Page 39 of Target Acquired

“I can’t go to the cemetery today, Dad, I’m sorry. I already have plans.”

“More important than visiting your mother?”

“Dad . . .” She sighed. “I get that you want to visit her grave, but Mom’s not there. She’s in heaven living the good life, and she would want you to do the same—as much as possible during our limited time here on earth.”

Click.

Another sigh mixed with a groan slipped from her, and she shook her head, trying to ignore the sudden surge of guilt. Why did she bother? She should just keep her mouth shut.

He hated being in a wheelchair and she didn’t blame him for that. Of course not. But he refused to even try to make peace with it. And after all these years, she’d almost lost hope that he ever would.

She called him back. He answered on the first ring. “What time are you wanting to go?” she asked.

“This afternoon around three o’clock.”

She bit back another sigh. “I’ll see what I can do. Can I text you?” He fell silent. “Dad?”

“Really?”

She blinked at the hint of vulnerability in his tone. “Yes. Really.”

“Good. I’ll be ready. You can drive the van.” He hung up again. Whatever she’d heard in his voice was gone, and now she wondered if she’d imagined it. And she hated driving his van. It was big and bulky and needed a new muffler.

But she’d do it just like she always did.

It didn’t take her long to shower and get ready for the day. When she walked into her kitchen, she could almost believe the previous couple of days were just a bad dream.

Except now a tension headache was starting behind her eyes. She loved her dad, she did. She just didn’t like him very much.

Neither did most of the people who knew him.

“Well, it’s your own fault for calling him back,” she muttered. “Should have just let it go.” But she couldn’t, and that bothered her more than she liked.

While she waited for Cole to arrive, she did some housecleaning, her mind spinning back to childhood memories. Back to when her mother was alive. Back when they would come to this very house to visit her father’s mother. Grandma Betsy was a wonderful woman who loved Jesus with every fiber of her being.

Those had been good days, even though Kenzie knew her parents were having marital difficulties. Never had there been arguing or blowups or anything obvious. Just the silences. Her parents had gotten to the point where they would go days without speaking. Her mother’s smile had been fake for weeks before her death, and no amount of asking what was wrong had been able to pull the truth from the woman.

One of Kenzie’s last moments with her had been finding her crying in the kitchen. Anger surged, but she bit it back. “Mom, something’s wrong with you and Dad. Why won’t you tell me?”

A sigh slipped from her and she smiled through her tears. “Sometimes you’ve just got to have a good cry.”

“And you’re crying because of Dad. What’s he done?”

Her mom cupped her face and kissed her forehead. “Partly because of him, yes. I won’t insult your intelligence by denying it. We’re just having some tough times right now, Kenz, but I love him and he loves me and I know we’ll work it out in the end. We just have to walk through the fire to get there.”

“I’m never getting married.”

“Aw, honey, don’t say that. The good times far outweigh the bad. And besides, I wouldn’t have you or your brothers if I hadn’t married your dad, and I’d never change that.”

Kenzie grunted. “I’m not sure pointing that out is a good marketing strategy for the benefits of marriage. Four kids? Three of them boys, Mom? Really? Then again, I get why you had to keep trying. You had to get to me.”

“What do you mean?”

“So you could finally hit perfection,” Kenzie deadpanned.

Her mom had laughed. Loud and long and then had hugged her tight. “I love your humor, sweet girl, and your ability to make the sun come out amidst the clouds. Don’t ever lose that.”

“Sorry, Mom,” she whispered to the silence of the house, “I think I lost it and don’t know how to get it back.” She walked to the mantel and picked up her favorite photo. Just her and her mother. Grandma Betsy had taken it during a vacation week at the beach. Kenzie was twelve and just starting seventh grade, with no clue of the tragedy that was coming. “I miss you, Mom.”