But what if she had? If her mother had welcomed his approach, would he have become part of Erica’s life or would he have been a source of more upset? It was impossible to say, and really, what was the point in speculating?
She realized that Hattie was waiting for her to respond.
Her mouth felt dry and she took another sip of wine. “After he left, she waited for him to get in touch, but he never did. She found it particularly hard at Christmas. I think it took her a long time to accept that he really had left for good, and once that sank in, she wasn’t able to forgive. It was a survival thing.”
“Dad understood that.” Hattie paused. “He punished himself over it. Told himself that he deserved to be cut out of your life and that you were probably better off without him. After what happened with your mother, he steered clear of relationships for a long time. He focused on his work.”
“What was his work?”
“He was a plumber. He set up his own company, employed a handful of people who felt the same way he did about delivering excellent customer service, and did really well. The business could have expanded, but he never wanted to lose that personal touch.”
“And then he met your mother?”
“Yes. And he told me he was a different person by then. A decade older for a start, but also that early experience shaped him.”
It shaped all of us, Erica thought. “In what way?”
“He was really big on responsibility. If he told a customer he could do something, then he did it, even if it meant he was out half the night fixing a frozen pipe. Whatever I started, he encouraged me to see it through no matter how hard it was. The past couple of years, when it has been so hard, I often think about him. In the beginning there were days when I almost couldn’t drag myself out of bed, and I imagined him tugging back the covers and telling me to get up and do what needed to be done. Is this difficult to hear? If you want me to stop, say so.”
“I don’t want you to stop.” It wasn’t true. Part of her did want Hattie to stop, but another part—the bigger part—wanted to hear more.
This was a side of her father she’d never been given access to before. And it was real. All she’d ever had before now was what her mother had given her, and to her mother, Erica’s dad was the man who had walked out on his family when they’d needed him most and he’d remained frozen in that time. A blank figure. The sum of that one single action that had blown apart her mother’s life, and the image Erica had of him went no deeper than one single photograph that her mother had shown her when she’d asked to at least see him. But Hattie was describing a person, not a mistake. Her father, who had always been a one-dimensional figure in her life, was coming to life in her head.
Over the years she’d felt anger, frustration and no small degree of contempt toward the man who had played a defining role in her life and yet never been part of it. But now her feelings toward him, once so clear, were murky and ill-defined.
Hattie stood up and fed another log into the fire. “It was my mother who persuaded him to reach out to you again.” She watched as the flame caught and flickered. “She was pregnant with me by then, so that probably contributed to the fact that she felt so strongly. She felt he owed you that, at least. I think he was afraid of doing it. Afraid of rejection, but he did it anyway. You were twelve when I was born. He sent you a card. He was upset when your mother told him for a second time never to contact you both again, but he wasn’t surprised. He understood and he blamed himself totally, but he wanted to keep the door open. He always hoped that one day he might be given another chance to build a relationship with you. He wanted you to have that choice.”
Erica’s hand shook as she carefully put her glass down on the table. “I found that card when I was clearing her things after she died.”
“I didn’t know you lost your mother.”
“Two years ago.”
Hattie straightened and her eyes darkened with sympathy. “I’m sorry to hear that. All this must be very difficult for you. Do you want to stop?”
“No.” It was difficult, but not as difficult as she would have expected. Maybe it was because Hattie herself was so straightforward and honest about everything. “I’m interested in the details. I’ve never had that.”
“You must have had so many questions when you found that card.” Hattie sat down again and picked up her glass. “Is that why you’re here now? No, it can’t be. If you found the card a while ago, why now? It wasn’t a coincidence, which means you chose to find me. But then you didn’t seem exactly pleased to see me.”
Erica stared into the fire. Beyond the windows snow was falling, coating the trees with another layer of white. “When I found the card, I was shocked. I had a lot of questions.”
“But no one to answer them.”
“Right. And I had such mixed emotions.” It was the first time she’d admitted it. “Part of me was upset that my mother had kept that hidden from me. But I also felt protective of her. She never did anything without thinking about it carefully. If she’d wanted me to know then she would have given me the card.”
Hattie paused. “That was a big decision she made, given that it affected you, too. You weren’t angry with her?”
“A little, at first. But then I thought back to what her life had been like. He left her alone and afraid. And in those early days when she might still have forgiven him, he didn’t make contact.” Erica felt a pang as she thought of how difficult it had been for her mother. “That panic he felt that made him run? She felt that, too. She felt the weight of that responsibility, but she shouldered it and became fiercely independent. She never wanted to feel that vulnerable again, and she raised me to be independent, too. To handle things.”
“Your poor mother.” Hattie spoke softly. “That card arriving when you were twelve must have shaken her. She must have been afraid that letting him back into her—or your—life, in whatever way, might threaten everything she’d built.”
“Exactly. And she didn’t throw it away, which suggests she was conflicted.” Erica glanced at Hattie. “And I was, too, which is why when I found the card I just put it away, with a few of her other things that I kept. Not many.” She gave a quick smile. “I’m not sentimental, as Anna will confirm. But putting the card away didn’t stop me thinking about it. I decided I wanted to know more about my father, so I hired a private investigator.”
Hattie lifted her eyebrows. “People do that in real life? I’ve only ever seen it in movies.”
“Claudia said the same thing, but yes, it’s a thing. He told me my father had died, but he also told me about you. And Delphi.” Erica paused, wondering how much to say. “There wasn’t much in the report except a few dates and locations. Facts. But I looked you up, read a piece about this place and everything that had happened.”
“But what made you decide to come and find me?”
She’d asked herself that same question.
Erica felt a stirring inside her that might have been panic. “I’m not sure. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Maybe it’s because you were raising a child alone, as my mother did.”