Ch 29 – Father's Day
Linnea went about her days pretending. Just as she always had. Make-believing that her life was normal, that she was just like every other kid who went home to family without complication: to a mother and a father who loved her: that her heart was at peace.
Soon, school ended for the year, and Linnea found herself finishing the first grade on a hot day waiting out on the steps of the school with a carefully drawn Father's Day card in hand and no one to give it to. Linnea remembered being kind of excited when they'd made Mother's Day cards. She'd been mad at mommy at the time but felt justified in giving her a card. After all, she deserved it. Linnea had made three Mothers Day cards: one for mommy, one for Jude, and one for grandma. Although strained at times, Linnea had a surplus of maternal affection in her life.
Somehow though, the child had been surprised when the Father's Day craft came around. She'd never forget the way her breath caught in her throat and her heart seemed to slow to a sudden, dead stop, plummeting into her stomach: just the way it had months earlier when she was clueless about what to do for the family tree project, as if her soul stopped dead in its tracks. Linnea watched carefully as all the other kids went about making their cards, so sure of what to do. Numb at first, she went about making a card without much feeling to it, willing herself to inscribe it, with love: For Grandpa, Love Linnea….
As much as she did love grandpa, she longed to make her father a card. And in secret, she had. Linnea crafted the card carefully when her teacher was not looking, hiding it under her grandfather's card so as not to be found out. The teacher had taken all the other cards and mailed them off to their prospective recipients, but Linnea absconded with her late father's card, holding it close to her heart as she waited for Jude outside her classroom. It was the only gift her father would've ever received from anyone, and not knowing where he lay at rest, she had no idea of where to send it. The little girl closed her eyes and sighed, stealing a moment with the card, as though she were stealing it with him.
"Daddy I'm sorry I can't really give this to you." She whispered as quietly as possible, listening as all the other kids played loudly on the slides. "But I hope you know I wanna."
"I know how ya feel, Linnea." Jude cautioned.
Linnea jumped, quickly hiding the card in the pocket of her sundress.
"Ya don't have ta hide it from me, although I don't think yar mother would like that in her state." Jude placed her hand kindly on the little girl's back, kneeling down to speak to her.
Linnea shook her head. "I know. I just had ta." She said.
Linnea wanted to keep the card. It would be something private, between her and her father, something that allowed her to pretend their relationship was more than it had been. Something to hold on to.
Jude smiled bittersweetly, tucking the child's hair behind the child's ear.
"Yar daddy was…"
"A bad man, I know." Linnea admitted quietly, almost rolling her eyes.
"I was gonna say, he was a smart man."
"You knew him?" She asked, her eyes widening in surprise.
"Hmm." Jude said. "He had a way of gettin people ta believe what he wanted them ta about him."
"I know…" Linnea gulped.
"I loved a man like that once…" Jude didn't even know why she'd said it.
The former nun stared off a beat, taken out of her trance-like state when the reporter's little girl placed her tiny hand on her cheek.
"Was he your daddy?"
Jude paused. She'd been thinking of Cardinal Howard and was ashamed to admit, even to herself, that she missed the wayward priest very much. She eyed Linnea, searching her mind for a response, and found that even she didn't really know who she really spoke of. So many men in her past had fit the description she'd given. Jude gulped, choosing the best of them.
"Oh. No, no honey. But much like far daddy, and mine, he um." Jud bit her lip. "He wanted to do what he wanted and didn't care what that met for the people who loved him. But." Jude said quickly. "At the very least, ya have some good memories of yar fathah, is that right?" Linnea nodded. "That's more than I got."
'Suppose that's it?' Jude asked herself. 'Maybe that's why you love Timothy so…because with him and only him…there are some good memories after all.'
"Was your daddy a bad man too?" Linnea asked, wondering who the other man had been. She looked into Jude's eyes, sensing a longing that resonated with her own.
"He didn't care enough ta be bad. He just walked away."
Jude hung her head, taking the card out of Linnea's grasp, and studying it.
"Can we send it?"
"Linnea, ya know yar fathah… he can't receive this wherever…"
Jude wanted to say that the card would burn where Oliver was currently, but held her tongue for the child's sake.
"I know, but people leave things on graves, right?"
Jude didn't speak, grateful she didn't have to explain this concept and troubled by the child's intuitive understanding of it. "Linnea… I'll keep this far ya until ya can hide it on your own, how about if its just a keepsake far you, huh? I think it'll mean more ta ya than it can to yar fathah now."
"Okay." She considered softly.
Jude smiled, looking over the card. "Isn't that something?" She stared off, reflective.
"What?"
"Maybe even yar fathah was better than mine."
Linnea looked down, Jude's maybe even your comment, stinging. Linnea bit her lip, wondering if one day there'd be anyone in her life whose comments didn't hurt.
"I have an idea." She cleared her throat.
"Oh, what's that?"
"Why don't you write to him?"
"Linnea." Jude laughed kindly. She took the child's hand and they began to walk toward the playground where Thomas and Julia ran around with some other kids. "My fathah would have ta be…"
"No, silly." She laughed. "This Timothy guy." Jude stopped dead in her tracks, wondering how Linnea knew his name. "I'll help you!"
….
"I'm worried about her, Kit." Lana whispered.
Thomas and Julia played loudly outside, but Linnea lie on her stomach in the middle of the living room floor, playing with a set of marbles all by herself. School had gotten out two days before, and Linnea had spent most of the time since then, playing quietly on her own.
It was Father's Day, and while the Walker children were eagerly waiting for their dad to start the BBQ, Linnea was more reserved than usual, and had not spoken a word that day, even to Julia and Jude.
Kit and Lana congregated in the kitchen, he preparing the meat and vegetables for the cookout, she lounging in a chair he'd brought in from the other room.
"She'll be alright." Kit reassured. "She's just goin' through a… A phase of self-discovery.'
"Self-discovery…" Lana laughed with a pause. "She's so confused Kit. Sometimes I wonder what I've done."
"What you've done?"
"I couldn't protect her." Lana explained, cradling her now very swollen middle. "It's why I kept her…" Lana trailed off, distant, leaving Kit to wonder which baby she spoke of. "I kept her, thinking I'd be the only one who could protect her from Bloodyface… from becoming him… from knowing his pain …. I never in my wildest dreams, expected that she could love him. So I've failed her in the worst way. I let him get in her head."
"Lana." He rationalized. "Ya did everything ya could to keep her away from him. It's not yar fault that ya couldn't do it farever, or that he got in her head. He got in mine, and in yours too!" Kit tried to convince. "All ya can do is be grateful the two of you are alive! That he didn't scar her beyond making her believe she was loved."
"Oh, but Kit, that's the worst thing he could've done."
"We both know it isn't." Kit shook his head. "It was a gift, Lana. Ya just can't see that."
"Some gift."
"He didn't kill you. He didn't torture your daughter and we both now how easily he could've! Instead, he said he wished daddy was a better man."
"My hero."
"That'll mean something ta her, Lana. When she finds out what he is. It'll keep her sane! It'll keep her from doubting who she is."
Unbeknownst to them, Linnea could hear bits and pieces of the conversation. She lie on the floor, now coloring: before her, a picture of her, her mom, the baby, and Kit…. With a knife in his back. Linnea shook her head, scribbling out the knife, trying to pretend she hadn't drawn it.
"Oh but Kit, can't you see, she already does. He's done the one thing I couldn't stand for him to do. He's planted a seed out doubt and put a rift between me and my daughter that I won't ever be able to fix."
Linnea froze, her little hand shaking. Her mother really felt a rift between them? She turned around and gazed at Lana, feeling betrayed now more than ever. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she found herself about to sob. She crawled away, and back into the bedroom as quickly as possible.
"So are ya gonna give up on her now? Huh?" Kit challenged.
Lana stared back hatefully, almost growling under her breath. "I'd never give up on her. I just want my daughter back."
Kit sighed, realizing he'd gone too far. "Look I know yar upset, but ya've got more than one kid to worry about." He emphasized, pointing to her middle. "Let's just have as nice of a weekend as we can. I think bein' happy will do her a world of good and besides, ya need your rest."
"You're right." She agreed, cupping her middle in her hands.
In the past couple of days, Lana's baby had "dropped." Still a few weeks away from being due, this was a sure sign that it was coming any time now, more than that, it'd made poor Lana miserable, huge, and above all, unable to move very well.
"Besides." Kit said. "Look at all ya've been through together. No matter what, no one will ever break the bond you and Linnea have."
"Kit."
"Hmmm?"
"I think I want Linnea to see somebody."
"Ya mean another shrink?"
Lanna nodded.
…
Linnea stopped at Jude's door, noting her sitting, staring out into the yard, holding a blanket around her.
"Jude?"
Jude jumped, standing up quickly when she heard the girl's voice.
"Oh, hi Linnea."
"Did you do it?" She asked, excited. "Did ya?"
Jude shrugged, trying to remain indifferent. "I may've…"
Jude had done it, and now that she had, she wasn't sure what she'd been thinking. She'd been swept up in the child's fairy tale like insistence and had once again, allowed it to give her false hope. False hope enough to write to Cardinal Howard.
Linnea squealed, the very thought cheered her up, serving as a distraction.
"I promise." She said.
"Ya promise what?"
"He'll write back!" Linnea said. Jude's heart sunk.
….
A few hours had passed and the "family" enjoyed a quiet BBQ to themselves. Kit and the kids laughed as they played a game together in the yard. Jude sipped iced tea. Linnea sat at her mother's side, just staring at the Walkers. Lana watched her daughter carefully, noting the longing in her little eyes, knowing she had to do something to try to make it right: even if just for the night.
Linnea, who could no longer stand to watch, jumped off her chair and hurried inside.
"I'll go…" Jude tried to get up.
"No. No. I will." Lana said, getting up with great difficulty and following her daughter inside. "Linnea." Lana called.
The reporter looked around for a beat, holding her belly in her hands. "Linnea."
Lana sighed, finally finding Linnea in their room, staring out the window toward the woods: in the direction of Oliver's old cabin.
"Do you want to go play, you'd be welcome to honey."
That wasn't the problem. Linnea seldom sensed she was welcome there, but even when she did, she couldn't bring herself to accept Kit Walker's invitation: to be a friend, to be a daughter. The part of Oliver that surged, not through her veins, but through her heart, resented the whole affair to a point where she could not cope.
"No." The child whispered, biting her lip. "It's not my family, mommy." The child did not turn away from the window.
Linnea had wished grandma and grandpa would've come to collect her, just so she could feel she belonged somewhere. Lana had tried to keep it a secret, but Linnea had discovered her parents were spending Father's Day with the cousins Linnea had not met yet, cousins who had their daddy: and that stung, for both of them.
"Oh Linnea. I know baby."
"No you don't."
"Oh I don't?" Lana sat on the bed. "Linnea, you know grandma and grandpa don't quite approve of me."
Linnea nodded but didn't look at her mom. She'd always understood that her grandparents preferred her to her mother, and still didn't understand why. Although angry with her mother as of late, Linnea couldn't really find much wrong with her. The little girl would not admit her real feelings to you at present: she thought her mommy was pretty, and smart, and lovely in every way, and very secretly the best mommy of all.
"Don't you think that hurts?" Lana asked. "Because it does. I don't know exactly how you feel, Linnea. I really couldn't. But I know what its like." She paused. "To long for my daddy to love me too."
Lana hadn't said it this way before, not wanting to honor the girls' pain, to compare it to the loss of her paternal relationship.
Linnea turned from the window, her mother's words having caught her attention. In a way, Linnea accepted this as truth. It was plain to see. Just like her father couldn't make himself a good man, Grandpa could not love whatever part of mommy he disapproved of. Linnea couldn't convey this, but understood it intuitively. Perhaps they really were standing on the same ground, her mother and her.
"Mommy, I'm sorry they didn't come on father's day." She mumbled.
"And I'm sorry you couldn't give him your card, Linnea."
"Y-you you what?" The little girl gasped in surprise. How could Jude have ratted her out?
"Come here."
Lana pat the bed beside her. Linnea came and sat next to her, intrigued by how calm she was. Lana sighed, tucking Linnea's hair behind her ears.
"I know you made Grandpa a card and I thought for sure he'd come."
"Oh." Linnea understood, glad her mom didn't really know about Oliver's card.
"I feel like I tell you, till I'm blue in the face, that I love you, and it doesn't make any difference to you. But Linnea, I'm never gonna stop. No matter how mad you get, or how much you think your father loves you more. Your my only family and all I really need. I want my dad too, but I have you and that's enough."
Linnea raised an eyebrow, wowed by this.
"I understand wanting daddy, more than I've let on… But I love you as your mother and as your father. And I love you, not just more than he ever will…" She took a breath, feeling something in her back tighten all of a sudden. She dismissed it, moving on. "But because he's not here to try to love you anymore."
Linnea was intrigued by this last statement, and wondered if this was her mother's way of acquiescing that her father had loved her.
"Mommy…"
"Ooh, ouch!" Lana winced. Linnea jumped, standing at full attention. "Mommy, mommy's okay." Lana steadied herself, feeling her back tighten again as she took a deep breath. "It's just, it's something that happens, in the days before baby comes."
"Is it coming?!"
"No, no sweetie, I think we're still oooooohw!"
Lana put both her hands on the bed, bracing herself against it so she could stand, in that instant, Lana felt her water break, blood and water starting to run down her legs with a gush that wasn't really all that bad but was terrifying for a six year old girl.
"Kit!" Linnea screamed, running out of the room. "Help!"
Lana winced, grabbing the sheets and shutting her eyes tight as she sat again. "Awwwhhh!" She gave a muffled cry, not wanting Linnea to hear her scream. She started lamaze without another thought, breathing in and out, hoping it would calm her nerves in addition to soothing the pain that'd come on fast.
"Well, well, well." Came a familiar voice.
Lana gasped, her eyes widening in horror when she heard Oliver speak. She rested her hand over her middle protectively and continued to breath, looking over in his direction. How could this be? He was dead, wasn't he?!
Lana had never told anyone in the house, certainly not Linnea, but she'd identified the corpse early on, or what was left of it anyway. Because of their daughter, Oliver's remains and been reduced to a bloody, mangled mess of burnt flesh not much better off than the bulk of his victims, but still in tact enough to be identified.
Lana said nothing, but screamed bloody murder when she saw him standing there, looking sharper than ever, in a sweater and slacks, no glasses, and a wine glass in hand. He looked the image of a 1950's dad on father's day. She stared in horror as he lifted his glass, as if to toast her.
"I guess congratulations are in order." He surmised. She stared, shaking so hard she could barely breathe, her face ashen.
"Son of a bitch!" Kit yelled, stubbing his toe as ran toward Lana's room, alarmed by her screaming and sudden silence.
He rushed into the room, bending down at Lana's feet.
"It's okay, it's okay, shu, shu. I've got you." He said.
Kit hurriedly put her shoes on, his voice going silent for Lana, even as he continued to talk, it was then Lana realized he didn't see Oliver: only she did. She shivered wanting to crawl backward as he walked toward her.
Oliver stepped behind Kit, smiling down at Lana as the younger man worked frantically to calm her and prepare her for the hospital.
"It seems you won't be able to keep me out of the delivery room this time Lana." Oliver said with a chuckle, sipping his drink. "Happy Father's Day to me, after all." And with that, Lana started to scream all over again.
