Ziggy galloped out of the kitchen just then, and I made a fuss over him, scratching behind his ears and kissing his furry cheeks. I was grateful for his excitement. It helped to bolster my courage.
“He’s in the library,” Mom explained without answering my question. “Let’s go and see him.”
I braced myself and followed, while Ziggy trotted jauntily behind us. We moved through the living room, past the main dining area, and across the long gallery. The door to the library was closed, and my mother knocked lightly before she opened it. When we walked in, my father rose from his enormous armchair.
“Hi, Dad,” I said, feeling skittish as I moved toward him. He was a giant of a man—tall and big boned—and I never felt the force of his intimidating presence as severely as I did in that moment when he pulled me into his arms for a hug and kissed the top of my head, which was his usual habit.
“Hello, sweet pea,” he replied lovingly, as if he were about to tell me that my dog had died, which wasn’t the case because Ziggy was fine, sniffing around the room.
I withdrew from my father’s embrace and craned my neck to look up at him. “Mom said you wanted to talk to me?”
“Yes. Come and sit down.”
I moved to the chair that faced his, and my mother sat on the sofa.
“We have something to tell you about Dean, and it’s not good, I’m afraid.”
My breath caught. “Is he all right?”
“Oh yes,” my father replied, as if Dean’s well-being were some sort of injustice. “He’s fine, but . . . this is difficult to say to you, my darling, but it’s important that you know the truth.” My father sat forward slightly. “He’s been keeping something from us. He’s not who he says he is.”
“What do you mean?”
My father leaned back again and crossed one long leg over the other. “To begin with, his family is not . . .” Dad paused. “They are not the sort of people you should associate with.”
My back went up, and I spoke with anger. “What are you trying to say?”
“I’m telling you that the man you are seeing has a dark past, and I don’t think you can fully trust him.”
I scoffed. “Are you being serious right now? If you’re talking about the fact that he grew up in poverty and his mother died in a drunk driving accident when he was twelve, I already know about that, and that’s why I love him. Because he managed to emerge from all that as a kind, decent person, and he built something good out of his life, helping others. That took courage and intelligence.”
My father frowned. “I don’t think you know everything.”
I laughed at his incredible arrogance. “I think I do.”
Dad sat forward again, wanting to test me, it appeared. “Did you know that his father spent time in prison for manslaughter? That he’s the one who killed Dean’s mother?”
“Yes, I know that.”
My father drew back as if surprised. “And his brother is in prison at this very moment for aggravated assault and burglary and a slew of other crimes?”
“I know about that too.”
Dad let out a breath and fell silent. “You never told us any of that. You made it seem like Dean was an Ivy Leaguer.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “Who even cares where he went to school? And you’re surprised that I would hide these things from you? Clearly, my instincts were spot on, because you are doing exactly what I feared you would. You’re judging him based on his social class and his financial situation.”
“It’s not about money,” my father insisted. “It’s about character. And I’m not judging anyone. I’m just trying to protect you.”
“Protect me from what? True love?”
“No. From a man who is trying to better himself and raise himself out of his low and unfortunate circumstances. Have you seen his apartment? Do you know what kind of car he drives?”
I sat stiffly, breathing faster and harder as my anger burned. “You think he only wants me for my money?”
I was enraged by this suggestion because I knew it was ludicrous. Dean loved me for me. There was not a single doubt in my mind about that. What made me angry was my father’s heedless, pompous assumptions and his belief that a man could never fall in love with me without having an ulterior motive. That Dean couldn’t just love me for me.
I stood up. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. And I’m very disappointed in you, Dad.”
He looked at me with outrage. “I beg your pardon?”
I froze suddenly, realizing that I had insulted him deeply.
“There’s more,” he blasted. “Sit back down.”
He spoke harshly, and I found myself dropping obediently onto the seat cushion.
“Dean’s father was arrested again last night,” my father said. “Another DUI offense. This time he killed an entire family. Two parents with two young children. A boy and a girl, ages five and nine.”
Shock caused my breath to come short. I could barely get words out. “Oh my God.” I couldn’t bear to think of that poor family. And Dean . . . oh no . . . poor Dean.
My thoughts returned to the situation at hand, and rancor hardened my voice. “How do you know all this?”
“It doesn’t matter how I know it.”
“You hired someone, didn’t you? Someone to investigate Dean and keep tabs on him and his family?”
My father hesitated, and then he finally confessed without the smallest indication of remorse. “Yes. But only because I’ve had a bad feeling about him. I’ve always suspected he was hiding something from us.”
“He was!” I shouted. “And so was I, because I knew you wouldn’t think he was good enough if you knew where he came from. And guess what? I was completely right. But he is good enough, Dad. I know what’s inside his heart, and he’s a kind, smart, decent person. The best I’ve ever known, and if I can make his dreams come true, then why not? He deserves to be happy, and I don’t need a rich man to take care of me. I don’t need all this luxury. I’m not that materialistic, but obviously you are if you think that I would let Dean’s financial circumstances get in the way of our relationship. It doesn’t matter to me what his father has done. Dean is not his father. He’s the opposite. All he wants to do is live a better life, to be a better person than his father was. And if you can’t see that, I don’t want to be your daughter anymore.”
I stood up again, this time determined to leave. My mother stood up also.
“Olivia, please wait.” She and Ziggy followed me out of the library. “Don’t go.”
“I have to,” I replied as I reached the entrance hall. “I love Dean, and I want no part of this.”
I heard my father’s heavy footsteps raging across the living room. Suddenly he was shouting at me. “I am not wrong! He only wants you for your money. That’s how he wants to better himself.”
This was it. The last straw. I couldn’t take it anymore. “You are completely wrong,” I insisted. “And I don’t care what you think anyway! I’d marry Dean today if I could.”
“Don’t be a fool, Olivia.” He strode forward.