My heart was pounding quickly now, and that familiar icy feeling was back. But still no tears. “I’m sorry that I didn’t look up sooner. I’m sorry that I saw the SUV but didn’t say anything. I didn’t have time, but I should have. I should have thought more quickly. I’m sorry I blacked out. I’m sorry I couldn’t hold your hand. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”
I felt short of breath. The words were coming faster, piling out on top of each other. “I’m sorry it was you and not me.” I heard myself say the words, and they surprised me even as they came out of my mouth. I hadn’t known I’d felt that way until that very moment. I hadn’t let myself think about it. But if I’d been just a second faster, if I’d snapped my seat belt right away instead of giving Logan a hard time, if I’d spent one less stupid second in the bathroom making sure my lipstick was just right, then we would have been several inches farther along the road, and the car would have missed Dad and plowed into me in the backseat instead.
Maybe that was the way it was supposed to happen. Maybe I had cheated fate.
“I’m sorry I haven’t done better,” I went on. The more things I apologized for, the more miserable I felt. “I’m sorry I haven’t done a better job of taking care of everyone. I don’t know how, sometimes, Daddy. It’s really hard. But I know it’s what I have to do. I know I have to do that for you. And I’m sorry I haven’t done better. I promise to try harder.”
I sat there, staring at his headstone. I wasn’t sure what I was waiting for. But there was only silence.
“I’m sorry,” I said again. I leaned forward and felt the cold marble of the headstone on my forehead. The cold was cutting into me now, but I didn’t care. I fervently hoped that somewhere, my dad could hear me. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
I repeated the words, again and again, until the pain in my chest was so great that I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t feel my dad’s presence. Not at all. I realized I was talking to myself.
I stood up, cleared my throat, and touched the gravestone once more. I dusted what dirt I could off my sweats and, with one last, long glance, turned away.
? ? ?
I walked toward the parking lot and saw a vehicle parked in the far corner of the lot, in the shadows. Who would be here this late? My heart hammered and I reached for the phone in my pocket. I shouldn’t have come here. What if I had gotten myself into a dangerous situation?
And then, as I tentatively walked closer, I suddenly recognized it. And the person leaning against it, watching me approach.
Sam straightened up and began walking toward me at the exact instant I realized it was him.
“Hi,” he said as we approached each other.
“Hi,” I said, staring up at him as the distance between us closed. We were standing face to face, under a dim puddle of light from a flickering streetlight. “What are you doing here?”
“I went to your house, and your mom said you’d gone for a run,” he said.
“But how did you know I’d come here?”
“I couldn’t think of anywhere else you’d go. Not today, anyhow.”
“Oh” was all I could manage. There was something about realizing how well he knew me that made my stomach flip. We stared at each other for a moment. Then I asked, “Did you rake the leaves in my yard this morning?”
“Yeah,” he said.
“Why?”
He looked a little embarrassed. “It was important to you. It was a memory you had with your dad.”
“You can’t bring him back, you know.” My voice sounded angry, and I wasn’t sure why I was directing any of that toward Sam. But my stomach was all tied up in knots. “Just by raking leaves. He’s gone.”
“I know.”
I looked away. “It’s not fair.”
“What’s not fair?”
I swallowed hard. “Your dad loved you enough to stay. My dad … didn’t. And sometimes I hate him for it.”
There. I had finally shown Sam the last of the cards I had kept so close to my chest, the cards I hadn’t even known were there. How could I hate my father, even a little bit? Surely it made me the worst person in the world. And now I’d shown Sam just what a despicable human being I really was.
He stepped forward and pulled me into his arms.
I was startled, but I finally let myself relax into the embrace. I tentatively wrapped my arms around him and returned the hug. He responded by holding me tighter, like he would never let go.
“It’s going to be all right, you know,” he whispered, ruffling my hair with his breath.
I opened my mouth to tell him he was wrong, but before I could even get a syllable out, he had put his hand gently over my mouth.
“Stop, Lacey,” he said. “Stop always having to be so tough. Just have some faith.”
“Sam,” I said after a minute, “I still haven’t seen a rainbow.” I paused and added, “I’ve looked.”
Sam stroked my hair. “Maybe you haven’t really needed your dad yet,” he said. “You know, it’s okay to hate him a little. He did leave you, even if he never would have wanted to, Lacey. But it made life hard for you. Life is still hard for you. He’d understand.”
“How can I feel like that and still love him so much?” I asked in a small voice.