Daddy's Home

The sun began its ascent into the sky and flooded my room with light. I had allowed myself to sleep in because I knew school would be canceled for snow anyway. As I looked out my window I could no longer see the neck of Hardigan pond that stretched up to our backyard. It had frozen over and a thick covering of snow hid the surface as well as the edges of its banks. Everything was white, except....

There in the distance, on the other side of where the pond lay, I could just barely make out a big yellow house peaking through a maze of snow capped tree branches.

"No. Surely it isn't the same house." I said to myself. I had never thought much about the houses on the other side of the pond before, but after my experience the previous day I began to wonder. "How could I possibly have walked so far out of the way? It must be a different house. I'm just being paranoid," I thought to myself.

The morning was uneventful. I fixed a big breakfast, as I had skipped supper the night before. I read a book and watched some t.v.

Just before noon my father stumbled in. He smelled of alchohol and mechanic oil. He looked me straight in the eye and said nothing. I had stopped expecting an explanation years ago. He went to his room and soon enough I heard the shower.

Our routines had become so distant that we rarely spoke at all anymore. I wasn't sure if he thought I was disappointed in him, or if it hurt to talk to me because I looked like my mother. Was he not coping well with loosing his estranged mother, or was he stressed at work. I really had no idea what was going on in his head or his heart, and it irritated me to think about; so I tried not to think about it at all.

To my surprise my father emerged from his room clean-shaven and dressed quite nicely. "We need to talk."

I couldn't have been more shoked. I was caught between a feeling of doom and excitement. "ok," I squeaked.

"An old friend of my mom's looked me up last night. She wants to meet you."

"ok," I said again, wishing I knew what to say.

"She wants to meet you today, but there are some things we need to talk about first."

I hesitated just a moment. My father's behavior was making me nervous. "Dad, what's going on?"

He gave me a suspicious look as if he thought I knew something, but I was more confused than ever. Why was he so serious? What was the big deal?

He must have eventually picked up on my cluelessness and he sat down in his chair. He looked down at his feet and began, "I need to tell you about your grandmother and our family."

I sat on the sofa and listened intently.

"My mother was a special person. She had an ability to know how everyone felt."

What? I couldn't believe my ears. I suddenly felt a connection to a woman I had never known.

He continued, "Everyone except the people who had the same gift as her." He paused and looked up at me, and for a brief second I thought his eyes were watering up.

"People in this town called her a witch but that's not what she was. She was just an Impath and she had no magical powers or any crazy stuff. She was just a wonderful caring person."

"Why didn't you stay in touch with her? Why didn't you ever let me meet her?"

"I made some mistakes when I was your age and .." then my father wiped his eye, "...and I think she hated me like the rest of the town."

"what? Dad, you aren't making any sense."

"My mother felt what everyone around her felt. When I was 16 I .... I cant do this!" My father stood up and stormed out of the room, and into the kitchen.

I didn't know what to do. He seemed angry, or was it hurt. I wanted to understand him so much but if I was like my Grandmother then I couldn't feel what other Impaths feel. That would mean my father is an Impath too! I had no idea. Why hadn't he told me this a long time ago. I couldn't let him shut me out again. There was so much that was possible in that moment.

I stepped easily into the kitchen. "Daddy? Please. This one time, don't shut me out."

He had set down at the table with a fresh beer in his hands. His eyes were no longer just watery. He was crying. I had never seen actual tears fall from my father's eyes before, even with everything my mother had put him through.

"I'm sorry, Lacy. I just don't know if I can bear it."

"Ok. Then can you tell me why you started to tell me this before I met your mom's friend?"

"Because she really is a witch."

"What?"

"My mom's best friend was Malyda Carters. Milly. She wants to meet you. I think because she loved my mom like a sister and she sees you as being part of my mom."

"But you don't know why she wants to meet me?" He must have seen the confusion on my face. What I really wanted to know was if he too was an Impath. If he was then wouldn't he know Milly's intentions. If he wasn't then why can't I sense his feelings and thoughts.

"Milly is a real witch, or at least that's what my mom always said. Mom wasn't very good at having true friends, no Impath are, because we always know all the true thoughts and feelings of the other person." In a round about way he answered my question - my father is an Impath as well.

"You see Lacy, people aren't always kind...well you know that, and for us it's a hard thing to accept in a friend. My mom wanted a friend so much and she found out Milly was a witch, but she's also for the most part a very nice person too.

"With Mom's blessing apparently Milly was able to cast a blocking spell on Milly's thoughts and feelings. I don't really know what all that entails, but they were the best of friends for as long as I can remember."

I had taken in a lot of information and I still had so many questions. What could possibly have come between my father and his mother that would cause them so much pain?

"Dad, can I ask one more question?"

"Sure"

"Where does Milly live?"

"On Perryville Street, on the other side of the pond. You can see the top of her house from your bedroom window in the winter when the trees are bare. Why?"

"No reason," I lied.