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“So you did have a reason to offer forgiveness, and I bet it was the most meaningful thing he’s heard since it happened. Only you and your family can offer that to him.”
“He was just so . . . angry and hurt.”
“Do you think maybe it will just take him a little time to move through angry and hurt and realize there were other feelings there too?”
I felt heavy, tired even though it was early in the day. “I doubt it.”
“I’m so sorry, Em. That’s so hard.”
It was nice to hear someone agree, even if it didn’t help.
“Thanks.”
“Now tell me about this next assignment. And if you need a sidekick or an assistant, I could see myself setting a book in Costa Rica. It would be research!”
I laughed and told her what little I knew about my next adventure. And when we hung up, I did feel a little bit better. The ache inside me was still there, but there was a glimmer on the horizon beyond it—adventure and promise.
I tried to focus on that.
On Thursday, the sun shone fiercely, and the temperature was high, even for Southern California. I went for a run along the harbor in the morning, and then showered and dressed to head to Mom and Dad’s for Thanksgiving. I’d have to tell them I was about to travel again, but I had a feeling this time I’d be leaving astronger family behind. Maybe they were finally going to be able to move on.
Mom had insisted she would do all the cooking, so I picked up a bottle of wine for her and some Scotch for Dad. In the liquor store I spotted a bottle of Half Cat Whiskey, but thought better of it. I might be looking for connections to Kasper Ridge, but I was pretty sure my parents were not.
I pulled up to the house and got out, realizing with dismay that I was bracing myself internally. I’d been doing that since my brother’s death—shoring myself up to face my parents, to weather their reality. I was just glad I didn’t live in this house anymore. The pain was tangible inside.
At the front door, I heard something strange. Voices drifted around through the screen door—light laughter. I paused for a moment, listening. I could hear my father’s low timbre and Mom’s lighter pitch. But there was someone else here. And whoever it was had gotten Dad out of the chair in front of the football game. That was a feat.
My brain ran through a list of potential relatives, but most were distant cousins we didn’t usually share the holidays with. My parents were both only children, and family holidays since my grandparents had died had always been just us.
I pulled open the door and stepped in, taking the bottles to the kitchen and placing them on the counter. “Mom! Dad?” I turned to the back door.
Mom and Dad sat side by side on the outdoor couch, and there was a man in the chair opposite them, his back to the door.
My stomach clenched as the sun caught burnished gold in the deep, dark red of his hair. God, that hair—it could practically be Archie Kasper sitting right here on our patio, except that I knew it wasn’t.
“Honey,” Mom said, rising. She moved toward the door where I was standing, motioning me out, but I was frozen to thespot. Because as my mother had stood, the man with the red hair turned to look at me. I watched him, everything happening in slow motion suddenly as his profile was revealed, and then he turned all the way around so I could see his face.
If I’d still been holding the bottles, I’d have dropped them.
“Archie?”
“Emily,” he said. “Hi.”
If things had moved in slow motion a second before, now they accelerated to a confusing pace. My brain stuttered, trying to catch up, and my heart was beating so quickly I actually felt breathless.
“Don’t just stand there, honey,” Mom said, stepping up to pull the door open. “Come out here.”
I followed directions, still unable to process what was going on in front of me on my parents’ now totally unfamiliar patio.
Dad sat with a beer in his hand looking slightly uneasy, but not angry.
“What’s going on?” I asked, moving out slowly to face Archie. Emotions were searing through me so quickly I couldn’t track just one. Shock. Excitement. Love. Regret. Fear...
“Archie’s just been here a little while,” Mom said. “And we’ve been talking.”
I sank into the chair across from Dad, pushing down the sudden surge of hope I felt bubbling up inside me. “Talking?”
“I’m sorry to surprise you like this,” Archie said, clearly to me.
