PART 3: NOT YOU
He looked older than I remembered.
His jacket was wrinkled.
“Hi, Heidi.”
I stared at him.
“Dad?”
He gave me a tired smile.
“Is your mother home?”
“Yeah… why?”
He glanced past me.
“I’ve had a rough few months.”
He explained that the business he’d started after leaving his old partnership had failed.
His second wife had emptied their joint account and left.
He’d been staying with friends, but that arrangement had ended.
“I figured Laura would understand,” he said.
I didn’t move.
“Understand what?”
“That people make mistakes.”
He nudged his suitcase closer to the door.
“We were married a long time. We have a daughter together.”
“That doesn’t explain why you’re here.”
He sighed.
“Let’s be realistic, Heidi. After what happened to her face, I doubt men were exactly lining up.”
I stared at him.
He actually smiled.
“I’m willing to come home. At our age, looks aren’t everything. I can overlook the scars.”
For a moment, I was eleven again, standing on the stairs while he told Mom he couldn’t look at her.
Before I could answer, I heard footsteps behind me.
Mom walked into the hallway.
She wore dark jeans and a green blouse.
Her hair was pinned loosely at the back.
She hadn’t covered her scars.
Dad looked at her.
“Laura?”
His gaze traveled over her face.
“How did you…? You look…”
Mom didn’t answer.
Then another pair of footsteps approached.
Morgan came from the kitchen and stopped beside her.
He slipped his hand into hers.
Dad followed that hand upward.
He stared at Morgan. The color drained from his face.
His suitcase tipped against the porch railing.
“No,” he whispered. “Not you.”
Morgan looked at him.
“It’s been a long time, Daniel.”
Dad took a step back.
“You have no idea what he did,” he told Mom.
She glanced at Morgan, then back at Dad.
“Actually,” she said, “I think there’s something you should know.”
“What could I possibly need to know?” Dad asked.
Mom kept hold of Morgan’s hand.
“That I know why you waited two months before leaving.”
Dad glanced at Morgan.
“You told her?”
“She asked me,” Morgan said.
I looked between them.
“Wait. What happened?”
Morgan turned toward me.
“Your father and I were still business partners after the fire. I helped cover his jobs while your mother was recovering.”
Dad gripped the handle of his suitcase.
“That was years ago.”
“You told me you wanted to leave,” Morgan recalled. “You said you’d wait until Laura was well enough that people wouldn’t blame you. And when I told you she deserved the truth, you threatened to end our partnership if I spoke to her.”
Dad looked at Mom.
“I was struggling.”
“So was I,” she said.
He rubbed his forehead.
“Morgan always thought he knew better. That’s why we stopped working together.”
Morgan didn’t argue. Later, he told me he’d left the business after Dad made it clear he no longer wanted him as a partner. Morgan had moved away for work soon afterward and hadn’t known whether Mom would welcome hearing from him.
***
Mom stepped closer to the doorway.
“I remember what you said to me, Daniel. I don’t need Morgan to explain it.”
Dad studied her face again.
“Well, you look much better now.”
Mom didn’t touch her collar or turn away.
“I still have the same scars.”
“I just meant we could start over.”
“You came here because you need somewhere to stay.”
He looked offended.
“We have history, Laura.”
“Yes. We do.”
I stepped up beside Mom.
“Dad, do you know why I learned makeup when I was twelve?”
He frowned.
“To help your mother.”
“Partly.”
I looked at the man I’d spent so many afternoons waiting for.
“I thought if I could make Mom look like she used to, you’d come home.”
Dad stared at me.
“I didn’t know that.”
“You didn’t ask.”
Mom reached for my hand.
Dad shifted his suitcase.
“Can we discuss this inside?”
“No,” Mom said.
“Just for a few nights. Until I find something.”
“You’ll have to make other arrangements.”
“After everything we’ve been through?”
Mom looked at him steadily.
“I didn’t become easier to look at, Daniel. I stopped looking at myself through your eyes.”
He turned toward me.
“Heidi?”
I remembered sitting at the window, watching cars turn onto our street.
“I waited for you for years, Dad. I’m not waiting anymore.”
He picked up his suitcase.
Neither of us stopped him.
