’t sure how many minutes passed like that, but the fish weren’t cooperating anymore. I was just about to suggest we move upriver to join Matt and Gabe. Then Bruce spoke. “I want you to know, I’m proud of you, Dante.”

The words floored me. So simple, yet so significant. I felt like a little kid who’d just been given a piece of his favorite candy. It was ridiculous how much it meant to me to know that Bruce thought that way about me. Barely able to speak past the emotions clogging my throat, I forced the words out in a low voice. “Ah, thanks, Bruce.” I cleared my throat. “That means a lot.”

Reeling in his line, he clapped me on the back in acknowledgement. “I’m gonna move up there.” He pointed with his chin, indicating Gabe and Matt. “You coming?”

“Sure.”

We spent the rest of the morning pretty much in silence, which left me to my own thoughts. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. There was a lot to think about. I had so much respect for Bruce Cooper and no reason to think he’d lie to me.You are very different from your father.Trying to figure out how he came to that conclusion, I started drawing comparisons between myself and my father. It was an enormous knot for me to untangle. Still, Bruce had planted the idea and I couldn’t let it go now, despite the confusion and uncertainty it left churning in my gut.

* * *

When Bruce dropped me back at Lucy’s, she hadn’t returned from her shopping in Charlotte yet, which left me alone with my thoughts. Unable to sit still, I moved into the kitchen to empty the dishwasher, my mind humming, refusing to be quiet.

Acknowledging the idea that Bruce had planted was the easy part. The little seed of hope that was mixed in there almost made me feel sick, because it opened up a whole new world of possibilities.

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