He picked up a photo of himself and his dad that someone had taken on one of their fishing trips when he was maybe thirteen or so. He wore a toothy grin, holding up a string of fish, his dad’s arm around him. Examining it for a long time, he noticed the grooves around his father’s mouth, the shadow in his eyes, the smile that didn’t look completely real, as if he were putting on a good face for his son.
“What happened, Dad?” he asked the two-dimensional image. “Why did you want to leave us?”
The image had no answers. But for the first time, Cal wondered if he might finally have an inkling. He’d always seen his dad as the bad guy, a terrible human being who’d deserted his marriage and his family, a man who would coerce a much younger subordinate. But that wasn’t the man in the photo. This man was just…sad. And trying to put on a happy face for his kid.
“Were you just lonely and unhappy, Dad? Is that why you did it?”
He’d been so hurt and angry that he hadn’t wanted to look at the reasons why. He’d just wanted to blame his dad for everything, the way his mom had. He’d demonized his father. Cal had wanted to be a lawyer just like him, then suddenly, he’d hated the very idea of doing anything his dad had done.
But maybe there was another side. Maybe his dad wasn’t a terrible man, just a man who’d made a mistake. He’d wanted to come back after his girlfriend left him, but Cal’s mother had slammed the door in his face. Cal’s father had never recovered—not from the affair, not from the divorce, not from his wife’s wrath. He’d died of a heart attack.
Or maybe it was a broken heart.
“I don’t condone what you did,” he said softly, as if his father were sitting on the couch beside him. “But I can’t hate you anymore. I know the power of love now, and maybe you did too. Maybe you really did love that woman. Maybe you thought she was the answer to your unhappiness. I’m sorry you were so broken. I’m sorry you were so sad. I’m sorry for the shitty things I said to you.” He looked up as if he could see his dad. “You wanted me to forgive you, and I refused. I know it’s late coming, but I do now, Dad. I realize now that you were just a man doing the best you could, and you screwed up. But I forgive you. And I hope you can forgive me for the pain I caused too.”
Cal had spent his life trying never to make an emotional mistake, trying never to follow in his father’s footsteps. And in his fear of being like his father, he’d never listened to his heart. He’d allowed himself to wound Lyssa, the woman he truly loved with all his heart.
“I love you, Dad,” he whispered, hoping his father would finally hear him.
And when he dropped the photo back on the table, it landed beside one of his mom. Before the divorce. Before the affair. Even then, her eyes mirrored his father’s misery.
“I wish I could have done something for you, Mom. Helped you with the pain, before and even more after. I’m so sorry I didn’t see until it was too late. Not that I could have done anything except be there for you.” Instead, he could only be there as the cancer ate her up, hold her hand, tell her he loved her. “I hope you’re at peace now.”
He understood the power of love now. Love heals, love saves, love is strength.
And he’d almost thrown Lyssa’s love away. He understood, too, why Daniel’s words had sliced him into a thousand pieces. Because he’d always believed he was capable of the worst things his father had done. And now he saw that he was like his father—a man who could make mistakes. But he was also a man who could admit when he was wrong. He hadn’t given love enough credit. He hadn’t given Lyssa enough credit.
And he had to tell her, right now, this minute. Where the hell was his phone?
His doorbell chimed. Praying that just thinking of Lyssa had called her to him, he all but ran for the door.
And there she was, beautiful and sweet and everything he could ever want.
He wanted to stroke her cheek, but he didn’t, not yet. “How did you know I was thinking about you and wishing you were here?”
The hint of a smile lifted her lips. “It’s our connection, Cal. It’s so strong that nothing can ever break it.” She reached for his hand. “Or us.” She raised an eyebrow. “Even when you act like an idiot over and over again.”
He dragged her into his arms. “Thank God you’re not going to kick me to the curb.” Drawing back, he drank in her beautiful face. “Even though we both know I deserve it.”
She didn’t say anything to that, simply raised her hand to his battered face. “Why don’t you let me inside and tell me what’s going around and around inside that big, brilliant head of yours? That is, if you’re ready to talk.”
“I am. Beyond ready. I know I shouldn’t have left again, but it turns out there was something I really needed to do, even though I hadn’t realized it yet.”
She came inside and stopped at the sight of the old photos spread across the coffee table. Then she reached for one, lifted it, a Polaroid that had gone a little blurry with age. “Is this your mother and father? And you as a little boy?”
He nodded, an ache tightening his chest. “I’ve hidden my past away for too long. Not only from you, but also from myself.” He drew her down to the couch with him. “I told you about what my father did, but I didn’t tell you how much I worried about becoming like him. I didn’t tell you how I vowed never to be a liar like he was, never to do the awful things he did. And that vow has shaped my life for the past thirty years.” He dragged in a breath, let it out. “After your brother called me out for sleeping with you—a woman who was not only my friend, but also my employee, and twenty years my junior—he tapped right into the part of me that’s always been afraid I’d end up being just like my father. A man who was capable of harassing someone he worked with.”
“Cal, you didn’t harass me.”
“I know that now, and I know for sure that what we did was mutual. Just as I’ve finally come to understand that my father didn’t harass his secretary either. He truly loved her, and that’s why he left my mother and me. I never even tried to understand his reasons for breaking my trust and my mother’s heart in such a terrible way. Because I never wanted to accept that love had anything to do with it.”
He held out his hand, and when Lyssa curled her fingers around his, he didn’t even feel the ache of his bruised knuckles. There was only her warmth, her love.
“He was never the same after that,” he told her. “Neither was my mother. And the ironic twist is that once he confessed and blew apart our family, the secretary left him, telling him she’d never had any intention of living the rest of her life with an old man. I’m not sure what killed him—losing her or his family or his self-respect—but he died of a heart attack not long after that. And then cancer took my mother, the bitterness eating her up inside until there was nothing left of her.”
“I’m so sorry for all the pain you and your family went through,” she said softly. “But I still can’t help but wonder if your father was really a bad man, or if he was just a man who made a mistake, a big one, falling in love when he shouldn’t have, and with the wrong woman who didn’t care about him. His actions destroyed your family, Cal, but I can’t believe he ever stopped loving you.”