touch and has forgiven me. I’m grateful. That leaves only you. Susan has told me that you need time to accept me again, to believe I’m for “real.” I accept that. I’m not rushing you, not begging you. I only want you to know I’m sincere from the bottom of my heart. You’re my only child. I’ve missed years with you. I want to know you. My heart is always open, my life recommitted to being a father to you.
Contact me anytime. I love you.
Dad
Well, there it was, my dad longing for togetherness. My dad asking for forgiveness. My mom had already forgiven him! Didn’t they realize I’d been hurt and robbed? It’s not so easy to say “Sure, all is forgiven.” I struggled against a knot of emotion rising in my throat. My feelings were raw nerve endings. I’d been so long without a father in my life, I didn’t know what I felt anymore. I didn’t know how to accept him or where to fit him in. I had so few memories of him. No birthdays, no Christmases, no holidays of any kind. He was a blank wall in my mind. Maybe even an intrusion.
As I tried to conjure up memories of my father, all I got were images of Elowyn’s dad, Matt. He was mystandard-bearer for fathers. She was his Sugar Plum. When we were younger, he’d tell us both, “You two are the prettiest trout in the pond. I’m going to have to beat the boys off with my fishing pole.”
Elowyn would twirl and say, “Oh, Daddy, I’m prettier than an old fish. And don’t you go threatening the boys with sticks either.”
Matt would tip his head. “Not much prettier than a trout leaping out of the water on a fall day.”
“Daddy!”
Then he’d hug her hard and pat my head. “You know I’m joking, honey. There’s nothing better-looking on this earth than my baby girl.” And he’d add for my benefit, “Or her best friend.”
Matt was a shining example of fatherhood to me, my own dad, a shadowy flicker.
I left the e-mail in my inbox. I didn’t answer it, but I didn’t delete it either.
• 20 •
Arabeth
I’ve never had a boy’s undivided attention until Wyatt came along, and it about blew me away. The first time he called me, my heart felt like it was going to hammer itself into smithereens. He called on our business line, and I answered, “Honeysuckle Bed and Breakfast. How may I help you?”
“Arabeth? It’s Wyatt. How’re you doing?”
My voice stuck in my throat. When I answered, it sounded like a croak. “Fine.”
“You okay?”
“Sure. Just fine. How about you?”
“Just finished cutting three lawns. My summer business.”
“Sounds hot.”
“It is, but not in a cool way.” He laughed.
“Hot, temperature-wise, not hot as in something fun to do,” I explained, my face growing warm. How obvious could it be that I had no experience talking to a boy? “Th-that’s what I meant,” I stammered. “Hot out today.”
“Hot every day in Atlanta in the summer.”
Just shoot me
, I thought. Why couldn’t I say something cute or clever? “Um—can I do anything for you?” Now I sounded like I was helping out an inn guest.
“I was thinking I’d like for us to do something together.”
My heart was hammering in my chest. “Like what?”
“Burger and a movie tomorrow? Or tonight. If you don’t have plans.”
Only helping Mom with our weekly cookout for guests
. “Tomorrow would be better.”
“Okay, then, I’ll slide by around five? We can eat and grab an evening show.”
“I’d like that.”
He gave me his cell number, and after we hung up I went to my room and fell on my bed, kicking and exalting like a football player who’d just made the winning touchdown. I had a date! Me, Arabeth Thompson. And the guy was gorgeous. I hopped up, went to my dresser, and looked in the mirror. My face smiled back. Involuntarily my eyebrow arched,my mouth transformed into a pout, and my green eyes seemed to turn blue. I yelped and jumped back from my image. When I looked in the mirror again, my face looked like normal
Contact me anytime. I love you.
Dad
Well, there it was, my dad longing for togetherness. My dad asking for forgiveness. My mom had already forgiven him! Didn’t they realize I’d been hurt and robbed? It’s not so easy to say “Sure, all is forgiven.” I struggled against a knot of emotion rising in my throat. My feelings were raw nerve endings. I’d been so long without a father in my life, I didn’t know what I felt anymore. I didn’t know how to accept him or where to fit him in. I had so few memories of him. No birthdays, no Christmases, no holidays of any kind. He was a blank wall in my mind. Maybe even an intrusion.
As I tried to conjure up memories of my father, all I got were images of Elowyn’s dad, Matt. He was mystandard-bearer for fathers. She was his Sugar Plum. When we were younger, he’d tell us both, “You two are the prettiest trout in the pond. I’m going to have to beat the boys off with my fishing pole.”
Elowyn would twirl and say, “Oh, Daddy, I’m prettier than an old fish. And don’t you go threatening the boys with sticks either.”
Matt would tip his head. “Not much prettier than a trout leaping out of the water on a fall day.”
“Daddy!”
Then he’d hug her hard and pat my head. “You know I’m joking, honey. There’s nothing better-looking on this earth than my baby girl.” And he’d add for my benefit, “Or her best friend.”
Matt was a shining example of fatherhood to me, my own dad, a shadowy flicker.
I left the e-mail in my inbox. I didn’t answer it, but I didn’t delete it either.
• 20 •
Arabeth
I’ve never had a boy’s undivided attention until Wyatt came along, and it about blew me away. The first time he called me, my heart felt like it was going to hammer itself into smithereens. He called on our business line, and I answered, “Honeysuckle Bed and Breakfast. How may I help you?”
“Arabeth? It’s Wyatt. How’re you doing?”
My voice stuck in my throat. When I answered, it sounded like a croak. “Fine.”
“You okay?”
“Sure. Just fine. How about you?”
“Just finished cutting three lawns. My summer business.”
“Sounds hot.”
“It is, but not in a cool way.” He laughed.
“Hot, temperature-wise, not hot as in something fun to do,” I explained, my face growing warm. How obvious could it be that I had no experience talking to a boy? “Th-that’s what I meant,” I stammered. “Hot out today.”
“Hot every day in Atlanta in the summer.”
Just shoot me
, I thought. Why couldn’t I say something cute or clever? “Um—can I do anything for you?” Now I sounded like I was helping out an inn guest.
“I was thinking I’d like for us to do something together.”
My heart was hammering in my chest. “Like what?”
“Burger and a movie tomorrow? Or tonight. If you don’t have plans.”
Only helping Mom with our weekly cookout for guests
. “Tomorrow would be better.”
“Okay, then, I’ll slide by around five? We can eat and grab an evening show.”
“I’d like that.”
He gave me his cell number, and after we hung up I went to my room and fell on my bed, kicking and exalting like a football player who’d just made the winning touchdown. I had a date! Me, Arabeth Thompson. And the guy was gorgeous. I hopped up, went to my dresser, and looked in the mirror. My face smiled back. Involuntarily my eyebrow arched,my mouth transformed into a pout, and my green eyes seemed to turn blue. I yelped and jumped back from my image. When I looked in the mirror again, my face looked like normal
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