He took a breath as he reached for a response. “I’m very happy that you and Cleo are so close, because she loves you like she carried you for nine months, loves you in the exact same way as she loves your brother and sister. But…that doesn’t mean you need to be cruel to Valerie.”
I shook my head. “I know you don’t want me to hate her, Dad. And I don’t. I’m just indifferent to her…just the way she was to me.”
His eyes turned pained. “She loved you.”
“No, she didn’t.”
“Yes.” His voice grew firm. “She did…just in her own way.”
I turned away. “Well, Cleo is my mom, so I really don’t care whether she did or not.”
“I just don’t want you to carry this anger, little man.”
“I’m not. You and Mom are the perfect parents. I’m so lucky to have you.”
When he took a breath and sighed, it was audible.
“I just… Now I realize you were right. You tried to warn me. You said I was too young, and I was. I was naïve.” I held the beer between my legs and started to peel the label.
He was quiet for a long time, staring at the lake. We were in the shade from the awning, so we were comfortable, safe from the piercing rays my father always warned me about. “I didn’t want to be right, son.”
I’d always felt out of place, even in my advanced courses and during my time at Harvard. My intelligence was a gift that should have been considered a blessing, but it ostracized me from everyone, even my own classmates. I thought Tabitha and I had a deep relationship, but now I wondered if I didn’t see what other people saw, because I wasn’t capable of it. That was why my father and I were still close even though I was out of the house and on my own. We were the same, and we understood each other.
“I know you’re hurt right now. But remember that her actions and decisions only reflect her, not you. It doesn’t mean you did something wrong, that you weren’t good enough, that you deserved what happened to you.”
“And Kevin?”
There was hesitation in his gaze. “He’s just an ass.”
My father hardly ever cussed, so it was interesting to hear him do it now.
“Don’t let this scar you. Because you will find the right woman when you’re older. You will have a deep and meaningful relationship with someone who is loyal, true, who would never, ever hurt you like that. She’ll be your best friend…and mean so much to you that you’ll forget what your life was like before you met her.
“I don’t know about that.”
“You will, Derek.” He looked me in the eye. “I promise.”
I turned away.
“You still carry the bitterness of your mother’s abandonment, and I don’t want you to carry this too. Forgive—not for them, but for yourself. Otherwise, you’ll hurt people who aren’t responsible for the scars others left.”
“Dad, I don’t think everyone has a relationship like what you and Mom have. It’s not that common.” And I’d learned that the hard way.
“Maybe. But it will happen for you. I know it will.”
“Why?”
He stared into my eyes for a long time, searching for an answer. “I just do.”
One
Emerson
Ten Years Later
I’d started at Astra Books two weeks ago, taking the position the previous editor suddenly vacated to move across the country to care for her elderly father. It was an unfortunate circumstance for her but a great one for me.
It was my dream job.
To top it off, one of the authors on the roster was my favorite author of all time.
Derek Hamilton.
He wrote a sci-fi series that had everything a reader could want, interstellar space travel, lovable characters, exciting climaxes, and painful deaths that left tears in your eyes even though you were just reading words on a page.
He was supposed to have submitted his manuscript for the newest book months ago, but he’d still failed to turn anything in.
I started to worry, not just as an editor, but as a reader.
I’d sent him an email from my desk two weeks ago, my hands shaking slightly because I was contacting the only person in the world I was awestruck by.
Mr. Hamilton,
Unfortunately, Hannah is no longer with Astra Books due to a family illness. I’ve taken her position, and I’m very eager to get my hands on your manuscript because I’m a big fan of your work and want to make this volume in the series the best yet. Allow me to introduce myself, I’m Emerson Lane. So lovely to meet you. Well, virtually at least. =)
I checked that email a million times before I sent it, and I was disappointed when I heard nothing in response.
Nothing at all.
I asked a colleague about it. “Derek Hamilton…is he a diva author?”