“All right!” Raising her chin, she met and held his gaze. “You need a reason? Right now, I’m not sure I can handle losing Pia, even for a few days. The fear of almost losing you was too much, and I’m not in a good place.”
“Aw, Ell…” He had to laugh. “You didn’t lose me, but threw me away. I’ll be the first to admit we had a good thing going, but looking back, it was broken from the start. With Tom and his folks always between us, I couldn’t compete. Hell, I now realize it was never even appropriate for me to try.” Opening his car door, he added, “You want to tag along to Texas, be my guest, but if you’re having second thoughts about you and me? Please don’t.”
* * *
LONG AFTER TUCKING PIA into her bed, Ellie nursed a steaming mug of tea at the kitchen table and stared at photos of happier times. When she came across an image of Deacon and Tom standing side by side at the backyard grill, she pressed a finger to her husband’s chest. “Hon, I need help. You have to know I never meant to hurt you or your parents. Pia was the miracle by-product of a night that was a little scary—but in an unexpectedly good way. Deacon was too much for me. Too intense. He’s not as slow and tender as you. But then I doubt the poor guy ever saw much tenderness to even know what it is. You’re the one who taught me.”
Flipping through the album, Ellie came to the last page, the last family gathering documented before his death. Tom stood with Deacon in the calm Atlantic surf, Pia held between them, equally supported. Was there any way Tom could’ve known he wasn’t Pia’s biological father? Was this shot, and others like it, his subtle way of telling her it was okay? Accidents happen and when they produce miracles like Pia, they’re actually a good thing?
Ellie closed the book.
She wished she believed in signs, but she was far too practical to look for messages from beyond. What she believed in—had unsuccessfully tried teaching Pandora—was being proactive. If you didn’t like a part of yourself or life, change it.
As it was only ten, she punched Deacon’s number into the phone. Just hearing his husky hello soothed her more than the honeyed cup of chamomile did.
“Deacon, sorry to call so late, but I would like to go with you and Pia to Texas.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.” Though he couldn’t see her, she nodded. One thing she’d learned from all those memories in the photo album was that, like it or not, through Tom, through Pia, their lives were irrevocably intertwined.
“Free this weekend?”
“I can be.”
After an unbearably long pause, he said, “I’ll make all the arrangements and let you know final times.”
“T-thanks.” She hung up, only to glance at the album. She could’ve sworn she’d closed it, but it was open again to the photo of Deacon and Tom holding Pia.
* * *
NO MISSION HAD EVER BEEN tougher for Deacon than the one he was currently on. It was bad enough seeing his father for the first time in a decade, but sharing that momentous occasion with Ellie and Pia came close to being more than he could bear.
The beige living room of his folks’ suburban ranch-style home resembled a shrine to Peter. Photos and memorabilia lined the walls, shelves and mantel.
“Look at you,” his mother, Sally, crooned to Pia. “What a big girl you are. Pretty, too.”
“Doggy pretty?” Pia held up the stuffed animal his mother had given her.
“Very pretty,” she agreed.
While his mother and Pia became fast friends, Ellie sat in a recliner, a polite smile frozen in place. Deacon’s dad had gone MIA. Sick of the whole “everything’s normal” routine, Deacon finally asked, “Where is he, Mom? He had to know we were coming.”
“Clint’s in his workshop.” She fingered one of Pia’s dark curls. “Ellie, I—” Her voice cracked. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen a more beautiful child. This is…too overwhelming.” When she dashed for the hall, slamming her bedroom door closed, Deacon sighed.
“Sorry,” Ellie said. “Not sure what you’d hoped for from this visit, but I’m pretty certain this isn’t it.”
“Yeah…” He stood at the fireplace, arms crossed, staring at the oil painting of his brother hanging above the mantel. “I thought there was a chance my dad would be over this by now. You being so tight with Helen and John made me wonder. You know, if it could be that way with my parents?”
While Pia roamed the room, humming and exploring, Ellie silently came to him, slipping her arms around him for a hug. As much as he knew he should push her away, he wasn’t strong enough. Even worse than being rejected by his father was knowing he could never have the special relationship he craved from the one person he’d come to need most. He might’ve become adept at physically avoiding Ellie, but that didn’t mean he’d freed his mind of her.
“Find him,” she urged. “Tell your dad exactly what you’re feeling. Maybe he’ll be receptive, maybe not, but at least you’ll know you’ve done everything you can to attempt to repair what you once had.”
“That’s just it.” He laughed and finally found the strength to give Ellie a gentle push. “There’s never been a real foundation between us. I’m sure there were worse fathers out there, and my dad was always physically present, just not for me.”
Ellie reached for him again, but then seemed to think better and shoved her hands in her jeans pockets. She looked so vibrant in a red sweater, like a candy apple decorated just for him. Only she’d never been his. She belonged to Tom. That’s how it would always be. “We came all this way…. Talk to him, Deacon.”
A nerve ticked in his jaw. “Will you and the munchkin be all right in here on your own?”
“Absolutely.” Her smile bolstered him through and through. “We’ll catch up on our reading.” She nodded toward stacks of Sports Illustrated.
“Dad and Peter used to plan for when he’d one day be on the cover. I remember thinking I’d be happy for that day, too, because then I wouldn’t have to hear another thing about it.”
“Don’t think for a second my Peter wouldn’t have gone pro had you not killed him.” Deacon’s dad stood in the entry hall, facing the living room, wearing the scowl Deacon remembered all too well. Amazing how years of accomplishment vanish beneath the scrutiny of a father’s condemning stare.
“Nice seeing you, too, Dad.”
He grunted before slowly making his way toward what had always been his favorite recliner. Age hadn’t been kind. He was only in his sixties, but from too much smoking and hours spent in the hot Texas sun working construction, he looked at least ten years older.
“Dad…” Deacon forced a breath. “Thought you’d want to meet your granddaughter.” Taking her from Ellie, he held his little girl on his hip. “Pia, this is your grandpa Clint. Can you wave and say hi?”
“Hi! Me Pia and me love ice cream!”
“Cute.” His dad barely even looked at the girl. “Ever get around to marrying her mother? Your mom told me you two aren’t even shacking up.”
It took every ounce of Deacon’s strength not to pummel his father. They might be related by birth, but that was pretty much their only tie.
Ellie’s eyes shone with unspilled tears, and in that moment, Deacon cared more for her than he ever had his old man.
“Ell?” He passed Pia to her. “How about you taking Pia outside. I have a few things to say, then we’ll head back to the hotel.”
She nodded.
With his daughter safely out of earshot, Deacon couldn’t fathom where to start. “I’m not sure what I came here hoping for. Now that I’m a dad, I guess I was curious to hear firsthand what I ever did that makes you hate me. Because when it comes to Pia, there’s honestly not a thing I can even imagine her doing that would make me love her less.”
“You ’bout done?” Clint reached for his TV remote. “UCLA takes
on the Ducks in twenty minutes.”
Was the man made of stone?
Deacon had a tough time wrapping his head around his father’s degree of hostility. How had Clint kept such a firm hold on this anger for so long?
“Son…” Deacon’s mom entered the room. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying and she held a tissue to her nose. “I should have told you this years ago, but—”
“Hush it, Sally,” Clint commanded. “If you’re about to open up the past, I told you I never want to speak of that matter again and I meant it. I did right by him and that’s all that matters.”
“Is it?” She dropped her hands on her hips, and her tone held a vibrancy Deacon had never heard before. “Is it really, Clint? His whole life you’ve treated him like dirt, and I’m sick and—”
“That’s ’cause he is dirt. Spawned from an unholy union I’ve done my best to forgive. Bowie Glouster is a low-down, son-of-a-bitch cowboy who not only slept with my wife, but knocked her up.”
Deacon backed onto the sofa. The room was spinning and his mother was crying. Nothing made sense.
“B-because I made a vow before God,” his mother managed to say through her tears, “I’ve tried making this marriage work. You drove me to Bowie. Even after, I’ve all but abandoned my needs for decades to satisfy yours, but no more.” She removed her wedding and engagement rings and set them on the hall table. “You wanna spend the rest of your life cooped up in this mausoleum when you have an amazing, accomplished son still alive and needing you, be my guest. As for me, I’m done.”
“Suits me just fine.” The man who for Deacon’s entire life had posed as his father chuckled. “Ridding myself of a whore and a bastard murderer makes for the best damned day I’ve had in a while.”
“Wanna say that to my face?” Fists clenched, Deacon challenged the old man to get out of his recliner. Clint wasn’t dealing with a scared little boy anymore. “What happened to Peter was a horrible accident. You want to believe different, go ahead, but anyone who matters knows the truth, and that’s good enough for me.”
* * *
ELLIE PUSHED PIA in a tire swing hung from a live oak in Deacon’s parents’ front yard. The day was lovely. Sun warmed her shoulders, and with temperatures in the low seventies, the early February southern Texas afternoon felt like spring. Pia’s laughter fit in well with the birdsong and occasional insect’s hum. What didn’t fit were the raised voices coming from inside the house. While Ellie couldn’t make out specifics, it wasn’t a stretch to guess Deacon’s reunion wasn’t brimming with the sweet forgiveness she’d hoped it would.
When the front door opened hard enough to bang against the outside wall, Deacon ushered his mom outside, leaving it gaping. Ellie hustled toward them. “Everything all right?”
He tossed her the rental car keys. “Do me a favor and get Pia back to the hotel.”
“S-sure.” With his mother sobbing and Deacon holding another set of keys, Ellie had no idea what was next for him on the day’s agenda.
“Grandma Sally sad?” Pia asked from her swing.
“She is, sweetie.” Ellie lifted her child into her arms, then stooped to fetch her purse from where she’d rested it beneath the tree.
“Grandma need ice cream?”
“Probably, but I think your daddy’s going to get it for her.” Having reached the car, Ellie made quick work of settling Pia into her safety seat.
“Daddy fun.”
“Yes, he is, sweetheart.” Instead of the jealousy Ellie might’ve once felt for Pia’s obvious adoration of her dad, she’d come to realize just how lucky her little girl was to have a loving father in her life. Apparently, Deacon had gotten nowhere in his quest to get to know his own dad.
* * *
THREE HOURS LATER, Deacon’s mother pulled into the hotel’s portico. Having spent all that time with her and Bowie, his biological father, Deacon felt more emotionally messed up than ever.
“Sorry doesn’t seem adequate,” his mom said from behind the wheel of her Buick. “I…” Heels of her hands pressed to her eyes, she shook her head. “Do you have to leave town so soon? If you stayed longer, Bowie could meet Pia.”
Not sure he was ready for a big, happy family reunion, let alone dragging Pia and Ellie into his familial catastrophe, Deacon shrugged. “Another time. I’m due back on base.”
She bowed her head. “I understand.”
Do you? In one afternoon, his whole life had turned upside down. Moreover, the reason for every self-doubt he’d carried, for having been so unlovable his own father couldn’t stand the sight of him, had now become crystal clear.
“Well…” He hugged her more from a sense of obligation than really wanting to. “Take care.”
“I will.” She flashed a smile through her tears. “For the first time in forever, I have the feeling everything’s going to be fine.”
“I’m happy for you, Mom.” And he was. But that didn’t mean diddly about how he was supposed to proceed with his own life. He said his final goodbyes and then headed inside. Through the lobby window overlooking an indoor pool floated sounds of splashing and children laughing.
A second look netted him a vision of Ellie perched on the pool’s edge. She’d rolled her jeans up and had her feet planted on the stairs where Pia waded and splashed. The sight of them engaged in such a fun, everyday act of normalcy tightened his throat to the point he was sure he’d have trouble speaking. Despite that fact, he needed them. To talk to Ellie, hold Pia, reassure himself that despite the chaos raging in his belly, he was fundamentally okay.
“Hey,” he said from behind Ellie, removing his Topsiders before rolling up his own jeans to join her.
“Daddy!” Pia marched in place and splashed. Her excitement at seeing him made his eyes sting and his throat ache. “We swim pool!”
“I see that, sweetie. Looks like fun.”
Ellie met his gaze and put her hand on his knee. That morning, he’d have politely pushed her away. Now? He’d never needed her more.
Placing his hand over hers, he squeezed.
A few rowdy, school-aged boys were playing catch with a football at the pool’s far end.
“Boys bad!” Pia announced, handing him the tiny doll she’d been playing with. The thing had nine lives, as he was pretty sure he’d seen Ellie take it from her before.
“Nah.” After putting the doll in his pocket, he drew her close, kissing the top of her head. “They’re just horsing around.”
“Horsies go honk!”
Ellie laughed. “Geese honk. Horses neigh.”
“Neigh! Neigh!”
While their daughter splashed, Ellie asked Deacon, “How are you?”
He grimaced.
“That good?” she teased.
“Oh—prepare to have your mind blown.”
She returned her hand to his knee and he let her.
“Turns out we’re not the only ones who kept a paternity secret.”
Her eyes widened. “Seriously?”
Nodding, he said, “Seems Mom got busy with an honest-to-God cowboy named Bowie. She used to clean his house. One thing led to another and she had me. For the sake of his own reputation, Clint agreed to raise me under the condition my mom never see Bowie again. He eventually married, spent his life working a ranch on the edge of town. I have two sisters living in Dallas and my stepmom died of breast cancer three years ago.”
“Wow. I don’t know what to say.”
“Not much you could say. Is what it is, and it appears I was unwanted from the start.” He hated coming across like a whiny kid, but dammit, that’s how he felt. As if his biological father hadn’t cared enough to fight for him, and the brute who’d raised him had been even worse.
“Hey, you,” Ellie said to their daughter, hefting her from the water. “Nap time.”
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“No nap! No!” the little girl cried through a yawn.
“Come on…” With Pia on her hip, she held out her other hand to Deacon. “Once she’s conked out, we’ll talk.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Now…” Ellie partially closed the connecting door between her and Deacon’s adjoining rooms. “Out with it. I want to hear more about this new father of yours.”
He sat at a small table beside the window, resting his feet on the king-size bed. “Already told you everything I know.”
“Was he apologetic over not introducing himself to you sooner? Do you look like him? Did you feel any sort of natural affinity for him? I want everything.” She sat cross-legged in the center of the bed’s floral spread. “You know, the details.”
“Well…” Rubbing his hand along his whisker-stubbled jaw, Deacon looked to the ceiling. “He did apologize, but considering my mom had begged him to keep the whole matter private, I suppose his hands were tied. We do look alike—would’ve had the same nose if mine hadn’t been broken three times. As for liking him…” He lowered his feet to the floor, resting his elbows on his knees. “He was all right, I guess. The visit felt surreal. But the whole time I was there, I found myself wishing you and the peanut were with me.” Pressing his hands to his face, Deacon admitted, “It was all a little much. I’ve been shot and it hurt less.”
Ellie scooted to the edge of the bed. She wanted to take his hands, reassure him that to her and Pia he meant the world, but would he reject her? She wasn’t sure her ego could bear it. On the flip side, at a time like this, when a friend truly needed her, should she be focusing on herself?
Going for it, she cupped her hands over his, melting from the sensation of even this light touch. She could deny it all she wanted, but whether it was wise or not, their chemistry was undeniable. Again, not even remotely appropriate thoughts, considering the topic of conversation.
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