Wishing for Wonderful (Serendipity #3)(22)

“So you’ll stick Mom’s memory in the closet and forget about everything that—”

“Your mother’s memory will be with me for as long as I live,” John said. “Even if I tried to forget Bethany I couldn’t, because you’re exactly like her.”

“I remind you of Mom?”

John nodded. “You certainly do. You look like her, talk like her and at times you even have a bit of her temper.”

“Mom had a temper?”

He smiled. “You could say that.”

When the sniffling subsided, he said, “Lindsay, after I lost your mom, you can’t begin to imagine how miserable I was. You and Bethany were my life. With you away at school and Bethany gone, it seemed like I had no reason to live.”

When he looked away and stared absently out the front window Lindsay could see the weight of years lining his face.

“Night after night,” he said sadly, “I sat there all by myself. I didn’t have company and wasn’t looking for any. In the evening I’d come home from work, heat up a TV dinner and plop down in front of the television. I didn’t care what show was on; it was just sounds to fill the emptiness. Some nights I stayed there and slept in the chair, because it was better than climbing into a half-empty bed.”

He gave a deep sigh then turned back to Lindsay with a look of hopefulness. “I lived that way for almost nine years. Then I ran into Eleanor—”

“But, Dad, if you were so lonely, why didn’t you ask me to come home?”

“I thought of it a thousand times, maybe more. But I knew it would be wrong. As much as I wanted to have you home, you had your own life to live.”

“I would have—”

“I know you would have. And although that would have been better for me, it wouldn’t have been the best thing for you.”

He slid his finger beneath her chin and tilted her face to his. “You’re my little girl and I’ve loved you since the day you were born. That will never change. After your mom died, I was miserable and alone, but I loved you enough to let you live your own life. Won’t you please do the same for me now?”

Lindsay felt a swell in her throat. It was a mix of memories, regrets, sorrow and perhaps a tiny bit of forgiveness. There was so much to say, but she said nothing. Instead she reached across and hugged her father. It wasn’t an answer, but it was the best she could do at the moment.





It was the bottom of the third when they entered the stadium. The Phillies had just scored two runs and Hunter Pence was at bat. After three balls and two strikes Hunter hit one over the wall and the crowd went wild. As he rounded the bases everyone in the stadium jumped to their feet, yelling and cheering. Everyone except Lindsay. She was deep in thought and paying little attention to the action.





After the game they returned to the car and started for home. Although John made no further mention of their discussion about Eleanor, Lindsay couldn’t let go of the memory. The more she thought about it, the more she came to the realization something had to be said. To say nothing would be laying the first brick in what could one day be a wall, a wall so high they’d lose sight of one another.

As they eased into a line of traffic crossing the Ben Franklin Bridge, she turned to her father and said, “I’m sorry, Dad.”

“Sorry for what?”

“Being so selfish.”

John looked across and smiled. “You’re not selfish, honey. Sometimes change is hard.”

“Yeah.” Lindsay stared out the window and watched as they drove past colorless buildings and an endless parade of billboards. When she caught sight of a billboard promising “Fun, Fun, Fun!” at an Atlantic City casino, she gave a long and sorrowful sigh.

“I know I’ve been tough on you, Dad, but it feels like I’m losing everything I care about,” she said. “First it was Phillip, then my job, then the apartment, my friend Sara, and now you.”

“You’re not losing me. You couldn’t lose me if you tried. I’m your dad. I’ll always be your dad. That’s never going to change. And as for those other things, maybe the truth is some of them weren’t worth having.”

“Yeah, maybe,” she echoed, but it wasn’t what she was thinking.

Lindsay was on the verge of returning to thoughts of Phillip when she heard the far off sound of a dog.

“Did you hear that dog barking?” she asked.

“Unh-unh.” John shook his head. “Maybe the radio’s stuck.” He reached over and pushed the power button. Music blared. He pushed it again and there was silence.

“Not the radio,” he said. “Must have come from another car.”

Lindsay knew the barking hadn’t come from either the radio or another car. She recognized the high-pitched bark. She’d heard it a number of times before.

~

Don’t be lulled into thinking all is well now that Lindsay’s apologized. It’s not. She’s a female with more ups and downs than a rollercoaster. Oh, her apology was genuine enough, but it’s unlikely she can stay with the benevolence she felt at that moment. Jealousy, that’s the problem. Lindsay can’t admit it, because she doesn’t realize it. The issue here is not John’s loyalty to Bethany, it’s that Lindsay is feeling left out. She’s never going to come to terms with Eleanor until she comes to terms with herself. For that to happen I’ve got to increase the distraction factor even more, toss in some confidence and adjust a number of memories. This is way beyond my range of responsibility and if Life Management gets wind of what I’m doing, there will be hell to pay—and I actually do mean hell!