Perfect Kind Of Trouble

My jaw drops. “My mom knew he was dying and didn’t tell me? Why would she do that? Why would she keep so many things from me?”

 

Lying about my trust fund was one thing, but keeping my dad’s terminal illness from me? That’s so extreme. And refusing to let a dying man get in touch with his daughter is even worse. My God. The drugs must have really made her a monster.

 

Sympathy fills Ellen’s eyes. “I’m so sorry, Kayla. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

 

I shake my head. “No. It’s not you. Clearly, it’s my mom.” I gesture to the e-mail page. “We had all sorts of money from my dad, but my mom squandered every penny and forced us to live in poverty. And forced me to drop out of college.” My voice cracks. “And she kept my father from seeing me. I just—I just can’t believe she would be so vindictive.” I swallow. “And she made me vindictive, too. She filled me with so much bitterness and hurt that I refused to answer when my dad would call me.” I look at Ellen hopelessly. “I didn’t say good-bye before he died. And I didn’t let him say good-bye.”

 

Oh my God. I didn’t let my daddy say good-bye to me.

 

Ellen squeezes my hand and leans close. “Your father loved you very much, Kayla. And when your mother wouldn’t let him see you anymore, he was devastated. He wanted to make things right with you before he died, but he was too sick to fly.”

 

“So he called,” I say in a near whisper. “And I didn’t return his calls.”

 

I shake my head in silence, my jaw going slack. My father didn’t reject me or ignore me. He just couldn’t get ahold of me.

 

Ellen reaches out and puts her hand on mine. “On behalf of James, I want you to know that your dad loved you very much. He spoke about you like you were an angel and he was extremely proud to be your father.”

 

A tear falls down my cheek and onto the tablecloth. “I didn’t know…” I look at Ellen. “I was a horrible daughter.”

 

She smiles. “No, baby. You were the best part of his life.”

 

I didn’t know any of this. And now he’s dead and I can’t say sorry for being so hateful toward him for all these years. And my mother is dead so I can’t even confront her about all the pain she’s caused.

 

My throat closes in, a slow choke wrapping around my neck with icy fingers of betrayal and regret as I blink.

 

“Please excuse me,” I say with a cracking voice. “I have to…” I scoot my chair back abruptly and hurry from the dining room.

 

I don’t know where I’m going, I just go. Through halls and rooms and out doors. I put one foot in front of the other until I find myself in a field of lavender under the morning sky. And there I crumple to the ground and sob against the pretty purple flowers.

 

I sob for my mother and the way she broke my family. How she let my father shower her with love and affection, only to break his heart. How she hauled me away from our sweet hometown and raised me in a big city where I competed with her unending string of boyfriends for her attention. How she took advantage of my love and used me to fulfill her selfish needs. And finally, how she took her own life, the most selfish act of all, and left me all alone in this world.

 

I sob for my father, who loved my mother despite her flaws and never gave up on her. How he made me sweet scavenger hunts and left me little notes for my locket. How he kept pictures of me and my mother up in the house. How he tried to call me, without an answer. How he made a scavenger hunt for me after his death as a sign of love, even though I hadn’t answered those calls. How he was proud of the baby girl he didn’t get to see all grown up.

 

And I sob for myself and all the things I didn’t know. I sob for the hurt I blamed on my father and the many years I that believed he’d never sent us money. For the future I let my mother’s habits destroy, and the precious past I refused to let myself indulge in because thinking good memories about my father was too painful.

 

And I sob for all the chances that I will never have to make any of these things right.

 

I weep on the pretty purple flowers until there’s nothing left to blame or mourn. Then I turn over on my back and stare up at the sky. Lost.

 

 

 

 

 

34

 

 

Daren

 

 

“So?” Ellen leans against the doorframe of my guest room and cocks her head.

 

“So… what?” I ask as I finished making the bed.

 

Ellen lifts a brow. “Are you going to tell me about this Kayla girl or what?”

 

I exhale. “You’re really nosey, you know that?”

 

She smiles. “I do, actually. I think it’s one of my more endearing qualities. So what’s the deal?”

 

I shrug. “Old Man Turner left us some money, apparently. But the condition was that we had to be handcuffed together if we wanted to retrieve it.”

 

Ellen laughs. Like full-on throws her head back and laughs at the ceiling. “That’s awesome.”

 

“Not the word I’d use.”

 

Her laughter tapers off but she keeps smiling. “Oh come on! James leaves you and Kayla an inheritance but forces you two to be handcuffed together for… how long has it been?”

 

“Three days.”

 

“Three days!” She laughs again. Then sighs. “I’m going to miss that ol’ weirdo.”

 

I smile at the pillowcase as I pull it off the pillow to be washed. “Me too.”

 

Her voice turns sincere. “How are you doing with… you know, everything?”

 

There’s no point in pretending like I don’t know what she’s talking about because Ellen knows how to magically wiggle her way into my business and make it her own. And if I’m being honest, I kind of like the way she cares.

 

I let out a long sigh. “I’m doing okay, actually. But Monique got repossessed.”

 

She makes a sympathetic noise. “That’s too bad. You weren’t able to sell her, then?”

 

“Nope. My dad was upside down on the loan. I’m trying to save up for a new car since I don’t know how I’ll get back and forth between all my jobs now.”

 

She straightens in the doorway. “If you need a place to stay, you can always stay here. You can live here for free if you work here, you know. Now that Pixie’s moving out, her room will be free. And I have a feeling Levi’s room might soon be free as well.”

 

“I told you already. I’m living with friends.”

 

“Yeah, and you’re a terrible liar.” She smiles. “Listen, I know you haven’t taken me up on this offer in the past, but you can always live here, Daren.” She looks at me sincerely. “Always.”

 

Warmth flows into my chest as I look at the sincerity in Ellen’s eyes. I haven’t felt so cared for since Marcella. In a lot of ways, Ellen reminds me of a younger, cooler Marcella. Always in a good mood. Always looking out for me and making me feel wanted and special. Man, I miss Marcella.

 

I smile at Ellen. “Thanks. But for now, I’m good just working here.”

 

She nods. “Oh! Speaking of which…” She pulls an envelope from her back pocket and hands it to me. “Here’s your paycheck.”

 

I take it, puzzled. “Payday isn’t until next week.”

 

She shrugs. “I got a little ahead of schedule this month. Oh, and there’s some cash in there too from your bar shift last week.”

 

I peer inside and frown at the cluster of bills within. “I only covered for Angelo for a few hours.”

 

“Well it seems the ladies—and their wallets—love the charming Daren Ackwood.” She shrugs nonchalantly, but I know it’s mostly an act. There’s no way I made this much cash last weekend.

 

“Ellen…” I say, both frustrated and relieved.

 

“Also, I called a repair guy today and he said he could pick up Kayla’s car from the lavender ranch and tow it back to Copper Springs tonight. Where should I tell him to park it?”

 

I shrug. “Have him drop it off at Latecomers.”

 

“Okay. Be ready to leave this afternoon, okay?” She turns to leave then pauses. “Hey, Daren?”

 

I look up.

 

“I’m not sure what’s going on with you and Kayla, but she had a rough morning. So maybe you should check on her.”

 

My heart pounds. “Why? What’s wrong? Is she okay?”

 

“Come downstairs when you’re done and I’ll fill you in,” she says, and disappears down the hallway.

 

My first instinct is to run around the inn looking for Kayla until she’s in my arms and I know she’s okay. But then I remember how much she probably doesn’t want to see me and I stay put.

 

I look back down at the envelope and count the cash inside and almost want to run after her and hug her. Typical Ellen. Always taking care of me when I don’t ask for help.

 

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