On Second Thought(106)

“Oh, Daddy,” I said, reaching for his hand with both of mine. “I’m so sorry.”

“I was ruined when she died. I felt like I died, too.” He wiped his eyes in the way men do, pinching away the tears with his free hand. “You’re so much like her, Ainsley. In all the good ways.”

I kissed his hand, my own eyes filling with tears.

He squeezed my fingers, then pulled free. Wiped his eyes with his napkin, shook his head, smiled at me and resumed eating. I watched as he retreated back behind his amiable mask. Somewhat fitting that he wore one for work.

Not everyone could cope with a broken heart. Some people never recovered. My dad seemed to be one of them.

Kate would recover. I’d make sure of it.

Our heart-to-heart was over. I told him about the ice tool museum and suggested we visit it in the fall when baseball was over, and he told me that he’d gone to see a movie in Seattle at a theater where the seats reclined, and he’d fallen asleep and woken in the middle of the next movie.

I never realized how lonely my father was. All those girlfriends, all that cheating, all those years with Candy, who couldn’t get over him the same way he couldn’t get over my mother.

“Are you and Candy really getting a divorce?” I asked.

“What? Oh, that,” he said. “No. She just likes to go through the motions once in a while to get my attention.”

A man dressed in chef whites came over to our table. “How was everything today? I’m Matthew, the chef and owner.”

“Fantastic,” Dad said, shaking his hand. “Best pasta I’ve had in years.”

“And Dad eats out a lot,” I said. “All over the country. He’s an umpire for Major League Baseball.”

“Oh, man! What an awesome job! You ever meet Derek Jeter?”

“Sure have. He’s a great guy.”

The men talked baseball for a few minutes, then the chef shook both our hands, thanked us for coming in.

“Hey,” I said, suddenly remembering my job. “I’m the features editor at Hudson Lifestyle. I don’t think we’ve covered you.” That in itself was weird; we did a story on a bead store opening last year. There was nothing too inconsequential for us, so long as it was in the area. We always covered new restaurants.

“Yeah,” he said. “Um...”

Dad’s phone chimed, and he looked down at his phone. “Oh! Clancy canceled for tonight’s game. I have to get to Camden Yards. Can you get back to the office on your own, Burger-baby?”

“Sure, Dad. I’ll walk. It’s beautiful out.”

He kissed me on the cheek, shook the chef’s hand again and left, once again buoyed by our national pastime.

“Do you know our magazine?” I asked Matthew. “We do lots of restaurant features, and this is a lovely spot.”

He sat down in Dad’s vacated seat. “I do know the magazine. I’m Matthew Kent.”

My mouth fell open, and a rush of heat rose up my chest.

Jonathan’s brother. Jonathan’s brother, who slept with his wife.

“Oh,” I managed. “You.”

“Yeah.”

Now I could see a resemblance. Matt’s hair was lighter, and his eyes lacked the odd beauty of Jonathan’s, but he had high cheekbones and beautiful hands.

“Have you worked there a long time?” he asked.

“Two years.”

“So you know my brother well?”

I know him biblically. “Mmm-hmm.”

“And based on the hate shining from your eyes, I guess you know about me.”

“Yep.”

He sighed. “Yeah.” His fingers drummed on the table. “Well, I’m not proud of the way it happened, but I do care about my brother.”

“Funny way of showing it.”

“There’s no excuse, I realize that,” he said, staring down at the table. “For what it’s worth, I really do love Laine and the girls.”

“Of course you do. They’re your nieces.”

His gaze snapped up to me. “Look. I was in love with her years before Jonathan even noticed her, okay? And when our father had the stroke, Jonathan just closed up. There was no room for me, no shared grieving or whatever, and Laine was alone all day long with two little toddlers. All he did was work.”

“So you thought you’d help by shtupping his wife.”

He looked away. “As I said, I’m not proud of it. And I didn’t just shtup her. Long before it got to that point, I was buying the groceries, cooking dinner, playing with the girls, fixing the furnace.”

“Wow. You should get a sticker.”

“I know what a shitty thing I did, Miss...”

“O’Leary.”

“Miss O’Leary. But if you work for my brother, you probably know he’s not the easiest person in the world. I’d like to make things right with him, or at least try.” He looked out the window again. “I miss him.”

“Sounds like someone needs to buy a well-worded card,” I said, standing up. My hand hit my father’s water glass, which tumbled into Matthew’s lap. “Whoops.”

With that, I left, my head buzzing with the feels.

Quite a lunch. In an hour, I understood my father better than I ever had. I learned that my mother had somehow known she wouldn’t always be there for me and tried to provide for me before I was even born.