but…I couldn’t.”
In many ways her father was a tough man, rigid and often uncompromising. He had to be, sitting on the bench, dealing with lawbreakers and…well, lowlifes. Not surprisingly, her father had become emotionally distant, more so after Doug’s death.
As clichéd as it seemed, George Leary had favored his only son. After her brother died, it was as if the sun had permanently disappeared from her father’s world. Their relationship had been strained before her brother’s fatal car accident, but had deteriorated even further afterward. The truth was, her father hadn’t loved her as much as he had Doug.
Susannah gasped at that realization, pain spiraling through her. She clenched her hands into tight fists. That was it, although she’d never acknowledged it before. Doug, his precious son, was dead and she’d been a damn poor replacement.
With Doug’s death, this branch of the Leary family had died out. Her uncle Henry had never married; Uncle Steve died on D-Day. That left only Doug to carry on the family name and he was gone. Gone, too, were her father’s dreams.
She was fifty years old and it had taken her this long to figure it out. In one of their recent conversations, Joe had suggested Susannah make an appointment with a counselor to help her deal with her father’s death. At the time she’d dismissed the suggestion. Today, however, she wasbeginning to think there might be some benefit to discussing her feelings.
“When you died, I thought that if we’d had a chance to talk…to sort everything out,” Susannah whispered, “it would’ve been better for us both. I wanted to tell you how sorry I was and now…now I wonder if it would’ve done any good. You were so set in your ways, so self-righteous.”
Tears streaked her cheeks and she brushed them aside, angry that her father still had the power to reduce her to this. “I wanted to talk to you, but I know that was impossible.”
She circled his grave site, years of anger and frustration building to a fever pitch. “Not once in all the time since I returned from Paris did we have a decent conversation. Didn’t that bother you? I was your only surviving child. Didn’t you want to know me?”
Standing over the grave, she closed her eyes and waited for the ache in her heart to abate. “I wonder if you noticed how rarely Joe and I came to Colville. Did you ever wonder why? No, I don’t suppose you did.”
Susannah had remained dry-eyed during her father’s funeral. Joe claimed her father had loved her deeply, but Susannah believed otherwise. She’d stayed strong for her mother, or so she’d told herself. Now she realized she hadn’t allowed herself to grieve, not for the father he’d become or the father he could have been—the father she remembered from early childhood. She couldn’t break down for fear that once she started, she might not be able to stop.
As Susannah walked to her car, she was emotionally spent. She battled sorrow and tears, and regretted coming here.
When she reached her parked car, she leaned against the passenger door, trying to compose herself before going tovisit her mother. She wasn’t up to it this morning. Instead she’d tackle the house, packing what she could, and making some of the decisions that had to be made.
As she got into the car, it occurred to Susannah that she hadn’t visited Doug’s grave in years. She almost began to cry again as she thought about her brother, who was just a week over twenty-one when he died.
On the way to the cemetery, Susannah had driven around the very curve where his car had gone off the road. From what she’d subsequently learned, he’d been doing in excess of seventy miles an hour when he hit the guardrail and slammed into a tree. Her one wish was that he hadn’t suffered. She couldn’t bear it if he had.
Susannah needed a few minutes to locate her brother’s grave. She wondered again why her father hadn’t been buried next to his son. Instead,
In many ways her father was a tough man, rigid and often uncompromising. He had to be, sitting on the bench, dealing with lawbreakers and…well, lowlifes. Not surprisingly, her father had become emotionally distant, more so after Doug’s death.
As clichéd as it seemed, George Leary had favored his only son. After her brother died, it was as if the sun had permanently disappeared from her father’s world. Their relationship had been strained before her brother’s fatal car accident, but had deteriorated even further afterward. The truth was, her father hadn’t loved her as much as he had Doug.
Susannah gasped at that realization, pain spiraling through her. She clenched her hands into tight fists. That was it, although she’d never acknowledged it before. Doug, his precious son, was dead and she’d been a damn poor replacement.
With Doug’s death, this branch of the Leary family had died out. Her uncle Henry had never married; Uncle Steve died on D-Day. That left only Doug to carry on the family name and he was gone. Gone, too, were her father’s dreams.
She was fifty years old and it had taken her this long to figure it out. In one of their recent conversations, Joe had suggested Susannah make an appointment with a counselor to help her deal with her father’s death. At the time she’d dismissed the suggestion. Today, however, she wasbeginning to think there might be some benefit to discussing her feelings.
“When you died, I thought that if we’d had a chance to talk…to sort everything out,” Susannah whispered, “it would’ve been better for us both. I wanted to tell you how sorry I was and now…now I wonder if it would’ve done any good. You were so set in your ways, so self-righteous.”
Tears streaked her cheeks and she brushed them aside, angry that her father still had the power to reduce her to this. “I wanted to talk to you, but I know that was impossible.”
She circled his grave site, years of anger and frustration building to a fever pitch. “Not once in all the time since I returned from Paris did we have a decent conversation. Didn’t that bother you? I was your only surviving child. Didn’t you want to know me?”
Standing over the grave, she closed her eyes and waited for the ache in her heart to abate. “I wonder if you noticed how rarely Joe and I came to Colville. Did you ever wonder why? No, I don’t suppose you did.”
Susannah had remained dry-eyed during her father’s funeral. Joe claimed her father had loved her deeply, but Susannah believed otherwise. She’d stayed strong for her mother, or so she’d told herself. Now she realized she hadn’t allowed herself to grieve, not for the father he’d become or the father he could have been—the father she remembered from early childhood. She couldn’t break down for fear that once she started, she might not be able to stop.
As Susannah walked to her car, she was emotionally spent. She battled sorrow and tears, and regretted coming here.
When she reached her parked car, she leaned against the passenger door, trying to compose herself before going tovisit her mother. She wasn’t up to it this morning. Instead she’d tackle the house, packing what she could, and making some of the decisions that had to be made.
As she got into the car, it occurred to Susannah that she hadn’t visited Doug’s grave in years. She almost began to cry again as she thought about her brother, who was just a week over twenty-one when he died.
On the way to the cemetery, Susannah had driven around the very curve where his car had gone off the road. From what she’d subsequently learned, he’d been doing in excess of seventy miles an hour when he hit the guardrail and slammed into a tree. Her one wish was that he hadn’t suffered. She couldn’t bear it if he had.
Susannah needed a few minutes to locate her brother’s grave. She wondered again why her father hadn’t been buried next to his son. Instead,
Similar Books
