Powerful (The Driven World) - Kathleen Kelly Page 0,11
Opening the drawer, I pull out three coasters. I bet without looking, I could tell you what is in every drawer in this room. It’s like a shrine to her. I would sometimes come in here when Dad was at work, just to feel close to her again. It was the only room that seemed to have her in it. Placing the coasters on the table, I look at my father, and he smiles.
“I’ll be right back.” He puts our coffees down and hurries back out of the room.
I sit opposite Sophia, leaving the head of the table for Dad.
“Make sure you use the coaster. Dad probably hasn’t used this room since I left.”
“Why?”
I shake my head, partly not wanting her to know and not wanting to talk about it. Dad rushes back in with his coffee and a plate of cookies. I immediately stand, open a drawer on the sideboard, and place a lace doily down so the plate doesn’t mark the table.
“Thank you, son.”
“This is a lovely room, Mr. Livingston.”
Dad’s smile falters, he nods once and sits.
“Kris’ mother,” he says by way of an explanation without looking at either of us. “How long are you in town for?”
“We leave Monday after the wedding.” I take a sip of the coffee that he’s put sugar in. I haven’t had sugar in my coffee for years. I grimace at the taste but say nothing.
“Maybe we could spend some time together?”
Staring into his eyes, I don’t see the man who would tan my hide for a sideways glance but a lonely old man. He was forty-five when he married my mom. I came along three years later, which makes Dad seventy-five. I don’t think he ever wanted children, but he couldn’t say no to Mom. Growing up, he often made me feel like an intruder as he wanted her all to himself. Mom was fifteen years younger than him. He adored her, and I know she loved him. She loved us both.
“I’ll try, but TB has got lots planned with the wedding.”
Sophia scoffs. “Really? It’s the first I’ve heard about it. From what you’ve told me, it’s not much of a wedding. Not by our standards, anyway.”
I can feel the blood in my veins begin to boil. Sophia is a selfish brat and has no concept of how I’m feeling.
“I’m sure we can make time for you, Mr. Livingston.”
Sophia looks at me and blanches. Whatever I’m feeling is clearly projected on my face.
Dad looks at me then back at Sophia.
“I understand if you’re busy, son, I don’t want to impose.”
Turning my head toward him, I put on my best actor’s face and smile. “I’m sure we can make time, Dad. TB will understand.”
“Ares Boswell will probably have you pretty busy.”
“Ares?” asks Sophia.
“TB,” I reply. “I’ll make time, Dad. You’re not working today?”
Dad chuckles. “No, son. Petey lets me out on the boat once a week if the weather is good. I’m retired. I still help out around the docks most days.”
“Petey Route?”
“Yeah, I sold him the boat three years ago. I got old.”
The boat.
The boat I was supposed to take on after he retired.
The boat I fucking hated.
I loathed being on it and detested the work even more.
He never understood.
Dad was always at me to follow in his footsteps like he did and his father before him. The sea was not the life I wanted. Dad would make me go out with him every chance he got, and it only made me hate him and the boat more.
“Well, they say you’re only as old as you feel,” interjects Sophia.
“I feel about a hundred.”
Laughing, I nod. “Yep, there are days I feel the same, Dad.”
He clears his throat. “I’ve seen all of your movies. Athena takes me. She’s also bought all of them for me as gifts. She’s a good girl.”
“You’ve seen all of them?” I ask incredulously.
“Of course, you’re my son, and I’m proud of you.” Dad shifts uncomfortably in his seat as though this admission is a sign of guilt. “Have you seen Athena?”
“Yeah, we got in late yesterday. Mrs. Boswell invited us to dinner.”
“Pfft! Is that what it was?”
“Sophia, I’ve apologized for that.” I look back at Dad. “She was there with a Deputy Todd something?”
Dad laughs. “Ahh, yes, Deputy Roth. He’s nice enough, I guess if you like that kind of man.”
Before I can ask him what he means, Sophia cuts me off.
“Are you invited to the wedding, Mr. Livingston?”
“Yeah, I am. I wasn’t going to go, but