Coming Home(11)

“Well, duh. I mean, who wouldn’t want to hold on to this?” she said, gesturing at herself.

Leah burst out laughing, throwing the apron at her sister before running upstairs to the bedroom that had been hers as a teenager. Her father had moved them all to Bedford shortly after their mother’s car accident. Leah had been about to start seventh grade at the time, her brother about to begin high school, and their father had told them he was moving them for the sake of their education—that the city schools were in bad shape, and he wanted them all to attend a good high school. But even at twelve years old, Leah knew the real reason.

He had a hard time living in that house without her. They all did.

Leah stripped off her “cooking T-shirt”—an old shirt so splattered and stained it looked like a Rorschach test—and pulled a fitted green sweater over her head. She glanced down, tugging the sleeve over her bare wrist. It had been two days since she’d left the note at Catherine’s. The optimist in her wanted to believe that maybe her note had blown away in the storm, and that was why Catherine hadn’t called. But the realist in her knew that if she hadn’t called, she hadn’t found it. And if she hadn’t found it by now, she wasn’t going to.

Leah knew she couldn’t hide the lost bracelet forever, but she just wanted to make it through the holiday before she had to come clean and tell her father.

After changing into a pair of skinny jeans, she came back downstairs and turned into the kitchen just in time to see her father sneaking a piece of salami off the serving platter.

“Daddy,” she said, and he dropped it quickly, spinning in her direction.

“Princess. You look beautiful.”

“Nice try,” she said, walking over and sliding the platter out of his reach. “You know you’re not supposed to be eating that.”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s Christmas, Leah. I’ve been good all year.”

“I know, but you have to take it easy with that stuff.”

Her father reached over and pinched the tiniest sliver of salami off the plate, nibbling it off the tip of his finger before raising his eyebrows at her. “Happy?”

“Don’t be like that,” Leah sighed. “I’m just looking out for you.”

He walked over to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. “I know,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “But it’s been two years. My blood pressure and cholesterol are both good. You gotta stop treating me like I’m made of glass.”

Leah nodded and looked down. It didn’t feel like two years since her father’s heart attack. It felt like it could have been yesterday. She could remember every horrible detail with perfect clarity, right down to what an awful excuse for a daughter she had been.

“Besides,” her father said. “I eat healthy practically every other day of the year.”

Leah smiled up at him. “Only because I go on reconnaissance missions through your fridge and cabinets and do your grocery shopping for you.”

“I didn’t say I was responsible for my healthy eating habits, just that I had them.”

The corner of her mouth lifted in a smile just as Christopher’s voice boomed through the house. “Not for nothing, but I’m about to eat my f*cking arm out here!”

“Watch your mouth!” Leah and her father yelled in unison.

She glanced up at him, rolling her eyes, and he laughed softly, kissing her head again before grabbing one of the serving platters and bringing it to the table.

A few minutes later, they were all seated as Leah poured everyone a glass of wine. As soon as she placed the empty bottle on the table, everyone turned to look at her father, sitting at the head.