Chapter Forty-Seven

There were no charges filed, of course. There had been ample witnesses to confirm that Robert had acted in Norma’s defense and his own. But that was cold comfort when Norma died of her injuries a few days later, without ever regaining consciousness.

Robert wanted nothing more than to hole up inside his apartment and try to forget. The townspeople were sympathetic, bringing cakes and casseroles so that he and Sophie wouldn’t be bothered with cooking. But Robert knew that he would have to reopen the store sooner rather than later, since where else would the citizens of Castaño buy their food?

The night before the reopening, Sophie came into the kitchen where Robert was gazing at his maps without seeing them, a glass of whiskey at hand. She had said little since the incident at the store and now Robert wondered through a faint whiskey buzz just what was on her mind. “Well?”

“Um.” She gazed at the floor for a moment, then looked up and met his eyes. “I just wanted to say that I’m proud of you, and I’ll come help you at the store for as long as you need me. I’ll even help with the math. I’ll be very careful with the decimals, I promise.”

Robert allowed himself a little half-smile and sucked down the last of his drink. It burned his throat and stomach, and made everything blessedly out of focus. If only all of life could so easily be made soft and unthreatening. “I had the impression you didn’t know quite what to think of me these days.”

Sophie tipped her head to one side, not understanding.

“I found the book your friend gave you. I was snooping. I apologize.”

The girl said nothing.

“Sit down.” When she made no move, he repeated himself, this time with an edge in his voice. “I said, sit down.”

Sophie scooted into a chair, her eyes wide and slightly alarmed.

Once she was seated, Robert got up and refilled his glass.

“Dad—”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Robert sat back down and leaned across the table. “Well, this is your chance. Maybe your only one. Ask me anything. Anything at all.”

The girl’s eyes darted around the room as if there was some quick mode of escape that she had previously failed to notice. Not finding any, she simply said, “I don’t have any questions.”

“Don’t lie. That book is full of lies, and if you believe every one of them, you’ll just go around being a liar yourself.” He took a swallow of whiskey. “Let’s start with me and your mother, shall we? Yes, she was married to Will Channing and that’s why he wants me dead. She didn’t divorce him and I was well aware of that fact. Your mother was a bigamist, I didn’t give a damn, and you’re a bastard. Satisfied?”

If Sophie was distressed at being called a bastard, she gave no sign. No doubt she had already given this piece of information a lot of consideration and come to the sensible conclusion that it changed nothing. Nevertheless, she bit her lip for a moment, thinking. “The book says she and Will—”

“Were brother and sister? Not exactly. They weren’t kin, but they were both your Grandma Amalia’s wards. You know that word, right? It means she was responsible for them, but she never formally adopted them, so they were really just three unrelated people living together like a family.”

“None of them had any other family anymore,” Sophie said quietly. “At least that’s what the book says.”

“Well, Amalia had a brother who was a colonel in the US army, but they weren’t on speaking terms. And to this day I don’t think anyone knows if Will has any living relatives. But for all practical purposes, the book is correct.” He took another sip of whiskey. “What else?”

“I want to know if it’s true what happened to Mom in the woods. The book says…”

Robert flinched as if Sophie had slapped him. “That was my fault. I knew there were dangerous mavericks in the area. I knew what they did to young women. I could have warned her or sent my guard with her, but I didn’t. She and her friends were...attacked. She didn’t kill nearly as many of them as the rumors say. Only three, I think. But even though she was injured, scared, and at a great disadvantage, she still managed to bring her surviving friend home safely. Your mother was the bravest woman I’ve ever met.”

“She always said you were brave, too. You got shot trying to save your commander at San Eusebio.”

“I suppose the book mentioned that, too. The key thing to remember is that I merely tried. And I failed.” He reached for his whiskey again. “I’m very good at trying to save people and failing spectacularly at it. San Eusebio, your mother's illness, and now Norma…”

“Dad.” Sophie jumped out of her chair and went to his side. “Just because it didn’t work out doesn’t mean you did anything wrong.”

Robert wasn’t listening. “For all I know, Emily will take the money I gave her and drink herself to death with it. I probably failed to save her, too.”

“I don’t know what you’re taking about.”

He sighed. “Don’t worry about it. Just another of my mistakes. As is this conversation.” Robert stood up unsteadily. “This is all too much for someone your age. You should go to bed.”

Sophie looked at him in exasperation. “My mother was younger than I am now when she saw her mother and grandparents killed right before her eyes, and you think I can’t handle a few words?” Before he could react, she grabbed his whiskey glass and threw the contents down the drain. “I’m not ashamed of anything you’ve done. You’ve helped a lot of people, and the ones you couldn’t help, at least you made the effort.” She gestured toward the door. “There’s a whole stupid town out there full of people who were too selfish and too scared to even do that much. All they do is hide here in the mountains, like…mice or something. They can think whatever they want to about you or me, but at least we aren’t mice!”

Robert had been gazing solemnly at his daughter throughout this tirade, and he wanted to say something to explain it all to her, to show her how wrong she was. But instead he found himself seeing his story though her eyes and the sudden shift in perspective was too much for him. He felt weary to the bone. “No, we’re not mice,” he said softly.

They stood looking at each other for a long moment. Then Sophie said, “It’s late. You were right. We should go to bed.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Robert agreed.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Sophie turned and looked at him. “It’ll be better in the morning.”

She said it with such confidence that he couldn’t help believing her. She was Diana’s daughter, after all. “If you say it, then it must be so.”