by Mari Madison
“Dad, I have to tell you something,” I said slowly, feeling a weight fall upon my chest, so heavy it made it difficult to breathe. Much like the weight I’d felt when I’d first opened the DNA test and learned the truth. I’d been on my way to see him in the hospital. He was bored to death, he’d told me, and my mother was driving him crazy. He needed a distraction from his number one son. I’d even considered sneaking him in some of his favorite brandy.
But that was before I’d read the test results. Before I’d learned the truth. Once I saw them in black and white—unmistakable—there was no way I could bring myself to visit. And so, like a coward, I’d turned the car around. I’d driven straight to Mexico as fast as my Maserati could take me—with little regard to anyone else on the road. Once there, I’d consumed my weight in tequila and later woken in some dark alley, my wallet nowhere to be found. I’d had to beg the border officials to let me back into the US. Lucky for me, they’d recognized me from the television.
As Stormy Anderson’s son.
I could feel my father’s eyes on me now. Intense and questioning. “What is it?” he asked, concern clear in his voice. “Is everything okay, Asher? Is it your mother? I heard her rampaging about something or other this morning. Something about a press conference gone wild?”
I rubbed the back of my neck with my hand, his concern seeping into my skin like poison. “Oh, that,” I said. “She’s just trying to make the advertisers happy as usual.”
My father snorted. “That woman is a machine,” he declared. “She never quits. That’s why she’s been able to do so well over the years. News 9 owes her a lot. We all do, I guess.”
“No!” I shot back with more venom than I’d meant to. My father raised his eyebrows.
“Okay, what’s wrong?” he demanded, wheeling himself over to me. With effort he climbed out of his chair and onto the couch. I watched as his whole body trembled from the movement and sweat beaded on his forehead. I scowled. It wasn’t fair. He’d already suffered so much. And now I was going to hurt him all over again.
Doesn’t he deserve to know the truth—however painful it might be?
I thought back to how horrible I’d been to him since his accident. Pulling away, cutting myself off. Because I’d been a coward. Because I didn’t know how to hide the truth when he looked into my eyes. It had been terrible for me—to cut him off like that. But how much worse had it been for him? To have your own son turn from you in your greatest moment of need—without any explanation as to why.
“Come on,” he said, taking my hands in his own and squeezing them tight. “Talk to me. Whatever it is—it’s going to be okay.”
“I’m not sure that’s true in this case.”
“Trust me. Nothing you say will change the way I feel about you, son.”
I jerked my hands away. “Even if . . . I’m not your son?”
“What?”
My father’s face paled. My heart beat madly in my chest. I felt as if I was going to throw up. Silence stretched out between us, long and suffering, as I opened my mouth and closed it again. I knew I had to continue—to finish what I’d started. It was out there now—and there was no taking it back. But the look on his face . . . Oh God. What had I done?
“I had a DNA test,” I managed to say, the words scraping from my throat. “After your accident. I went to Mom. She admitted it all. She had an affair. She’s been lying to you all these years. Playing us both like fools.”
My dad nodded slowly; I couldn’t read the expression on his face. I sat there, my stomach churning, waiting for him to say something—anything.
“So you’ve known this for three years,” he said at last in a gravelly voice. “Why didn’t you come to me sooner?”
“I couldn’t!” I protested. “You were in the hospital. You were so weak. It would have killed you!”
“No.” He shook his head. “It wouldn’t have.”
“But—”
“It wouldn’t have,” he repeated. “Because I already knew.”
My head jerked up. “What?”
“I’ve known since before you were born.”
“But . . .” I stared at him, incredulous. “But Mom said . . .”
He shrugged. “She doesn’t know that I know.”
“I don’t understand!”
He gave me a sorrowful look. “Your mother and I tried to have children for years, Asher, when we were first married. But it never happened. We’d pretty much given up on the idea and our marriage was in shambles when suddenly she became pregnant out of the blue. I was suspicious, so I went to the doctor to get tested. He told me I was shooting blanks. There was no way I could father a child.”
“But . . .” Horror churned through me. “Why didn’t you confront her? How could you just stay with her knowing she cheated on you?”
He blushed, staring down at his hands. “Because I loved being a meteorologist,” he said simply. “It was all I ever wanted in life. And she knew that—and used it against me anytime she could. If we had a fight, if I threatened to leave—she made it clear I would lose everything if I did.” He stared down at his hands. “It sounds pitiful now, as I say it out loud. But back then I was so emotionally bankrupt. I figured it was worth it to stay silent and keep my career.”
I shook my head, squeezing my hands into fists. I thought back to all the times my mother had done the same to me. Threatening me, threatening people I cared about. Emotional blackmail to get her own way. I had no idea it had been going on so long—with my poor father, too. And that by trying to protect him—I had only prolonged his suffering.
“At first I figured I would just let her raise you,” he continued. “That we could coexist in the house but stay clear of one another.” He snorted. “But you weren’t content with that and soon you were crashing through my weather center, this little person, bursting with questions about clouds and rain and the stars. You were so innocent and trusting. So fascinated by everything I would show you.” He gave me an affectionate smile. “And so, slowly, you became my son. In every sense of the word. And I’ve never thought of you otherwise since.” He shook his head. “It’s funny—how the very thing I thought would kill me—ended up bringing me back to life.”
Tears sprung to my eyes. I swallowed hard, past the lump in my throat. Even as the words came from his mouth, they felt too good to be true. The fact that he’d known. He’d known all along and it hadn’t even mattered. I wasn’t his son—but I was. I absolutely was.
“Oh, Asher,” he said, gazing at me with sad eyes. “I wish you had come to me when you first found out. The fact that you’ve been living with this . . . secret . . . all this time . . .”
I hung my head. “I was afraid to tell you. Mom kept saying it would kill you if you knew. Just another way to keep me in line, I guess.”
His expression darkened. Something angry flickered in his eyes. “It’s funny—I’ve kept silent all these years to protect you. I didn’t want you to have to suffer like I had. But you were suffering—all along. And I couldn’t protect you.”
“Don’t blame yourself,” I scolded him. “You didn’t do anything wrong. She did. She’s the one who’s been playing us both all these years.” I scowled. “I don’t know about you, but I’m through playing her games.”
My father shook his head. “Trust me—she’ll never let you quit.”
“She’s not going to have a choice.”
My father looked up at me and I saw something sparking in his eyes. Something I hadn’t seen in a long time. And it made my heart soar.
“I take it you have a plan?” he asked.
“Oh, I have a plan,” I agreed. “But I’m going to need your help.”
thirty-seven
PIPER
I left work that afternoon, not knowing where I was going. It was funny—for so many weeks now, I’d always had a destination. Asher’s ho
use, the surf school. Now I felt so directionless. I didn’t want to go home to an empty apartment. Beth was busy with Mac and Ashley. I actually had a day off from the Holloway House for once.
Finally, I made the decision to head to Safe Harbor to visit my mother. I hadn’t been there since dropping her back off after her premature check-out, the doctors suggesting she needed to get back in a routine. But the psychiatrist treating her had emailed earlier that week and told me she would be up for visitors if I had some free time. So I parked my car and walked inside, greeting the nurse on duty. She smiled and buzzed me in and an orderly escorted me into the lounge, telling me to wait there.
A few minutes later, my mother stepped into the room. I rose to greet her, looking her over from head to toe. I had to admit, she looked good. She’d gained weight and her skin, while still scarred, didn’t appear to have any fresh blemishes. Her eyes looked brighter, too. And when they fell on me, they lit up in excitement.
“Piper!” she cried. “This is a surprise!”
I gave her a rueful smile. “Sorry I didn’t come sooner.”
She shrugged. “As long as you’re here now. And bonus—you’ve saved me from afternoon circle time.” She gave a laugh. “Actually I like afternoon circle time,” she added in a hushed voice. “Just don’t tell my doctors. Wouldn’t want to ruin my rep.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
I sat back down on the couch and she joined me, gazing at me with affectionate eyes. It’d been so long since I’d seen any emotion in those eyes—besides desperation and hunger—it made my heart squeeze. And for a moment, I indulged in a small amount of hope. Maybe this time things would stick. Maybe this time she really had a chance to get better.
“It’s good you came,” she said. “I’ve actually been wanting to talk to you. In our sessions we’ve been talking a lot about making amends. And taking responsibility for all we’ve done to the people we love while under the influence.” She shook a little, as if remembering. “When I think back to all I put you through . . . for so many years . . .”
I gave her a sympathetic look. “You were sick. You had a disease.”
“Maybe. But you were the one who suffered. All these years, me blaming you for Michael’s death. I was so consumed with trying to get rid of the guilt I felt—I pushed it off any way I could. But you, my sweet girl, were never to blame. I knew that deep down. It was all me.” She hung her head.
I nodded slowly as she spoke the words I’d been waiting to hear my entire life. Yet strangely, they didn’t hold the weight I thought they would. Not that I wasn’t thrilled she was asking for forgiveness at last. But, I realized, what I’d really needed to do all these years was to forgive myself.
And I had. Somehow, on that boat, I had.
“Michael’s death will be something we both live with forever,” I told her, remembering Asher’s words. “But at the same time, I think he’d want us to move forward with our lives, don’t you think?”
She nodded slowly, tears slipping down her cheeks. “Oh, Piper,” she said. “I feel like I’ve wasted my entire life.”
“No,” I corrected her in a firm voice. “Your story is far from finished and now you’re starting a whole new chapter. You’re here, you’re sober. You’re getting the help you need.”
“I am,” she agreed. “In fact, I feel stronger every day. And it’s all thanks to that weatherman of yours.”
I stiffened. “Yes. Asher has been very generous, paying for your treatment.”
“Actually I was talking about him getting me here in the first place. He didn’t even know me—and yet he cared enough to try to help. Not just with money—that would have been easy for him, I’m sure. But he took the time to take me aside and tell me I needed help.”
I looked at her, curious despite myself. “What did he say to you?” I asked. I had always wondered that. How he’d convinced her to sign herself in.
She smiled. “He told me I was hurting you and that he wasn’t going to let that happen. He said no one was going to hurt you anymore. Not on his watch.”
My eyes widened, my heart panging in my chest. “He really said that?”
“Oh yes,” my mother agreed. “And he wouldn’t listen to any of my arguments. He told me he’d been there, done that, spewed the same bullshit. He was so charming about it all though.” She laughed. “Even as he was yelling at me. And before I knew it I found myself agreeing to go.”
I nodded, feeling my eyes misting. At the time I’d been so concerned with Asher paying for my mother’s treatment, I’d basically taken for granted the fact that he’d convinced her to get treatment in the first place—something I, her daughter, had never been able to do. It would have been so easy for him to turn his back on her. Throw money at the temporary problem—treating the symptoms, not the disease. After all, he didn’t know her. He didn’t owe her anything.
But he’d helped her all the same. Because that’s who Asher was. A guy who genuinely wanted to help people. He’d helped my mother with rehab. He’d helped those kids. He’d helped . . . me. In so many ways. Sometimes he was stupid about it—not looking before he leaped. But his heart—no one could ever believe his heart wasn’t in the right place.
“Anyway, he’s checked in on me a few times since,” my mother continued. “Even snuck me in some of my favorite chocolates. He told me about this halfway house program that he found, too. A place to go after this where I can live with other people who are fighting the same addictions. They’ll get me a job and I can make my own money for once—instead of depending on you. It’ll be like a fresh start.” She looked at me, her eyes wet with tears. “I never thought I’d have the chance for a fresh start. But thanks to that boy of yours . . .” She smiled.
I swallowed hard, past the lump that had formed in my throat. “He’s not my boy,” I managed to say. “We broke up.”
“What? Why? You guys were perfect together!”
“No, Mom. We weren’t perfect. We were completely not perfect.”
Her eyes narrowed at me. “Do you love him?”
“Yes, but . . .”
“Does he love you?”
“Yes. I mean he says he does. But you don’t understand. It’s too hard.”
“Recovering from meth addiction is hard,” my mother shot back. “Allowing yourself to be with someone who loves you and wants to care for you shouldn’t be.” She sighed. “The fact that it is . . . well, I blame myself.”
I scrunched up my face. “What do you mean?”
“Growing up, I never gave you a reason to trust anyone, Piper. I never showed you how to accept love that didn’t come with strings. I let my disease rob you of the childhood you should have had—the love you deserved. And now you’re paying the price.” Her voice broke. “You can’t trust Asher’s love, because you’ve never seen a love that worked. You’ve only seen love tear people apart. Not bring them together.”
“Yeah, well, this is just another example of that. If I stay with Asher, I’ll lose everything I’ve worked for in my career.”
My mother gave me a sad look. “You’re such a fighter, Piper. Unlike me—who has always given up too easily. All your life, you’ve worked overtime trying to prove to anyone who would notice that you are good enough. Smart enough. Hard-working enough. But sometimes I wonder who you’re really trying to convince in the end. Other people? Or yourself?”
I flinched a little. “I’m not going to apologize for wanting to be successful.”
“No one expects you to. Least of all Asher. God, you should hear the way he talks about you. It’s like you hung the moon.” She shook her head. “Trust me, there’s no one who doubts your dedication. Your drive. And I am positive wherever you end up careerwise, it’ll be at the top of your field.” She met my eyes with her own. “But I’m worried in the end, it won’t make you happy.”
I shifted in my seat
. “Yeah, well, maybe happiness is overrated,” I muttered.
“No, baby girl. Take it from someone who has thrown away chances to be happy most of her life. There isn’t anything in the world more important. Except maybe love.” She gave me a pointed look. “And now, here you are, with the opportunity to have both. I just hope you won’t decide to throw them away.”
thirty-eight
ASHER
What are you doing here, Asher? You’re not on the schedule tonight,” Nancy said as I walked into the newsroom.
“I’m filling in for Frank,” I explained. “He has a bit of a cold.”
In truth, the only thing Frank, our eleven PM weatherman, was suffering from was stuffed wallet syndrome, which I’d inflicted on him earlier that day. But she didn’t need to know that.
“And Mr. Anderson!” she exclaimed, catching my father wheeling in behind me. “This is a rare treat! It’s nice to have you back!”
My dad grinned. “It’s nice to be back, actually,” he said. “I’ve been away far too long.”
“Come on, Dad,” I said. “Let’s get up to the weather center. We’ve got work to do. Oh, and Nancy? Can you keep my dad’s presence on the down low? He doesn’t want a lot of attention tonight.”
Another lie, this one more blatant. But thankfully Nancy only nodded her head and turned back to the police scanners she was monitoring. Dad and I headed up the elevator to the weather center and I locked the door behind us.
Once inside, I looked around. It had been a torturous day, working side by side with Piper. Neither one of us had talked much. I’d tried to find out if she’d actually gotten the new job, but she shut me down pretty quick. I would have been angry at that had I not caught the hurt in her eyes as she snapped at me. Miguel had been right. She was suffering, too. She was giving up everything—not just for her career—but for me.
