Dismal gray walls closed in on Oliver as he headed into the heart of the facility. Anxiety, tension and anger mixed in his gut as he readied himself to see his father for the first time in a decade and a half. Bile rose, and he clenched his teeth to keep it down. As he went through the visitor procedures, Oliver wondered what the hell he was doing. How could anything good come out of seeing a father he despised? Especially when he knew Vernon had never loved him. What would Oliver gain by acknowledging that his father continued to sway his emotions?
Sammi believed that Vernon’s disappearance left Oliver with unresolved issues. He might resist acknowledging it, but every time he reflected on his childhood, he burned with outrage. As a kid he’d longed for his dad’s approval. Yet no matter how he strove to stand out, his efforts failed. Thanks to his father’s constant criticism, by the time he hit his teenage years, Oliver had stopped trying to please his father and acted out instead. Yet unlike Jake, who’d seemed to enjoy being a troublemaker, Oliver’s bad behavior had been a cry for attention. A cry that had been ignored.
Ignored. Isolated. Unloved.
Was it at all surprising that Oliver had sought to numb himself with drugs and alcohol? And as much as he regretted the years of addiction, Oliver had escaped the downward spiral on his own. No one in his family had reached out a helping hand. No, Oliver had done that all on his own. He’d dug himself out of his pit of despair. He’d given up drugs. He’d gotten himself clean. No one had helped. Just like he’d been successful because of his drive and his talent and his determination. Oliver had become a success, not because of his father, but in spite of his father. He’d succeeded because of the mistakes he’d made and what he learned from them.
With his heart pounding in his throat hard enough to choke him, Oliver entered a long room partitioned into visitor and inmate spaces. He hadn’t known exactly what to expect when he’d come to the prison, but he was relieved that he wouldn’t be alone with his father or face-to-face with open space between them. This setting, with the clear glass defining who was the visitor and who was the criminal, eased Oliver’s discomfort somewhat. He joined the half a dozen people engaged in conversations, selecting an empty seat, when he realized Vernon hadn’t yet arrived.
Dropping onto the smooth plastic chair, he noticed the low rumbling discomfort was growing louder, like a freight train coming at him from a distant place. The sensation had been building in him since Sammi had suggested he confront his past. Now a tremor went through him as childhood fear and anxiety escalated, crippling his self-confidence. Suddenly he was no longer a successful photographer with his pick of assignments, but a miserable little boy who’d craved his father’s attention, knowing he would never get it. For years Oliver had used drugs and alcohol to repress that scared child, but denying him kept him from healing.
Then Sammi had come along, her love and friendship chipping away at his defenses. Lulled by a sense of belonging, he stopped bracing against rejection and surrendered to a connection that felt so amazing, it terrified him. With Sammi he wanted to do better, be better. What he lacked was the confidence that he could succeed. No surprise then that his fear led him to behave badly.
The door leading into the prisoner’s side opened, drawing Oliver’s attention to the new arrival. A shock traveled through Oliver as he studied the man who approached. Despite his fit frame and the lack of gray hair, Vernon looked older. A network of wrinkles had been etched into his tan skin from a decade and a half in the sun. What had he been doing? No doubt fishing, Oliver thought, remembering the equipment he received from an anonymous source. Except for the dark circles beneath his eyes and the prison uniform he wore, Vernon Lowell looked as if he’d just returned from a long, relaxing vacation.
Well, he was back in the real world now, and his demeanor reflected that he knew it. The swagger that had once made his father seem all-powerful had been dimmed by his time behind bars. Yet some arrogance remained in the directness of his gaze as he sneered at his fellow inmates.
It was this confidence and his father’s hypocrisy that sparked Oliver’s temper. A second later, his anger flared to life as Vernon’s eyes narrowed when he spied who awaited him. No doubt his father was disappointed that Oliver was the son who had been the first to visit. Vernon had never had time for his youngest son before. Oliver expected his father was most curious about Josh and Jake and would be eager to hear how Black Crescent had been reborn beneath his eldest son’s leadership.
As Vernon sat down on the opposite side of the partition, he flashed his white teeth in a mocking grin. All of Oliver’s muscles locked up in response. He couldn’t move. He could only stare at his father and hate. This wasn’t some joyful reunion. His father had no right to happiness. For fifteen years Oliver’s mother had suffered from being abandoned by her husband and faced the anger and spite of the neighbors and friends whom he’d cheated. She defended him at first, foolishly trusting the man she’d married, believing that he wasn’t responsible for their stolen fortunes. Oliver’s heart ached for her.
Vernon picked up the phone and put it to his ear. His father’s grin was sculpted in wax as he waited for Oliver to do the same so they could communicate. All the questions that had overwhelmed his mind on the trip here coalesced into one burning question. Vernon had once enjoyed everything that would’ve satisfied even the greediest
