Chance Taken

17

Veronica

Dad raged and grumbled for a while after Anne left but stopped after Mom pointed out that there’s really nothing for us to report to the police at this time. And that there might actually be nothing to worry about.

It’s true. Despite the fact that I was shot at. Chance was actually the target of that.

I’ve been bad-mouthed by biker clubs before. Threatened even. And nothing ever came of it.

The documentaries I make don’t reveal enough about the operations of any club to make them a real threat. That’s mostly due to the fact that the victims I speak with are too scared to give me names. Trixie was the first one who offered to do that and even she took it back.

We spent the rest of the day doing family things, like watching TV, lounging by the pool and playing cards. Dad even fired up the barbecue just like he used to almost every weekend before Ariel was taken.

It’s evening now, twilight fast turning to full night. Ariel and Mom are in the living room, watching their favorite reality show that I can’t stand. The shrill, arguing voices of the women starring in that show are reaching me all the way at the pool through the open living room windows.

Dad is by the pool too, dragging the big black net across the surface of the turquoise water, removing non-existent debris and insects. Cleaning the pool has always been his go-to unwinding activity. I go to stand beside him at the long edge of the pool.

“When we first set up the foundation, we knew it might eventually come to this, Dad,” I say, not wanting to break the easy tranquility that settled over us after the excitement of the morning faded, but feeling like it’s a conversation that we should have.

He nods but doesn’t respond.

“The goal of my work at the foundation has always been to bring justice to the men who hurt Ariel. And we always knew that would come at a cost.”

He glances at me, his eyes sad and somehow as watery as the water he’s trying to clean. “We’ve been paying the cost. For years. Day in and day out. You especially, Nic.”

Why is everyone getting on my case about work today? I’m doing what needs to be done.

“I used to burn for revenge too,” he continues as he starts raking the pool again with the net. “It’s what kept me going for years. Theonlything that kept me going. But it almost consumed me before I realized what was happening. And this morning was a stark reminder of that downward spiral.”

He glances at me to see if I’m listening. I am, with my arms clutched tight around my stomach, because I don’t know where this is going and I don’t like it.

“Ariel is getting better, and we’re finally starting to get some normality back and then this thing crashes in like a ton of bricks, bringing it all back like it never faded,” he concludes.

He’s speaking in a calm, soothing voice, but the sadness laced indignation burning in my chest is quickly turning to frustration and red hot anger. Yes, I know I’m to blame for all that’s wrong with their lives. Including what happened this morning. I can’t change it.

I back away from him and sit on one of the deck chairs, not wanting to end this day—this day that’s been as close to the perfect days of my childhood, as I can remember—with another argument. It’s not like I’m hearing anything I don’t already know. Or can fight.

He lays down the cleaning net and comes to sit next to me.

“I know you think finding and punishing the men who hurt Ariel will bring us all closure. I used to think so too. But what will really bring us all closure is moving on with our lives,” he says. “The constant reminders you’re forcing on yourself won’t ever give you peace. Because there will always be more bad guys to catch and punish.”

“I owe it to Ariel,” I hear myself say. It’s not what I meant to say. But it’s the only thing I could think of that wouldn’t be argumentative right off the bat.

He lays his hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “Sweetie, you don’t. You were both at the wrong place at the wrong time. That’s all. And that’s the only way to look at it.”

“If I hadn’t stopped at that supermarket… if I hadn’t left her alone in the car…” I don’t have the breath or the composure to finish any of those sentences properly. “It’s my fault she was taken and I will make it right.”

He sighs and pats my shoulder. “It’s not, Nic. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, what we’ve all been trying to tell you all this time. How long has it been since we spent the day as a family like this? Years? It’s time to move on.”

He stands up and picks up the net again. “That’s why I got so upset this morning. Not because of what’s happening, but because it shattered the peace we’ve been trying to find for so long now. I’m sorry if I came across as being mad at you.”

Well, what do I say to that? I came here to tell my dad that the men who hurt Ariel will finally get their due now, and he thought it was a good time to tell me he doesn’t blame me for anything and that he thinks I should quit my work for the foundation. What is happening?

A second later, I’m asking that same question again, but for an entirely different reason.

Brakes screech on the street outside, followed by loud banging against metal and two pops which I instinctively recognize as gunshots.

Dad drops the net and rushes to me, looking at the gate leading into the garden just as it crashes open and two men in leather jackets, black pants and faces covered by black masks come rushing through. Two more follow.