AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Needed you?" Roxanne'sskepticism sliced through the momentary lull. "Or is this just anotherescape, another adventure for you to abandon when it gets too real?"
"Roxanne!" Charlotte'sadmonition was gentle, but firm. She reached across the table, her fingersbrushing against Henry's.
"His mother..." Henrystarted, the words trailing off as if snagged by the heavy air between them."She was someone I met during my travels. A good woman," he said,though his voice held the echo of a question as if he were asking himselfrather than asserting a fact. "Things didn't... work out. But Liam—he wasthe best part of it all." He paused, swallowing hard, as if the next wordswere a boulder he had to push past his lips. "When she passed, there wasno one else. I took him in."
"Passed? Took him in?"Charlotte leaned forward, her oceanic eyes reflecting a storm of emotions. Sheseemed ready to dive into this new narrative, eager to understand theundercurrents that had brought her father back into their lives.
But Roxanne cut through the brewingempathy like a ship cleaving the waves. "That means you weren’t therewhile he grew up, either. You bailed! And what makes you think you can justwaltz back into our lives, play at being a father again? You think taking inLiam proves something?"
Henry flinched, as if the sharp edge ofRoxanne's words had physically struck him. "I'm not trying to proveanything, Roxanne. It’s not about—"
"Isn't it convenient,though?" Roxanne's hands curled into fists on the tabletop, her knuckleswhitening. "You disappear, leaving us to pick up the pieces, and now youshow up with another child? What's your plan? To charm your way back into thefold? Built-in help because you have no idea how to be a parent now?"
"Roxanne, please,"Charlotte implored softly, her gaze flicking between her sister and theirfather.
"Charm has nothing to do withit." Henry's defense sounded weak even to Charlotte’s ears. He avoidedRoxanne's piercing gaze, instead focusing the fire.
"Family—being a parent—is aboutconsistency, about being there," Roxanne pressed on, relentless. "Canyou honestly say you're ready for that after all these years of being a ghostin our lives?"
Henry looked down at his hands, nowlying idle on the worn wooden table. Charlotte took in the sharp angles ofRoxanne's frown and Henry's slumped shoulders, feeling like a mediator betweentwo diverging paths of a long-forgotten road. The air was thick with tension.
Henry cleared his throat, shiftinguncomfortably. He seemed eager to steer away from the raw emotions that churnedlike the tides outside. "You know, when I was in Morroco..."
He hesitated, his voice trailing offbefore gaining some traction, "The sunsets over the Saharan dunes, they'reunlike anything you've ever seen. Hues of gold and amber stretching as far asthe eye can see. Almost as good as the sunsets here."
Charlotte caught the subtle shift, thenudge away from the tense current topic. Henry persisted, his eyes lighting upwith the wanderlust that had always driven him. "And India—the spicemarkets in Jaipur, the vibrant chaos, the sheer vitality of life spilling ontothe streets. It's a world away from Chesham Cove."
"Yet here you are, in CheshamCove," Charlotte gently reminded him, her own heart aching. "And it'sbeautiful here, too, in its own way."
Roxanne's chair scraped against thewooden floor as she leaned across the table, her face a tempest of emotion."Running off to see the world is all well and good, Henry," she spat,her voice a serrated knife cutting through the serene atmosphere of the inn."But what about your responsibilities? You can't just be Peter Pan,chasing an endless youth while we deal with reality here."
Henry's hands stilled on his napkin,his eyes finally lifting to meet Roxanne's fiery gaze. "I've beenresponsible," he murmured defensively, but the tremor in his voice beliedhis uncertainty.
"Responsible?" Roxanne'slaugh was sharp, humorless. "Jetting from country to country, after momdied, leaving others to pick up the pieces you scatter along the way—that's notresponsibility."
Charlotte watched the exchange, herheart heavy in her chest. "Roxanne has a point, Dad," she saidsoftly.
Turning to Henry, Charlotte sought hiseyes. “Why now? Why come back?" she probed further, her eyes searching hisfor the truth that seemed to dodge them like shadows at dusk.
"Because I'm tired ofrunning," he admitted, the admission escaping his lips like a prisonerlong confined. "And because Liam needs more than just me. I heard you werehere from a few friends still in town. And Liam needs family, stability."
"Family," Charlotte echoed.
"Family," Roxanne repeated,but unlike Charlotte, her tone held a note of skepticism. “The ones you chooseon safari, or the ones you leave behind to go adventuring?”
"Life is full of choices, isn'tit?" Henry parried, still skimming the surface of their history, unwillingor unable to dive deeper. He looked at Roxie, defiant.
Charlotte watched him, her heartaching. She wanted more than these half-whispered confessions; she yearned forthe solidity of facts, the weight of reality they could all grasp onto.
Before another word could be spoken,Roxanne's chair scraped back with a sound that ripped through the silence, theviolence of it echoing off the inn's ancient stone walls. "I can't dothis," she declared, her voice a crescendo of hurt and disillusionment."You're still running, Henry. Even now, with your son one floor away fromyou!"
"Roxanne—" Charlotte reachedout, her hand grasping only air as her sister stormed away, a tempest in humanform, leaving a wake of tension so thick it was nearly visible, like the mistthat rolled in from the cove at dawn. Charlotte and Henry sat amidst theemotional debris, two figures bound by blood yet separated by a chasm of yearsand unspoken pain.
"Should I go after her?"Charlotte asked, though her voice held no real conviction, knowing Roxanneneeded space to temper her storm.
Henry shook his head, a gesture ofdefeat. "No, let her be. Perhaps it's better this way."
"Is it?" she questioned, hergaze lingering on the empty chair.
