She was going to leave.
After that, everything happened quickly.
Now she stood before Carter, trying to find the right words to say, but this moment ached too. It didn’t hurt as much as the throbbing abyss she’d been tossed into after walking away from Lucas, but there was still a huge lump in her throat.
One she needed to swallow quickly and from which to move on. This was the right move for her, she reassured herself. In the last two weeks, she’d taken serious strides to finally do what it was she wanted to.
Come Monday, she would begin her career as an attorney for a not-for-profit, Hearts of Hope, a battered women’s organization that served the immigrant population and those that failed to earn enough to afford legal care on their own.
Even though she’d never been in that position, she could identify with women that were helpless, at the mercy of a man to provide in for both them and their children.
It had first happened with her father, when he’d passed.
And even though her own father had been a kind, gentle soul, the upheaval Zach caused was enough to open her eyes to the harsh reality most women faced when their breadwinners turned out to be not just their main source of supporting their livelihoods, but the main source of their pain too.
And then Lucas…
No matter what she did, he was impossible to escape. Every fucking thing tied straight back to Lucas.
She shut that thought down as immediately as it had wandered into her mind, and smiled brightly at Carter.
“I can’t thank you enough for releasing me from the contract…not only that Carter, but letting me keep some of my old clients.”
“Idiots can’t get enough of you. They’d have left me anyway,” he grumbled, but his eyes twinkled under bushy gray brows.
The man was a veritable Santa, masquerading as Scrooge himself.
“Oh hell,” Sophie muttered, before releasing her box. Quickly, she circled the large cherry wood desk and threw her arms tightly around his neck. She closed her eyes when his arms wrapped around her just as tight and soaked in the warmth of his embrace.
A lone tear slipped out, despite the tightness with which she clenched her eyelids shut. It trailed down her cheek as she fought to find the right words
“Thank you,” she whispered against his shoulder. “Thank you so much, Carter. Thank you for being there when Dad died. Thank you for protecting me. Thank you for giving me a shot at a career. Thank you for loving me.”
When she felt several drops of moisture seep into her hair, she lifted her head with surprise.
Carter was crying?
He pulled back too, but it was slight enough to where he could still keep his arms around her.
“Don’t you dare tell anyone,” he warned. “I’ll lie.”
Choked laughter bubbled out. “I won’t,” she promised.
“I promised your dad, you know. I promised him I would look out for you.”
This time, it wasn’t just surprise she felt. Complete and utter shock seeped through her veins as she stared up at him, confused. “What?” she whispered.
His smiled gently at her. “You think I just heard through the grapevine that he’d passed? Honey, this was before the days of Facebook, hell—I barely even knew how to check my email at that point.”
This time, he slipped his arms away from her. “Sit down, Sophie.”
She’d barely processed any of his other words since he’d told her about the promise to her father, but she nodded mutely. The chair on the other side of his desk seemed too far away, so she perched at the edge of his desk while he sat down in his chair and fumbled through his top drawer.
“Goddamnit. Can’t fucking find anything in this pit. Wait – ah ha!”
He finally turned his attention back to her after he grabbed a stack of envelopes and a slim box in the shape of a book, wrapped in silver paper.
She stared curiously at the items in his hand, but he ignored them and started to talk.
“When he was diagnosed, he knew he only had around a year left.” Carter paused for a moment, allowing it to sink in.
Bewildered, she stared at him. Her dad was diagnosed with an aggressive form of stage four pancreatic cancer. He’d passed barely a month after the diagnosis came.
Or so she’d thought.
“We raised some hell, your dad and I,” he chuckled. “Even with Bernard, believe it or not. Your dad got a great kick out of corrupting him. One night, after we’d been out—I think it was in college, or it could have been our senior year in high school, I can’t remember,” he frowned slightly, but kept on. “Anyway, we all got drunk as hell, and poor Bernard lost a bet to him.”
What the fuck? She’d never even known that Bernard knew her father.
“Don’t look at me like I just killed your puppy. They weren’t friends like he and I were. I just happened to be friends with both of them, and occasionally the three of us would hang out. Anyway, Bernard stupidly lost the bet—actually, I should have known he was going to turn out to be nothing but a worthless gambler—“
“Carter!”
“Okay, okay,” he mumbled. “Anyway, I can’t even remember what the bet was, but then the next thing I know, it’s two o’clock in the morning and Bernard is crying like a little girl. Not from the humiliation, mind you, but from the pain. Wimp.”
“So you all got tattoos?” she asked, unclear where he was going with this story.
“No, Sophie! Sometimes I swear, as smart as you are girl, I want to smack you when you’re dense. Your dad dared Bernard to get the tattoo. We all went to the tattoo parlor with him to make sure he got it done,” he smiled wickedly. “The next morning, Bernard made us swear to keep it a secret, so for the most part we did. You’re the only person I’ve ever told, but good old Barney has a tattoo of an arrow on his lower back pointing straight in between his ass cheeks. Right on top of the tattoo, it says ‘Enter Here’.”
She still had so many questions, but horrified laughter spilled from her mouth. “What?” She could barely get the word out, she was laughing so hard.
Carter just shrugged. “Your dad had a sense of humor, and Barney was a wimp. Anyway, your dad had balls. After he met your mom, I knew it was over for him. He was crazy about Jeannie, and although I was a little pissed his bachelor days were over, as fucking crazy, carefree, and fun as the man was, I couldn’t help it. I was as fucking happy as he was, ‘cause I’d never seen him so over the moon. And when you were born, little miss, he couldn’t take his eyes off you.”
All traces of humor were gone from her face as she stared at Carter.
“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 wit
h 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).
Beyond Bliss Page 20
