Nine Years Ago
Thirteen-year-old Holly Barnes looked over at where her father sat, reading his big leather-bound book of folk tales one cloudy Saturday afternoon in November. She put down the Harry Potter book she was reading and turned to look at him. For as long as she could remember, it'd been like this: quiet evenings and quiet days at home with him. Not that she minded—there was something endearing about their quiet life molded from her dad's bookish demeanor.
She looked up at the painting across from the couch: a print of The Lady of Shallot, a hyper-detailed woman in a small boat in a serene lake scene. There was something about the young woman's expression that had always unnerved Holly—it seemed conflicted, perhaps even haunted. Almost as if she was running away from something.
With a deep breath, she forced herself to speak, "Dad...there's something I need to ask you. And I need you to be honest."
He looked up at her, a hazy expression on his face, like he was still too wrapped up in the world of his book to comprehend what she'd said. It took a moment, but finally his green eyes—the ones he'd passed to her—flickered to understanding and he nodded. "Of course, Holls, I'm always honest with you."
After another breath to steel herself, she exhaled in a rush, "What happened to my mother?"
He sucked in a breath, surprised by this line of questioning. She couldn't blame him—she hadn't asked in a very long time. But enough time had passed. She'd grown up enough that she would no longer accept his "I'll tell you when you're older" delay.
"Where's this coming from?"
She rolled her eyes. "Dad. I'm thirteen. It's about time I knew what happened. And you're the only one who can tell me."
It wasn't a guilt trip but the literal truth—in a town this small, she would have thought someone would be able to tell her about her mother. Some of the old bats in the historical society could practically remember the Halloween costumes of every child in town for the last twenty years. But no one knew her mother. She hadn't been from Freighton and it seemed she'd never even set foot there. Matthew Barnes had left for California to go to school and returned seven years later with two degrees and a little baby girl.
Every time she had asked him when she was younger, he'd put off the questions before bolting from the room, leaving Holly with a foreboding feeling in her stomach. She was starved for any and all information of her mother—a girl needed to know where she came from.
"Well, Holls, your mother...she..." he trailed off with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "She left right after you were born."
"Left? Left where?"
"I don't know. I wish I did. She just...took off without so much as a note and I haven't heard from her since."
"Why would she do that?"
"We were young. She just wasn't ready to be a mother. But don't think for a second that you aren't loved. You are the single greatest thing that has ever happened to me and I wouldn't change a thing about my life."
Holly considered this, the pit in her stomach still not assuaged.
"Will you finally show me a picture of her?"
"Well, I...I can't do that. There weren't many pictures of us to begin with, but what few I had, she took with her when she left." They fell into silence for a few moments until her dad got up from his chair to sit on the couch next to her. "I'm so sorry I waited so long to tell you. It wasn't fair. She was your mother, for better or worse, and you deserve to know what really happened. I just didn't want you to feel unloved because of what she did."
She looked down at her clasped hands in her lap. Her mother hadn't wanted her. It was a difficult realization. But she looked up at her father's kind eyes. She didn't doubt thatheloved her. For as long as she could remember, he'd tried to be both father and mother. The feeling that something was missing was a recent one.
Holly bit her lip. "What was she like?"
"You mother was well-read, worldly, and fun. Her laugh was infectious—it was like music and there was little I wouldn't do to get another laugh from her. You've got her blonde hair and her soft features. She was the one who wanted to name you Holly. I wanted to name you Charlotte, but she fought hard and Holly it was. I didn't have the heart to change it after she left."
She rolled her eyes. "I wish you had; I like that better." She wasn't sure she wanted a name picked out by someone who could abandon their own kid like that.
Her dad laughed and patted her knee as he started to go back to his book.
"What was her name?"
"Ginny." Holly thought this over in silence, trying to create a mental image of the woman. "I know it's a lot to take in. Why don't we go out to dinner tonight? The diner? Or should we be fancy and go into the city?"
"The diner is fine."
"Well, if we go into the city, we can go window shopping too and beef up your list before Christmas. What d'ya think?" He smiled like the trip to the city was the equivalent of going to Disney World. But it worked; his enthusiasm was infectious as usual.
Holly smiled and got dressed, grabbing her coat and a wool beanie. Her dad tucked the ragged black notebook he carried everywhere with him back into his pocket. They crawled into her dad's ancient Range Rover and headed into the city.
They ate an early dinner at an Applebee's off the interstate. After that they went to the mall, laughing at all the Christmas decorations out even though it wasn't even Thanksgiving yet. Her dad bought a few books from the bookstore by the food court—he could never resist a book sale. They got a bit lost inside the mall on their way out, trying to find the store they'd come in through. Even when they found the right department store, they still had to circle around to look for the right exit. As they wandered around the jewelry department looking for signs of anything they had seen on the way in, a gold locket caught Holly's eye. It was on a long chain, and there was small diamond on the front.
She felt like she'd been looking at it too long, so she turned back to follow her dad. When she turned back around, she could tell he'd seen the longing look on her face.
He smiled at her, "I think we should take that home with us. Call it an early Christmas present."
"It's okay. You don't have to do that."
But he'd already flagged down the woman behind the counter and handed her his credit card.
Once they got outside, he pulled the locket out of the small box and helped Holly put it on. "I know a fun day in the city can't fix what I told you today. But I need you to know how much I wanted you in my life. Every time you look at this necklace, I want you to remember that you are the single best thing that ever happened to me. Before I was your dad, I was floundering. You gave my life purpose. It was only after I had you and moved back to my hometown that I got the job at the university. I don't know where I'd be without you."
They took a few more steps out to the car.
He breathed in a big sigh and continued, "I used to have this friend who would say that everyone faces heartbreaks in life. What reflects on your character is not what breaks your heart or even how often, but how you recover from it." He put his hand on her shoulder and sighed. "Believe me, I know it's hard to think about. But what she did has no reflection on you. And I know that it's not fair for you to have to deal with this, but if you can learn how to get past it, it'll make you a stronger person. And then maybe something good can come from the heartbreak after all."
Holly nodded. "Thanks, Dad."
He smiled—not his real one, an imitation to try to comfort her. "Do you want to go home and watch Indiana Jones?"
She nodded, giving him an imitation smile as well, and they climbed into the car.
***
Holly fiddled with her new locket, pushing the last corner of the second picture inside the frame. She smiled down at the picture of her and her dad in front of the Disney World castle when she four, and another of them in the exact same spot only the year before. She fastened the locket around her neck and looked up at the TV screen.
Her dad had a piece of pizza in one hand—holding it precariously by the crust—and a large book balanced on the arm rest of his chair with the other. She'd inherited her multi-tasking habit from him. She picked up a piece of pizza to eat while she finished the last few problems of her math homework.
"Dad?" she asked a few minutes later as she penciled in the answer to the last question.
"Hmm?" he replied without looking up. She waited a moment for him to make eye contact. "Yes?"
"What is it you're reading?"
"I found this fascinating book that looks at whether the tomb of Arthur Pendragon would be in France instead of England. The old legends are steeped more in French customs than English. But if they took place in France, then we've been looking in the wrong spot. This could be the key to finally finding Excalibur."
"Dad," Holly whined, dragging the word out into two syllables and pinching the bridge of her nose in shame. "Excalibur isn't a real sword. You ought to be spending time on more important things."
"And what more important things are you accusing me of neglecting?"
Holly rubbed a design into the arm of the suede couch with her finger. "I don't know, maybe a love life? Dad, I'm worried about you. I think you're lonely."
"Honey, I'm fine. I'm not lonely."
"But you never go anywhere or do anything outside of work. You don't even have friends, let alone a girlfriend."
He stayed quiet for several moments, mouth open in a flabbergasted expression. "I have lots of work friends."
"Those are colleagues, Dad, not friends. They don't count."
"What about the Lewises? I'm friends with them."
"Only because Tameka and I are friends. You never hang out with them on your own."
"I have friends, Holls."
"Okay, then. Name one." She crossed her arms over her chest and waited for him to respond. When he started to answer she added, "One you've talked to in the last five years."
He stuttered for a few moments. "I...I can't think of one off the top of my head, but..."
Holly sank back, triumphant. "I think it's time you started putting yourself out there. I can help you set up an online dating profile... There's nothing to be ashamed of—Peter's mom used the internet to meet her new boyfriend."
She was surprised to see her dad's face flush and his cheeks flood red with embarrassment. "Holly, I don't want you worrying about me. I already had the love of my life—I'm not missing out on anything by not dating."
"How do you know? You're not that old, Dad. Just because my mom was the love of your life so far doesn't mean you couldn't have a bigger, better love story in the next part."
"I'm just not ready to date again, kid."
"But it's been thirteen years since she left you..."
He sighed and pinched his nose. "I am well aware of how long it's been. How about this, if it means that much to you, I'll call up and old friend and ask him to get a beer. Can you be satiated with a friendly beer instead of a humiliating date?"
"It's a start."
***
Holly had tucked herself into her bed upstairs to read, but when she heard the front door unlock, she threw off the covers and ran partway down the stairs. She stood on the landing watching as her dad opened the door and then locked it behind him. "Well? How'd your friend date go?"
He winced. "I really wish you wouldn't call it that."
"Well then how was your beer?"
"The pint was great. Everything else left much to be desired—tonight was a glaring reminder of how old I've gotten."
"Well, alright, tonight wasn't great then. Maybe you need to make new friends, not recycle old ones. Do you have a teacher's lounge at work? Could you go in there and find some new friends? Maybe what you need is a non-English professor friend."
He sighed, "Listen, kiddo, I appreciate the concern. But I'm fine—honestly. I'm happy with my life. I've got you, a great job, and even a hobby. That's more than a lot of people have. I keep busy enough that I don't need friends. I interact with new and interesting people at my job every day."
"But all you talk about is finding something that never existed."
"How do you know it never existed?"
"Because there wasn't a King Arthur, and if there was no King Arthur, then there wasn't an Excalibur."
"Actually, dear, there wasa King Arthur. He was a soldier that led the defense of Britain from the Saxons in the late fifth or early sixth century, depending on which sources you trust."
"Really?"
He nodded. "You see, at the center of every myth and folktale there is a grain of truth. In this case, it's a general named Arthur. In the story of Isis' tears for Osiris, the truth is that the Nile floods, allowing for plentiful harvests. Or it's a lesson not to put our faith in the wrong people, like the Greek story about Arachne."
She rolled her eyes, wishing she hadn't asked. "You spend too much time thinking about the 'grain of truth' in myths."
He reached up and patted her hand where it still rested on the stair rail. "Maybe you're right Holly. But if I find meaning in them, isn't that all that matters?"
She sighed, the look on her face making it clear that she remained unconvinced. "Go to bed, Holls. I've had quite enough of a thirteen-year-old judging my social life to last me a lifetime."
Holly watched as he climbed the stairs, his shoulders slumped. He slipped into his room and shut the door behind him. With a sigh, she climbed up the stairs too, staring at his closed door and thinking about his sad, hunched figure. He might think he was happy with his life—but she knew different. She cursed her mother—wherever she might be—for breaking his heart and leaving him a recluse. She vowed as she closed the door to her own room that she'd never let someone hurt her that way. Holly Barnes refused to follow in her father's lonely, reclusive footsteps.