“It’s a note.” She smirked as she saw the name Isabella written on top, then crossed out and replaced with Piper. It was emblematic of their relationship, Carlson finally coming over to her side regarding her identity.
“Read it out loud,” Jules insisted. You could always count on Jules to say exactly what everyone was hoping but didn’t feel right saying. Betty slapped at Jules’s arm and shot her a look. But then suddenly Piper started to read.
“Dear Piper. I won’t say sorry to you, because it sounds too empty. I have every intention of facing my crimes and my mistakes, and I will take whatever punishment is given to me. I deserve it. In lieu of an apology I will give you the only gift I have to give. The truth.
When the leads grew cold on your father’s case we revisited every moment of his life to try to find a missing piece. We discovered horrific details of his childhood and how he exhibited countless signs that he would one day grow into a monster. He had an extensive arrest record, something we spent months examining. Then we branched out and did the same research on your mother as well as you. We tried to put every piece of the puzzle together to understand him.
I stumbled upon a discrepancy.
Some math didn’t add up. During the time you were conceived your parents were not together. Your father was incarcerated, and your mother was ordered to a sixty-day drug counseling facility. It would have been impossible for them to have had contact with each other. I was fairly certain that he was not your father, so I ran the DNA in the database that was on file from a crime he committed unrelated to the murders against your DNA from the crime scene of your attack. The results were conclusive. You are not his child.
I don’t have any more answers than that, though I would imagine from the timeline we constructed that your real father was either an employee or a patient at the facility where your mother was being treated. I don’t doubt with your resourcefulness and determination if you put your mind to it you could find out who he is.
I know this will not heal all your wounds, nor do I imagine it will endear you to me either. That isn’t my intent. I only wish it helps you leave behind any worries that you, too, are the monster your father was. You don’t hold any of the evilness that he does. I can assure you, as a person who has spent the best part of her life chasing it, you are not afflicted with even an ounce of it.”
Piper let the paper fall from her hand, and it danced slowly to the ground. How could it be possible to not be able to pinpoint your own emotions? How can excitement and sadness twist themselves together so tightly that you can’t break them apart long enough to feel them individually?
Tears streamed down her face, but if someone were to ask if they were tears of sadness or joy, she wouldn’t have been able to answer. Could you cry them both at the same time?
The group around her stood like statues, holding their breath, not sure if they should congratulate her or console her. Betty finally let the weighty implications of the letter sink in. She searched her mind for wisdom, something that would help Piper.
“Well ain’t that the berries,” she said, her face too even for anyone to figure out what the saying meant. Were the berries a good thing or a bad thing?
Piper’s face, bemused for a moment, broke into an odd smile. She appreciated Betty’s noncommittal attempt at comforting or congratulating. “Yes, Betty, that certainly is the berries.” Piper stepped over the letter as if it were a land mine and looked back at all of them. “Let’s go have that Thanksgiving we missed. I’m dying for some turkey.”
Jules hung back a few steps and leaned down for the paper. She folded it and tucked it into the pocket of her coat. Piper might not want to read these words again today. She may not be ready for them tomorrow. But someday she’d want to see the letter again, and Jules would keep it safe until then.
Chapter Twenty-Two
So this is what a holiday is supposed to be like, Piper pondered as she watched Betty scurry around the room. Everyone was in his or her usual spot around the table, but this time it was set beautifully. The burnt orange tablecloth and chocolate brown placemats had belonged to Betty’s mother. The candlesticks were heirlooms, the source of which no one in her family could agree upon—unlike the salt and pepper shakers, one a pilgrim and one a turkey, bought new when Jules was a toddler. The food was piled high. Homemade mashed potatoes sat enticingly in a large blue ceramic bowl, and Piper was certain they wouldn’t be thrown across the room the way they had at her house so many years ago. The turkey was a golden crispy brown, and the aroma of it filled every corner of the house. Cranberry sauce, gravy, stuffing, and yams all occupied matching holiday dishes.
“Bobby, will you say grace?” Betty asked as she joined them at the table and draped her napkin over her lap.
Bobby dropped his head and contemplated giving the standard bless-this-food grace he knew Betty would reject. Instead he cleared his throat and attempted to give one worthy of this non-holiday holiday.
“Thank you, Lord, for this food we are about to enjoy and the company we share. This time last year we never could have imagined who would be sitting with us and what we would have come through in order to be here together. Bless us all in the coming year, and help us make the right choices in our lives. Help us find our way. Forgive us, Amen.”
The whole group, besides Piper who didn’t know she was supposed to, gave a resounding amen. She couldn’t look past Bobby’s punctuation of grace, his request for forgiveness. It was clear now, more and more each moment that passed, he was tormented. She’d put him in a place he never wanted to be and all because of her.
As the food was passed around and the plates filled, everyone smiled with anticipation. “Are you going to go look for your real dad?” Michael asked as he handed the bowl of potatoes to Piper. “I have a few contacts up in New York who might be able to get you started. Let me know and I’ll reach out to them.”
“I’m not sure I want to find him. I mean, he can’t possibly be worse than the man I thought was my father for all these years, but I can’t think of a scenario where he’d be an upstanding guy. He was either an employee of a drug facility who had an affair with a patient, or he was a patient with a drug problem. I don’t like those odds. I feel relieved knowing I’m not biologically related to a serial killer. Maybe I should just count my blessings and pretend I don’t have a father.”
“That’s taking quite a gamble,” Betty said, filling her glass with wine. “You’re talking about who someone was twenty-five years ago. None of you are quite old enough to realize how much can change in that time, but I am. You may find something wonderful if you go looking for it. My mama used to say, ‘You block your dreams when you allow your fear to grow bigger than your faith.’”
Piper smirked a little, “Well my mother used to say, ‘Every man I’ve ever met is a lying, cheating piece of garbage who only wants one thing.’ I don’t think that bodes well for my real father being Prince Charming. I haven’t ruled out the idea of looking for him, I just feel like I have things here I need to figure out first.”
“Well, when you’re ready,” Jules said, meeting Piper’s eye, “we’ll all help you. You wouldn’t have to go through it alone. But if I get to weigh in a little, I’d say having a father, a real one who loves you, is the most incredible thing in the world. I had to say goodbye to mine way too soon, and maybe you’ll find yours later than you expected, but any amount of time with a great father is worth the risk in my opinion. I’d go to the ends of the earth, take whatever risks necessary, to spend one more day with my daddy.”
Bobby was noticeably silent through this conversation. He knew the “things she needed to figure out” were about him, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before they came to a head.
As the meal finished up, Betty chimed, “Michael and Jules, help me clear the table. Bobby and Piper, why don’t you head out to the porch and talk?” And like a well-orchestrated play, all three picked up a dish and disappeared into the kitchen before Bobby or Piper cou
ld say a word.
As they found themselves out on the porch again all Piper could think was damn this porch swing. It was just one more splintering tug at her heart, but it felt so good. It was time to talk. Not simple chitchat. They needed to voice the conversation that had remained unspoken since that day in the cabin. They needed to talk about the space growing between them. As Bobby stepped out of the house she scooted over to make room for him. She wasn’t angry with him; she didn’t want this to be complicated.
“I’m pretty sure no one is coming out until it looks like we’ve settled things,” Bobby groaned as he flopped down heavily beside her. Everyone was well aware of the tension that had grown between Bobby and Piper. They hoped it would be easily fixed. It seemed like common sense—with all the hurdles jumped, love should blossom. But only Michael had been let in on the details of what had happened that day in the cabin. From a legal standpoint it was important to Bobby for Michael to be fully informed and help them navigate any repercussions from the truth being discovered. Michael had actively listened, but didn’t interject his opinion about how things transpired. He’d asked questions from his legal perspective: how confident was Bobby that the other officer could be trusted? He wanted to know if there were any cameras on scene, considering Chris’s advanced security system. That conversation, the way Bobby approached it, had convinced Piper if he could do it all over again, he’d have handled things differently that day. The regret was eating at him, the worry weighing him down.
She had planned this conversation out, had run it through her head dozens of times. “I’m sorry,” she started, staring out into the cold night. “I’ve been thinking about what your life would be like today if we’d never met. I’ve brought more turmoil to this town, to all of you, than any one person is worth.”
Bobby wanted to reach his hand out and touch her soft cheek. Her skin was always as smooth as a rose petal, and smelled as sweet. He stopped himself, knowing it wouldn’t help. Instead he offered, “I wish I could come up with some big speech like Betty does, something to make you realize what you’re worth and recognize this isn’t your fault, but I just don’t have the words.”
“Maybe we should just say exactly what we’re thinking. This isn’t about what I’ve been through; you’d already accepted that about me. This is about the choice I asked you to make. We always come back to this. You’ll never be able to understand why I needed to make sure he was dead. I thought when we left there that day you had found a way to get passed it but really I don’t think it had sunk in yet. Every day you move a little further away from me. I feel like I’ve been watching a crack in the ice get a little wider. You’ll always look at me like a monster, and you’ll blame me for forcing you to stand by and let something you didn’t agree with happen. That’s why you can’t touch me, can’t look at me the way you did before. You can’t forgive me.”
Bobby fought to keep the lump in his throat from choking him. He was hoping there was a way he could live the rest of his life never having this conversation. He was hoping to wake up one morning and not feel like he’d become something he hated: a liar. But clearly that wasn’t going to happen. “I do understand why you felt like you needed him dead. It isn’t as though I can’t see the advantages. It’s the difference between you being here right now or up in New York, preparing to testify. I’m not blaming you for wanting him dead. You’re a victim, those are all perfectly natural emotions, but I’m supposed to be able to compartmentalize that anger and fear and execute my job. That’s what separates our justice system from others in the world. I’m not mad at you for putting me in this position, I’m mad at myself for not doing my job.” He hung his head, staring at his shoes.
“How can you claim to love me and, in the same breath, admit you wish he was still alive? I can’t believe that this is just about your job. Because if it is, then all I can think is maybe your feelings for me aren’t that strong. I know you idolized Stan and that he did everything by the book, but I can’t imagine there would be anything he wouldn’t do for Betty.”
“You don’t know everything about me, Piper. Don’t try to put me in this little box and say this is who you are and this is why. You aren’t the only one with a history. This has nothing to do with Stan. I’ve seen what happens to people who think they’re doing the right thing by ignoring the law. You can’t fight fire with fire, because all you do is burn shit down.” His voice was layered with frustration. He didn’t like being told why he acted the way he did. He was the only one who knew what made him tick.
Piper frowned. “I shouldn’t have to guess what you’re talking about. Tell me why you can’t look past this. Tell me why you think we’re doomed now. Do you really think we can’t have a happy ending… that it’s impossible now?”
“Yes. That’s what I’m saying. We’re not going to both have this great epiphany one day and meet in the middle.”
“We definitely won’t if you never explain to me why you feel this way in the first place. Chris killed him because he knew that was what was best for me. He knew it meant the beginning of freedom, because he’s been there himself. You’ve never been there, you won’t understand.”
“I understand more than you know.”
“Show me,” Piper whispered, leaning down to catch Bobby’s downcast eyes. “I showed you mine,” she quipped, hoping their old familiar fall back of humor would soften him.
“Piper, I want my biggest problems in life to be us arguing about where to go on vacation or about me going nuts trying to pick the perfect engagement ring for you. I want to be a cop, and want to be in love, and I want it all to work. I want to be myself, the person who went through all my own shit and turned out like this, and I want that to be enough. I can’t change everything I believe in to be with you.”
“I can accept that,” she said, her voice tinny. “But what I can’t accept is walking away from this thinking you didn’t love me enough. I deserve to know what you’re implying. I deserve to hear your story, because at the end of the day it might be the only thing that helps me understand why we can’t be together. I deserve to know.”
“No one knows, Piper, not even Betty or Jules. I’m a hypocrite for pressuring you to tell me all about your history and then not giving you the same in return. You’re right—you do deserve it. Can we go for a walk? I don’t want to talk about it here.” Bobby’s face twisted in a way Piper had never seen before. He looked unfamiliar to her. It was a mix of sadness, fear, and regret.
“Sure,” she said, letting him stand and pull her up the way he always did. They stepped down from the porch and started along the side of the house heading toward the backyard. The moon lit the peeling white paint on the house and made it sparkle. The property was sprawling, and Bobby walked her into the unkempt grass of the field beyond the yard. He intended to get so far from the light of the house that it would be too dark for her to see his face as he spoke. He didn’t want to have to share this story, but he knew she was right. They’d likely walk away from each other tonight, and the least he could give her was the real reason why. When he felt a safe distance, shrouded by the darkness, he stopped and turned toward her.
“Your father—Roberto,” he corrected, “should be in jail right now. He should have been cuffed, arrested, and tried for the crimes he committed, even if that made life harder for you. That is what I believe. I think the fact that I stood by and let Chris kill him is going to ruin me—not just my career but my entire sense of self. I’ve just let my moral foundation be kicked out from under me. I think we all make promises to ourselves at some time in our lives. I made one to myself when I was nine, and I swore I would never break it. And up until I met you, I did a damn good job of keeping that promise. The second the bullet left Chris’s gun, I betrayed myself.” Piper had no intention of interrupting him, but she wanted him to know she was there, tuned in—listening. She squeezed his arm and his muscle tightened, but she couldn’t tell if that meant he didn’t want to be touched or was grateful for the c
omfort.
“You know I moved to Edenville when I was ten years old. Before that I lived in New Jersey. My mother and father were told they could never have children. They were devastated. They’d dreamed of being parents for years and when they finally accepted the news, they found their own way of making their dream a reality. They became foster parents. They supported dozens of children as they transitioned into adoption or adulthood. And then one day, through some kind of divine intervention, I came along, my mother miraculously pregnant. They’d fallen in love with their role as foster parents, though, and decided they would continue. They began taking on fewer kids, but they still wanted to help where they could.
“When I was seven years old, along came Jedda, the only person I’d ever met who wore a piece of rope as a belt to hold up his pants. He told me it was because he liked to have something he could use when he was climbing trees, but obviously as I got older I realized it was because he was poor. He was thirteen when he first came to live with us. It was supposed to be a very brief placement as the caseworker was trying to find a family for him that was farther away from his old neighborhood, keeping him from going back and getting into trouble. A week turned to a month, then to six months. Jedda was beginning to transition from a smoking, stealing, fire-setting troublemaker into an actual member of our family. It’s a rare thing for a teenager who had been through as much as he had to turn a corner like that. But my parents were great. They knew when to push and when to give space. They understood how to love someone who didn’t even know he wanted to be loved. When they finally found an alternative foster home for Jedda, my parents asked if he could stay. They asked him if he’d like to stay forever.
Cutting Ties (Book 2) (Piper Anderson Series) Page 18
