Page 97 of One Southern Summer

The hollow ache still lingered, though. She frowned and lined up the three unicorns in the middle of the coffee table next to the simple collection of unscented candles she’d arranged on a white square platter. As she picked up one of the blankets Hayes insisted on dragging around behind him as he cruised along the furniture, a smart phone thumped against the sofa cushions.

“Uh-oh.” Avery recognized Harper’s lock screen. She must’ve left the phone when she’d stopped by to visit before supper. Avery knew she’d secretly been on a mission to check on her and the kids. Ever since they’d moved out, her family had been extra attentive. Avery was grateful for the spontaneous visit. Other than Pax and Trey stopping by to hand off the kids or pick them up, she hadn’t had any guests yet.

She took Harper’s phone into the kitchen and set it on the counter then retrieved the remote control from a high shelf in the pantry. Hayes destroyed almost anything he could get his hands on, so she’d learned the hard way to stow electronics out of his reach. She went back into the living room and flopped on the sofa. Her thoughts returned to Cole as they often did when she was exhausted and alone. He certainly hadn’t been by to see her new place. Hadn’t helped her move in. Hadn’t called or sent any texts. If she needed to communicate about Imari’s Place, she spoke with Dale or Millie Kay.

“I miss him,” she whispered. “Lord, have I made a terrible mistake?”

Her conversations with God had not flowed freely until recently. Until Cole was absent from her life. Their parting words on the dock that night almost four months ago had left their mark. She’d had the opportunity to see him but at the last minute, she’d ignored the invitation to the gala and stayed home.

A soft knock sounded at her front door, pulling her from her thoughts. Harper must’ve realized she’d forgotten her phone. Avery hurried to the kitchen and grabbed it then strode toward the door. She turned the deadbolt then twisted the knob without checking the peephole.

“Forget some—”

Her words died on her lips. A man stood on her front porch, wearing dark gray cargo pants, a vintage T-shirt featuring a classic rock band and black sneakers. Avery’s heart hammered in her chest as she slowly noted his appearance. Taking in every detail. He wore his silvery blond hair short, as though he’d served in the military, but his posture looked anything but confident. She met his gaze with her own. That particular shade of blue was familiar. She saw it every time she looked at Addison.

“Hello, Avery.” Moisture glistened in his eyes. He clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides.

“Dad?” she whispered, Harper’s phone slipping from her fingers and clattering on the hardwood. That voice. Those eyes. The divot in his chin. This couldn’t be happening. Her knees quaked. “W-what are you doing here?”

He cleared his throat. “I need to speak with you. Please, Avery. It’s important.”

“Eighteen years.” She splayed her hand across her chest, fighting to keep her voice even. “I haven’t seen you in eighteen years andnowyou say you need to speak with me?”

His brow furrowed. “I’m not here for money, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m here to make things right. To apologize. To tell you the whole truth.”

Did she want the whole truth? Lately the truth had done nothing but hurt. She hesitated. The earnestness in his gaze and the almost desperate tone in his voice won her over. She stepped back and opened the door. “Come in. Please speak softly, my kids just went to bed.”

He stepped inside then reached down and picked up the phone she’d dropped. The scent of his aftershave awakened a dormant memory. She’d sat on the commode in their bathroom, watching him shave. A ritual that brought her comfort. He patiently answered her questions and made her laugh while he finished his morning routine. It was just the two of them, before anyone else woke up.

“Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? Water?” She gestured for him to sit down.

“Water, please.” He handed her the phone then slowly rounded the sofa, pausing to study the framed photo of her and the kids hanging on the wall. Did he even know he had grandchildren? His gaze swept the room then he sat down and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Awe swept over his face as he took in the toys, books and Hayes’s discarded blanket beside him.

“I’ll be right back.” She pocketed Harper’s phone and strode into the kitchen. Her own phone sat on the counter. Should she text Mama or Julene? Did anyone else know her father was here? Her mind raced, the questions stacking up like the precarious foam block towers Julene built for Hayes and Addison.

If he wasn’t here for money, then why had he resurfaced? Was he battling a terminal illness? Her stomach pitted at the thought. She scooped ice cubes from the bin inside the freezer and gently placed them in the glass so she didn’t wake the kids. How had he found her? Was she his first stop? She filled the glass with water from the dispenser in the refrigerator door.

Instead of texting anyone, she turned away from her phone and returned to the family room. Her father hadn’t moved.

“Here you go.” She set the glass on a wooden coaster in the middle of the coffee table to avoid touching his hand. He hadn’t tried to hug her yet, thankfully. She wasn’t ready. He’d left so long ago that she’d stopped daydreaming of a happy reunion.

“Thank you.” He reached for the glass and took a sip. “I’m sure you have questions.”

“A few.” Avery settled in the closest armchair and tucked her feet under her.

He smiled at her attempt at humor. The curve of his mouth reminded her of Julene. She had to tell her sisters he was here. They deserved to know. But selfishly, she wanted a few minutes alone with him. Just like the old days in the bathroom.

“You can ask me anything.” He met her gaze. “What do you want to know?”

“Why did you leave?”

He hesitated, the glass halfway between the coaster and his face. “You want to get right down to brass tacks, don’t you?”

“It’s my most pressing question.”

He sat back against the tufted cushions. “What did your mother tell you?”

“We haven’t talked about you very often.”

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