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Part 8

His name comes out as a hoarse whisper.

"What?" Chance quickly turns as my stepfather's eyes meet mine, and Dave seems to be just as shocked to see me as I am to see him. He actually recognizes me. After all these years, he still recognizes me. He slowly approaches our table.

"Hello, Cosset."

"Hello." I say back, managing to keep my voice monotone despite the anxiety and anger hovering near the surface.

"How have you been?" he asks.

How do you think? I hesitate before answering. "I have been good," I lie. "And you?" It takes every ounce of strength I have to remain cordial.

He doesn't answer. "You are looking well."

His nonchalance completely annoys me. "How is your wife? Better than you treated your first one, I hope." My voice is colder than I intended. Or maybe I did. I am sad, angry and hurt.

You abandoned us. You abandoned Mama. And me. No excuse he uses could ever be good enough. Seeing my stepfather is more painful than I ever thought it would be. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined seeing him again.

Dave's smile seems sad. "Sweet, beautiful Cosset. You were always the protector." His expression grows serious. "I never got married." He pauses. "My parents have disowned me then and there because of it, but it was a decision I had to make." When I say nothing, he sighs. "I've really missed you, Cosset. I've missed being your father."

"So, you think you can just waltz back into my life just like that? Well, I've been without a father this long, I'm pretty sure I'll be okay."

"But I won't." Surprisingly, tears fill his eyes.

Silence surrounds us for a moment until Chance's voice slices through it. He introduces himself as my fiancee. Putting his arm around me, he kisses my temple and whispers, "You two need to talk." He gets up and offers Dave his spot, then walks over to the jukebox.

Dave sits down and it is a full minute before he speaks again. I sense his hesitance as he slowly fills me in on everything he has been doing all these years. He expresses his sorrow over Mama's death. He says he wanted to attend the funeral, but he had been too ashamed to show up, so he grieved for her privately.

My icy heart melting slightly, I begrudgingly tell him about Nate and tears again fill his eyes. He had no idea Nate passed away and the grief is clearly written in his expression.

"I never expected to see you again," he says.

I lower my eyes. "I didn't ever expect to see you again either." And I never wanted to . . . until now. Despite my best efforts, my thoughts and emotions are betraying me.

Dave heaves a deep sigh and it is another full minute before he speaks again. "I still care for you, Cosset–very much. And I wish I could take back all the hurt I caused you and your mother, and Nate." He pauses a moment, rubbing a hand over his face. "I couldn't marry the other woman. My family wanted me to be in love with her, and I thought maybe I could force myself to be."

I really don't want to hear this and I start to interrupt, but he continues.

"I'm not blaming my choices on anyone else. I made them all on my own and I've accepted the blame for what happened. I let the pressure get to me. I let what was important slip away. For that, I am so sorry. More sorry than I can possibly express. I know words aren't good enough, and if it takes me the rest of my life to prove that I have changed, then so be it."

Silently staring out the diner window, I ponder his words. I glance across the dining room at Chance, meeting his concerned stare. I smile slightly, trying to assure him I'm okay. His mouthed I love you gives me comfort.

I finally return my eyes to Dave. It has been eighteen years since he walked out on us. The day he told Mama about the other woman was the last time I saw him. Still, I remember everything about him, every single detail of his face.

Time hasn't changed him much. He is still very handsome. His sandy-blond hair looks freshly cut, only now he wears it shorter on the sides and back. But his blue eyes don't hold the same sparkle they once did. Now that I am really looking at him, he looks tired. I have really missed him. And I can't deny it any longer.

"What is it you want from me?" I finally find the strength to ask.

"I don't mean to cause you pain, Cosset. That is the last thing I want to do. I'm so ashamed of what I did. I know I can't expect anything from you and . . . I have no right to ask, but . . ."

I can tell this is hard for him, and not because of pride. I honestly think he fears what I will say. It is that vulnerability that melts the last of the ice in my heart.

"I hope one day you can forgive me," he continues. "I know I am asking a lot and you don't have to say anything. I just ask for your forgiveness. And I won't try to push you."

Again I look away, furiously blinking back the stinging tears that come unbidden and unwelcome.

He stands to leave. "No matter what, I'm glad I had the chance to see you, Cosset. You mean more to me than you could possibly know."

I heave a deep sigh, part of me unable to believe this is really happening. Before I can talk myself out of it, I reach into my purse and take out a piece of paper and a pen. I write down my address and phone number and hold it out to him. "If you ever want to call, or come by . . ." I don't finish.

Dave takes the paper, closing his hand over mine, tears filling his eyes.

"Thank you. I will call if that's okay."

I'm still wary, but I nod.

Goodbye, Dad. As I watch him walk away, feelings I thought were long since buried and gone quickly stirring in my heart once more. But self-preservation is still very much ingrained in me, and I can't let him get too close. Too much has happened.

God, I don't know if I can do this. Please help me.