Page 101 of Highlander’s Captive

Amy watched her sister walk out of the kitchen, almost wanting to run after her.

“Your health okay?” Amy asked, turning back to her dad.

“I have the cirrhosis, you know. But it’s stable for now.”

“Well, you let me know what you need. I’ll always send money.”

He looked down and nodded, his expression mournful. “You’ve been too good to me, Amy. I don’t deserve it.”

His chin trembled a bit, and tears welled in Amy’s eyes. Who was this man? He was a shadow of who he’d been when she’d seen him last. There wasn’t any malice in him, not a sign of aggression.

Just pain. Regret.

Amy reached across the table and covered his hands with her own.

“It’s all right, Dad,” she whispered.

He met her eyes, and his were filled with tears. Amy had never seen Dad cry. Not even at Mom’s funeral.

“I’m so sorry for what I did to you. I’ll burn in hell, anyway, for locking up a little girl and forgetting about her. But if you’d died there, I’d—”

He broke into tears and slouched over the table, covering his face with his hands. Amy moved to sit next to him, wrapping her arm around his shoulders, his back shaking under her palm. She pressed her head to his. Her own tears fell, and she didn’t mind.

Her face burned, her heart bleeding, her stomach quivering.

They cried.

They cried for Amy’s mother who had died too early. For the man Dad used to be—the man who had died with her mother. For the girl he had locked up in the barn. For the years they’d lost, the years she’d rejected Dad’s attempts to contact her.

For the broken life he’d lived and the broken life that Amy had. For the little time he had left.

After a while, their tears dried, and they just sat like that, pressed against each other.

He wanted her forgiveness, she knew. He’d wanted it for years.

But Amy hadn’t been able to forgive him. All she’d been capable of was distracting herself and not thinking of it anymore.

Maybe she’d been doing the same as Craig. Unable to forgive. Unable to forget.

But she was able now, she realized, because she’d found the girl she’d lost in that old barn.

“I forgive you, Dad,” Amy whispered.

He straightened up and looked at her with puffy bloodshot eyes. “You do?”

“Yes, I forgive you. Whatever happened, it made me who I am now. It’s part of me. That’s why I’m good at finding lost people. I help them, saving their lives, returning them to their loved ones.”

“I am so proud of you. I was sick. Had I not drunk, I’d never have…”

“I know. It’s okay. I wish you had had the strength to abstain from the bottle. I wish I hadn’t been scared of monsters under the bed. We both did the best we could given the circumstances.”

He nodded.

“Thank you for understanding. Thank you for your forgiveness. You don’t know what it means to me, Amy. All these years, I spent with regret eating me up like acid. I don’t have much time left, Amy. And your forgiveness is the biggest gift you could ever give me.”

Amy found the strength to smile.

“It’s also a gift to me,” she said.