Enjoy! :-)
April 28, 1998
It had been one hour, twenty-two minutes and thirty-eight seconds since she'd taken a seat next to Joe Mackenzie's bed. He had yet to move. She ought to get herself to the hotel and check in, but now she was finally here, she wanted this conversation over and done with.
Hearing Harm's calm voice had eased some of the nervous energy. It usually did. It also reminded her how much she missed him and how she wished he was here.
Sitting here had given her some time to think about it all. She wondered if Father Genaro had actually succeeded in finding her mother. If he had, did that mean Deanne would make the trip from wherever she was? If she came face to face with her, what would she tell her? How would she even react to being in the same room as Deanne Mackenzie for the first time in nineteen years?
"Sarah?"
Her head whirled around. Earlier, she'd decided there was nothing left of the man who'd carried her on his shoulders on a good day. Nothing left of the strong Marine who'd beaten her mother to a pulp. He could barely lift a finger. Joe Mackenzie was done physically hurting anyone.
"Hi, Joe."
He swallowed. "I guess 'dad' was too much to ask for."
Her eyes flashed. "It's really good to see you, Sarah," she mocked. "Thank you for coming all this way just to see me." She rose. "This was a waste of time."
"Sarah, please…" He coughed. "I'm sorry. It is good to see you. Thank you, for taking the time to come and see me."
It did little to diffuse her anger. "Why am I here, Joe?"
"What did Father Genaro tell you?"
"Only that the cancer seems to have spread to your liver, which we both know wasn't in great shape anyway, and that you'd asked for me. So here I am."
"Chris didn't come with you?"
"Chris?" She shook her head. "Chris and I haven't been together for a very long time. I don't think that should come as a surprise, should it? Given how you made it so damn difficult to ever trust another man again."
His breathing was heavy. "You're still mad at me."
"Surely you didn't think otherwise." Her eyes narrowed. "I fly cross-country, leave my family for days to come and see you, and the first thing out of your mouth is how I won't call you 'dad'. You lost the honor to that title years ago."
"You have a family?"
"I don't see how that is any of your business, but yes. I made sure the man I actually ended up with is nothing like you."
"I'm glad to hear it, honey."
"You don't get to call me that." She took a step backwards. "Look, if the only reason you asked me to come here is to meddle in my private life, we can cut this short. I don't see how you have a right to any of that information."
Joe shook his head. "I only… I want to know if you're all right, Sarah. I know I didn't make it easy, any of it, with how I behaved. My drinking drove your mother away when you needed her most. It made you hate me, which I fully deserve…"
"You deserve a whole lot more than just my hate." Mac ground her teeth together. "And you really want to know how I am? You couldn't seem to get rid of your… What did you call me again? Your 'stupid tramp daughter'? You couldn't get rid of me soon enough."
"I didn't mean that, Sarah…"
Her voice turned to ice. "You had a very funny way of showing me you didn't. And even if you didn't, the damage had already been done. It was a rather public announcement, in the middle of the bar on a Friday night, wasn't it? So I might not have been there to hear it, but half the town was. Do you have any idea how humiliated I was?"
"You were right to leave when you did."
She huffed. "Do you even know where I went? Did you even care?"
He nodded. "I know you went with Matt and Helen."
"How?"
"Matt called me two days later. Told me he'd given you the choice of going with them or going to rehab and you'd chosen to go with them."
Mac's shoulders dropped. "You didn't even try and find me?"
"What was I supposed to do, Sarah? Turn the town upside down? You'd obviously decided I wasn't good enough to be around. You'd made your choice. Figured the least I could do was honor it."
Whatever last restraint she was holding on to, snapped. "What were you supposed to do? You were supposed to be my parent! If Tally ever decided to run away, I wouldn't stop searching until I found her, even if it meant I'd have to move heaven and earth!" She shook her head. "But I guess you wouldn't understand."
Mac bit her lip. "The night Eddie and I got into that accident, I told the nurse there was nobody to call, because the last time I'd ended up in the hospital, you showed up drunk, berated me for spoiling your night at the bar and ignored me for about a week after. I thought I'd save myself the trouble. Uncle Matt was there with Aunt Helen. He figured I could do better than spend the rest of my life inside a bottle."
"He was right." Joe coughed again. "You have Amira's strength. Nothing gets to you."
Mac scoffed. "Nothing gets to me? I suppose that's why I never ask anyone for help? I can carry the world on my shoulders all by myself, because I'm strong enough. Oh wait, that's not true. I can carry the world on my shoulders because there was nobody around to share the burden with. I have Mamani's strength because like her, nobody ever gave me any other choice but to be strong."
Joe lifted his tired eyes to her. "I understand there is plenty to apologize for…"
"There is. Go ahead."
It seemed to take every bit of strength he possessed. "I am sorry, Sarah. For everything. For the drinking, for hitting your mother, for making you live through it." He coughed again, the color draining from his face. "Hard as if may be to believe, I do love you. I always have. I'm proud of you for wearing the uniform, for rising above all my failures as a father."
Scowling, Mac took the two steps back to the chair she'd vacated. "Me wearing a uniform has nothing to do with you. It was a way to honor Uncle Matt and all he did for me, a way to get an education."
When he coughed yet again, she reached for the cup on the nightstand, handing it to him. Joe took a few slow gulps through the straw, then leaned back against the pillows, his eyes closed. Mac put the cup back and sank down into the chair, sighing.
"I don't want to fight with you," she softly said. "But you abandoned me. You made me live through hell. Do you have any idea how long it took for the nightmares to go away? How many hours in therapy it took for me to finally figure out none of what happened was my fault?"
Joe opened his eyes again, but didn't say anything.
"I blamed myself for my low self-esteem," she continued, "figured I was never good enough to love. Do you have any idea how many more wounds I probably still have to find? How many coping mechanisms I have because of you? Because of her?"
Silently, she wiped the tears away. "I grew myself a spine of steel, built walls so high and strong nobody would ever be able to come as close to me as you had been, because it wasn't worth it. I kept people at a distance for so long, you'd almost think I'd gotten used to it. To the not being loved, the not being cared for." She pulled her lips into a sad smile. "But you never get used to that, do you? A part of you will always search for it, long for it." She looked down at her hands. "I blamed you. I blamed you for a long time."
"You have every right…"
"But I forgive you," she went on, as if she hadn't heard him. "I forgive you, because if I don't, I'll carry you around for the rest of my life, and frankly, I don't want to anymore. You're too heavy a burden to carry around." She wiped a tear away. "You weren't capable. You did the best you could with what you had and it just wasn't good enough."
"Thank you." It came out slightly above a whisper. "My wallet's in the drawer. Take a look." His eyes closed again.
Mac watched him sleep before she reached for the drawer and his wallet. Quietly, she took it and stepped outside, into the sun. Father Genaro found her sitting on a bench, clippings unfolded in her lap.
"What do you have there?"
Sniffing, she looked up at him. "I'm sorry, Father." She shook her head. "I'm not sure what to make of it anymore."
"Have you talked to him?"
"I have."
"Did it help?"
"Not yet." She brushed hair away from her face, staring into the distance. "I was angrier than I thought I was."
Father Genaro took the seat next to her. "We usually are, Major. No matter how many times we talk about things, try to give something a place, some of those things will haunt us for the rest of our lives. It's how we deal with it when it comes back up that matters."
"He followed me." Mac showed him the clippings.
"Love works in funny ways. Despite everything, he is proud of you for being better. For rising above everything he didn't do for you. Couldn't be for you."
"So he said." She folded the clippings back into his wallet. "I forgive him, Father. I forgave him a while ago. There's no point in living in the past. Not when the present is so much better than the past ever was."
"Good for you, my dear. Forgiveness is the only way forward, but it is never the easy way out."
A car door closed in the near distance and Mac finally leaned back in her chair. "No, it wasn't easy by a long shot."
"We all try in our own way. Saint Philip said: "I can do all things through Christ which strengthens me." He understands some things take more strength than we have, so He gives us everything we need to get through."
"You'll forgive me for having trouble believing that. I…" Her eyes grew wide when she spotted the woman stepping onto the porch. "Trish?"
"Hello, darling."
Tears welled up into her eyes. Mac pushed herself out of her chair. "What are you doing here?"
"Harm called." Trish pulled her into a hug. "Are you okay? Have you seen him yet?"
Mac held her tight. "You didn't… You…"
When Frank came into view, the tears started falling. He caressed her head, pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Hi, sweetheart."
"Dad…" She could barely get the word out through her tears.
"Shh…" Frank soothed her. "We're here. You're going to be fine. It's okay, honey. We're here."
