Erica thought about the photo she’d seen on Hattie’s desk when they’d checked in. “He was a good dad to you.” There was a stab of something she didn’t recognize. Envy? Loss? How could she feel loss for something she’d never had?
“He really was a good dad. And I don’t know if that makes you feel better or worse, but it’s the truth.” Hattie gave a half smile. “And maybe, in a way, I have you to thank for the fact that he was. He learned a hard lesson.”
Erica felt the past change shape around her. Not a selfish man walking away from responsibility and never looking back. A youthful mistake, a terrible error in decision making. Remorse carried through a lifetime. “I think if someone learns from a mistake, makes a major change in their lives because of it, that’s to be applauded. Not everyone learns.”
She thought of one particular CEO she’d dealt with in the past who couldn’t manage to rein in his behavior even though it was damaging the reputation of the company. He’d made excuses. Blamed everyone and everything except himself until in the end, Erica had walked away from the business, and felt sorry for his senior executives who were less able to do so.
She admired people who took responsibility. It seemed that her father had taken responsibility—the second time around.
Hattie took a sip of wine. “Dad was a good person. But he made a bad decision.” She lowered her glass. “He did try to put it right. A few years after you were born, he contacted your mother, but she wouldn’t have anything to do with him. She told him never to contact either of you again.”
A strange feeling washed over her. Her mother had never mentioned that contact, either. She’d assumed her father had never thought of her again.
But she imagined for a moment how her mother must have felt. She’d weathered those hard early days alone, handling both a baby and the loss of her love. She’d lived with the hope that he’d come back or at least get in touch, and when he hadn’t, she’d lived with the grief. She’d learned to cope with the practical and the emotional. She’d done everything she could to strengthen the places where she’d been vulnerable, including her heart. She’d accepted no help and reached out to no one.
It had been the only life Erica had known, and at the time it had seemed normal, but now she realized how very lonely her mother must have been. Between working and caring for Erica she’d had no time to pursue friendships, and by the time her father finally made contact, her instinct to protect herself and her daughter would have been entrenched. It would have taken great reserves of courage to trust him a second time.
But what if she had? If her mother had welcomed his approach, would he have become part of Erica’s life or would he have been a source of more upset? It was impossible to say, and really, what was the point in speculating?
She realized that Hattie was waiting for her to respond.
Her mouth felt dry and she took another sip of wine. “After he left, she waited for him to get in touch, but he never did. She found it particularly hard at Christmas. I think it took her a long time to accept that he really had left for good, and once that sank in, she wasn’t able to forgive. It was a survival thing.”
“Dad understood that.” Hattie paused. “He punished himself over it. Told himself that he deserved to be cut out of your life and that you were probably better off without him. After what happened with your mother, he steered clear of relationships for a long time. He focused on his work.”
“What was his work?”
“He was a plumber. He set up his own company, employed a handful of people who felt the same way he did about delivering excellent customer service, and did really well. The business could have expanded, but he never wanted to lose that personal touch.”
“And then he met your mother?”
“Yes. And he told me he was a different person by then. A decade older for a start, but also that early experience shaped him.”
It shaped all of us, Erica thought. “In what way?”
“He was really big on responsibility. If he told a customer he could do something, then he did it, even if it meant he was out half the night fixing a frozen pipe. Whatever I started, he encouraged me to see it through no matter how hard it was. The past couple of years, when it has been so hard, I often think about him. In the beginning there were days when I almost couldn’t drag myself out of bed, and I imagined him tugging back the covers and telling me to get up and do what needed to be done. Is this difficult to hear? If you want me to stop, say so.”
“I don’t want you to stop.” It wasn’t true. Part of her did want Hattie to stop, but another part—the bigger part—wanted to hear more.
This was a side of her father she’d never been given access to before. And it was real. All she’d ever had before now was what her mother had given her, and to her mother, Erica’s dad was the man who had walked out on his family when they’d needed him most and he’d remained frozen in that time. A blank figure. The sum of that one single action that had blown apart her mother’s life, and the image Erica had of him went no deeper than one single photograph that her mother had shown her when she’d asked to at least see him. But Hattie was describing a person, not a mistake. Her father, who had always been a one-dimensional figure in her life, was coming to life in her head.
Over the years she’d felt anger, frustration and no small degree of contempt toward the man who had played a defining role in her life and yet never been part of it. But now her feelings toward him, once so clear, were murky and ill-defined.
Hattie stood up and fed another log into the fire. “It was my mother who persuaded him to reach out to you again.” She watched as the flame caught and flickered. “She was pregnant with me by then, so that probably contributed to the fact that she felt so strongly. She felt he owed you that, at least. I think he was afraid of doing it. Afraid of rejection, but he did it anyway. You were twelve when I was born. He sent you a card. He was upset when your mother told him for a second time never to contact you both again, but he wasn’t surprised. He understood and he blamed himself totally, but he wanted to keep the door open. He always hoped that one day he might be given another chance to build a relationship with you. He wanted you to have that choice.”
Erica’s hand shook as she carefully put her glass down on the table. “I found that card when I was clearing her things after she died.”
“I didn’t know you lost your mother.”
“Two years ago.”
Hattie straightened and her eyes darkened with sympathy. “I’m sorry to hear that. All this must be very difficult for you. Do you want to stop?”