Elizabeth Finn - Unforgiven

“Darren—”

“We should head back. The sun’s going down.” He looked away from her out over the water to the distant shore. The sun was hanging lower over the trees than it had been, and the day was fading fast. He turned from her and headed back down the path from the direction they’d come. He let her go in front of him and set the pace, and he followed the entire way back to his house. It was a bit anxiety-inducing to have him behind her, especially after the nipple grope. There was little doubt he wouldn’t notice she had an ass on the many-mile journey back, and she had to focus hard on her feet rather than her absolute self-consciousness.

When she finally saw his tall house slowly materializing in front of them, she almost burst into tears. It was farther than she’d run since before she’d been in prison, and she was going to be paying for it. She’d be lucky if she didn’t puke when she finally stopped running. He rounded her and hopped up the steps to his house two at a time as she tried to pretend she wasn’t ready to collapse.

“I’m going to change before I leave if you don’t mind.” She could barely get the words out. She was trying not to pant, but her face was burning hot and sweating, and her limbs felt like Jell-O. Never mind the very visible tremor in her fingers as she snatched her tote bag off his entryway floor. She ducked into the half bath off his kitchen and collapsed against the sink, stifling the groan that so desperately wanted to come out.

She stripped down to nothing and stood over the air conditioning vent, letting it push cool air up along her body, and then she flushed her face with cold water. Finally, once the sweat on her skin had dried, her face was a more normal shade of pink, and she no longer looked like she was going to stroke out. She put more deodorant on and dressed.

She found him sitting on his deck with his legs sprawled out in front of him. He’d changed into a tattered old pair of jeans, but he was still shirtless. He held an open and half empty bottle of beer in one hand, and a full, unopened one in the other. When he heard her, the hand holding the full beer moved up to offer the bottle to her, though he didn’t bother looking over his shoulder to see her.

She took the beer and moved in front of him, leaning against the deck rail, facing him. He looked wasted. He looked distant and dazed, and she couldn’t for the life of her figure out what had changed since she’d gone into the bathroom. She didn’t have to wait long to find out.

“I never intended to see you when you came home. I made a promise.” She was confused for a moment, but she kept her mouth shut and watched him. “To a dying patient who loved his daughter as much as I loved my sister.” The confusion lifted, and her father’s image settled into her mind. Her eyes teared, and his focus shifted up to see her. “Why can’t I stay away from you?” He looked lost, and she whimpered. “I’ve never been able to stay away from you.” He shook his head as his gaze moved off to some distant place in the woods.

She kneeled in front of him. She was shaking, but she was so afraid of losing him again that she couldn’t stand where his words might lead. “Please don’t push me away. I stayed for you. You promised you wouldn’t run away.” He looked at her again, and his eyes looked glassy, but completely restrained.

He nodded. “I’m not going anywhere.” She sighed and sank back to sit in front of him, leaning against the deck rail again.

She tried to open the bottle he gave her, but every muscle in her body felt like mush. He reached out for the bottle, taking it from her hands and opening it for her. And then they settled into silence, drinking their beers. She stared at his naked stomach, lost in her thoughts, and he stared at her face. She knew he was studying her face because every time she managed to look up from his stomach, his eyes were locked on hers. She was relieved. She was also scared. She had no idea Darren had seen her father before his passing, and she couldn’t say that surprised her.

Most of her interaction with her father had been by phone once he became sick, and their conversations didn’t revolve around Darren. They revolved around Bailey’s future. It was something her father seemed obsessed with as his life winded down before he was ready for it to, and every last conversation they had touched on it in one way or another. His very conversation with Darren apparently revolved around her future too, and her father had seen fit to make sure Darren wasn’t going to be a part of her life. He must have suspected it could get ugly for them, and ugly it had gotten. But it wasn’t at the moment, and the last thing she wanted was to lose him. She knew their interaction could kick her ass and blow up in her face, but she wanted to see it through. God bless her father for caring so much, but she needed Darren to disregard what he’d said. Promises or no.

She was in no hurry to finish her beer, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t nervous. Not a word was spoken between them as they sat on the deck, and he continued to watch her. Macy was running around like a lunatic, still burning off energy no human could ever match. Darren set his empty beer bottle on the arm of the Adirondack chair he was sitting on, and she swigged down the last of her bottle. He stood, offering her his hand and pulling her up to stand.

“When did my father speak to you?” She hadn’t intended on perpetuating this conversation—mainly because she was afraid of what the outcome would be. But as she stood in front of him, she simply couldn’t seem to help but ask. He’d seen her father at a time when she couldn’t, and she wanted to know.

“The night before he passed away. He was admitted to the hospital, and he asked his nurse to contact me.” She nodded, but there wasn’t much to say. “He loved you very much.” She nodded again. Her throat was constricting, and she was fighting the tears. He stepped out of the way, and as she passed by him, his hand met her lower back, and he walked with her into the house.

“Good night.” She responded the same, and then she left.

One Year Before

My dearest Bailey,

I hope enough time has passed since my death for this to be a little less painful for you to read. I asked your mom to save it for a time when the end was near. Not my end, that’s long past by now, but your end, and end is perhaps not the best word. Beginning. Your time is approaching—that time when you’re going to get the chance to live your life again.

Jess’ death was hard enough on its own for you to endure, suffering this punishment multiplied your pain tenfold. I have no doubt you believe you earned it, deserved it. You’ll understand if I disagree. I get it. Actions, consequences. It’s just the way it works, but to see my little girl sent to prison for a crime that on its own was punishment enough, well, let’s just say that’s a difficult pill for a dad to swallow.

Stay strong. Be brave. Don’t let the world tell you what you’re worth based on the last few years of your life. A life is a long thing. Perhaps mine wasn’t quite as long as we’d have liked, and many can say the same, but you understand my point. Five years in comparison to the whole of what you’ll accomplish. You can surely appreciate that it shouldn’t take over your life when it spanned such a short period of it. Perspective is a hard thing to keep sometimes, and you’re going to need to hold onto yours tightly. The world will want to take it away.

I love you more than this life that is slipping away. I’m not afraid of dying, child, but I am afraid for you. A parent wants the world for their child, and I want to leave this life knowing you’re going to be okay. You are going to be okay. But you may not believe that for some time. Just hang on, cut yourself some slack, and be patient. You’ll find happiness again. I promise.

All my love from this world and the next,

Dad

Now

He came home a week after their jog to a house smelling of smoke, and not only smelling of it but filled with it as well. He yelled for her, worried at first, until he realized the smoke had a decidedly Italian smell to it. At just that moment, she emerged from the cloud with an oven mitt on one hand and her other hand waving smoke away from her face. The grimace on her face was priceless, and he almost started chuckling before he could stop himself. Here he’d thought he might ask her to take a run. Apparently she had burning his house down in mind.

“Sorry. Your oven is . . . complicated.”

“Is it?” He studied her for a moment, deciding if he wanted to smile or not. He settled on a smirk, and she bit her lower lip. “So, what’s on fire in my kitchen?”

“It was supposed to be lasagna. But it’s . . . black.”

He nodded slowly. Now he was just toying with her. Of course she was nervous. It wasn’t her house or her kitchen that she’d filled with smoke, and she didn’t realize at all that he didn’t give a shit.

“How ’bout you help me open the windows.” He brushed past her and headed into the smoke. When the windows were open and the smoke had cleared, he met her back in the kitchen. “Let’s go.”

“Go?”

“Well, since you destroyed dinner, you’re going to have to feed me.” The blush on her cheeks left his cock hard. He turned from her before she could notice just what the simplest of things could do to him when it came to her. “Don’t worry, I’m paying.”

She followed him outside, and when she grabbed her bike and started to climb on, he paused a moment before grabbing the bike from her and putting it in the back of his SUV. Of course it made sense to take her bike seeing as she didn’t live with him and had no reason to return with him after dinner, but it was a letdown nevertheless.