Ivy

My father’s holiday cabin on Lake Cumberland, in the small town of Somerset, is a two-hour drive from Portland, and it’s the only place left I haven’t looked. He’s not home. He’s not at the office. I’ve called around to his work buddies, and everyone swears they haven’t seen him. I guess it’s not smart of me to believe anyone close to my father, but what else can I do bar storming into their homes? All I can do is to keep looking, keep busy, keep on task so I don’t have to think about the ache in my chest. 

Glancing to the handgun on the passenger seat, I exhale. My father won’t get away with what he’s done. He will pay for the devastation he caused, for the torment of two broken hearts. 

I drive over a hill on the road running along the lake, a railing to my right. Our holiday cabin comes into view through the pitch-dark night. There’s no street lights, but I can easily see the back porch lights shining brightly. He’s there. The words hiss in my head. I surprise even myself with the venom in them. 

Pulling into the drive, my hands shake. I’m about to come face-to-face with the person who has done everything in his power to ruin my relationship with Kelso, who succeeded. I’m about to see a monster who wears my father’s face. 

I clutch the gun, rubbing my thumb over the rubber grip. Being the daughter of a police officer, I’m both comfortable with and trained to use guns. I’ve never had to. It’s sat in my car for years, for safety, my dad had once said. I’d laughed, asking him who would hurt the sheriff’s daughter. Sickness hits my gut when I realize the one who loved me best is the one who has hurt me the worst. 

I step out of the car, and the cool lakeside breeze hits my bare arms and legs. This morning when I dressed in denim shorts and a T-shirt, I hadn’t thought the night would bring such ugly actions. 

Peering up at the brown two-story building, no memories flash before my eyes, no thoughts of family or fun, even though I know some of my best summers were spent here. Are my memories real? How can someone go from good to pure evil? 

I stare down at the gun in my hand. Maybe I already know the answer. I’m willing to stop my father at any cost, for what's right. To fight for Kelso’s God-given right to never have to feel helpless or violated again. Nor anyone else my father deems unworthy.

Resting my arm and gun by my side, I make my way around the cabin to the back porch. The smell of fish and fresh air hits me, causing a few memories to jolt forward, but I push them away, deep down inside myself, forcing them to stay hidden. 

Going around the corner and coming to the porch, I see the hanging lights and hear the crackle of a fire, but there’s no sign of my dad. As I’m about to search the cabin, I catch sight of a figure standing out on the boat ramp. 

My father is casually dressed in jeans and a red polo shirt. One hand is in his pocket, and the other holds a glass. My eyes glaze over and my hands tremble. I’m not sure if it’s anger that he’s standing there so peaceful while my insides are dying from my torment and agony, or because I’m holding a gun and I’m tempted to aim it at him and shoot.

Listening to the water lap against the sides of the ramp, I storm toward my father. He spins on his heels, stumbling and then righting himself when he sees it’s me. So he knows the Kings will be looking for him. A small kernel of enjoyment unfurls in my stomach at seeing my father afraid. You reap what you sow.

We stand in silence. My father’s eyes catch on the gun, but he says nothing, shows no sign of surprise or shock. I thought I would have all these words to spew at him, to scream, but standing before him I can’t seem to say anything at all. I’ve told him he’s hurting me. He didn’t care. I told him he’s hurting other people. He didn’t care. I begged him to come back to me, to be the father I remember. He didn’t. 

“I know why you’re here, Ivy.” My father sighs and turns back to the lake, giving me his back. 

With quick, shallow breaths, I hiss, “Why don’t you tell me why I’m here, Dad.” 

He puts the glass to his lips and finishes the brown liquid in one sip. Exhaling heavily, he turns back around to face me. “Because I scared the boy and now he knows you told me about his past. When are you going to learn, Ivy, he’s not the man for you? Stop fighting for someone you will come to realize is below you.” He extends his right arm out to me. “And for goodness sakes, give me the gun, you silly girl. This is the sort of thing I was worried about. Clearly you’ve already spent far too much time with that family.” 

Hatred roars in my ears as my body temperature rises with my rage. “Scared?” I say in a deathly calm voice. My father has the sense to lower his arm, and appears unsure how far I’m willing to take this. “You tried to kill him. He was stripped of his clothes and almost assaulted. If it hadn’t been for someone with a goddamned heart who saved him, he would have been raped.” My voice shakes at the end, and I try with everything in me to hold on to my self-control.  

“Saved?” my father says on a breath. “What nonsense are you talking about, Ivy? He wasn’t saved, he was let go. That was the plan. Parks brought in the bikers to scare him and to explain we know his dirty secret, and if he didn’t stay away from you, the bikers would pay him another visit and the next one wouldn’t be so pretty.”

My mouth opens and closes. No words escape because I have no idea what to say. That my father thinks what he did was okay on any level is terrifying. This man raised me!

“You’re a fool,” I whisper. “Parks ordered the bikers to kill him. In return, Parks promised them something to do with the Marion County Sheriff’s Office.”

My father’s forehead wrinkles and his eyes bounce from me to the ramp, and then to the water. It’s clear a story is unfolding in his head. “Jesus Christ,” he curses under his breath. 

“So your lapdog has now taken matters into his own hands. God knows why, but I don’t give a shit. You are sick, you both are. Mom would hate you, she’d never look at you again. She’d put you in jail herself.” I spit the words at him, hoping they hurt, hoping they sear his soul forever.

With a shaky breath, he says, “He was never meant to get hurt. Parks has gone too far. He’s always had a crush on you, but this…. He knew I’d never condone murder.” 

“Never condone murder.” I repeat the words, attempting to make sense of my father’s insanity. “Do you even hear yourself?” I scream, raising my hands and the gun in the air. “Forget I love him. Forget who you think he is. You sent bikers after a human being who had been raped as a child, and attempted to scare him with it again. To destroy a human being. To break any strength he had left. If he was assaulted again, Kelso would have welcomed death. You are as blind as you are evil. I’m not sure which one is more deadly.”

My father places a hand against his breastbone. “I stand by my actions. I’ve only ever tried to protect you, Ivy. One day a man of a higher caliber will come along and make you very happy. Until then it’s my job to make sure you stay on the right track.” 

My arms fall slack to my sides and I stand numb before a man who does not resemble my father, the kind man who used to let me ride his shoulders in the backyard as we stormed castles and fought battles so that I, the princess, could become a queen. 

“I am twenty-five years old. The days of you controlling me are gone. All I ever needed and craved from you was your love and support, in whatever path I chose in life.” Lifting my hands and fisting the gun, I grit my teeth. “Why is it so hard for you to grasp?” 

My father scoffs and looks away. 

“Who are you?” I ask as tears cascade down my face. “Where did my daddy go?” Not able to keep it in any longer, a cry escapes through my lips. “Mom would loathe who you’ve become.”

I throw the gun at my father’s feet. “You may as well shoot me, because I’m already dead on the inside.” 

My father’s eyes widen and he grows pale. Remorse flickers through his eyes, but it’s gone in an instant, as if he won’t even allow himself to accept his actions. 

“I had a man who taught me how to love fiercely. Who brought laughter and happiness back into my life after mom passed away. He cherished me. Comforted me. Supported me. And I lost him because I trusted you, my father.” My words are thick and my voice hoarse. 

My father swallows hard, and he wets his lips as his body tenses. “I overstepped. I went too far. Surely you can forgive me. I’ll try harder and attempt to understand what you want out of life.” 

A laugh bubbles up and escapes my lips; not a happy one, an unbelieving how-stupid-do-you-think-I-am laugh. 

“I don’t know if you’re capable of telling the truth anymore. But no, I’m done. I can forgive your harsh words, but I will never forgive your vile actions.” 

One last long stare at the man I thought would always be there for me. Who would one day walk me down the aisle. Who would one day storm castles with his grandchildren. 

“Whatever your future holds, no one will ever say you didn’t deserve it. Today I say goodbye to my father.” A cry escapes. “Thank you for the wonderful memories I have of our family. But you, the man standing before me, you can rot in hell.” 

Tearing myself away, I turn and walk away. Holding back a storm of tears and clinging to every ounce of strength I have, I don’t look back. 

“Ivy!” 

“Ivy!” 

“Ivy!” With each shout, my father’s voice becomes thicker and more hoarse, until I can barely hear him anymore.

Digging my nails into my palms, I continue walking out of my father’s life, acknowledging that even though it hurts, my life will be better without him.  

Reaching my car, I throw open the door. Something moves in the corner of my eye, and I look quickly. 

Mackson King sits lazily on the hood of his car, hands in his pockets and lips pressed together. His expression is soft, almost as if he’s apologizing from a distance. Sorry for what? Watching that pathetic scene between a supposed father and daughter, or for what his family will do to my dad?

Walking away from my father is one thing, knowing he probably won’t live through the night is a whole other torment. Nevertheless, I fold into my car and start the engine. 

My mind is telling me to drive, but my body freezes. The first movement to leave seems impossible, as if a great weight has hit my legs and they won’t move. Still, I persevere and back the car up. I put it in Drive, and again I freeze. Inhaling and exhaling, I press my foot down and drive away, silent tears cascading down my cheeks. I feel as if I’m shedding a layer of skin. Disposing of the innocent girl and now viewing the world for what it really is, harsh and painful. 

A few minutes later I spot a familiar yellow Dodge up ahead. Kelso. We each slow to pass, as the road is narrow. Kelso’s intense gaze meets mine, and when it does the fire in his eyes disappears, and a frown forms on his handsome face. With everything I have, I attempt to show my remorse, from the depths of my heart and out through my glassy eyes. For what my father has done to him, and for what Kelso will do tonight. Whether he wants to realize it or not, this will take a part of his soul that he’ll never get back.

After we’ve passed each other and all I see in my rearview mirror is dust, I tighten my hold on the steering wheel. I decide to let go of my past and forge a new path for myself, one I know my mom will be proud of. It's time to leave Louisville and all the heartbreak it holds.