Ivan tilted his head, and she met his gaze. “You know there was never anything between my dad and your mom, right?”
“Of course. I’m not a complete idiot. Your parents were the ideal, in love, worship-the-ground-each-other-walked-on example for how relationships should be. No, once he had the idea in his head that she’d cheated on top of losing all his money, he wouldn’t let it go. His bitterness began to infect me. I got…See? I really didn’t want to bore you with all this.”
“You’re not boring me, baby.”
Taking a deep breath, she blurted out, “I got depressed, and I gave up, basically. I took all the songs I’d written and my guitar and stored it all away.”
“Your piano?” Her entire family had chipped in and bought her a nice, used upright piano when she’d started high school, right around the time he and his brother had met her. She’d been all about her music back then.
Her smile was bittersweet. “Dad sold it within that first year after graduation. He said we needed the money more than we needed the noise in the house all the time.”
He wished he’d known. Why did I never come back?
“Your parents had already stopped coming to Divine and doing any business in the area, going to Morehead instead, I guess, so I never saw them or ran into them at the restaurant. There were some days where I wished I’d run after the two of you on the football field, after we got our diplomas, begged Samson to take me with him, somehow.” She grimaced. “I sound as though I’m whining. Like I think everyone abandoned me.”
“No you don’t. There’s plenty I’d do different if I’d known.” For starters, I would’ve begged you to come back to Dallas with me. I would’ve taken care of you.
“Dad was miserable to work with, much less live with, and once, when I tried to quit, my aunts and uncles begged me not to, saying he needed me, that he didn’t mean to be so ugly. Life had dealt him an unfair hand.”
Ivan couldn’t hide his frown. “They told you he’d been dealt an unfair hand? A beautiful daughter and a sweet wife who might not have involved herself in addictive behavior if she’d had another outlet, if things had been better at home. I think your dad has some responsibility in what happened to her.”
“You mean a variation on the ‘he drove me to drink’ sort of thing? Maybe. All I know is she lived an unhappy life with him but never took it out on others the way he did. So I worked, and dreams of making music, writing songs, drifted further out of sight. Bill came home from college and took a job at the same bank his dad worked at, and my father noticed he was always eating at the restaurant. Dad started…pushing me at Bill—and pushing Bill at me.” She gave him a half-hearted smile as she curled up on the couch and looked away. “I was weak by this point, and well…we got married.”
Stifling his resentment at the thought, he caressed the top of her hand. “It’s the past. You can tell me.”
Tears were pooled in her eyes when she turned back to him, and she wiped them away and sniffled. “I hate crying in front of you. It makes my nose run and turn red.”
“I don’t mind baby, except I know it means you’re hurting.”
“It was a different time, and all the women in my family stayed home once they finished school, if they finished, and they either worked at home if their husbands could support them or worked in the family restaurant to help out. It wasn’t bad for all of them,” she said, putting her hand on top of his. “Uncle Rudy’s girls were encouraged to go to school, and he was sweet to us, but he was the youngest of his siblings. I was so pleased when he made the offer to buy them all out. The restaurant improved after that change.”
“I’ve heard he runs a tight, clean ship over there.”
“He does, and without all the yelling and fussing, too. Anyway, I never made a clear decision about not attending school. It just became more distant and unfathomable as time went by. By the time I’d had Joseph, I couldn’t imagine how to make it work. Bill wasn’t much for music and couldn’t relate to my dream.”
Ivan narrowed his eyes and frowned, imagining the arrogant prick dismissing her talent. “I’ll bet you supported his dreams, though.”
“I tried, but most of his dreams centered around promotions and making more money. I used to play my guitar and sing for the kids when they were small because it helped to soothe them or because I wanted to entertain them. If Bill came home and saw my guitar or music out of the case, he would ask me what I’d done all day, as if I’d neglected the baby or the house. That hurt because I took good care of our home. His lack of care about my dream hurt, but at least he made enough so I didn’t need to work with my father anymore. I was grateful and felt letting go of the dream was a fair trade.”