Emily (Daughters, Book #4) (Daughters Series)

by Leanne Davis

  My eyes widen as my mouth gapes open. What? What does she mean? How could she say anything like that? She wouldn’t even know.

  “What would you know?” I reply.

  “More than you. He told me some things when I was struggling, to show that he believed in me. Sometimes, good people do bad things. Dad… did a bad thing.”

  “What did Dad do?” I’m purposefully being dense. I can’t wrap my head around it. None of my brain synapses are making the connections that she wants me to make. I’m addressing Mom, not Missy. As if I’d believe anything Missy told me.

  Mom glances up, her eyes dead, and her mouth contorted into a sneer. “He watched me when I was tied down. Men were standing all around me. Men were touching me and sticking their penises inside me. That’s what Dad saw. The images festered in his mind for years. No one was ever punished or made to pay for it. You think that’s easy to live with? It’s almost as bad as having it done to you over and over again. He came here long before you, Emily. Even before we thought of having children. He came here and he burned down the building. He wanted it permanently off the face of the earth. The place that held me imprisoned, where they tortured and raped me. He put explosives inside it, set them off to start multiple fires that engulfed the entire building. So of course, he can’t come here ever again. Maybe no one saw the connection between that building and my story, but there is every chance that someone did. It was never released to the papers, and the public had no idea where I was taken to. But someone here knew. Someone here knew what went on in that building. It was not accidentally burned down, but deliberately detonated.”

  I back up and hit the wall behind me. I’m crying. I don’t know what to say or do. I have no words. My dad. He did that? I feel like my entire life is being rewritten. He’s always been the North Star of my life. He’s the standard and caliber by which I judge right and wrong. I don’t lie. I don’t take the easy route. I try my hardest, no matter what. I know I’m not too good for anything. Those values come directly from him. And now I discover he demolished an entire building? I start shaking my head. My mouth is still agape. No. NO! He wouldn’t do that.

  But the three of them are here and Dad isn’t.

  Melissa stares at me. “Now, you must see why you can’t be down here. And why we had to come after you. Once we realized where you flew to, we had to stop you from poking around. It’s too dangerous for Dad. You idiot. Now do you see why? He’s our father.”

  And he’s a criminal. He would be imprisoned for that. I feel sick. I’m pressed against the wall. Tears roll into my mouth as I open it to speak. “How could you let him do that?”

  “I didn’t. He acted against my wishes. After he left the Army.”

  “He came down here specifically to do that?”

  “I didn’t know he planned it. He told me he wanted to get a few of them imprisoned. You have to remember, he knew who they were. He could recognize their faces. He was an eye witness but there was no one for him to report my abduction and rape to. Nothing could ever come of his information. No one would pay, except me, and him, of course.”

  “Did anyone get hurt?”

  “One person. He significantly beat him up. He let him live however. I know who it is, and believe me, Emily, the man didn’t get even half of what he deserved for what he did to me.”

  “But it’s vigilante justice. Illegal.”

  “Yeah. And what do you think was done to me? They had holding cells, plural, down below the building. Do you think I was the only one they captured? The only woman brought there?”

  “There were others?”

  “We believe so. There were permanent chains in the ground to bind their victims. Does that sound like spur-of-the-moment facilities to you?”

  “What was done to you?”

  “A drug cartel owned the building and laundered their merchandise through it. My pseudo father found them through his friends at the DEA and hired them to abduct me. I think his motive was mainly to quiet me, so I wouldn’t rat on his cronies, and then he changed his mind, for some reason. I never knew why. Maybe for my sister’s sake, or maybe he did have a grain of a conscience. But the original people he hired wanted more money so he sent your dad.”

  “How did you find that out?”

  “Your dad did, not me. Afterwards. Before he went back. He knew exactly who he was going after.”

  “But…”

  “I had to wait all alone, while he came down and all I could picture was him disappearing forever from my life. Gone. Poof! I’d never find him again. If they caught him, he would have to vanish, and we both knew that. He tried to downplay the risk, and he couldn’t let it go. And then, when he called me, and said it was done, I was so relieved. Not only that he was safe, but also because he annihilated that torture asylum. The relief and joy I felt made me collapse to the floor on my knees. I didn’t know I needed that much closure, too. It’s so easy to judge other people. You’ve never experienced injustice, having deliberate pain inflicted on you and then not mattering to anyone. What they did to me was very wrong. What Dad saw. What I had to live with for the rest of my life. So he did something about it. And if you think I will let you come down here and fuck all of that up, risking my husband, the only one who knows, the only one who was there and rescued me and brought me home, even if it’s you, my own daughter, I forbid you. Especially for some stupid book. Fuck!” she screeches at me, and her voice rises along with her anger. She paces and rubs her hands into her hair. “Fuck!”

  My eyes are huge and fear incapacitates me. I’ve never heard my mom like this. No, never. None of us have ever seen her like this. Melissa stares at her with her mouth open and tears keep streaming down her face. So does Christina.

  Mom takes in a deep, shuddering breath. Calmer now, her voice as cold as ice, she says, “Grab your stuff, Emily. We are leaving. Dad is waiting for us. He has a hotel booked in Austin, Texas. It was the quickest way down here and we had a layover.” Her eyebrows rise. “Unless, of course, you now intend to defy us. Just to prove how freaking independent you are. You could get your own father possibly thrown into jail, or worse. Put him on the radar of the same ones who seek retaliation for what he did.”

  “Retaliation?” My widened eyes grow huger. I gulp down my spit. What is Mom talking about?

  “He burned up drugs. Lots of drugs. It was an unlawful distribution center for street drugs. How much money do you think was involved? You think they took a loss like that lightly?”

  “No,” I whisper. “Then why did he do it if he thought they could someday seek revenge on him?”

  “He hoped no one would remember him or me. You understand, I hope, that I wasn’t the only woman kept down here like that. I wasn’t alone. Do you think I’m going to let you stay here and poke around, to possibly endanger the life of my husband? Mine, Emily! He is mine and I won’t lose him because of you.”

  I grab my stuff and my hands are shaking. I’ve never heard my mom speak about Dad in such a crazy possessive way. I think I might have underestimated their connection. Her need for him. And him for her. It’s so much more, more than their bond with us kids.

  Everyone is mad at me. The silent, steeping anger creates an ominous atmosphere. There is nothing more to say. Stress fills all of us. We retrace the steps I took, and return to the airport. We fly to Texas, where Dad waits for us. I stare out the window of the airplane and see the wide earth below me. Everything human is so small and everything from nature is huge and awesomely visible. I think of what my mom said, all the things she endured, and what my dad did for her. It’s such a jumbled mess. I know they are upset with me, but I’m not sure how I feel about it yet.

  We trundle off the plane. We only brought our carry-ons. My mom and sisters go in front of me. I’m the shunned one. I get it. I hang back. There’s Dad, almost on his tiptoes he is so eager, looking for us. His smile is swift and I can see his relief when he spots us. Mom goes right into his arms without even a pause and he literally sweeps
her off her feet. Their hug is long and tight and his mouth travels to her ear as he says something. Her head nods a few times as she clings to his neck. Theirs is a long, passionate embrace. I mean, it is almost uncomfortable for us to be watching. My sisters stare until their gazes drift. My parents’ heartfelt reunion has nothing to do with us. I begin to see more things. I recall all the words they’ve ever said, and the stories they often told us, but nothing can beat this. It’s visceral. Their connection and deep need for each other surpasses anything I could imagine. I thought they were so normal and ordinary. They provided us with a decent home and family life. They are good parents. But this? I never saw so much need and emotion between them. I didn’t know.

  I mean, it’s been hours since Mom left him, found me, and now, here we are. Not even overnight. So, yeah. I can’t understand any of this.

  Mom lets go and Dad sets her back on her feet. He cups her face and says something else. Her hands slide down from his neck and onto his chest where she grips his shirt in her fists. She sways a little and nods again. She says something to him for several long moments. And not once does he acknowledge any of us, not even me. He lets out a long breath and she drops her arms as they interlace their hands. He tugs her carry-on from her shoulder and takes it like a gentleman, such a sweet gesture.

  My eyes are full of tears.

  I didn’t know.

  I didn’t know about this. I didn’t understand.

  Whatever that was, words are too inadequate to describe it. I naively thought they could.

  I drop my head and step closer to my family as my parents turn towards us. Mom puts her hand out to Christina and Melissa who also stand back. They’re as stunned and unsure as I am, but they immediately rush over to hug her. Mom’s buried under my sisters’ heads and arms.

  “It’s okay, it’s okay. Airport reunions are just a… a thing for us. It’s emotional, especially for me.”

  My sisters let her go and wipe their eyes. But Mom rises and glances toward me. What’s she going to do? Shame me? I deserve it. We’re all here, experiencing this because of my callous shortsightedness. My unwillingness to listen or understand. My youthful ignorance of right and wrong, black and white, and everything else that can’t be categorized so easily. “Come here, Emily.”

  I feel about eight years old as I drop my carry-on and throw myself against her chest. She’s a few inches shorter than me, but I snuggle into her as if I’m a little girl asking Mommy to cure all my ills. Protect me against the world. Love me, no matter what. I’m crying hysterically now. I can’t even talk anymore. I sob and snot drips from my nose and fills my throat in between my gasping shudders. I want her to tell me she still loves me. I’m crouched down so my head is buried into her neck. She rubs my hair and I feel her lips on my hairline. “I love you, Em. It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

  I calm down. We’re quite a spectacle. But I don’t care at all. Not in the least. I just need to know my parents don’t hate me. My sisters grab my stuff as Mom keeps me tightly against her and we start to move towards the exit doors. I’m still crying, unable to stop.

  We walk to the covered parking garage and stop before a car. Must be a rental. I don’t care, I get in without comment. It’s a small sedan and I’m smashed between my two sisters, who remain quiet. Dad loads all our things into the trunk as Mom tucks herself in and clicks her seatbelt. She pulls the visor down and touches up her makeup, which is running under her eyes as she tosses her head around to fluff her hair. The gestures, so familiar and definitive of Mom make my heart swell until it hurts. I slump forward, miserable, unsure now what to say to my own family. My dad gets in and glances in the rearview mirror. His gaze meets mine. I have no idea where he’s at with me. A shiver runs through my spine. I’ve never been on Dad’s bad side before. We just get each other. I rarely fight or feel the need to disagree with him. I don’t know much about this new role I am playing in the family. I am usually the peace maker, and Dad’s little girl. I know how to do that. I know how to be Daddy’s girl, and having that role snatched out from under me leaves me wondering if I’ve lost some of my identity.

  Mom snaps the visor up. “Let’s stay here tonight. I think we could all use the rest.”

  Dad nods. “I was thinking that, too.” After all the drama, tears and their crazy-hot, soul-connection embrace, they act ordinary again. Easy tones in their voices, Dad steers out of the parking garage to enter traffic.

  I stare and my mind zones out, while my eyes ache and burn from all the tears. The sun is searing and the traffic is heavy. We pull into a hotel near the airport. Dragging our stuff up the stairs, I note this place is much nicer than the one I woke up to this morning.

  We get into our room and Mom and Dad take the room next door. I realize this is something I’ve always had and never once questioned. My parents pay for all kinds of luxuries like hotel rooms, dinners, souvenirs, and clothes. Things I’ve always had access to without considering how they came to be. My sisters refuse to engage me, but that’s okay because I don’t want to talk. I go into the bathroom and take a long, hot shower, trying to calm down and figure out what I think and feel. When I come out dressed, with my hair dried, I find the adjoining door open. My sisters are sitting in there and talking to my parents in low voices. I take a deep breath and enter.

  I feel so odd. When was the last time we were all together in a hotel just the five of us? We’ve had Max since Christina was eighteen, and Seth for the last several years, and of course, Harrison for five of those years. I can’t remember the last time the five of us went away together. Dad is sprawled on the chair next to the two-person table. Mom sits on the edge of the bed and my sisters are on the small love seat. Dad seems oddly relaxed. He changed into his sweats and a t-shirt and remains barefoot. Mom is dressed in casual clothes, too.

  “Come in, Em,” my mom says when she sees me hesitating. I can tell they were talking casually by Christina’s smile and Melissa’s slouch on the side arm of the couch. Christina moves around, her bulk obviously bothering her.

  “Just trying out some names. What do you think of Hunter?” Christina’s baby. I find it hard to imagine she’ll soon be a mother. My parents will become grandparents. Sure, they are already grandparents to Natalie’s kids, but this is us. A little further removed from Natalie and her family. This is how I grew up. Despite adding more people in the last few years, this intense family unit is how I was raised.

  I shrug and sit on the floor. I don’t know what to do. I wonder if I’m welcome. I don’t know what to think about my dad. I can’t even look at him.

  He might have murdered someone. He blew up a whole building.

  He must notice my angst because he sits up, and rests his elbows on his knees, which are spread wide. The others must notice my obvious strain. Conversation ends.

  “Can’t even look at me?” he asks softly.

  I don’t lift my gaze to his but stare at my toes, drawing my knees up to my chest. My disappointment is impossible to hide. My dad. A criminal. Someone who committed crimes. Arson. Terrorism. I can’t process it.

  “Aren’t you going to yell at me for what you obviously think I did wrong by coming here?”

  “It wasn’t wrong, perhaps, to want to find the answers. Maybe it’s time you had the full story. But you can’t write about it,” my mom says.

  I glance at my sisters. “Do you two know?”

  Christina shakes her head no. “I knew he did something to punish someone. He never told me what. Not even a hint. I always assumed they were dead, to be honest. This was actually less than I ever imagined.”

  What am I missing here? Are murder and detonating bombs on the guilty parties now the accepted reaction from the victim’s loved ones? I glance at Dad but he remains impassive.

  “I knew. Dad told me a few years ago, just before my diagnosis.”

  “Three years? You kept this to yourself?” My surprise is evident. Melissa? If she buys Seth a present the day before Valentine’s Day, she u
sually can’t wait one day to give it to him. But she managed to keep that kind of secret? “Why? Why did you know?”

  “Because I knew she’d understand,” Dad answers. “She was struggling at the time and ashamed of her behavior and I wanted her to understand that even good people don’t always behave the way others believe is right.” His tone is calm and even. Not loud. Not too quiet.

  “How could you trust her to keep quiet about it?”

  “Because I asked her to.”

  “Does Seth know?”

  “No.”

  “Natalie?”

  “No. And Natalie won’t know. This is about your father, Emily. Do you get that? He could go to jail. No one can know except his own daughters. That includes any spouses,” my mom interjects. Her tone is rising so I glance at her. Her facial expression is fierce and her eyes are blazing.

  “Jess, you can’t ask them not to tell their spouses. It’s no longer just our secret.” My dad’s voice is so gentle when he addresses Mom. “In fact, we can’t ask them not to tell anyone. It’s now their secret, too. I can’t force any of you to keep quiet.”

  “You must force them to keep quiet!” Mom jumps up, her fists clenched. “We’re talking about your freedom! There is no negotiation here or autonomy. All we’ve ever done is to be kind and indulge every desire they ever had and all that shit. Not this time. You will not tell anyone. No one. This goes to your grave with you.”

  My eyes are wide as I stare up at Mom. Then I glance at Dad. To my surprise, his mouth is twisted up on one side in a little smile. “I’m not sure your daughters have ever observed this side of you.”

  She glares at him. “Are you going to tell me to calm down, soldier?” she challenges him.

  He raises his hands as if she put him under arrest. “Never. I’ll never tell you how to react over this.” He puts his hands down and the little smile disappears. He meets my gaze. “But I can’t tell my daughters how to feel. Sit, Jess. Please? We need to talk to them.”

  She squints her eyes. “I hate it when you’re so logical in the face of emotion.”