Sweet Water(89)

“So you two are still not speaking?”

“No . . .” I debate mentioning more. That this is not about something that happened over twenty years ago at CMU. It doesn’t feel like the right time. There’s not enough time, actually, because that would prompt Dad to ask about a hundred questions to follow, and dinner is in five minutes.

“I wouldn’t bother Spencer with your marital problems.” He shakes his head. “Even though I think your husband is rotten, he’s been good to your boys. Not my choice of role models, though.”

I think of Josh and what transpired in the music store storeroom, and what a poor role model he would make too.

“So I don’t mind having you around, but are you thinking about a real separation here?”

“Maybe.” Yes. I just don’t want to talk about it right now.

“Well, you know I’m behind you one hundred percent. Your bedroom is always yours to come home to.”

Tears prick my eyes.

“I don’t even know him anymore, Dad. He’s not the person I thought he was. I don’t feel the same way about him. I just don’t know how he can look himself in the mirror.”

“I’m surprised you’re just coming to this conclusion now. He hasn’t changed, Sarah.”

Dad would never know the weight of his words. Martin hasn’t changed. But I have.

Maybe things would’ve worked out differently between Josh and me if I hadn’t married Martin so early and stolen his house away from him. Life is so twisted up right now, I can’t tell the front from the back anymore. “I get that Martin made a mistake, but it’s more than that, Dad. Window. Door.”

Dad’s old saying resurfaces, and I don’t have to explain it to him. He knows what I mean.

“And where I used to see a window, now I see a door.”

Dad nods. “I get it. I always saw a huge brick wall when I looked at that knucklehead, if it’s any consolation.”

I laugh a little despite myself.

“Although I will say, life doesn’t get any easier when you’re living alone, baby girl.” He’s giving me an out if I want to stay with Martin, because no parent wants to see their kid divorced, their family split up.

“Okay, Dad. Let’s not talk about any of this over dinner.”

My dad sucks on his teeth again. “This shouldn’t be awkward at all.”

God, I miss my dad. How did I let such an enormous rift grow between us? I claimed busyness, but it was also selfishness, placing my priorities in front of spending quality time with the one person who’s always had my back. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around much.”

“I’m glad you’re here now,” he says, and it’s the perfect answer. He’s not mad at me; he’s just glad I found my way back.



When we pull up to my driveway, Stonehenge greets me with a sad wink. One of the spotlights is burned out, and the house is trying to get my attention. It misses me and so does everyone inside. Wheeling my suitcase away last night was brutal, but seeing everyone tonight together around the dining room table will be even harder.

We’ll all be there as a family. My dad, Martin, and the boys, in our warm house with a meal my husband prepared himself, which will no doubt be wonderful, because among Martin’s dazzling talents, cooking is one.

He’d easily find another wife to woo with his expensive tastes and debonair behavior. She’d be fooled into believing that his kindness passed for honesty, which it doesn’t, and that his morals were as shiny as his polished silverware, which they aren’t.

I walk up my stony walk and pull at my puffy vest. I wish I had my quilted jacket, but it was burned when the cleaners seized everything incriminating from our house and torched it. I gulp at the morbid thought, all my sins going up in flames with it. How freeing it will feel not to be under the control of the Ellsworths any longer.

If they’ll let me go.

Spencer opens the door and gives me the college try at a bear hug. His light eyes and confident smile make me melt. I let him hold me tightly, my strong, boisterous boy who I worried about so much when he was younger. He’s channeled all his untamed energy into helping others by pursuing his medical degree. I don’t want to think about how he’d side in this situation if he knew all the facts; I’m only happy that he’s not affected by them—yet.

Spencer greets his grandfather next with a large smile. “Hey, Grandpa, I didn’t know you were coming!”

“Neither did I.” Martin is standing in the foyer with a white apron strung around his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “Hi, Vic.” He gives my dad a little wave, and I can tell Martin’s looking for clues as to what I’ve told him. I haven’t told him anything about that night in the woods, but Martin can sit there all night and wonder.

“Hey there, Martin.” Dad is unusually kind, and I’m sorry that he’s trying to behave himself on my behalf, because it won’t make a difference where my marriage is concerned.

Finn is finishing setting the table but stops when he sees us. He drops the silverware and gives me a fearful look. Wild emotions crash into me, and I freeze in place. I settle my breathing and wonder if it will always be this way. Will I ever be able to look my son in the eyes again without feeling this way?

Finn walks over and gives his grandfather an extra-tight hug. “Hi, Mom,” he whispers in my ear, and he has to know by now that I’ve taken that journal, but he’s pretending he doesn’t. I just don’t know what to do with this kid. I can see his gentle, battered soul when I look in his eyes, but he won’t tell me anything. He’s so much like his father, but I feel the dark side of his human prism might be even darker.