a sure sign tears were coming. “But it’s so different now. What’d I do to make you dislike me?”
His thick brows, still dark, formed a sharp V. “You’re not easy. The boys, they were easy. But you?” He snorted, shaking his head. “Moody. Absentminded. Especially after Estella died. It’s like you lost your mind.”
Lori bit back a protest. She’d only been twelve when Mom died. She’d missed her like crazy. Maybe she had lost her mind a little bit. She’d nearly lost herself under a layer of fat, trying to eat herself to a place of peace.
Dad tapped the armrest with the remote, his scowl deep. “I didn’t know what to do with you. The boys, they bucked up. But you? You didn’t want me. You only wanted your mother. There wasn’t one single thing I could do for you, so I quit trying. Easier that way.”
Easier? Easier for who? Instead of rejecting her, couldn’t Dad have told her she’d be okay? They’d get through it together? She’d been lost without Mom. She’d needed comfort. Badly.
But maybe so had Dad.
Had he felt as empty as she had? A memory crept from the recesses of her mind—of her big, strong dad sobbing late one night when she should’ve been asleep. She’d stood outside his bedroom door, silent tears rolling warm down her cheeks. Oh, how she’d wanted to make things better, but she couldn’t bring Mom back. She’d been helpless against Dad’s sorrow, so she’d scuffed back to her room and cried, alone, under her covers. Maybe he’d been helpless against her sorrow, too.
Back then, he’d been the adult and she the child. But she was an adult now. She could offer the understanding he’d needed and hadn’t received. She leaned forward. “My mourning must’ve tormented you. I know you missed her. It must’ve been hard.”
“I still miss her. It’s still hard.” He lifted the can to his lips and took several noisy gulps.
Lori put her hand on the recliner’s armrest, next to Dad’s arm. “I know.”
“And I don’t need you and your sad face reminding me of her. Reminding me what I don’t have.” He turned a watery frown on her. “Every time you come around, you’re morose, morose, morose.”
She hung her head. “You’re right. I am sad when I’m here.” She forced herself to meet his unsmiling gaze. “But my sad face isn’t because of Mom anymore. The way you talk to me, using a gruff voice and saying things that are unkind…those things make me sad, Dad.”
He faced the black television screen. “How else am I supposed to make you buck up? You can’t spend the rest of your life looking back. You gotta go forward.”
Was he talking to her now or to himself? She sent up a silent prayer for wisdom, then spoke softly. “You’re right. We’ve gotta go forward.” She pulled in a deep breath. “I miss having a mom, and I also miss having a dad. I can’t get Mom back. But, Dad, can we maybe try to be father and daughter? I’d really like to try.”
His stiff frame drooped, and his head sagged. “What do you expect from me?”
“Nothing more than I’m willing to give you. Understanding. Acceptance.” She gulped. “Love.”
He clicked the remote, and the TV roared to life. “I’ll try.” He’d spoken as if to the television screen, but Lori’s heart ignited with hope.
She slipped from the sofa and curled both hands over his forearm. “I’ll try, too.”
“I wanna watch my game.”
She swallowed a sad smile. It’d probably be a long journey to reconciliation, but at least they’d taken a first baby step. “Okay, Dad. We’ll go.”
Jase and Kenzie paused by Dad’s chair and said goodbye, and he flicked a glance at them and nodded. Then they trailed through the house and out onto the stoop.
Outside, Lori wilted against the door and let her breath ease out. She hadn’t realized how tense she’d been until her muscles relaxed. She was surprised her legs held her up. “Wow. That was hard.”
Jase gave her a one-arm hug. “You did good in there. You were kind, and you got through.”
Lori angled a weary smile at him. “I got through the first layer. He’s like an onion. There’s a whole bunch more to go.”
Kenzie folded her arms. “You know, when you’ve talked about him, I thought he was just plain mean. But I’ve changed my mind. He’s just plain sad. And bitter. He’s held on to his hurt for a lot of years, so