"Are you and Brooke making any progress with the wedding plans, "Rebecca McCoy asked while she watched her father place the last piece of salmon on the grill.
The pair had spent the better part of the day fishing at a river just a short drive from Rebecca's Portland apartment. The remainder of the day McCoy and daughter had prepared their bounty for the grill; cleaning and seasoning the fresh salmon. It was a ritual his daughter remembered from her childhood.
As they gutted and scaled the fish, the conversation moved to the usual questions about her job, current boyfriend, and overall life plans. Rebecca maintained a delicate balance between divulging enough information to satisfy McCoy's parental need to know, yet holding back enough to assure her autonomy and privacy were still intact. By the time the pair went out on the balcony to heat up the barbeque, Rebecca felt it was time to turn the tables on her father.
"Does buying her an engagement ring count," he asked looking up to see her reaction.
"It's a step in the right direction," she replied with a grin."You should have insisted Brooke come with you so I could see it.Did you at least bring a picture, Dad?"
"Young lady, I'm sure Brooke told you she has a trial to prepare for when she gave you the head's up about why I was for a spur of the moment visit," he asked with an amused scowl."I'm equally sure she told you the ring is a replica of your great grandmother Mauve's ring."
Rebecca blushed at her feeble attempt at manipulation. After receiving the late night call from her soon to be stepmother, the young woman had decided to 'play dumb'. Letting her father find a way to tell her about the trauma he had sufferedfrom his childhood was the smartest way to deal with him without letting on Malinowski had revealed things shared in confidence.
"You caught me, Dad. Since you know the women in your life so well, you must know the only reason Brooke called was to..."
McCoy waved a dismissive hand at his daughter as he sat down beside her.
"I know what Brooke's motives were. I just hope you understand Danielle had equally noble motives. I've forgiven her. You and Brooke need to let it go, as well."
"Danielle," the young woman said sharply. "Brooke told me that one of her cases had brought some unpleasant memories back to the surface for you about your childhood…that you were punishing yourself for things you had no control over. How does Danielle fit in?"
McCoy cursed himself for not anticipating Malinowski's discretion. He knew from her tone and a few cryptic comments that his fiancée was beside herself with anger regarding Melnick. The last thing he wanted was to add Rebecca to the charge.
"It's not important," he said with a sigh. "None of it is. It was a long time ago and I don't want you to worry about things neither of us can change."
"Dad, I know we haven't always seen eye to eye. But even I know what a monster Grandpa John was," she said bluntly.
"I never said that my father was a saint, but if you're basing that opinion on things your mother told you, you have to remember..."
"I'm basing that opinion on the things Aunt Colleen has said. For instance, how you really got that scar on the back of your leg."
McCoy abruptly returned to busy himself at the grill, keeping his back to his daughter. A chill ran down his spine as he remembered one of many days he made a mad dash to the basement. He had been about the reach for the knob of the basement door, when his father reached out a grabbed him from behind, throwing his young body across the hallway with enough force that one of his legs got caught in between the radiator and the wall, the heat cutting through his skin and leaving a mark that would be visible decades later.
"When did you talk to Colleen?"
"I called her this morning. But Dad, I knew Grandpa was abusive years ago. You yourself, told me how terrified you ...your whole family...was of him when you were a kid."
"That doesn't make what I wanted to do right."
"What you wanted to do doesn't make you evil either," she retorted, in a tone that reminded McCoy of his first wife. "Dad, you never hit me. Not once. If anything, you were overly protective of me. You're not Grandpa... maybe if you had been just a little... I wouldn't have been such a royal pain in the ass."
McCoy swung around stunned, nearly dropping the platter and spatula he held.
"It's not a joke Rebecca Eileen...you should thank God your mother would have never let me touch you! She would have died trying to keep you out of harm's way."
"SO WOULD YOU," she shouted, while she took the utensils from him.
Her eyes wide with alarm, she shook her father."Dad, you deal with the scum of the earth; murderers, rapists, child molesters. If you were going to snap...become violent all of a sudden ... it would have happened a long time ago. If you can't see that, maybe I should call Dr. Olivett."
"I thought you hated Dr. Olivett," he said, remembering the out and out hostility his daughter had shown when, nearly a decade before, he had briefly started dating his attractive colleague.
"I was seventeen ... I was hated of any woman you screwed... any woman that wasn't Mom," she shot back defiantly."The point is, you're not perfect. You're arrogant... you never want to listen...and stubborn...hell will freeze over before you admit that you're wrong ... and one sided and noisier than hell. You're protective to the point of smothering, Dad. You're not violent...hell you can cut deeper with a well chosen remark... than you ever could with your fist. If you can't see that then maybe you need a '730' exam more than some of those defendants of yours."
McCoy smiled at his daughter's use of the legal short hand for a mental health evaluation.
"Sounds like your mother and I will make an attorney out of you yet...despite of your misguided belief that your fortune lies in photojournalism."
"After listening to you and Mom discuss case law over Lucky Charms before I could talk, the lingo is subliminally etched into my sub conscious forever,' she countered sarcastically. "Remember when I flunked out of Yale? The start of my slow descent into my Greta Gabor 'I vat to be alone' stage? You and Mom both tried to tell me putting my energy into dwelling on the past and not focusing on the present, was setting a course for more heart ache and regret. You said the only thing I could change was the course of the future. Maybe it's time you took you own advise Dad. Maybe you should put you energy into this new life you're starting and stop looking over your shoulder for Grandpa to ruin it."