PART7
I hugged her.
“No, sweetheart. She was never mad at you.”
Zach held up his new book.
“Can we read this tonight?”
I smiled.
“Absolutely.”
And for the first time since Thanksgiving, I felt a little of the tension leave my chest.
December arrived.
The wedding date had originally been December 20.
Instead of a beautiful celebration at the restored barn, Roland spent the first half of the month dealing with angry creditors and unanswered questions.
My father eventually called me.
He sounded older than I remembered.
“Hollis, can we talk?”
I agreed to meet him at a coffee shop.
He arrived alone.
For several minutes, we sat without speaking.
Then he looked at me.
“Your mother says you won’t come home for Christmas.”
I stirred my coffee.
“I haven’t decided.”
“She misses you.”
I looked at him.
“Does she miss me, or does she miss what I used to do for her?”
He lowered his eyes.
“That isn’t fair.”
“Dad, when Zach asked me what a real family was, I told him it was whoever opened the door when you knocked.”
My father closed his eyes.
“I’ve been thinking about that.”
I waited.
He finally spoke.
“I should have opened the door.”
My throat tightened.
It was the first time anyone in my family had acknowledged what happened without making excuses.
He continued.
“I saw those children outside. I knew they were cold. I should have gone over there.”
“Yes, you should have.”
“I was afraid of arguing with Roland.”
I stared at him.
“You were afraid of arguing with your grown son, so you allowed two children to suffer?”
He nodded slowly.
“I know.”
Then he reached into his coat pocket and removed an envelope.
Inside was a copy of the repayment agreement and a handwritten note.
“I want to start paying you back. I can’t give you everything at once, but I can make monthly payments.”
I looked at him.
“You don’t need to do this to get me back into the family.”
“I know.”
“I’m serious, Dad. Money won’t repair what happened.”
“I understand.”
For a moment, I saw the father I remembered from childhood.
The man who used to carry me on his shoulders at the county fair.
The man who taught me how to ride a bicycle.
The man who once told me that being a good person mattered more than being popular.
I wanted to believe he could become that person again.
But I also knew forgiveness didn’t mean pretending nothing had happened.
“I’ll accept the repayment,” I said. “But I need time.”
He nodded.
“I understand.”
We finished our coffee.
Before leaving, he asked whether he could see Jodie and Zach sometime.
I told him I would discuss it with Seth and the children.
For the first time, I wasn’t making decisions based on what my parents wanted.
I was making decisions based on what was safe and healthy for my children.
Christmas Eve arrived.
We didn’t visit my parents.
We didn’t attend Roland’s replacement celebration because there wasn’t one.
Instead, Seth and I invited a few friends from our neighborhood.
My kitchen smelled like cinnamon, roasted vegetables, and fresh bread.
Jodie helped decorate the cookies.
Zach insisted on putting the star on top of the Christmas tree, even though it was slightly crooked.
Around seven o’clock, the doorbell rang.
Seth answered.
It was Melissa, my cousin.
She was carrying two gift bags.
“Christmas delivery,” she announced.
The children ran toward her.
She handed Jodie a sketchbook and Zach a remote-control truck.
Then she looked at me.
“Can I talk to you for a second?”
We stepped into the kitchen.
She smiled.
“I heard about everything. I wanted you to know that some of us believe you.”
I felt tears gather in my eyes.
“Thank you.”
She squeezed my hand.
“You don’t have to keep paying for a place at the family table, Hollis.”
That sentence stayed with me.
After she left, I watched Jodie and Zach playing on the living-room rug.
Seth came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.
“What are you thinking?”
I watched our children laugh.
“That I spent too many years trying to make people love me who only seemed to appreciate what I could do for them.”
Seth kissed the side of my head.
“You don’t have to do that anymore.”
I leaned against him.
“I know.”
January brought another surprise.
My father began making monthly payments toward the $31,600 agreement.
He didn’t ask for anything in return.
My mother sent several messages, but most were about how difficult the holidays had been without me.
I didn’t respond immediately.
Roland, however, continued trying to contact me.
Sometimes he called.
Sometimes he sent angry messages.
Sometimes he sent long paragraphs about how I had destroyed his future.
I blocked his number after one final message.
I hope you’re happy. Everyone knows you ruined my life.
I didn’t answer.
Because I finally understood something.
I wasn’t responsible for repairing a life that someone else had damaged through their own choices.
A few weeks later, I received a letter from Lorie.
She had decided to end the engagement permanently.
She wrote that she had spent years believing Roland was simply stressed about money and family expectations.
But after discovering how many lies he had told, she no longer trusted him.
She thanked me for telling the truth.
I folded the letter and placed it in a drawer.
I hoped she would find happiness.
She deserved that.
Almost a year passed.
My catering business grew.
