Beyond Bliss (28 page)

“The first time I met you wasn’t at his funeral.  It was when you were born.  I was in the middle of exams—it was my first year of law school and your parents were already married.  We’d started to drift apart, it was natural—but when he called me the night you were born, I got in my car and drove two hours to hold you.”

Silent tears dripped down her face as she listened.  Her dad had mentioned Carter, and his memories were always fond, but she’d had no idea they were so close—or about any of this.

Carter smiled ruefully.  “It’s not a big deal Sophie.  His life became all about you and your mom, and then you guys moved away.  He didn’t deliberately keep anything from you, we just took different paths in life,” he paused, sighing deeply.  “But when he found out about the cancer, he tracked me down.  You were just about to finish your senior year of high school, and he didn’t want to upset you or be the reason you didn’t go.” 

His eyes were wet, sorrowful as he looked at her, and she felt her lips curl up.

It wasn’t a smile.

At the same time, her brow tightened and her nose constricted.  Her ugly cry, Liz would have teased. 

And it was ugly, as her face contorted and she fought for air.  The warmth in her chest had turned into a burn, a fiery and painful grip around her heart as she realized she’d missed that last year with him.

“Oh God.” 

And then she was crying, sobbing openly as memories flooded her mind.

Images of him bringing her new bike for Christmas and patiently helping her with her math homework.  The sad expression on his face when she’d come down the stairs in her prom dress, excited to go out with her date.  She teased him when he’d mumbled about his little girl growing up. 

And then she was angry.

“What the fuck, Carter?” she asked, her voice still high and tears still streaming down her face.  “Why didn’t he tell me?  You knew, why didn’t you tell us?  I could have been with him, I needed to be with him.  You had no right!”

Anger and grief overtook her, while everything else fell away.  Her body shuddered as she tried to control her tears and breathe normally.  

“Your mother knew,” he said quietly, and when he could see the expression on her face, he raised his voice.  “No, don’t you blame her.  She wanted to tell you, but she respected his wishes.  She’s a good woman, and she loved him until the end.  You have to understand that we didn’t betray you.  He wanted it to be this way because he couldn’t bear to have you see him deteriorate, Sophie.”

His voice broke, but he continued.  “He bragged to me when we finally reconnected about how fucking smart you were.  How beautiful—how kind and thoughtful you were.  He knew you would turn into an amazing woman, and he didn’t want you side-tracked. After I found out he was sick, I called him every single week.  And you know what?  Every single conversation was about you.  How well you’d done on your exams, how excited he was that you’d declared political science as your major.  How you volunteered at the homeless shelter during the Thanksgiving when you guys didn’t have the money for you to take a flight home.  I tried to buy you a flight, you know, but he told me it was better this way.  Not only was he too proud to accept the money, but he told me it was selfish of him to want you home when you could be helping others that didn’t have families.”

She’d given up not trying to cry anymore.  Carter’s own voice was strained as moisture slipped from the corner of his eyes down his face.

“Sophie, you are his pride and joy.  He made me promise, and it was never a chore for me, you need to know that.  I loved your father, and you have his heart.  He would be so fucking proud of you, the man wouldn’t know what to do with himself.  I’m sorry I kept this from you for so long, but it was what he wanted.”

“But why, Carter?  It hurts too much.  He was my hero, I wouldn’t have loved him any less for being sick.  I still love him. 
Fuck
.” 

It had gotten so bad, she swiped a tissue from the lacquered black tissue box on Carter’s desk and swiped at the moisture she knew was about to drip out of her nose. 

He gave her a watery smile.  “I don’t know that he’d be pleased about your language right now.”

She glared at him as she blew her nose.  “Fuck off, Carter.”

His smile actually widened. 

“You know you’re like a daughter to me.  Even Liz, infernal pain in my ass that she is, you brought her in my life too.  But you, you Sophie are the child of the boy who skipped stones with me at the lake.  The child of the man who coached me through my first heartbreak, and held my head up from the toilet as I puked because I was so goddamned drunk.  You are incredibly intelligent, and kind, and when he gave me this,” he waved the forgotten envelopes in his hand, “he told me I would know when to give them to you.  I’d considered giving them to you after Zach, but I know now is when he would have wanted you to have them.”

He slid the envelopes over to her, along with the box.

“What’s this?”

“Open the box first,” he commanded, ignoring her question. 

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, but did as he instructed.  She pulled the silver paper away, and flipped open the narrow edge of the box. 

It was a picture frame.

Silver, with hinges that allowed for three frames to connect. 

The first one was a faded picture of two young boys with fishing poles slung over their shoulders.  She could clearly recognize her father from the family pictures they had, and Carter still looked the same, strangely enough, even though he was missing a tooth.

In the middle, a picture of her mother—young, tired, but smiling as she lay in a hospital bed.  Next to her, stood a tall, handsome man with sparkling eyes—her father.  He had one arm wrapped around his wife, and the other wrapped around his friend holding a tiny infant, wrapped in a pink blanket. 

The last picture was from her high school graduation.  Her dad held up two fingers behind her graduation cap as she smiled brightly for the camera with her diploma on display. 

She remembered that day like it was yesterday. 

That morning, he’d woken her up with breakfast in bed and a kiss on her forehead. 

“Princess, you are going to be something extraordinary.”

She’d rubbed the sleep from her eyes, but she’d giggled at him nonetheless. 

“Dad, you don’t know that.  What if I decide I want to be a garbage woman?”

His mouth twisted to one side before he responded.  “Well then, you’re going to be the best damned garbage woman there ever was.”

She’d laughed at him, admonishing him for his language when Mom was probably close by.

“That’s from me,” Carter said gruffly.  “I got the last picture from Jeannie, but the other two are mine.”

Anger forgotten, she stared at the stack of envelopes on the desk next to ripped silver foil.

“What’s in those?”

“They’re in order.  Read the first one when you get home.  By the way, I think you mother is shacking up with a chauffeur.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Envelope 1

AC (After Carter)

Dear Sophie,

I hope you’re not angry with me. 

I know you’re reading this letter after learning the truth about how I left you.

But princess, there were two main reasons I kept the truth from you.  I know you probably think it’s unfair, but hear me out.

Reason number one:  You are so incredibly intelligent.  You know you are, if there is one thing you’re confident and sure about it’s your brain.  (That’s because you got your intelligence from me, but don’t tell Mom that, ok?)

You’re so bright and brilliant, you’re like a star, but you shine the brightest of the billions in the galaxy.  Sometimes you doubt yourself.  I’ve seen you preen in front of the mirror sometimes, wondering if you’re pretty enough for whatever loser you happen to be dating at the time. 

And yes, Soph, they’re losers.  I know you’ll find The One, but it will probably take kissing some frogs first.  There are very few men who walk this earth who will be worthy of your kindness, your golden heart, and the sunshine that enters the room right along with you. 

I’m getting side-tracked.

I have so much to tell you, and even though they say I have a year, and I’ll write you a letter every day, it doesn’t feel like enough time.

I didn’t want to dim your brightness with this.  You don’t deserve it, and you needed to stay in school.  There’s no way in hell my baby girl isn’t going to be everything she wants to be, and even though I would have told you no, I know if you’d known, you would have stubbornly stayed with me until the very end.

It’s much better this way, please trust me.  You get to stay on track, and selfishly, that brings me to the next reason.

Reason number two:  The moment I held you in my arms, you looked up at me with those wide, dark eyes like I could do anything.  You never stopped looking at me like I was your hero, and I don’t want you remembering me as I will inevitably become.  I know at the end, it will be bad, but you will have hopefully been spared most of it. 

Sweetheart, I would rather the majority of your memories of me be happy ones.  I know when I leave, you’ll be hurt, but when you think of me, you’ll remember me strong, healthy, happy, and so incredibly enthralled with the beautiful being Mom and I made. 

That reminds me, don’t be angry with Carter for not telling you the truth.  Don’t be angry with Mom either.

They respected my wishes.

You’ll have many more letters to come.  They tell me I have a year, but towards the end, I don’t know if I will be strong enough to keep writing, so I’m writing as much as I can to make sure you can read everything I would say to you if I were still alive.

I love you baby girl, always and forever.

And Sophie, you better not be crying right now, because if your tears stain the ink, then you won’t be able to read it later on.

That’s really not the reason, you know.  It’s a good point, but you know I can never stand it when you start leaking like a faucet. 

Hurts my heart, sweetheart.

I’ll end each letter with a funny, because I’m your clever ‘ole Dad, and it’s better to end any conversation with a smile than a frown.  Some of what I’ll tell you will be jokes, but some will be stories because I did a lot of stupid shit when I was younger that’s actually pretty funny.

And if you’re reading this letter at 21, there is no way in hell I want you doing any of the stuff I did. (I mean that, young lady!)

If you’re reading it when you’re a bit older you’ll know better.

Anyway, I’ll start this one off very lightly.

What do you get when you cross a cow with your mother?

……..

…..

…

…

A PURSE!

HAHAHA
. 

Sorry, but I just laughed myself.  Your mom has a million purses, sweetheart.  If the purpose of a purse is to be a bag to carry around necessities, then why the hell does she need so many?  Why can’t one be enough until it’s worn out?

Anyway, perhaps I shouldn’t criticize given the number of golf clubs I’ve got. 

My funnies get better, promise.  Some of them involve tattoos, mushrooms (the magical kind), crude positioning of the neighbor’s reindeer (I was young), and so much more.

Love you always and forever into eternity,

Your cool as fuck Dad
!
yes, I just said that, and even if you tell Mom I cursed it won’t matter because it’s number one, TRUE, and number two, I don’t have to listen to her nag (although I do love the woman, don’t get me wrong). 

Okay for real now.

Love you baby,

Daddy

By the time she was done, the tears that streamed down her face were vibrating off onto her sweater from giggling so hard.

Oh Dad.

As soon as she’d gotten home after meeting with Carter, she’d ripped open the first envelope, but scared to read it, she’d set it down on the dining room table.

She busied herself with reading notes on some of the cases she’d already been assigned for Hearts of Hope, taking periodic breaks to traipse up and down to the laundry room in an effort to multi-task.

Three hours later, she’d given up, unable to concentrate on anything else but the pile of envelopes begging to be opened.

She poured a glass of wine, and stalled for a bit.  By the time the glass was empty, she found herself relaxed enough to brace what was in the first letter.

The number and code letter sequence had puzzled her at first, but now everything made much more sense. 

She read and re-read the letter in one sitting several times, careful to lift the paper out of the way when she started to tear up. 

Her dad knew her so well.

And even though he was gone, she could feel him.

Making fun of her for needing liquid courage before reading his letter or teasing her about her neurotic need to re-fold fitted bedsheets until they appeared the same way as the flat ones.