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was really here. Once he knows he ll hate me.
And that s what I m really afraid of.
CHAPTER TEN
TANK
There s no right way to meet your father again. It s been twenty years since I ve
seen the man. But after my conversation with Emma a few days ago¸ I ve made my
decision. Spending time with my father will never be high on my priority list but getting
medical care for my mother is. That s what my heart is saying loud and clear. Save Mom.
And that s what I m going to do.
Emma would be proud of my decision. I really wish she was here with me now. But
she wanted time so I ll give it to her. Maybe she s right and it really is bad timing or
maybe I just came on too strong. A family dinner may have been too much too soon. Plus
all the drama at the dinner table would be enough to scare anyone off.
I knock on the door of my father s hotel room. A young woman answers the door.
She leans back slightly at the sight of my scowling expression. I run a hand over my face
and try to look neutral. I don t want to be here but that s not anyone else s problem.
 Tanner Marshall. Come in. Your father is expecting you. She leads me to a
spacious living area.  Have a seat. He ll be out shortly.
The hotel is pretty swank. It s exactly the kind of place I d expect him to be.  This is
a nice hotel.
 Yes, it is. Mr. Marshall remodeled it last year. She smiles absently and then turns
to leave the room.
 He owns the hotel?
She gives me an odd look.  Yes, of course. He owns all of the StarCrest Hotels.
 Of course he does. Resentment festers just below the surface. Each one of these
rooms goes for an astronomical rate. While my mom was clipping coupons and working
two jobs, my father was buying hotels.
Briefly, I wonder if I ll even recognize him. My last memories of him were from the
perspective of an eight-year-old boy. What boy doesn t think his father walks on water?
But I m a man now and I wonder what it ll be like to meet him again this way. Will he still
seem familiar?
If I could have, I would have put this meeting off. Taken some time to prepare
myself. But since I agreed to his terms, I have to meet with him in thirty days or less. I
don t want to take any chances. If I keep to his agreed upon schedule then the money in
my trust will continue to grow. So I ll visit with him until I have enough to pay for all of
my mom s care. I may have to visit him to get the money but there s nothing in that
paperwork that says I have to like it.
 Tanner. You re here.
I turn at the grizzled voice in the doorway. My face probably shows my surprise but
it s too late to cover my reaction. When Patrick mentioned that my father was ill, it didn t
really hit me that he would look sick. But this elderly man in a wheelchair is not what I
was expecting. I don t bother correcting my name. He can call me whatever. I don t plan
to be here enough for it to matter.
 Yes. I m here.
 Would you like something to drink? They have lemonade. You always did like
lemonade.
 I liked it when I was eight, Dad. The word slips out before I can stop it and it
annoys me. I don t want to call him that. He hasn t earned the right to that title.
His face falls slightly but he recovers, wheeling himself over to the sideboard. He
selects a decanter and pours himself a drink.  Of course. You d probably be more likely to
want a scotch right about now.
The fact that he s right only ratchets my irritation higher.
 Actually I don t want anything. I m not here for a drink. You already know why I m
here. Mom needs surgery so I need the money. It s that simple.
 I don t have any right to ask but I ll ask anyway. Why does she need surgery?
Keeping it a secret out of spite crosses my mind but who would that serve? He can t
hurt her anymore at this point. Maybe if he realizes that she s sick and needs me, he ll let
me out of these stupid scheduled visits.
 It s cancer. She has breast cancer.
He tosses the drink back but before he does, I see that his hand is shaking.
 My lawyer said she was sick. But I didn t realize it was cancer. I didn t realize. He
wheels himself over to the window and looks out. In profile he looks almost sad. It s
unsettling to see this display of emotion. I don t think of him as being sad or regretful.
In my mind, I am always eight years old and he is a spoiled, middle-aged man on a
perpetual hunt for youth and excitement. The man before me now, this broken shell of a
man, is someone that I don t know. His pain isn t something I want to see because it s so
much easier to remember him as a bastard who walked out on his family than to see him
as a man who regrets what he did.
 I apologize for forcing you into these meetings. But it was the only way that I could
get you here.
 But why? Why was it so important for you to see each of us? And why the weekly
visits?
He doesn t meet my eyes.  I have my reasons.
His evasiveness pisses me off. Again, it s him pushing us around and structuring
things to his perspective. He couldn t care less about how it affects me, Mom or Finn.
 I just wanted to see my children. I may have figured it out too late but you are my
greatest accomplishments.
Despite the heartfelt speech, I can sense that there s a lot he isn t telling me.
There s an ocean between us filled with half-truths and assumptions. It s like yelling
across a great distance trying to be heard. And I find I m just too damned tired to even try
anymore.
 Well, you can see me but that s all. The papers said I had to show up. They didn t
say I had to make small talk. I sit in one of the armchairs and glance at my watch.
Fifty-five minutes and counting &
After an uncomfortable hour staring at my shoes, I get up and leave. My father
looks disappointed. I guess he thought that by forcing me to come here, that we d [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]