Part 12 (1/2)
”Addison, I...”
”No, I mean it. It's okay.” Addison sighed. ”You know, if that was Emma? If she asked me not to say anything to Vicki? I wouldn't either. I understand.”
Adam nodded sadly. ”I wish...”
”Wis.h.i.+ng to do over the past is pointless,” Addison said. Adam looked at her. ”I just... There's just one thing I need to know,” she said.
”Yes?”
”Is that why? Why you never wanted me around?”
Adam closed his eyes and nodded. ”Addison... It's not that I didn't want you around.”
”Could've fooled me,” Addison said a bit more harshly than she had intended. Adam winced. ”I'm sorry.”
”Don't be,” he replied. ”I wish I had an answer,” he admitted. He took another swig of his beer.
”Liquid courage?” Addison tried to lighten the tension. Tension had existed between them for years. Addison wasn't sure if anything could ever relieve it. Beer seemed as good of a place to start as any-beer and a touch of sarcasm now and then.
”Maybe,” he confessed. Addison nodded and flagged down their waitress for another round. ”Think I'm going to need more?” he asked.
”Who said it was for you?” Addison answered.
Adam chuckled. ”I'm not very good at this.”
”What's that? Drinking beer?”
”Being a father,” he said.
Addison was taken off guard by the tremor in her father's voice. ”That's not true,” she said. He looked up at her. ”It's not. Not really. I can remember a lot of good times.”
”Before,” he whispered the word.
”Before Mom died, you mean,” Addison said.
”Yeah.”
”Everything was different then,” Addison mused more to herself than as part of their conversation.
”It was,” he agreed. ”I was,” he said. ”I guess I don't know what to say to you.”
”What do you mean?”
”I couldn't fix it,” he replied. Addison's brow crinkled in confusion. ”I saw you with Vicki today. The way you and Emma...”
”You mean when she fell?” Addison asked.
Adam nodded. ”I never did that, Addy. I never picked you up. That was your mom. h.e.l.l, if I couldn't bandage your knee how was I going to make that any better?”
Addison covered her eyes, hoping to stave off a wave of tears. ”You couldn't. You could've just talked to me-about anything. Even yelled at me,” she said.
”I didn't know how,” he said. ”What could I say? She always knew what to say. I tickled you, and I paid your college tuition. I didn't do any of the hard stuff.”
Addison dropped her hands from her face and looked at her father. A memory flashed in her mind. It took her a few seconds to bring it into focus, and she smiled. Then she laughed.
”That's funny?” Adam asked.
”You don't remember,” Addison continued to laugh.
”I guess not.”
”You don't remember that time you took me fis.h.i.+ng down at Porter's Pond?” she asked. Adam combed his memories. He'd taken Addison to Porter's Pond dozens of times to swim or fish. ”You don't remember the day I tried to cast out my fis.h.i.+ng line, and it came back and hit me in the face?”
Adam threw his head back and then shook it. ”The hook got caught in your eyebrow.”
”Mm-hm.”
”You were screaming b.l.o.o.d.y murder,” he recalled.
”You didn't-scream b.l.o.o.d.y murder, I mean.”
”Well, no. I was just so relieved it wasn't in your eye,” he told Addison.
”I'll bet,” she said. ”Mom was at Grandma's that day. You took it out and cleaned it, and then you took me to Doc Bill to get it st.i.tched up.”
”Yeah, you screamed b.l.o.o.d.y murder there too,” he laughed at the memory.
”You didn't.”
”I don't think Bill would've appreciated having to calm us both with lollipops,” Adam deadpanned.
Addison smiled. She'd forgotten her father's wit. ”You managed to get me through it and by the time Mom got home, I was proud of my war wound' as I recall.”
”Yeah, well, the ice cream probably helped with that.”
Addison nodded. ”Like Elmo helped Vicki today. So? Why do you think you never did the hard stuff?”
”Not the same, Addy. That was one time.”
”It wasn't the only time,” Addison said. ”And, from what I remember that was pretty hard stuff at the time.”
Adam smiled. Addison had grown into a remarkable woman. Not that it surprised him. It didn't. She resembled her mother in the ways that mattered most. She had a gentle heart. He could see the hurt that lingered in her eyes. It was a pain that he had helped produce. Ironically, he'd done it in the hopes of avoiding that very thing-failing Addison. Adam wasn't sure that he would have kept trying to reach out if he had been in Addison's position. Inevitably, Addison always did. It was never just with a card or a cordial note. She would make an effort to call him, attempt to engage him, never giving up on him. As he looked at his daughter in the faint light of the bar, he realized she had spent these years believing he'd given up on her. Never. He'd given up on himself. It had taken persistence, Addison's and Emma's, to make him begin to see the light of day. And, seeing Vicki, watching her play, hearing her call him Gampa; every time he heard that tiny voice, he thought of Addison's mother. She would have fallen in love with Vicki in an instant, just as he had fallen in love with her, and they had both fallen in love with Addison.
”Well, I hope I don't have to pull any hooks out of you again,” Adam said.
Addison laughed. She was about to reply when their waitress returned with two more bottles. Addison smiled at her and nodded her thanks.