by Ivy Jordan
“I figured you wouldn’t leave me alone if I didn’t,” I laughed.
Clinton let out a boisterous laugh, one that echoed in the large room. “You’re right,” he reached out, patting me on the shoulder.
Kia returned with a large pot in her hands, causing Clinton to stand from his seat to help it from her hands to the table. She exited and returned three more times, each time bringing with her a new delicious creation that made my mouth water from the aroma flowing from the dishes.
Clinton hadn’t lied: his wife was a great cook, and the dinner was more than I’d expected. They talked about how they met, how they moved from their busy lives in Boston to the quiet island of Molokai a few years ago. It was nice hearing their story. It reminded me of mine and Taylor’s stories, although mine wasn’t finished just yet. I still wasn’t sure what my end would be, living here on the island, or going back to my life in Miami.
After dinner, Clinton invited me into his study, a warm room with pictures of family all over the walls. “I wanted to talk to you about your father,” he said calmly, taking a seat in a high back chair. He motioned for me to sit next to him in a chair almost identical to his. I dreaded the conversation that was erupting, but I knew it was part of the deal. I couldn’t stop it.
“I wasn’t really close with my father,” I informed the man who obviously had misread my situation. I didn’t want to have a heart to heart about dear old dad. There was nothing to discuss, nothing to heal. He was gone, I was glad. End of story.
“I know how abusive he was to you as a child, and even as an adult,” Clinton said, catching me by surprise. How did he know that? I hadn’t talked about my dad’s abuse to anyone, other than Xander, Tommy, and Taylor.
I grew uncomfortable in my chair, shifting against the hard cushion and scanning the room for my escape. “He told me how horrible he was as a father,” Clinton added with the same eerie calmness.
I found it hard to believe that my dad admitted to anything. He wasn’t the type to admit his wrongs. He blamed everything wrong in his world on others. It was never his fault.
“It’s not a topic I really care to discuss,” I said politely, even though I wanted to say, it’s not a topic I care to discuss with you, a total stranger who’s butted into my life uninvited.
“I get that. My dad was a drunken bastard too, beating us kids whenever we got in his way, and we always got in his way,” Clinton said, his eyes narrowing and shifting downward to the floor as he spoke. “He died at fifty, and he never apologized, explained, or even so much as hinted that he may have loved us kids. It’s never gotten easier to swallow, no matter how old I become,” he added.
I was swallowing just fine. Dad was a drunken prick, he didn’t love me, and I was fine with that. I’d accepted it.
“I want to show you something,” Clinton reached into the bottom drawer of his desk. He pulled out a large folder wrapped with a rubber band and handed it to me.
I held the heavy folder in my hand, unsure what it was, or what I was supposed to do with it. Clinton’s eyes motioned towards it, urging me to open it, so I did. Inside, there were clippings, the same clippings I’d found in my dad’s office. They were carefully cut out from the newspapers where I or my team was mentioned for our bravery, our service, or our sacrifices. “Yeah, he had something like this in his office too,” I stated without much interest.
“He was proud of you, even though he had no way of showing it,” Clinton spoke like he actually knew what the fuck he was talking about. As far as I was concerned, he didn’t.
“This doesn’t really say all that to me,” I half-chuckled as I slid the folder onto the table in front of me.
“We talked a lot once he got sick. He told me about you, about how he treated you, and how miserable of a father he’d been. At first, I wasn’t interested in getting to know the man, mainly because he reminded me of my father. But, then Kia reminded me of hard it had been on me to not get that apology, and thought it was therapeutic to listen to the old man,” he chuckled lovingly.
“I’m glad he could bring you some closure,” I said quickly, ready to make my escape.
“He did. But, what I think it most important, is it could bring you closure as well,” his eyes locked onto mine with an uncomfortable stare. I felt a lump in my throat forming, one that I couldn’t swallow. Goddamn, this was what I’d been trying to avoid. I didn’t want to feel anything for my father. I didn’t want to feel anything at all.
“I made him record a message for you, so he could tell you his story, his apology, in his own words. I know it doesn’t change who he was, but it could change who he is in your heart from here on out.” Clinton pushed a micro-cassette into my hand. “I have a recorder here, if you’d like to listen,” he added, pulling out an outdated tape recorder that reminded me of my childhood.
After cleaning the floors in the house, and my father’s voice, even though only yelling and slurring obscenities, had faded, there was sadness. The thought of hearing his voice again lit up an interest in me, one I didn’t fully understand. Why would I want to hear him? Why wouldn’t the thought of drowning out his screams, his insults be a good thing?
“Sure,” I agreed.
Clinton’s eyes lit up as he slid the tape into the recorder and hit play. He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and listened without watching my reactions, which I was thankful for.
My dad’s voice sounded weak, not like the strong one in my head. Tears nearly fell from my eyes as he called me son, speaking to me directly from beyond the grave. I struggled to hold back any emotion as I listened to him apologize, telling me he loved me, that he was proud. Anger storied in me at his words. How dare he get to absolve his past with one fuckin’ recording.
My breathing became rapid, matching my heartbeat as he continued to speak in-between coughs and loud hacking. For the first time, I heard the story of my mother, of how she’d loved me with her entire soul. He told a story of a young girl, one not of age, and under her father’s control. They’d snuck off together when she’d become pregnant, fearful of what the father would do if they found them. Tears started to roll down my cheeks as I listened to him choke up when he mentioned her name, Maliah, the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. They made it to the small island and got to experience the joy of my birth, but it wasn’t long until the father found them, demanding that his daughter return home. He took her, leaving my father and myself alone in a small house outside of town. He worked two jobs to support us, and always hoped one day, Maliah would return, but she didn’t. He spent years trying to find her, but the father took the family and left without a trace. When I was three, he got word of her death, a suicide shortly after she was taken. It made him angry, and his heart never healed. He apologized for how he treated me, for taking his misery out on me. It didn’t change the fact that he’d been such a prick as I grew up, but it did at least give me some insight as to why. It wasn’t in my genes, buried in my DNA, or any indication of what I would be as a father; it was circumstance, and that’s all. The tape ended with Clinton’s voice soothing my father as he began to hack uncontrollably. I wiped my face, clearing any signs of emotion, and swallowed the lump in my throat with some ease.
“I thought you should hear that,” Clinton said softly, hitting stop on the recorder.
He was right. I did need to hear that. “Thank you,” I muttered.
He pulled out the tape and handed it to me. “It’s yours,” he said.
I took it, slid it into my pocket, and thanked him for pushing me to hear what he’d recorded. “I’ve always wondered what happened to my mom, why she left,” I admitted. “I thought the old bastard killed her and buried her under the willow tree,” I laughed.
Clinton’s eyes lit up. “That tree. He told me she’d dreamed of a small green house with a giant willow tree in the front yard.”
So, that’s why he wouldn’t let me cut the atrocity down.
I thanked Kia for dinner and said my goodbyes to Cli
nton as he walked me to my car. I drove back to the hotel with a strange feeling in my gut, one I’d never experienced before. I fell asleep without calling Taylor, without showering, and without anger for the first time in my life.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Taylor
I walked into the bakery, and as soon as I saw Madison’s face, my eyes welled up with tears. “What’s wrong?” she pulled me into her for a much-needed embrace.
There was so much; I didn’t know where to begin. “It’s been two days, and Elijah hasn’t called me,” I sniffled, wiping my tears as I pulled away. I felt silly for being so upset. I knew he was busy, and I knew he had a lot on his mind.
“Have you tried to call him?” Madison asked, guiding me to a private table in the back.
“He’s had a lot to think about, a big decision that’s weighing him down,” I admitted, finally breaking my silence about the secret.
Madison stared into my eyes with her curiosity bursting as she edged on her seat. “A big decision?” she questioned.
“If I tell you this, you have to promise to keep it between us,” I warned.
She nodded eagerly, ready for the juicy secret I’d been keeping from her. As I began the story, her mouth fell open, her eyes widened, and soft gasps escaped her lips. “Why didn’t she tell him?” she questioned about Kellie’s long silence.
“I don’t know, but he knows now. He went to see her Monday, and he sounded strange. I’m afraid he may be considering trying to make it work with her, for Bailey’s sake,” I admitted aloud for the first time. It was something that had swirled in my mind for days, torturing my soul and breaking my heart.
“Why would he do that?” Madison asked, her eyes narrowing in disagreement.
“His mother wasn’t there when he was young, and his father was a nightmare. Maybe he’s thinking a two-parent home is best,” I sighed.
Madison rolled her eyes. “They never dated though; it’s not like they even really know each other,” she explained.
I could see her point, but the one in my mind just made more sense. Why else would he be avoiding me for two days?
“Maybe it's best that you get out of this now, before all this drama evolves,” Madison suggested. “I mean, you did get into this knowing he would be leaving, right?”
“Yes,” I replied, but stopped myself from babbling about how things had changed. Ever since I found out about Bailey, all I could dream about was Elijah staying on the island, with me. I hadn’t thought about Kellie being an issue until he stopped calling, now that was all I could think about. Could I stay on this small island if they were a couple? Maybe the partnership wasn’t such a good idea after all. Maybe I was the one who would end up leaving.
Madison made me agree to call her if I heard from Elijah and keep her posted on what was happening in my life. I agreed and headed to work. At least I had Milton to look forward to. He always made me feel better.
My workload was light for a Wednesday, and it was leaving me too much time to think about Elijah, and the decision I feared he’d made.
By the time Milton arrived, it was close to the end of my day. I’d picked up my phone at least a dozen times to call Elijah, but stopped myself each time. If he wanted to talk to me, he’d call. I wasn’t going to push him, no matter how badly I needed to hear his voice.
Milton informed me he wouldn’t be there for our Friday meeting. He was leaving for the airport the next night, and would be gone for two weeks. I knew it was a great opportunity for him, and that it would help keep his spirits up to see his family, but I knew mine would plummet with him gone. He was my light, my inspiration, and in many ways, my salvation. Two weeks without Milton, especially if Elijah wasn’t around, was going to be tough.
“Have a great time,” I smiled, offering up as much cheerfulness as I could muster for the sweet old man.
He pulled me in for a hug before he left my office, nearly bringing me to tears. “I’ll miss you,” I admitted. His wrinkled hand lifted to my chin, pushing it upward as he smiled.
I started packing up my office as he left, and was ready to leave for the day myself. I locked my desk drawer, grabbed my briefcase, and headed to the door, stopped by Elijah standing in my doorway. “Hey there,” he smiled, his voice so sultry it melted my soul.
“Hey there,” I replied, standing so close to him I could feel his heart racing, or was that mine?
“I’m sorry I haven’t called. A lot has happened,” he explained.
I imagined Kellie wrapped in Elijah’s arms, their lips pressing into one another’s as they agreed to become the perfect little family. Fuck.
“Can we talk?” he asked, sending my heart into overdrive.
“Sure,” I agreed, backing away from him, and allowing him to step into my office. I took a deep breath, realizing this was probably my sweet goodbye from the man I’d grown to love. I walked over to my desk, took my seat, and watched Elijah as he fidgeted in the chair across from me. Yeah, here we go.
“I know it isn’t fair to you,” he started, giving my heart a swift punch. “I haven’t meant to be distant. I wanted to talk to you last night, but Clinton cornered me, making me have dinner with him, and then dumping a load in my lap about dad,” he added.
I didn’t speak, but kept silent and listened as he talked. My heart strings tugged hard as he told me about his night, about how Clinton had recorded his father’s message. I wanted to leap across the desk and hold him, comfort him, and tell him I loved him, but I knew there was still another topic to discuss. “So, you can let go of that fear of becoming your father,” I smiled.
He nodded. His eyes were penetrating into mine so deep that they reached my soul. I exhaled hard, begging for relief from the pain he inflicted on my heart, but finding none.
“I think I’ve made my decision about Bailey. I want to be a part of her life, to stay and be a father to her, the best father I can be,” he declared.
There it was… his decision. I was heartbroken but strangely happy that he’d made the right decision. “I think that is the best, for everyone involved,” I agreed, swallowing my pain and putting on my warmest smile.
Elijah stood, done with his announcement, and didn’t offer anything more other than a quick ‘thanks’ for my support.
I fell into his open arms, melting against his hard chest as I listened to his heartbeat. It was calm, steady, and didn’t show any signs of anxiety. Mine pounded hard against my chest, and I was certain he could feel its anxiety, even though he didn’t acknowledge it.
I watched him walk out of my office, and out of my life. My only decision now was to decide if I could bear to stay here and not be with him.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Elijah
I walked up to the large house on the mountainside, anxious about what I was about to do. It was a huge commitment, one I wasn’t sure I was cut out for, but knew I had to try. My hand stretched out and pushed the small button by the door. The loud bell jolted my heart into overdrive and moistened my palms with sweat. I wiped my hands on my jeans just as the front door opened. Kellie stood there, wearing a tropical patterned wrap dress that showed off all of her best features. She was a beautiful woman, a strong woman, and I was thankful she’d given Bailey such a wonderful life. “Elijah, I wasn’t expecting you,” she sounded surprised. It was Friday, and I told her I would have an answer for her by Friday.
“I wanted to come by and talk, if that’s okay,” I replied, my voice a little shaky with anxiety.
“Of course,” she smiled, moving from the doorway and motioning me inside.
The house was massive, and decorated with bright, cheerful colors, nothing like the home I grew up in. “Does this mean you’ve made a decision?” she questioned.
I nodded.
“I’ve decided to stay in Hawaii,” I said quickly.
Kellie’s eyes widened, and her lips curled into a smile. “That’s really great news,” she offered, her voice reaching the nasally high pitch that
made my ears ache.
“I’m not sure how you want to do this, but I’m willing to do whatever it is you want,” I assured her.
I had no intentions of busting into Bailey’s life unannounced. Kellie had been a wonderful mother, and I owed her the respect of backing off until she was ready to make the first move. “Bailey and I were getting ready to take a swim; do you want to join us?” she asked, surprising me with her readiness.
“Sure,” I agreed.
Just then, Bailey ran into the room wearing her green floral bikini. Her hair was pulled back into a tight braid, and her arms were equipped with pink floats. “Mommy, I’m ready,” she announced, her tiny voice vibrating my heart.
Her big dark eyes stared up at me, and then that crooked smile appeared on her face. “Hey, I know you,” she blurted.
“I know you, too,” I chuckled.
“Are you going to go swimming with us?” she asked.
“Do you want me to?” I asked, not wanting to invade the child’s space, my child’s space. Oh God, I was a father, and this beautiful little girl was my daughter. Was I ready for this? Would I ever be?
Bailey looked at her mother for approval and then turned back to me with a wide smile. “Yes,” she bounced in her spot, her excitement unable to hide.
“Okay, then, let’s go swimming,” I smiled, letting the little girl take my hand in hers. It was so small, so delicate, but her strength was undeniable as she pulled me to the back door.
Kellie followed behind us, allowing me the time with Bailey, uninterrupted by her. As Bailey led me out the door and to the pool in their backyard, she stopped and looked up at me with a serious glance. “I have to get in the shallow end, so you have to stay with me,” she insisted.
I laughed as my heart felt like it exploded. “Of course,” I agreed.
I slid off my shirt, kicked off my sandals, and stepped into the water until I was waist deep. Bailey didn’t hesitate, jumping in and making a large splash beside me. She giggled as she paddled her way to the edge where she could hang on the side. The shallow end was too deep for her to stand, but she didn’t seem to mind. I watched her swim, do a flip in the water, and then make several more jumps into the pool. “She’ll wear you out,” Kellie called out from her lounge chair by the pool. I smiled. I wasn’t worn out. I loved every second of the attention the little girl poured onto me.