“I know the story, Dad. . . . ”
He turned to her. “I was wrong, wasn’t I?”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“What you’d brought home was just someone else for you to take care of. ” He frowned. “I should have worried about your heart instead of your financial comfort. If your mother had been alive . . . she would have known what to look for. It’s just that I wanted you to have better than I could give you. ”
“I know, Dad. ”
“It . . . ” His voice trembled and he wouldn’t meet her gaze. “It hurts me to see how you are now. Last spring you were so happy. I miss hearing you laugh. I think . . . when you were in Mystic, I gave you some bad advice. Hell, I gave you bad advice your whole life. I should have told you that you’d make a wonderful bookseller. I should have been telling you that kind of thing for years. ” He turned to her at last. “I should have told you that you were the smartest, most talented, most incredibly gifted person I’ve ever known . . . and that I was proud of you. That’s what your mama would have said. ”
“Oh, Daddy . . . ”Annie knew that if she tried to say anything more, she’d start to cry.
“A dad . . . he teaches responsibility and accountability, but a mom . . . ah, a mom teaches her child to dream, to reach for the stars and to believe in fairy tales. At least, that’s what Sarah would have given you. But me? What does an uneducated old millworker like me know about fairy tales and possibilities and dreams?” He sighed, and when he looked at her there were tears in his eyes. “I wish I had it to do over again, Annie Virginia. . . . ”
She stepped into her father’s big, strong arms and clung to him. “I love you, Dad,” she whispered against his warm neck.
When she finally drew back, her mascara was running down her face. She grinned. “I must look like something out of the Rocky Horror Picture Show. I’d better run to the bathroom and freshen up. ”
She spun away and hurried through the kitchen. She passed Terri and Natalie, who were busy arranging candles on the cake.
Natalie looked up. “Are you okay?”
Annie nodded. “Fine. My mascara is bothering me. ”
“Is Dad home yet?”
“I’m going to try his car phone right now. He’s probably pulling up the driveway. ”
Above Natalie’s head, Terri shot Annie an irritated look. Annie shrugged helplessly and went to the phone, punching in Blake’s cellular number. It didn’t even ring; it just patched her through to his voice mail.
Annie turned, faced their expectant looks. “He’s not in the car. ”
They waited another forty minutes for Blake, and then by tacit consent, they started the party without him. They came together at the table, the adults talking furiously to cover the awkwardness and disappointment. Still, the empty chair at the head of the table couldn’t be ignored.
Annie forced a bright smile all through the meal. Terri regaled them with funny anecdotes about life on the soaps—and death in the air—until everyone was laughing. After dinner, they sat around the fireplace and opened gifts.
At ten o’clock, Terri reluctantly went home. She hugged Natalie tightly, then held Annie’s hand as they walked to the front door. “He’s a real shithead,” she whispered furiously.
There was no point in answering. Annie hugged her friend and said good-bye, and then walked slowly back to the living room.
Hank rose immediately. “I think I’ll go to bed. Us old guys need our beauty sleep. ” He squeezed Natalie’s shoulder and bent to kiss her cheek. “Happy birthday, honey. ” Straightening, he threw Annie a frustrated look and strode from the room.
Silence fell.
Natalie went to the window. Annie came up beside her. “I’m sorry, Nana. I wish I could change it. ”
“I don’t know why I keep expecting him to be different. . . . ”
“He loves you. It’s just . . . ” Words failed Annie. She’d said the same tired thing too many times and she couldn’t even pretend tonight that it made a difference.
She turned to Annie. “What good does his love do me?”
The softly spoken question raised a red, stinging welt on Annie’s heart. “It’s his loss, Natalie. ”
Natalie’s eyes filled slowly, heartbreakingly, with tears. “When I was a little girl, I used to pretend that he wasn’t my real dad. Did you know that?”
“Oh, Nana . . . ”