He wiped his face.
“I panicked.”
“What about the next day?”
Silence.
“I panicked.”
“The next week?”
He couldn’t look at me.
“The next year?”
“You weren’t eighteen for ten years.”
“I kept telling myself I’d waited too long.”
“The next year?”
“And every year made that excuse easier.”
“Yes.”
I believed him. It didn’t excuse him.
“Does Lucas know about me?”
“He knows his father exists.”
“Can I see him?”
“Does Lucas know about me?”
“No.”
His head lifted.
“I’m his father.”
“You are the man who fathered him. What happens next depends on what you do now.”
He swallowed.
“What do you want me to do?”
“I’m his father.”
“Write him a letter.”
“A letter?”
“Tell him who you are. Tell him why you weren’t there. Tell him why you’re here now.”
He nodded.
“And don’t blame Teagan.”
“I won’t.”
“Write him a letter.”
“You don’t get credit for showing up ten years late. But you do get a chance to decide what kind of man you’re going to be now.”
***
Two days later, an envelope appeared on my porch.
Lucas’s name was written across it.
I hated opening something addressed to Lucas. But he was ten, and I was responsible for what entered his life.
One line stayed with me.
An envelope appeared on my porch.
“I was scared when I was eighteen, but being scared doesn’t explain ten years.”
He asked for no forgiveness and blamed no one.
Before I gave it to Lucas, I called Trudy again.
“Can you meet me?”
She sounded surprised.
“Can you meet me?”
“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 was there for Teagan.
“I didn’t say I forgave you.”
“Was she scared?” I asked.
Trudy’s expression softened.
“Yes.”
“Was she alone?”
“No. People were with her the whole time.”
The answer hit harder than I expected.
“Was she scared?”
“Did she ask for me?”
“Yes.”
My throat tightened.
