A slow smile came over Dad’s face. “Quinn said you had the place looking like something out of Fixer Upper. I’ve never watched the show … but I guess now I don’t need to. Looks great, honey. You’ve done a super job.”
“Thanks. It’s been a joint effort for sure. I don’t know how we could have done it without all of us working together.”
Dad’s smile widened.
“We still have a lot to do. Don’t be too impressed until you’ve seen the other two cabins.” She gave a little laugh. “We’ve been calling this one a cottage. The other two got demoted to cabins the first day we saw them. They’re pretty rough. But you probably saw they’re getting new roofs this week. Then we’re ripping up carpet and getting the walls ready to paint.”
“Well, if you work the same magic as you did in here, you’ll soon have three cottages.” He studied her. “No regrets?”
“For buying the place?” She wanted to be sure they were talking about the same thing.
He nodded.
“No regrets. It’s been hard, but it’s been good. And … I think Mom would have approved.”
“I know she would have.” He angled his head toward the gallery of paintings on the fireplace wall. “This would have made her happy for sure.”
“It makes me happy too. Mom’s sitting room was always one of my favorite rooms in the house.” Tears welled behind her eyelids, but Phee was surprised to find they weren’t mournful tears.
Melvin sauntered in from the hallway and practically pranced over to where Dad stood, curling his tail around Dad’s leg.
“Well, look who’s here.” He bent and scooped Melvin into his arms. “So what do you think of the new place, Melvin?”
Melvin answered with a loud purr.
She’d never seen Dad be so affectionate with Mom’s cat.
“Do you want something to drink? Some cookies?”
“Maybe later.”
“Well, come and sit down for a minute.”
Dad carried Melvin over to the love seat in front of the fireplace. He started to sit down, then turned to Phee. “Is he allowed on the couch?”
She laughed. “He’s pretty much allowed wherever he feels like going. Britt spoils that cat rotten.”
“She learned that from Mom.”
“I know. It’s the only reason I tolerate it.” It did her heart good that Dad had mentioned Mom at least twice in the space of a few minutes. And the truth was, Phee spoiled that crazy cat as much as Britt or Mom ever had.
“So, you haven’t been by your house yet? Any offers?”
“Not last I heard. Is everything still turned on there? Thought I’d stay there tonight.”
“We haven’t turned the utilities off, if that’s what you mean. But there’s no food at your house. Why don’t you stay here, Dad?” She could sleep in one of the queen beds with a sister and give Dad her bed. “Jo and Britt are going to be so excited that you’re here.”
“I hope you girls aren’t too upset with me for putting the house on the market.”
She looked at the floor. “I know you … needed to do it. And it’s not like any of us were going to live there. It’s just … hard. Just feels like one more thing we’ve lost. We always thought that even after Mom was gone, at least you’d be there at the house. For us.” She didn’t mean to put a guilt trip on him, but at the same time, it felt good to be honest with him.
“I’m sorry, Phee. I wish it could be different. We’ve all got to figure out a new normal. None of this is what any of us would have chosen, but it’s what we have to work with.”
“I know. I really do. And it’ll be okay. Eventually.”
He eyed her and shook his head slowly. “You are so like your mother sometimes.”
“Really?” She wondered if he ever saw himself in her. His candid appraisal made her risk asking. “Do you ever think I’m like you, Dad?”
He cocked his head and studied her. “In what way?”
“Any way. I just wonder if you see yourself in me the way you see Mom in me …” She swallowed hard, bracing for an answer she dreaded. Even though she remembered the night Quinn had told her how much she reminded him of Dad.
Dad shrugged. “I don’t know, honey. I don’t think we ever really see ourselves as we actually are, and you’re so much like Mom, it’s hard to say if—”
“Dad.” The lump that came to her throat almost rendered her speechless, but she couldn’t stop now. “I’m trying to ask you … are you my father? I know you’re my dad. And nothing will ever change that. I couldn’t love you more. I couldn’t have had a better childhood. But, ever since we found that photo of Mom …” She put a hand to her mouth, fighting to compose herself. “I’ve been trying to put two and two together, and I’m not always coming up with four.”
“Oh, Phee …” He shook his head. “I didn’t ever want to have this conversation.” He stroked a hand down the length of Melvin’s back, eliciting another purr.
“Are you my father? My biological father?” She repeated her question, suddenly unemotional. Just needing an answer.
“Did your mom say something to you?”
So it must be true. Her heart felt leaden. “No! Mom never said anything. About being married before. About whether or not you were really my father.” She swallowed back the bitter taste in her mouth. “Is it true then? You’re not my father?”
Dad closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose before he met her gaze. “If you want the truth, honey, I don’t know. I suspect … it’s possible I’m not. But your mom never told me otherwise. And I never asked.”
“What do you mean Mom never told you? Did she lie to you too? About something that important?”
Dad paused for a long minute as if weighing his words carefully. “I don’t think your mother ever told me a lie in her life. Unless it was a lie of omission. But … toward the end, Mom said some things that made me wonder if”—he scrubbed a hand over his face—“if she was trying to … leave another possibility open. I thought maybe she’d talked to you too.”
“No. What did she say?” She couldn’t seem to stop her hands from shaking. She folded them and slid them between her knees, not wanting Dad to see.
He shook his head. “It would feel funny to tell you.”
“Why?” She waited, pleading with her eyes.
“You know your mom. She was trying to encourage me …trying to say goodbye.” His voice broke and he put his head down, collecting his emotions. “She was telling me I’d been a good dad and that—”
“You were a good dad. You are,” Phee added quickly. Seeing him, being with him, had made the truth of that so much more clear. “Please tell me what she said, Dad. Every word. I need to know.”
He bit his lip, his face a mask of pain. Phee almost wanted to stop him. Anything to keep him from the agony he wore on his countenance. But her need to know the truth was stronger than her compassion for her father. So she waited in silence.
“Mom told me …” He swallowed hard. “Her exact words were, ‘Phylicia—all our girls—could not have had a better father than you were to her. Don’t ever think otherwise, Turner Chandler.’ ” Speaking his own name brought emotion again, as if Dad were hearing Mom say those things for the first time. When he’d recovered his voice, he continued. “I could be wrong, but the way she said it … the fact that she singled you out. Something about the … pleading in her eyes. I don’t think Mom knew for sure herself, but I think she did the same math you and I did and knew that it was possible I wasn’t your father. I think maybe she was reassuring me that even if I suspected the same, that it … didn’t matter.”
Phee was surprised to find that she didn’t feel angry or even shocked at what was surely the final evidence she needed. She’d suspected as much for a while now, in those moments when she allowed herself to think about it.
Instead, the emotion that filled her now was gratitude. And a realization that Mom was right. It didn’t really matter. Not in the whole scheme of
things. What Mom had told Dad was a larger truth than anything else. He had been a wonderful, loving father.
A thought teased at the corner of her mind and made her breath catch. Had Dad treated her with love because, for most of her life, he’d thought she was his own? Would things have been different if he’d known for sure she wasn’t his? Would she have been the Cinderella of the family, the despised stepdaughter?
She dared to broach the question, even though she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to hear the answer. “What if you’d known for sure, Dad? What if you’d known for certain, from the very beginning, that I wasn’t yours?”
“Oh, Phee…” He toppled Melvin off his lap and scooted over on the sofa, putting an arm around her, pressing her head to his shoulder. “I think maybe I did suspect the possibility. From the very beginning. It’s why I never pressed Mom for answers. It’s why I never looked for proof, one way or the other.”
So he had considered the possibility that she wasn’t his biological daughter. Since she was a baby. Or even before she was born. And still, with his suspicions, he’d been the same kind of dad to her that he’d been to Joanna and Britt—his for-sure biological daughters.
The profound and simple reality of that knowledge brought a flood of tears. Dad handed her a tissue from a box on the side table and took one for himself.
He cleared his throat and squeezed her shoulders tighter. “I couldn’t have loved you more, Phee—whatever the truth is. I don’t have the answers you’re looking for, but … if you feel like you need to know for certain … if you want to do a DNA test or whatever they do these days to figure all that stuff out, I completely understand. And I’ll do anything you need me to. So you’ll know as much of the truth as there is to know. But whatever we find out, it won’t change that I have always loved you as my own. I hope you can believe that.”
“I don’t have to believe it, Dad. I know you did.”
She had a thousand questions for him, and she knew that some of them would be painful and some would likely never be answered. But for now, one thing was settled in her heart: Dad was—and always had been—her father in every way that mattered. And nothing she learned would change that fact.
They sat in silence together on the sofa for a few minutes, both too emotional to speak.
But Phee didn’t want to waste an opportunity when Dad was being so open and willing to share. She scooted over and curled up in the corner of the love seat, angling herself toward him. “I tried to call you a dozen times. It kept going to voicemail. Did you get a new phone or something?”
He sighed. “I’m sorry about that. I owe your sisters an apology too. A lot of people have been trying to call me. Except for work, I’ve kind of been … laying low.”
Melvin jumped up and settled in the space between them, prompting laughter from both of them. But Phee quickly turned serious, not wanting to lose the opportunity. “Are you okay, Dad?”
He thought for a minute, a faraway look coming to his eyes. “I’m going to be okay. I need to tell you some things, but I want your sisters to hear too.” He gave a low harrumph. “I don’t think I have the gumption to say everything twice.”
“Is it about … Karleen?”
Again, he paused, seeming to weigh his answer before he spoke. “Not really. I think, in truth, it’s more about your mom. And me and God. I promise I’ll explain everything. As much as I understand it myself.”
“Okay.” A frisson of fear went through her. She wanted to ask him outright if he’d had an affair with Karleen. But she was afraid that would shut down their conversation. And if she was wrong, she would feel terrible for making such an accusation.
Chapter 32
Do you want another sandwich, Dad?” Phee lifted a platter that held two soggy leftover grilled cheese sandwiches.
“Or some more soup?” Joanna looked like she was offering him a pot of gold. “There’s plenty.”
“I’m good, ladies. But thanks. That hit the spot.” He winked at Phee. “Now, I might be persuaded to eat another one of those amazing chocolate chip cookies you made.”
“Sure!” Pleased at his compliment, Phee pushed back her chair and went for the plate of cookies.
“I still can’t believe you’re here, Daddy.” Britt laid her head on Dad’s shoulder, looking like she was twelve again. On his other side, Joanna leaned as close to Dad as their chairs would allow.
“Well, pinch me if you need to, Miss Britt.” Dad gave her shoulders a squeeze. “I’m really here. You have Quinn to thank for that, by the way.”
Phee stopped, wondering what he meant by that, then returned to her chair directly across from her dad. She looked from Britt to Jo, then back at Dad between them. He already had more color in his cheeks than he’d had just a couple of hours ago. But as relieved as Phee was to have him here, something about the scene at their table made her feel lost.
No, made her feel like a misfit.
She pushed away the unwanted emotions. This was Jo and Britt’s turn with Dad. She’d had her moment with him this afternoon, and he’d reassured her—several times—of his love for her.
Still, the unanswered questions assailed her. If Dad wasn’t her father, who was that man? What was he like? Was he still alive? Could it even be someone she knew?
That day they’d found the photo and the ring in Mom’s desk, Dad had explained that Mom’s first husband had been abusive to her. Dad hadn’t gone into detail, but Phee assumed it was only emotional abuse. But maybe it was worse than that. Maybe her birth father had physically abused Mom. The thought made her sick to her stomach.
She dreaded what Dad might reveal when he talked to all three of them later. She had a feeling they weren’t going to like what he told them.
“What did you mean when you said we had Quinn to thank for you being here?”
Dad shook his head slowly and gave a little laugh. “That man can be pretty persuasive.”
“What do you mean?” Phee repeated, narrowing her eyes. “Quinn made you come?”
Dad met her gaze head-on. “No, I came because it seemed like maybe my daughters needed me—and truth be told, I needed them.” He swallowed hard, but a smile came quickly. “And yes, Quinn informed me that I had put a wedge between you and him. Apparently, I owe you both an apology. I didn’t realize there was something brewing between you two.”
Joanna and Britt exchanged glances.
“I told you!” Britt pointed an accusing finger at Jo. “For someone who supposedly has lawyerly investigative skills, you missed that one big-time, sister.”
Joanna shook her head. “I didn’t deny it. I just didn’t have enough evidence to convict.”
“Excuse me!” Phee cleared her throat. “I’m sitting right here. And Quinn and I are … friends.”
Dad winced. “Just friends? Are you sure? Quinn seems to think it’s a little more than that.”
“What did he say?” Her cheeks felt like they were on fire.
“That’s for him to say. But, honey … if he’s misunderstood, you need to let him know. I think the man has it bad for you.”
“Anyone with eyes could see that.” Britt aimed the comment at Joanna.
Joanna leveled her gaze at Phee. “Don’t you dare lead him on if you don’t have any intention of—”
“Would everybody cut it out? This is between me and Quinn. We’re … talking. And okay, there might be something brewing, as you say, Dad.”
Her sisters cheered.
“Stop! And don’t you dare say anything to Quinn about this.”
Britt put her hands on her hips. “Well, somebody needs to say something to Quinn. At the rate you two are going, I’ll be sixty before I get to walk down the aisle as your bridesmaid.”
“Bridesmaid? We haven’t even had a date yet. And we’ve only known each other for two months.”
Dad shot her a skeptical look. “You’ve known each other practically your whole life.”
“I hardly think that counts, Dad. I was s
ixteen when we met.” Yes, and Quinn was twenty-eight. She still struggled a bit with their age difference. Especially since she’d made such a big deal about the age difference between Dad and Karleen.
“I think it counts for plenty.” Dad gave a bob of his chin. “And I’ve known Quinn even longer. And think the world of him. You certainly have my blessing.”
“Would you guys please quit talking like we’re engaged already?”
Britt gave her a cheesy grin. “You soon will be. I’d bet money on it.”
“If you had any money.” Joanna ducked out of her little sister’s reach.
Dad pushed his plate away and rose from the table. “Why don’t you girls show me around this property before it gets too dark.” He scooted his empty chair up to the table. “And then we need to talk. The four of us.”
The sisters exchanged worried glances, and Phee knew they were all wondering the same thing: Had Dad and Karleen gotten back together?
“Why don’t we light a fire in that fireplace? Don’t you girls think it’s a little chilly in here?” Dad rubbed his hands over the hearth as if there were already a fire blazing.
Britt clapped her hands. “Finally! We were going to celebrate our first night here with a fire, and we just never have gotten around to it. This is perfect to have you here for it, Dad!”
“Did I see some wood out on the porch?” He pointed toward the covered porch.
Joanna nodded. “That was here when we moved in, but it should still be okay, shouldn’t it?”
“As long as it’s dry.”
Jo and Britt went to bring in wood, while Phee searched for matches and some newspaper for kindling. Dad arranged the logs in the fire and fiddled with the flue. Before long, there was a cozy fire crackling.
Sitting with her sisters and the warm, loving version of their dad, Phee almost wanted to request that Dad save his news or speech—or whatever it was—for another time. If only they could have had their dad with them through the whole process of buying the property and fixing it up. What a difference that would have made.
Reason to Breathe Page 25
