Oh, Lucy.
“He might be sleeping,” his mother whispered as they approached the master bedroom. She stopped, her hand clutching the brass knob. “Let me just go in and tell him you’re here.”
Scott stepped back and his mother slipped through the door, leaving it open an inch. Through the crack he could hear her soothing voice telling his father that “Scottie” was home and wanted to see him. If his father said anything in return, it wasn’t audible from this distance.
His mother tipped her head around the door frame and nodded. With one last sharp breath, Scott entered the room, his blood stilling at what he saw. His father, once a strapping, robust man with a handsome face and personality that could intimidate even the strongest of men on a construction crew, had withered into a frail wisp of his former self. His skin, once bronzed from days spent on job sites, was now an alarming shade of grayish-white. Propped up on two pillows, his eyes were hollow and dark.
Scott crossed the room, his body numb.
“Dad.”
“I knew you would come home.” His father’s voice strained with effort, but it was still deep, still authoritative. “I knew someday you would put this business with the Porters behind you and finally come home.”
Scott’s pulse hammered. “I haven’t put this business with the Porters behind me and I never will,” he said evenly.
“Scott!” his mother cried out, but he couldn’t stop now if he wanted to. Even now, after all this time, the man still refused to acknowledge what he had done. The part he had played.
“A man died,” Scott insisted, silently pleading with his father to set things right once and for all. “A man with two daughters and a wife. And I was the one who took him from them,” Scott said quietly, feeling the anger uncoil in his stomach as the words spilled out. “You knew I was responsible for the accident that day and you kept that information from everyone. From the police. From Lucy. Even from me.”
“You were nine years old, Scott. We were just trying to protect you—”
“No.” Scott shook his head forcefully, trying to drive out the words, the excuses. “I should go, Dad.” Before I say anything I’ll regret. “You need your rest.”
Scott paused with his hand on the door, and then slipped into the hall. His mother grabbed him by the elbow.
“Thank you for seeing him, Scott. It means so much to us.”
Scott’s eyes flashed on his mother. “Why can’t he just admit it, Mom? Why can’t you? You denied the Porter family insurance money that was owed them.”
She visibly paled and looked away. “It was an accident, Scott.”
“Maybe so, but it didn’t have to happen. I had no business being on the machinery that day. A nine-year-old kid shouldn’t be on a job site.” He shook his head. “If I had never overhead you talking about it all those years later, would you ever have told me that I was the one responsible for the accident?”
His mother hesitated. “Probably not. You were already upset by the commotion that day. And what were we supposed to tell you? You were nine, Scott. We didn’t want you or your sister to have to live with this. Lucy still doesn’t know,” she added.
“I’m aware of that,” Scott said, “and I don’t intend to burden her with this.
“Then you can understand how we felt. We were trying to protect you.”
“By blaming the victim?” Scott cried.
“We never could have recovered from a lawsuit. Richard Porter was gone. There was nothing we could do to bring him back.”
“Then you admit it. You chose to protect yourself financially.”
“We chose to protect the company financially,” his mother corrected him. “Nearly a third of the men in this town were employed by Collins Construction. They had wives and children—families of their own, depending on that paycheck. Would it have been better to make them all suffer?”
“So it was fair for Emily’s family to suffer? They had nothing. Nothing!”
It was a no-win situation, he knew that now. A man was dead, his family impoverished and the only way they would have been reimbursed was for others to suffer at their expense. The only way everyone could have been spared was if Scott had never been on that machine that day. If his father hadn’t let him tag along to work.
“We covered the funeral expenses,” his mother offered, and Scott clenched a fist, willing himself not to lose his temper.
“It doesn’t change the fact that we are all living this lie! The police took Dad’s statement for the events of that day. Collins Construction had just finished building that addition on the Maple Woods police station—at cost. He knew they wouldn’t pursue a criminal investigation when everyone was pointing the finger at Mr. Porter’s negligence, and so it all just went away. And Emily and her family were not only denied the money they were rightfully owed for their father’s wrongful death, but worse—” his throat locked up when he thought of it “—is that you allowed them to think their father’s carelessness led to his death.”
“It wasn’t easy for us, either. We thought you would never have to know your part in this. And then all those years later you had to go and start dating Emily Porter. Of all people! Believe me when I say we never intended you to know the truth, especially when we saw how much you cared for her.”
Scott lowered his voice. “You knew how much she meant to me, and you never even welcomed her into our home.”
“You didn’t honestly think we were going to be able to invite that girl into our lives, feeling the reminder every day of what we did.”
Scott narrowed his eyes. “And here I thought you walked away with a clear conscience.”
His mother stared at him levelly. “My conscience will never be free.”
“Well, that makes two of us,” Scott retorted. He ran a hand through his hair. “I have to go,” he said, taking a step back, and then another. This was a useless, maddening effort.
“What are you doing?” Lucy cried in alarm, her face pale, her expression stricken as he bolted down the stairs.
“I shouldn’t have come here!” he said, bursting past her toward the front door. “Now do you see?”
“What is wrong with you?” Lucy hissed. “Our father is dying. Do you hear me? Dying. Why can’t you get over yourself for once and be the bigger person?”
Scott whipped around and met his sister’s desperate gaze. “Lucy, when it comes to our parents, I do not want to hear another word about my relationship with them. Not. One. Word.”
“You’re a jerk,” Lucy snapped.
Scott hesitated. “I’m worse than that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Scott shook his head. “You have no idea.”
Lucy’s voice softened. “Try me.”
“Forget it,” he said, striding for the door. He placed his hand on the knob and twisted it, hesitating. Turning to face Lucy again, his gut tightened at the sight of her anguished face. “I’m sorry you got dragged into all of this, Lucy,” he said, closing the door behind him.
The spring air was cool and fresh on his lungs, and crickets chirped in the distance. He ran his hands down his face, staring at his ludicrous rental car, so sleek and bold and out of place. The image of his father