If I Didn't Know Better (The Callaways #9)(63)

Picking up her phone, she punched in his number. It went to voicemail. "Call me or come by when you get back," she said. "I've found something in my aunt's house that's a little…odd."



*



Jeremy dropped Ashlyn off for her therapy appointment and then drove down to the harbor to meet Barton at the Java Hut. He knew Barton wanted to talk to him more about working for Kinsey Private Security, but it didn't really hold any interest for him at the moment. Everything about his previous life seemed suddenly very far away.

When he'd woken up in the hospital two months ago, all he could think about was how soon he could get back to his team, but now there were other things and people in his life that mattered more—Ashlyn and Mia.

Mia kept telling him they were just having a summer fling. She wanted to define it so she'd be okay when it ended, and he understood her self-protective instincts. It was easier for him to think of their relationship that way, too. But the idea of summer turning into fall without her living next door was not something he wanted to contemplate. However, he'd told her not to think too far ahead; he needed to take his own advice.

He arrived at the Java Hut before Barton, which wasn't surprising. After getting a coffee from the barista at the counter, he sat down at a table by the window. From his vantage point, he could see the boats bobbing in the harbor and the sign for Buddy's Bait and Tackle. His father was probably out on his boat this morning.

He'd hated fishing, every single thing about it: the waiting, the gutting of the fish, and the stink that never left your clothes. He didn't know what his father loved about it, but then his father had always been better with fish than with people.

The door opened and he saw Barton walk in with Hal Conroy, one of his father's fishing buddies and longtime friends.

Barton tipped his head and went up to the counter to order while Hal walked over to the table.

"Hello, Jeremy," he said. "Mind if I sit for a minute?"

"Go ahead," he said, bracing himself for what he was sure would be a conversation about his dad.

"How are you enjoying being back in Angel's Bay?"

"It's better than I expected."

Hal nodded approvingly. "Cameron said you have a daughter, that cute little girl you were with at the café."

"Yes. Ashlyn is eight years old."

Hal stared back at him and drew in a breath, then let it out.

"Say whatever you want to say," Jeremy told him. "I can see you have something on your mind."

"I know you and your dad haven't gotten along in the past, but don't you think it's time to mend fences? Now that you're a father, don't you have a better sense of how difficult it is to be a parent, especially a single parent?"

"It is difficult to be a single father, but I try. My father gave up after my mother died. His relationship with her was over, so our relationship was over. I was eleven years old. My friends' parents were the ones who showed up for me at baseball games and school events. They looked out for me. They helped me with my homework. My father was drunk or asleep or gone."

"I know it was bad," Hal acknowledged. "Your father was so guilty about your mom's death that he could barely breathe."

"Guilty?" he asked, surprised by the choice of word. "She got cancer. He didn't cause that."

"No, but he was gone the first two months she was sick, remember?"

"Vaguely. He was always coming and going."

"He'd joined a crew in Alaska to earn some extra money. She didn't tell him she was sick right away, because she didn't want him to come home. By the time he got back, she had only a couple weeks left to live. I don't think he ever forgave himself for not having more time with her, for not being there with her when she first heard the news."

Jeremy didn't know what to say. If someone had told him this before, he had no recollection of it, but then the time around his mother's death had passed in a hazy blur.

"Your dad drank to ease the pain," Hal continued. "He wasn't the father you needed. He knows that down deep. He just doesn't know how to get past it. He thinks you hate him."

"I can't say he's wrong."

"Can't you?"

"No, I can't. I went to see him when I first got back. When I told him I had a kid I'd just found out about, he ranted about how irresponsible I was. He didn't ask about her at all. He didn't ask how I felt about things. He just shouted. Does that sound like a man who's worried about whether or not I like him?"

"You took him by surprise. When you called and said you were coming to town and you wanted to talk to him, he had an anxiety attack. He slipped up, took a drink, and then he couldn't stop. He felt bad about what he said to you. He felt even worse for falling off the wagon."

"What wagon? When has he ever been on the wagon?"

"He's been sober for five years, Jeremy. I should know; I'm his sponsor."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Just what I said. He stopped drinking five years ago. He hadn't had a drop to drink until last week. I think he was afraid to see you when he was sober. Then he'd have to deal with actual conversation, maybe admit he'd screwed up with you. I wish in a way that you'd surprised him, just shown up. Knowing you were on your way to see him just set him off. He panicked."