“A letter?”
“Tell him who you are. Tell him why you weren’t there. And tell him why you’re here now.”
He nodded.
“And don’t blame Teagan.”
“I won’t.”
“You don’t get credit for finally showing up ten years late,” I said. “But you do get a chance to decide what kind of man you’re going to be from this point forward.”
Two days later, an envelope appeared on my porch.
Lucas’s name was written across the front.
I hated opening something addressed to him.
But Lucas was ten, and I was still responsible for protecting him.
One sentence stayed with me.
I was scared when I was eighteen, but being scared doesn’t explain ten years.
He asked for no forgiveness.
He blamed no one.
Before I gave the letter to Lucas, I called Trudy again.
“Can we meet?”
She sounded surprised.
“I thought you’d never want to see me again.”
“I didn’t say I forgave you.”
“I understand.”
“There’s something else I need.”
We met the next afternoon.
This time, I wasn’t there to discuss Lucas’s father.
I was there for my daughter.
“Was Teagan scared?”
Trudy’s expression softened.
“Yes.”
“Was she alone?”
