Forgive Me(104)

Angie took the items over to the kitchen island and only then acknowledged her father’s presence. Gabriel had on faded jeans, a denim work shirt, and looked quite relaxed, not at all like someone carrying a burdensome secret for years.

Angie took down a plate from the cupboard and set it next to the food. She poured herself a glass of water. “Do you want a sandwich, Dad?”

“You’re not done with this, are you?” Gabriel said.

“Nope, not even close,” Angie replied. She retrieved a dull knife from a kitchen drawer and heaped some egg salad onto the bread. She spread the egg salad evenly, then cut the sandwich in two, took a bite, and chewed slowly. She washed it all down with a drink of water. “I hope you don’t have plans today, because we’re going to get to the bottom of this.”

“Angie, please.”

She took another bite, leaning against the kitchen island, acting as though she had all the time in the world. “No more, please. No more lies. Somehow your former business and Mom’s former life are connected to Isabella Conti, and I’m determined to figure out how.”

“I told you all I know.”

“Please, Dad, that doesn’t work anymore. I checked. There’s nothing about William Harrington in any archives I searched. Nothing about your Ponzi scheme or the trials where you turned state’s evidence. And I’m pretty good at this stuff. There should be something, but there’s nothing. So either you’re not giving me the whole truth or you’re forgetting some key details, but either way, I’m not leaving until we sort it out.”

It was a test. If he came up with the same explanation Bryce and Walt had offered, she might be inclined to believe him.

But instead of a valid explanation, Gabriel shook with anger. His face turned red and his eyes flared in anger. “I will not be spoken to this way by my daughter.”

Angie refused to be rattled. She took another bite of her sandwich, chewing slowly, keeping her eyes fixed on her father, intending her actions to be interpreted as a show of defiance. “Then tell me what I want to know,” she said after swallowing her bite.

“No.”

“Tell me or I’m going to find the Conti family, dammit.” Anger seeped into Angie’s voice. “I’ve got a friend with the Marshals now, or did you forget? He’ll help me. He’ll run this up the damn flagpole if he has to. I promise you, we’ll dig up whatever secret you’re hiding. So let’s do this on your terms, not mine. What is the connection to the Conti family and my mom? Why aren’t there stories about you in the news? Why aren’t you being forthcoming with me?”

Her father’s face turned bright red. “Enough!” he said, stomping his foot so hard he rattled the dishes in the cupboard. He stormed over to the kitchen island, picked up Angie’s plate of food, and hurtled it across the room against the wall.

The plate shattered, sending jagged shards of the dish and bits of the sandwich shooting in all directions like shrapnel. Angie ducked and covered her ears, startled and scared.

“Enough!” Gabriel yelled again. “I will not be spoken to this way!”

“You’re hiding something!” Angie screamed back at him, pointing her finger at his face. “What the hell are you hiding?”

Gabriel turned and stormed out of the kitchen. He went to the TV room and turned on the television, cranking the volume.

“Talk to me, Dad.”

Gabriel wouldn’t respond, so Angie went back to the kitchen and cleaned up the mess.

Time passed, and Angie’s hopes that her father would relent began to dim. She went into the living room and sat on the sofa. The announcer for some History Channel documentary was the only one talking.

After some time, still not having said a word, Gabriel rose from his favorite chair and Angie trailed him into the spacious first floor office adjacent to the living room. Sun spilled inside through a bank of windows overlooking the backyard—a yard still in need of mowing.

Unwilling and unable to endure the silence a moment longer, she decided to press him again. She touched his shoulder. A connection made. “What are you hiding from me, Dad?” she asked in a gentler voice.

Gabriel kept his back to his daughter, sorting through some papers on the desk, pretending not to hear her. He was breathing hard.

“Did Mom have an affair? Am I Antonio Conti’s daughter? What is it? What?”

“No,” Gabriel said harshly, turning to face her. “It’s none of that.” His voice carried less of an edge, suggesting to Angie that he might be softening.

“Then what?” Angie’s eyes were pleading as she reached for her father’s hand. “It’s enough. Just tell me.”

Gabriel titled his head slightly and gazed at his daughter with love in his eyes. “Enough is right,” he said in a quiet voice, almost to himself. “I should have known you wouldn’t let it go. I had hoped, but . . . maybe it’s time. Maybe all this has happened for a reason. You’re safe now. That’s enough for me.”

“I don’t understand.”

Gabriel touched Angie’s cheek with two plump fingers, one of which still carried his wedding ring. He set his hands on her shoulders. His back was turned to the bank of windows, and sunlight streaming in lit him in an angelic glow. Angie saw herself reflected in the lens of her father’s glasses. She looked misshapen, not unlike how she felt.