Chapter Twenty-three
Molly spotted her instantly, tearing through the school parking lot, her dark hair flying as she sprinted away.
Her heart. Her poor, broken, little child’s heart. Molly’s own heart shattered over and over again every time she remembered the look on Pru’s face when that monster vomited out words that had needed to be said tenderly and gracefully.
Pru had to be devastated.
As the wind screamed in her ears, Molly could really only hear her mother’s voice.
You’re only as happy as your least-happy child.
Then Molly simply couldn’t be any unhappier. She saw Pru slowing down, gasping for air, bent over. It gave Molly enough time to catch up and thank God that her car was twenty feet away. They had to get out of there.
“Pru!”
She didn’t even look up, still doubled over, her narrow shoulders rising and falling with sobs.
“Honey, we have to talk.”
Finally, she straightened as Molly ran closer. “It’s a little late, don’t you think?”
Catching her breath, Molly slowed her step and tried not to throw herself at Pru for a hug and a plea for forgiveness.
“He’s my father.” It wasn’t a question.
Molly nodded, which only made Pru’s eyes close as she gave a soft grunt.
“I wanted to tell you.”
Those eyes popped open. “Then why didn’t you? Like ten years ago, Mom!”
“I planned on it.”
“Right. On our trip to the Outer Banks that never happened.”
“Trace showed up at the front door, Pru. Everything changed.”
Pru stumbled backward, shock hitting her all over again. “You let him into my life and made me like him…and…” She swiped tears from her face. “Where is he?”
Oh God. Only in that moment did Molly realize that not only had that pompous jerk ripped Pru’s heart out with a public announcement, he’d also stolen any chance of Molly honoring Trace’s last request. And now, poor Pru had to face one more heartbreak. Her father had left without even saying goodbye.
She couldn’t tell her. At the sound of voices, Molly glanced toward the school and saw people drifting out of the auditorium. She couldn’t tell her here, anyway. They needed to be alone, home, holding each other.
“Can you get in the car, Pru? I’m parked right over there. I’ll tell you everything.”
Pru snorted, wiping her nose and keeping her angry gaze on Molly. “Where is he, Mom?”
She swallowed. “He’s gone, honey. He…left.”
“What? Where? When is he coming back? When can I see him?”
“I don’t think he is coming back.”
“Mom!” Pru nearly sobbed. “I just found him! I waited my whole life to have a father, and I spent three weeks with him and didn’t know it was him, and…he’s gone? Why? Why would he leave me?”
“He didn’t leave you, Pru. He left…us.”
“Why?”
“I honestly don’t know. I saw him this morning and he just said he’d made someone a promise and he had to leave. He left Meatball.”
“He left Meatball?” She reached for Molly’s shoulders. “Something must be so wrong with him!”
How like Pru to worry about him. It folded her bruised heart in half again. “I don’t know what happened. He wouldn’t tell me. He left. He wanted me to promise…”
“What?”
Molly shook her head.
“Mom, what?”
“He wanted me to never tell you the truth. Ever.” At Pru’s crestfallen face, Molly reached for her. “Because he loves you,” she insisted, getting a scoffing laugh in response. “He does, honey. And he was absolutely certain that you’d be ashamed of him and devastated to know your father killed a man.”
“By accident! And he served his time. And, Mom, he’s a really good guy.”
Each word slashed Molly’s heart and left a permanent scar. Why did he have to leave and not hear his daughter defend him? Why didn’t he believe in his own worth? “He wasn’t sure you’d feel that way, honey. I’ve wanted to tell you since the day he showed up, but every day, he stopped me. He didn’t want to lose your respect or friendship. He was sure you’d hate him.”
“My own father?” Pru dropped her head, finally not fighting Molly as she wrapped her arms around her daughter. “I did treat him like crap in the beginning.”
“This is not your fault, Pru.”
“He must have known this was going to happen,” Pru said. “He had to have known.”
Molly eased back to look at her. “No. He would never have left you to endure this without him if he’d known.”
“But Corinne knew,” Pru said. “She called me a cheater on stage before her dad ever showed up. How could she know? How could they know what I didn’t?”
Molly closed her eyes as a piece of the puzzle slipped into place. “Corinne’s mother was there the night…she saw me leave a party with Trace.”
“The unassailable proof that blowhard guy has?”
Molly nodded. “I bet she’s known for a long time.”
“And was waiting for the perfect moment to wreck my life,” Pru said dryly, looking over Molly’s shoulder. “Oh boy. Here comes the cavalry.”
Molly turned to see Dad walking toward them slowly as he held Gramma Finnie’s arm and made sure she didn’t trip on the uneven asphalt. Wordlessly, Molly walked with Pru to meet them halfway.
Gramma Finnie reached for Pru. “My little lass,” she whispered into a hug.
Dad looked from one to the other, his blue eyes full of pain. “I’m sorry, Pru.”
“You didn’t do anything, Grandpa.”
“No, you didn’t,” Molly said. “The blame for this mess lands squarely on my shoulders. I sat on a secret way too long.”
“You know what the Irish say.” Gramma tightened her grip around Pru. “Three people can keep a secret as long as two of them are dead.”
“Only two knew this one, and that was my mistake. Pru should have been the third.”
“No, Molls,” Dad said softly. “It was mine.”
All three of them glanced at him, one face looking more confused than the next.
“I knew. I knew from the day he came to town. In fact, I knew his name when Pru was not even two and Annie met his mother.”
“Grannie met his mother?” Pru’s voice rose in shock, and Molly’s head grew light and dizzy.
“You knew…when you invited him to Waterford?” she asked her father. “When he showed up with Meatball? You’ve known all this time, Dad?”
He nodded. “Yes,” he said simply. “I met him and instantly knew when he said his name that he was the boy your mother had told me had died. After she thought he died, Molly, that’s when she told me. Not a moment before.”
“You’ve known all these years?” Somehow, it was more comforting than a betrayal, which she didn’t understand. But her dad knew, he’d accepted, and he’d brought Trace to her.
“When I met him, I felt the man had a right to know he has a daughter. That was very important to your mother, honey. She believed that with her heart and soul, but obviously, she stopped thinking it was a possibility when she was told he was dead.”
“Who told Grannie that?” Pru asked.
“His mother,” Molly answered. “She wanted to save you shame, too.”
“I wish somebody had asked me what I wanted,” Pru said.
“You’re right, Pru.” Dad put a hand on her shoulder. “We were all too protective. But when I met him, I thought I’d give him a chance, and I knew he and Molly would know the right thing to do, as parents.”
Parents. She’d never been part of that equation before. She hadn’t known how badly she longed for it until right now.
More people peppered the parking lot, many of them staring at the grouping of Kilcannons deep in conversation. Automatically, Molly moved closer to Pru. “We should go. We should all get home and talk about this.”
“No,” Pru said, shaking her head. “I don’t want to go home. I want…” She took a breath. “I’m going to ride with Gramma Finnie and Grandpa.”
The rejection hurt, but Molly tried to understand how mad Pru must be. They would help her. They would ease her pain. “Okay. I’ll be at my Waterford office. Come and find me when you’re ready.”
Inching back, Pru looked away, like it might be a long time before she was ready. “Sure.”
Molly’s eyes filled with painful tears. She struggled not to cry, cursing herself and blaming herself and hurting so hard she could barely breathe. “’Kay,” she managed.
Pru turned to her grandfather, who put his arm around her and guided her to the van, glancing over his shoulder with an encouraging look to Molly. Gramma Finnie held back and took Molly’s hand in her weathered palms.
“What time can’t solve, God will fix, lassie.”
Molly smiled at the predictable and welcome reassurance, but she was pretty sure that no matter what time solved or God fixed, at least three people had been wrecked by it.
* * *
Just wade through that shit, Wally would say. It may be a little uncomfortable, but it’s the only way.
Up to his eyeballs in “wading,” Trace turned the page of the fifth or sixth journal, riveted to the words written by a broken woman who hadn’t a clue how to be a mother. Terrified that nature would be stronger than nurture, she’d chosen guilt and fear, instead of love and guidance.
In other words, she’d spent years warning Trace that he was like his father in the hope that he wouldn’t be. Why hadn’t he seen that?
Because until he’d seen Molly with Pru, he hadn’t known what a mother should be. His mother hadn’t known, either, based on her desperate journal entries that were as much a cry for help as anything he’d heard during the dark nights in Huttonsville. He’d been too young and self-involved to see that, but reading these diaries, it was like a weight lifted with every new entry.
His head whipped up at the sound of a car pulling up to the little house. What the hell? Had Phillips come back? Or Molly? A car door banged closed. Then another. Who was here?
Whoever it was, they couldn’t get in and he wouldn’t go out. Staying low and out of the line of visibility of the front window, which was open an inch, he made his way over to sneak a look outside without being seen.
And he almost moaned at the sight.
There, climbing out of the big Waterford Farm van was Daniel Kilcannon, Gramma Finnie, and Pru. They gathered in a group, talking too quietly for him to hear through the small opening.
Suddenly, Pru stepped away and held something up. “But I have a key, Grandpa. I can go in.”
“No, you can’t go into someone’s home without permission.”
“Not someone. My father.”
Trace sucked in air like a fresh punch had collided with his gut. Molly, how could you?
“He’s gone,” Pru said. “Ditched us all without a goodbye. Why can’t I go in and get what’s rightfully mine?”
“What makes those journals yours, lass?”
“They were written by my other grandmother!” she fired back. “If he left them, they’re mine. Heck, this whole house could be mine. And it’s all I’ve got, Gramma. It’s the last piece of him.”
And that piece of him shattered like crystal on concrete.
She felt that way? She wanted something of…his?
Turning, he looked at the books spread across the floor where he’d been sitting for hours. After the long walk home, he’d collapsed in a fitful sleep. When he woke, something made him take that box out of the closet and start to read.
And now that same something had Pru. A desire for answers, no doubt. Answers that child deserved but he was too scared to give. Shame, that old companion he knew so well, slithered up his belly and wrapped around his throat, strangling him.
“I can’t let you go in there, Pru.” Daniel put a hand on her shoulder, his look stern and steady, as unwavering as that moral compass the man used to guide his family in everything. He wouldn’t even let her use a key to enter an empty house.
“Grandpa, please.” Her voice grew soft and cracked. “I fixed that house for him. I…” She looked up to the roof, her lower lip quivering. “I helped him.”
Helped him in so many ways, she had no idea.
“If I had known this was where you wanted to go, I wouldn’t have driven you, Pru,” Daniel said. “You need to get back in the car so we can leave. Your mother’s waiting for you.”
Pru didn’t look convinced, her delicate features fixed in an expression of frustration and determination. She looked like…him. In that moment, Trace saw a glimmer of himself in her.
Hadn’t Molly shown him how to be a better parent? Hadn’t Wally told him to wade into whatever he had to and get through it? Hadn’t Pru taught him what it meant to be a father?
“I need to know more!” Pru insisted. “I need to know who he really is, and what I come from, and why he left.”
He owed his Umproo so much more than running away.
Gramma Finnie put her arm around Pru. “Your mother needs you, lass. She’s hurting for you.”
So much hurt. He’d caused that. And he had to undo it.
“Gramma, I want to…”
Trace didn’t hear the rest, only the blood thumping in his head as he made his way to the front door. He stood there for a moment, closed his eyes, and said the closest thing he knew to a prayer.
Let me be worthy of her.
As he opened the door, she was climbing into the back of the van.
“Pru.”
He saw her little frame freeze as he took one step closer.
“Prudence Anne Kilcannon…Bancroft.” He whispered the last word, letting it fall out like the olive branch he was offering.
Very slowly, she inched back out of the van. He was aware that the other two people watched, but his gaze was solidly on his daughter, who finally turned and looked at him. He saw her swallow, breathe, and, he swore, he saw her forgive. Just like that.
“That’s Umproo to you,” she said softly.
He wanted to cry. Wanted to drop his head back and weep with wonder that someone, somewhere had blessed him with this child. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t. Instead, he reached his arms out to her, and she came right to him, slowly at first, then she rushed closer. Without hesitation, she let him hug her, stroke her hair, and feel her cry for him.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his throat thick with emotions he hadn’t even known were possible. “I’m so sorry for not telling you. For leaving. For hurting you. I’m sorry.”
She eased back. “Please don’t leave us.”
Us. Both of them. His family. He pulled her in again, and over her head, he met the gazes of her grandfather and great-grandmother, both of them holding back as they stood next to the open doors of the van.
Which reminded him of last night and how tentative his grip on security really was.
“Something happened,” he said to all of them, easing Pru away. “Last night, when I got home, a woman was waiting for me and…she came on pretty strong. I tried to leave, but her husband showed up.”
“Allen Phillips, by any chance?” Daniel asked.
Trace frowned. “Yeah, that’s the guy. And, look, I know this sounds like a pattern for me, but he knew my past and he threatened me. And everyone close to me.” He looked at Pru, then Daniel. “I made you a promise to keep them safe, so I thought leaving would be the best way to do that.”
Pru snorted. “That’s who told me,” she said. “He had me disqualified from the competition, which I won, by the way, and announced to every person in my school that you’re my father.”
He felt his eyes widen in horror, along with a kick of guilt that he’d blamed Molly. “He did?” Fury shot through him. “He did?” Then pride. “You won?”
“Yeah, but it was awful.”
“Oh, Pru. I’m sorry.” He hugged her again. “I couldn’t take a risk that anyone would hurt you or Molly. But he did anyway.”
“But you didn’t do anything, did you?” Pru asked.
“Nothing, but…” He gave a rueful laugh. “That doesn’t always matter in life. Sorry if that’s the first official lesson I’m teaching you.”
Daniel came closer. “He threatened you and his wife was a witness?”
“For whatever that’s worth,” he said. “I’ll tell you right now he took a swing at me and I hit back.”
“No other witnesses?”
He shook his head and gestured toward their van. “It was right here. I just drove home in that van.”
Daniel’s brows lifted as he looked over his shoulder at the van, then back at Trace, as if he were reconstructing the scene. “No chance you left any of the van doors open during this encounter, is there?”
The van doors? He vividly recalled the way Isabella had thrown herself at him and Phillips taunted him. From courtroom experience, he could remember every aspect of the scene, including the open door behind him. “Actually, the driver side door was open.”
Pru’s and Daniel’s expressions both morphed from disbelief to something else, something like hope.
“Does the camera have a microphone?” Pru asked, her voice rising.
“Of course.”
Trace was legitimately confused now. “A microphone?”
“Then you have a good witness, lad!” Gramma Finnie exclaimed.
Daniel was already hustling to the back of the van, lifting the big door. “I have a security camera so we can monitor the dogs. Sometimes we have to leave them in the van for a few minutes, crated, so for their protection, I had a small camera and mic installed.” He gestured for Trace to join him. “See that?” Pointing to a tiny camera with one hand, he pulled his cell phone out with the other.
“There’s an app for it,” Pru told him. “Grandpa can go back to a certain time and listen and watch.”
“Like…” Daniel tapped the phone screen. “Last night? What time?”
“Around eight.”
Another few taps, then he held the phone up and hit the volume, the gruff sound of Allen Phillips’s voice instantly recognizable as the recording picked up in the middle of their confrontation.
“Maybe you want to take a swing at me, son. Go ahead. It’s a one-way ticket back to prison, that I can guarantee you. C’mon…give it to me, killer.”
Trace winced at the words, but Pru jumped up and down. “We have proof! We have proof you are innocent!”
He took a step back, reeling. “Are you serious?”
“I bet it’s admissible in court,” Pru said, lifting her brows. “I’ve been thinking I could be a good lawyer.”
He still couldn’t quite grasp what they were saying. “What would you do with that recording?”
Daniel gestured toward the car. “Let the man know he has no power. Support you. Ensure you don’t leave Waterford, or Pru, or…” He angled his head.
“Molly,” Trace finished, a rush of affection for all these people, most especially the woman who’d changed his life so completely.
Gramma Finnie sidled up to him and patted his shoulder as Daniel put the phone away and reached to close the raised door.
“Bet you wish you’da had something like that all those years ago when you got into trouble,” Gramma Finnie added.
Trace glanced into the back of the van, at the empty crate and the two feet of space next to it, almost fighting a smile at how glad he was they didn’t have that technology fourteen years ago.
But it made him realize something else. This wasn’t the first time his life had changed for the better in the back of a dog-carrying minivan.
“We need to tell Molly,” he whispered. “I need…Molly.” More than anything.