This is supposed to be family dinner. Not family plus the man who abandoned us dinner.
When Gabby drags me into the kitchen, Benjamin Sr. is wearing a bright pink apron and mashing an industrial amount of potatoes. His face is red as he huffs, struggling with the mass of spuds.
Sarah sees me first. Her eyebrows jump up, and her gaze flits between me and the man who fathered us. She chews her lip before touching the man on the arm.
He stops mashing, looking at her as he sucks in a breath, then shifts his gaze to me. The potato masher falls into the pot and he wipes his hands on the pink apron, turning to face me.
“Benji,” he says.
“What are you doing here?”
Gabby is still beside me, watching us. I try to contain my anger for her sake.
“I invited him over, Benji,” Sarah says, attempting to mediate.
I hate that he’s put my sister in this position. I hate that she feels like she has to go between us. That she has to choose.
But my anger clouds my vision, and it’s hard to think about anything else except the fact that he’s intruding. He doesn’t deserve to know his grandkids. He doesn’t deserve to mash potatoes with us. He doesn’t deserve to share our table, or our food, or our company.
He. Left.
I turn around and walk back out, stomping my way to the front door. I almost rip it off its hinges, my chest heaving as I struggle for a breath.
But when I get outside, voices draw my gaze. Rae is laughing with Sawyer as they carry bags and boxes of new furnishings, food, and supplies for the house. I pause in the doorway, watching how Sawyer’s face lights up. How they look like they’ve picked up right where they left off.
Sawyer forgave his sister in an instant.
More striking, though, is the fact that Rae never stopped trying. She never pushed Sawyer away. She never turned her back on him or Lucy. She kept trying for years. She put them first, hoping that today would happen.
I pause in the doorway, watching them disappear into their own house.
Sarah’s voice is small behind me. “Benji?”
I turn to look at my sister, shoulders slumping.
She takes a deep breath. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I get it. But I’m ready to have a relationship with him. He’s our father. The kids should know their grandfather.”
Old wounds split open inside me. The scar tissue on them is thick and calcified, but they still crack and spill fresh blood. Tears fill my eyes as I clear my throat, trying to compose myself.
I finally meet my sister’s eye, and my anger dims.
She has the same determination as Rae. The same urge to put everyone else first. The same forgiveness. Big heart. Integrity.
She’s right. Just as Rae was right to tell me she didn’t want to take things any further with me. Just as Sawyer was right to let go of his anger and forgive the instant he knew he was wrong.
So, I drop my shoulders, step back inside, and close the door behind me. Sarah wraps her arms around me.
“Thank you for staying,” she whispers. “I appreciate it.”
“I’m doing it for you, not him.”
“I know.” She smiles. “That’s why I thanked you.”
We spend the evening together, and even though I try my best to hate my father, I see why Sarah invited him over. He’s good with the kids, and he doesn’t talk about money, or college funds, or make any assumptions about being in our lives beyond tonight.
He’s grateful to be here, and it feels like the first step in a new direction. When my father shakes my hand and says goodbye for the night, my heart squeezes.
I don’t hate having him in my life. It felt good to not push him away.
When I leave my sister’s house, I’m exhausted. My eyes are drawn to Rae’s place, and a lump forms in my throat.
I know it’s her presence that pushed me to welcome my father tonight. I know it was her three-year-long fight to bring her family back together that showed me it’s possible to forgive. To mend. To move on.
But as I drive away from her, I feel empty.
It’s not my father I want to be close to.
It’s Rae.
18
Rae
When Lucy told Sawyer it was me who was depositing money into his account and not our parents, he insisted on using the funds to furnish the new house. I tried to protest, saying I had money from the sale of the car, but he wouldn’t hear a word of it.
Exactly like the Sawyer I knew three and a half years ago—loyal, stubborn, and totally idealistic.
I finally accept his help, and boy, he does not disappoint.
The two of us haul in seven loads of sheets, towels, utensils, cleaning supplies, side tables, and a million other things needed for the house. We spend the afternoon setting up the house for me, Lucy, and Roman, and Sawyer even gets a TV delivered for us.
Right before dinnertime, Sawyer drives up with one last load of stuff for the house. I meet him at his car, shaking my head.
“You don’t need to do this, Sawyer. That money was supposed to be for you. I sold the car and have enough cash to take care of us.”
“I don’t need your money,” Sawyer answers simply, picking up two big bags full of throw pillows. “And by the looks of it, you do. You need to start thinking of yourself a bit more.”
My heart grows.
In the blink of an eye, once Sawyer met Roman and understood what happened between us, he’s forgiven me. All my fears have evaporated, and I have my brother back. Lucy was right. He’s the same guy we grew up with. The big-hearted, starry-eyed
