An Innocent Thanksgiving

There it was. My entire story, out in the open. My mom was nodding slightly, like she was looking back over the last five years and filling in all the gaps, all the things that had confused her about my behavior.

Dad had his jaw clenched, and I honestly wondered if he was going to clock Cal in the jaw. Or yell at me. Either option looked likely. I hoped that he would yell at me, actually. Cal’s behavior after the sex had hurt me. It had made me not trust that he wanted his daughter in his life. But the actual initiation of it all? The seduction? The choice to keep Fern? All of that was on me. Sure, he’d said yes, but he wasn’t grooming me, he wasn’t seducing me, he wasn’t being creepy. I needed them to know that. I needed Dad to look at me as an adult and accept that I had a hand in this.

“But when he saw Fern…” I shrugged. “He realized the truth.”

“She does look like him,” Mom noted quietly.

Dad’s jaw ticked and he looked like he might leap out of his chair.

“That’s why I moved down to Nashville,” Cal said, jumping in. The knot in my stomach loosened a little bit. I was grateful that he was taking over the story now. “I realized that Fern was mine on Thanksgiving and I confronted Maggie about it. She was reluctant to let me into her life and I don’t blame her. I was awful to her after our one night together.

“But I wanted to be in my daughter’s life. Now that I know about her, I want to be there. So I moved down and I worked to prove to Maggie that I could be reliable, that she could depend on me with Fern. And, well…” Cal’s mouth twitched and went stiff like he was struggling not to smile. I noticed that he carefully kept himself from looking over at me. “The spark between Maggie and I… rekindled.”

“I’ve got no interest in hearing about whatever damn spark you think is there between you and my daughter,” Dad said curtly, cutting Cal off.

Ah, yeah, this was what I’d feared would happen. My stomach heaved and I had to swallow a few times to keep the bile down. I had never felt this awful in my entire life, and I had been pregnant. I’d gone through a four-hour labor. But that had—that had be pain, sure, but pushing for something, and this was just fear and feeling like absolute shit, feeling shame and horror.

Cal started to speak, but Dad stood up. “I’d like you to leave now,” he said, and while his words were theoretically polite, his tone was far from it. The message was clear—if Cal didn’t get out right that minute, Dad was going to force him out.

I had never seen my dad get physical with anyone. My dad was a logical guy who thought doing the Sunday crossword was the highlight of his week. But this was obviously a limit that he had been pushed beyond, a betrayal from two people he had trusted most in the world besides my mom, and he was close to losing it.

“Dad.” Just keep breathing. “I know that you’re upset. And you have every right to be. But please, I’m the one that you should be upset with. I lied to you, and I lied to Cal. I started all of this, and I didn’t tell you the truth about Fern. This is really on me, not him.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Dad snapped. He turned and walked away, out across the backyard. Fern glanced up, confused about what her grandfather was doing, but then went back to swinging, now reciting the alphabet backwards.

Mom looked after Dad, then turned to us. “I’m sorry about this.”

I didn’t know why she was apologizing, of all people. “Mom, really, it’s okay.” It wasn’t okay, but it also wasn’t her fault.

Cal stood. “I should go. Thank you, Violet, for all your friendship and support over the years. It really does mean a lot. I’m sorry for whatever part I played in hurting you.”

He looked at me, and I felt my breath catch. I wanted to reach out to him, remembering all the wonderful things he’d said to me earlier, how loved he had made me feel—but now really wasn’t the time.

Dad would absolutely lose his shit if he saw the two of us being all… well.

Cal ended up just nodding at me, and then he left, going back inside the house. A moment later I heard the front door open and close, and the muffled sound of Cal’s car starting up.

I got up as well. “I should go inside.” My voice sounded small and distant. I didn’t want Fern to see me cry—if she did, she’d want to know why, and how could I lie to my daughter? But how could I tell her the truth? Especially right now with everything falling apart?