“Of course not.”
“Then how were you supposed to know?”
“Wouldn’t you have known if your father was doing heinous things like that?” Emma said.
“Not if he was trying to hide it,” Ally replied. “You can’t help who your father is, Emma. Blaming yourself for something you had no control over seems like a really stupid way to live your life.”
“You don’t understand,” Emma said. “It was all there. It was right in front of me. I should have seen.”
“I understand,” Sophie said, her voice low. “I may not understand exactly what you’ve been through, but it’s not like my father is perfect.”
“But your father is dead,” Emma shot back.
“My biological father is dead,” Sophie replied. “My foster father is very much alive. He was a wonderful provider, and he was always interested in my schoolwork and my day. That doesn’t mean he’s perfect.”
Emma remained silent, waiting for Sophie to continue.
“My foster father is Peter Marconi. Do you know who that is?”
The name rang a bell, but Emma couldn’t quite grasp why. “No.”
“He’s a mobster,” Sophie explained. “He’s one of the biggest runners in the area.”
“Runners? Do you mean drugs?”
Sophie shrugged. “I choose to believe he doesn’t run drugs,” she said. “I’m not naïve, though. Even if he doesn’t, he’s still a thief, and I’m fairly certain he’s responsible for more than a handful of deaths.”
“And how do you live with that?” Emma asked.
“That’s his life, not mine,” Sophie said. “We have dinner once a month. We talk. We laugh. I still love him. His misdeeds are not my misdeeds. And, if it came down to it, if I saw something I knew that was truly wrong … I would like to believe I’d do the right thing.”
“You didn’t see anything,” Ally said, turning back to Emma. “You have to believe you would have done the right thing if you had seen something. That’s got to be the thing you hold on to.”
Emma’s face crumpled, her eyes filling with tears.
Mandy settled down next to her, wrapping her arm around the shaking girl. “I think you need to try and let this go if you can. If you keep holding it in like this, you’ll never be happy. Don’t you want to be happy?”
“I don’t think happiness exists for people like me,” Emma admitted, her voice thick with tears.
“I think you’re wrong,” Mandy said. “Let me ask you something. If you don’t think you deserve happiness, is that why you’re giving Finn the bum’s rush?”
“Finn is a great guy,” Emma said. “He’s the nicest guy I’ve ever met. I’m no good for him, though. I’m not good for anyone.”
“Finn doesn’t seem to feel that way,” Ally said.
“Did he tell you that?” Emma asked.
Ally shook her head. “Mandy told me. We’re gossipy.”
Mandy nodded. “We are gossipy.”
“Did Finn say something to you?” Emma asked.
“Here’s the thing about Hardy men,” Mandy said. “They don’t talk about their feelings until they’re about to explode. Finn is the most patient one – I think it’s the youngest-brother thing. He’s not ready to explode yet.”
“He will explode,” Ally cautioned. “And, if history is any indication, when he goes, it’s going to be huge.”
“What do you mean?”
“Finn’s one of those guys who is slow to anger but, when he does, he’ll just fly off the handle,” Ally explained. “Grady and James are quick to anger, but they get over it really quickly, too. They have like a five-second rebound rate. Finn is different.”
“I don’t even know him that well,” Emma said.
“So, give it a chance,” Mandy said. “Try and get to know him.”
“I don’t know,” Emma said. “I don’t think he’ll like what he sees if he gets to know me.”
“You’ll never know unless you try,” Ally said. “Just think about it.”
Emma sighed. “Okay. I need to think about it when I’m not drunk, though. I don’t make good decisions when I’m drunk.”
“Who does?” Sophie said, laughing.
Emma glanced to her right, to where Mandy was on her feet again, a funny look washing over her face.
“What’s wrong?”
“Do you smell that?”
“What?”
“Smoke.”
Emma lifted her nose, detecting the unmistakable odor when she focused. “It’s probably just my neighbors. They smoke more pot than Cheech and Chong.”