The Remedy (The Program 0.5)(81)

“I apologize for leaving so abruptly,” he says when I sit across from him. “I’d rather not think of her like that.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” I tell him. “It’s completely understandable. I just wanted to say . . .” I trail off, not sure if it’s selfish for me to continue. But ultimately, I hope my words can set at least one part of him at ease. “You were a great father,” I blurt out quickly. “The best I’ve ever had.” I look at him, smiling sadly. “Catalina was lucky to have you. I just . . . I wanted you to know that.”

His expression weakens for a moment, and he stretches his neck from side to side as if his grief is a pulled muscle. He looks at me again, his face cleared. “I know this situation is unorthodox,” he starts. “But I’m glad you came to us. You. I’m not sure how you separate yourself from what you do, but I wanted you to know that you matter. Even if you’re not my real daughter, you matter to us because we care for you. We want good things for you.”

My breath catches, and I have to put my hand on my chest to subdue the ache that’s started there. I’m speechless.

“Maybe you thought you were playing my daughter flawlessly,” he says, smiling softly. “But the real you was always there. I could always see the difference.”

I have a quick flash of embarrassment because I did think I was portraying her perfectly. But I guess it really doesn’t matter anymore.

“When you came out that one night,” he says, glancing toward the trees, “I was still angry. But when I saw you, really looked at you, I realized you were just a kid. And I couldn’t figure out for the life of me why your parents would let you do this job. If you were mine, I never would have. After that, I wanted to protect you. I wanted to be your father.”

“I liked being your daughter,” I say, tears flooding my eyes. “I really did.”

Mr. Barnes sniffles, and lowers his head. He brings his fist to his lips, holding back his cry. “Yeah,” he says in a choked voice. “I really liked it too.”

We both sit and cry for a bit, a sad little moment that is just as much a good-bye for me as it is for him. I don’t want to leave, I realize. I wanted this so much. I think it might be all I’ve ever wanted. Someone to love me. Someone to look out for me. And this time, I found it. And it was almost real.

CHAPTER NINE

THE PATIO DOORS OPEN, AND I quickly wipe my face and turn, finding Mrs. Barnes looking out at us. She walks over, her face tearstained. She sits on the arm of her husband’s chair, putting her hand supportively on his shoulder.

They’re a picture, sitting like that—holding each other up. I realize then that they’ll be okay. Neither one will let the other fall. “You have a wonderful family,” I tell them sincerely. “I wish I could change things for you, take away what happened. I really do.”

“I know you do, honey,” Mrs. Barnes says. “And maybe you needed someone too. I hope . . . we hope”—she smiles at her husband—“when this is all over, you’ll still come see us once in a while. Would you consider that?”

I nod. “Yeah,” I say. “I’d really like that.”

“Good,” she says, clearing the emotion from her voice as if it’s settled. “Now, I was thinking you should go see Isaac today. His mother called me last night, very worried. His friends contacted her, expressing worry about your . . . relationship. I was hoping you could . . .” She shrugs slowly, waiting for me to supply the answer.

“I planned to talk to him,” I assure her. “Things got out of hand, but I’m going to set things right.”

“I’m glad,” she says. “He’s a good boy, but he has a lot of guilt. What happened to Catalina, it wasn’t his fault. He needs to know that.”

“It wasn’t your fault either,” I say quickly. Catalina’s decision to end her life had nothing to do with them. They’re not to blame. Mrs. Barnes nods silently, and I see a small bit of acceptance, just enough to break the spell of complicated grief. That guilt of not having stopped Catalina’s death will never go away, but we all have guilt. It just can’t be all that we have.

I stand up, glancing around the yard once more, knowing that my time in this house is almost over. In fact, I could probably leave now if they wanted me to. I turn to Mrs. Barnes. “About the party . . . ,” I start, but she holds up her hand.

“It’s a celebration,” she interrupts. “A celebration of Catalina’s life. We’ve invited her friends and extended family. It was time.”

There’s a moment of sadness when I realize I won’t be part of the celebration, but ultimately I know that my attendance would make people uncomfortable. I’m a closer, after all. I nod, and start toward the house, unsure of what that means for this assignment. Is it officially over?

“Hey,” Mr. Barnes calls. I turn to look back at him. “You really can stay as long as you want,” he says. I thank him, considering at least spending one more night here.

“Oh,” his wife adds, holding up her finger. “Can we . . . Can you not mention this to your supervisors?” she asks, looking slightly worried. “We signed that agreement, and—”

“My lips are sealed.” I pretend to lock my lips, and she laughs. My gaze flows over to Mr. Barnes. He stands, and I wait as he makes his way toward me. I’m already crying when he gathers me into a big bear hug.