Things We Never Said: A Hart’s Boardwalk Novel Page 13

  I smirked at her no-nonsense attitude. “Your bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired.”

  “You’re not sick, Dahlia. You’re sad. And you’re loaded with guilt. Yes, you could have come home sooner, and yes, you made your family worry about you. That is your fault. You know that. You’ve explained, you’ve apologized, and everyone but Michael is moving on. But Dillon is not your fault. None of them believe that—and my guess is that not even Michael believes that. You have to let it go.”

  “My mom believes that, Bailey. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I was born to hurt the people I love.”

  Frustration flashed in her eyes. “No. I won’t hear it. And I won’t let you do this to yourself. Not again. Christ almighty, this isn’t the Dahlia I know and love. You’re stronger than this.”

  “Bailey.”

  We both jerked around, surprised to see my father standing in the doorway. We hadn’t even heard him approach.

  “Can I talk to my daughter alone, please?”

  Bailey turned to me, silently asking what I wanted, and I loved her for that too. After I nodded, she got up and strode toward Dad. “I’ll make some tea.” And then she squeezed my dad’s shoulder in comfort, treating him like she’d known him her whole life.

  My dad gave her a fond smile, and I was not at all surprised that she’d endeared herself to him already.

  Dad walked into the room, eyeing me in concern. I was getting sick of that look, but I guess if I didn’t stop wallowing and buck up, they’d continue to look at me that way.

  “We’re all allowed to have weak moments, Bluebell.” Dad sat next to me. “It’s not a failure to admit that you can’t cope with something. It’s not a failure to admit that you need people to help you through.”

  “Bailey, you mean?” I dared to look at him.

  “She’s your family now too. It’s okay that she can help you in a way that we can’t.”

  “It’s not that,” I hurried to assure him. “She’s not part of my mistakes. I don’t feel guilt around her. I get to be sad around her. No judgments.”

  “And you feel like you can’t be sad with me?”

  “I don’t deserve to.”

  “Oh, Bluebell …” He put his arm around me, his voice cracking a little. “That breaks my heart, dahlin’.”

  We were silent as I burrowed into my dad’s side.

  “I overheard what you said to your friend, and I need to tell you something. I need to explain something that I probably should have explained a while ago.”

  I stiffened against him. “Okay?”

  “You are not to blame for Dillon’s death. I have never thought that. Your sister and brothers have never thought that. And Michael Sullivan has never thought that. I don’t know what happened between you and him last night and Dermot couldn’t tell me, but whatever it was, it wasn’t about Dillon. As for your mother,” he said, letting out a long exhale, “that goes way back. Way back before Dillon. Way back even before any of you kids came along. Deep down, your mother is a good person, but she has her problems. There is a reason we don’t talk to her parents or her sister.”

  I pulled back to stare at him, surprised. My maternal grandparents were another thing my mom pretended didn’t exist, along with her sister. The only reason I knew about them was because Davina had found a shoebox full of pictures and asked Mom about them. She’d told Davina a little about it and then proceeded to pretend they didn’t exist again whenever Davi tried to mention them.

  “Your mom’s dad was physically abusive, but your grandmother was emotionally abusive.”

  I sucked in my breath. Despite everything she’d said and done to me, I hated that for my mom. “What did they do?”

  “Her dad had a temper, and he was quick with his hands. As for her mother, well, her affection wasn’t freely given. It had to be won. She would play off your mom against her sister. It was a competition to see who could do better that week and win their mom’s love. Sometimes your mom won, and sometimes her sister won. It bred ugly competitiveness in your mom and jealousy like I’ve never experienced. That jealousy destroyed her relationship with her sister. I knew all about it, and I loved her so much I tried to understand when she acted a little nutty. She was always possessive and resentful whenever someone she cared about showed someone other than her more affection. It wrecked a lot of her friendships, and I had to be very careful about how I acted around other women.”

  “But you stayed with her.”

  “I loved her. When we were younger, your mom was hilarious and fuckin’ cute. I loved making her laugh.” He smiled tenderly at the memories. “No one needed laughter and unconditional love more than your mother. And we managed through it. The more she trusted me, the less jealous she seemed to get. Then we started to have kids, and our relationship got stronger. Until you.”

  My breath caught in my throat, my heart pounding. Had Mom lied? Was I not hers after all? “Dad?”

  Seeing my fear, he understood and shook his head. “It’s nothing that dramatic. No matter how bad things got, I never cheated on your mother. But when you were born, you and I formed this automatic bond that was a little different from the one I had with your brothers and sister. Don’t get me wrong, I love all my kids, but from the moment you were born, you were definitely more mine than your mother’s. It became more apparent why as you got older. You were my little mini-me, a McGuire, through and through.”

  He grinned down at me with so much love, it almost obliterated all the pain. Then his smile fell. “Your mom hated it. When you were little, you would come to me when you were hurt or cry for me when you’d had a nightmare. When you were sick, you didn’t want anyone else. Only me. Your mom and I used to fight about it all the time. She said I was taking you away from her. And then when you got a little older, even though you were still just a kid who didn’t know what she was doing, the hurt festered in your mom. I knew because she was harder on you about everything. She’d started to resent you because she thought she was losing out on the affection game.”

  Shocked, I stared at Dad with a feeling akin to horror. “But I didn’t mean it.”

  “I know that.” He tightened his hold on me. “And your mom should have known that, but what her mother did to her and her sister screwed her up in ways I couldn’t fix. It concerned me so much over the years, I even asked her to go to therapy to talk to someone about it, see if it would help, but she refused. I hated the way she treated you, and I should have done something about it a long time ago. For that, I am to blame. No one else.”

  “Dad—”

  “No, it’s true. I’m your father, and it’s my job to protect you. Even if that meant protecting you from your own mother. The friction between you two was a sore spot in our marriage for years.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Not your fault. Your mother is a piece of work.” He exhaled heavily. “She set out to make Dillon hers when she was born. She wanted that bond with Dillon that I had with you. She blames you for Dillon’s death, and that’s not because it is true, and God, dahlin’, you need to get that out of your head. Your little sister loved you. I know she was angry in the end but that little girl hero-worshipped you. If she’s watching over us, her fuckin’ heart is breaking knowing what this is doing to you. What your mother is doing to you.

  “I love your mom. But she wouldn’t talk to someone about what happened to her as a kid, how it affected her as an adult, as a parent, and now everything is so twisted up inside her she can’t see straight. Losing Dillon broke something inside of her, and it was easier to blame you than to make peace with the fact that it was a tragic, senseless accident. This way she has somewhere to channel all her anger.

  “And now she’s lost everything,” he whispered. “She lost me, and she’s losing her kids. All of them. The only girl she had left was Davina, and she didn’t turn out the way Dillon would have so she’s pushed her away too. I love your mom, but I love my kids more, and I won’t lose them because of her.

&n
bsp; “Our marriage has been on the rocks for years, and we drifted too far apart. But there was a kernel of something left, until she confessed to hitting you and saying the toxic shit she said to you all those years that led to you drinking. Amazingly, finding that out gave me peace, knowing that leaving her was the right thing—that she was no longer the woman I married all those years ago. Our divorce is not on you. It’s on her and me. You get that, right?”

  Silent tears I didn’t know I had left in me fell down my cheeks as I nodded.

  “You’ve got to let whatever poison she put in you, out, Bluebell. Because I can’t sit back and watch my baby girl live an empty life, punishing herself for something she did not do.”

  I fell against him, crying quietly, because his words, this history lesson about my mother, had a profound effect on me. For years, I’d thought there had to be something fundamentally wrong with me that my own mother could hate me. However, knowing there was a reason for the way she was freed something inside me. Not all the guilt, but some of it. The blame that didn’t belong to me.

  And just like that, I breathed a little easier.

  Laughter filled Darragh’s house as we sat around his dining table a few weeks after that life-changing discussion with Dad. And it was life-changing. Between the knowledge he’d given me and the support and love I got from my family over the subsequent weeks, I was slowly shedding the guilt that had crippled me emotionally for years.

  It was almost Thanksgiving and Bailey had to return to Hartwell—Vaughn was threatening to come to Boston to bring her home. I was returning with her, content that my family and I would be okay.

  There was still the thorn in my side that was my relationship with my mother.

  And the hole in my heart that Michael put there when he told me hated me.

  However, I’d decided I could live with it.

  I had to.

  “I wish you would stay for Thanksgiving,” Krista said.

  I smiled regretfully. “I have to go back. We have the annual Punkin’ Chunkin festival next weekend, and it’s one of the few weekends during the quiet season where I make a lot of money with the tourists.”

  It was true. I couldn’t afford to lose out on that income.

  “Well, maybe Bailey can stay, then.” Dermot winked at my friend.

  One of the nicest things about the past few weeks was getting Dermot back. It had been tense at first (and there were still moments of awkwardness), but he was smiling and joking with me more and more.

  And, unfortunately, flirting shamelessly with Bailey.

  Bailey rolled her eyes. “Once more, I am engaged.”

  My brother puffed up his chest. “Yeah, to some stuffy, New Yorker business guy who probably doesn’t know his way around a woman’s feelings, if you know what I mean.”

  While Darragh cut him a warning look because the boys listened to everything their uncle Dermot said, I almost choked on a bite of roast chicken.

  Bailey grinned at me, a smug twinkle in her eyes.

  “What?” Dermot frowned.

  I cleared my throat, wondering how to say it in a way the boys wouldn’t understand. “You couldn’t be further from the truth. Not only does he, by Bailey’s account, excel at women’s feelings, Vaughn Tremaine is anything but stuffy and boring. Oh, and he looks like an underwear model to boot.”

  “He does,” Krista agreed. “I Googled him. Well played, Bailey.”

  Bailey preened. “Thank you.”

  Dermot frowned. “I’m good-looking.”

  “You’re very handsome,” Bailey conceded. “But even if my fiancé weren’t an annoyingly perfect physical male specimen, I’d still love him. So, unfortunately, I’m heading back to Hartwell with Dahlia.”

  “Well, all I can say is he must be special to have caught your eye.”

  Dad groaned. “Give it up, son. She’s taken. Get over it.”

  “What? I’m not allowed to admire her? She’s smart, and she’s fuckin’ gorgeous. It’s physically impossible for me not to acknowledge that, I’m sorry.”

  While we laughed, Darragh smacked Dermot across the head. “For the fortieth time, watch your language.”

  Bailey bumped my shoulder with hers and whispered, “I love your family.”

  Warmth spread across my chest. I did too. And my family had, unsurprisingly, taken to Bailey. The only one who had been a little standoffish with Bails was Davina. Astrid cornered me and explained that it was hard for my big sister to see how close I was with Bailey when she’d missed out on so much of my life.

  Thankfully, Davina warmed up a little more as the days wore on.

  “I called Rosie’s in Somerville. They’ve reserved a table for us tomorrow night,” Davina said. Rosie’s was a bar my dad and Darragh liked. It served pub grub and had big TVs all along the walls that continually played sports. It was relaxed, the food was good, they allowed the boys in, and we couldn’t think of a better place for a family night out before I went back to Hartwell.

  “And then Sunday Steak at mine on your last night.” Dad smiled, but I could see the shadow of melancholy in his eyes. I knew it was because he didn’t want me to leave. He and Dermot had gotten the entire weekend off work to spend it with me before I returned to Hartwell. It meant a lot to me.

  I reached across the table and curled my hand over his. “I’ll be back at Christmas.”

  He nodded and grinned, his dimple popping out. “I can’t wait, Bluebell.”

  Later, after Davina and Astrid had gone home and Krista was putting the boys to bed, I helped Darragh load the dishwasher while Bailey, Dad, and Dermot stood around the kitchen drinking coffee and joking around.

  “Hey, I don’t want to spoil the mood or anything,” Dermot said, sounding serious, “but, um, you should know I convinced Mom to go see a therapist.”

  I whirled around from stacking the dishes. “Seriously?” I could feel Bailey’s concerned gaze, but mine automatically went to my dad.

  He stared at the floor, pensive.

  “Yeah,” Dermot replied. “I don’t know what will come of it, but I thought you should know.”

  I nodded. Did I still care?

  Yes, I did.

  I didn’t want my mom to lose everything, despite her feelings toward me. Especially now I understood where some of those feelings came from.

  “Dad?” Dermot asked, and my dad’s eyes flew to his. “I’m not trying to get in the middle of you two with this. It’s just no one else is talkin’ to her, and I get why. I do. But I don’t want her to be alone.”

  Tears burned in the back of my throat and I looked to Darragh. A muscle ticked in his jaw, and I knew he was conflicted about the whole thing too.

  Dad shook his head at Derm. “It’s up to you kids what you decide to do regarding your mom. I understand either way, and I’m glad she’s got you. Okay?”

  My brother nodded, and I could see him struggling to hide his emotions.

  Silence fell across the kitchen.

  And then Bailey piped up, “Did I ever tell you guys about the time Dahlia accidentally flashed old Mr. Shickle, who owns the Ice Cream Shack?”

  Horror filled me. “Don’t you dare! This is my brothers and my dad.”

  Snorts of laughter came from all three, and that propelled Bailey onward to my mortification. “It was a rare day off, we’d been on the beach in our bikinis—stop leering at me, Dermot—and we’d gone to the Ice Cream Shack. But Dahlia leaned against the wall as we waited for our ice cream and got the ties of her bikini caught in an old picture hook on Mr. Shickle’s wall. Instead of patiently trying to untie it, she yanked it.” Her laughter-filled eyes came to me. “Bikini top came off, and Mr. Shickle was rushed to the hospital with a suspected heart attack. In the end, it was only arrhythmia, and he survived, but there left no doubt in the minds of the people of Hartwell that the sight of Dahlia McGuire naked was too much for old Mr. Shickle to cope with.”

  My cheeks burned with mortification as my dad and brothers veered between
horror that their daughter/sister had flashed her boobs in public, and hilarity that I had, indeed, sent an old man to the hospital.

  “I cannot believe you told that story!”

  “What story?” Krista asked as she wandered into the kitchen.

  So I had to endure another retelling. Embarrassing! Krista nearly peed her pants laughing. And Bailey succeeded in doing what she’d set out to do.

  To take our minds off my mom.

  To make us laugh.

  Even if it was at my expense.

  * * *

  The following night most of my family was gathered at Rosie’s. Levi had woken up sick that morning, and although he’d gotten better throughout the day, Darragh and Krista didn’t think it was a good idea for him to go out for dinner. Ultimately, they decided both boys should stay home since they’d have to leave after dinner with Krista anyway, so Darragh had come alone. I was disappointed Krista and my nephews weren’t there and hoped Levi would be well enough to go to Dad’s steak dinner tomorrow for my last night in Boston.

  “I will miss the hell out of you,” Davina said as we stood at the bar to order drinks. We’d already all eaten and were now moving onto the drinking portion of the evening. Well, they were. I was sticking to soda water and lime.

  I leaned into her. “I’m going to miss you too. But I’ll be back before you know it.”

  She seemed to hesitate before blurting out, “If Mom wanted to try to have a relationship with me again and I wanted to see if that could work, would you hate me?”

  Of course not. “God, no, Davina. Look, I understand why things are the way they are between Mom and me, and as much as it hurts, I’ve found more peace about that than I could have hoped for a mere month ago. I know now she and I will probably never have a relationship and I’m coming to terms with that. But I wouldn’t wish that on any of you. Or her. So if she makes steps to mend fences, I’d be happy for you, Davi. Honestly.”