Chapter 14

When he got dressed Charles went downstairs and found Sara in the kitchen. Over a cup of coffee, he told her about his father’s letter, leaving out Craig’s references to the murders he had committed. When she asked what he would like for breakfast he said, “I’m going to IHOP, I’ll have breakfast there. I need some time alone to think about where my life might be going.” When she questioned him further, he said, “I need to figure out the best way for me to make amends to Claire ... to see if there is any hope for us ... and try my best to see if I can become Stacy’s father.”

The series of events that started with a phone call to Claire Moore and then another to Claire Claridge happened at IHOP. The first was from Lance Claridge when he called to inquire about the room. The second was from Charles Moore. Neither Charles, Claire nor Stacy could have imagined that this blue-roofed pancake house would be the spot where four lives would be altered so completely.

It was there twelve years ago, just after he had made the phone call to Claire where they spent the next three hours discussing their relationship. During that conversation, he offered abject apologies for misunderstanding the circumstances of the life Claire had led from the time she was a child. And it was here where he told Claire that he accepted the fact that Stacy—their daughter—was indeed his own child rather than his father-in-law’s.

He repeatedly asked if there was any way they could work on repairing the damage that he had inflicted. He remembered how Claire, being overwhelmed by his remorse, finally said, “It’s just too late for you and me Charles. The hostility that has existed within our marriage coupled with your rejection of our daughter has long ago extinguished the spark that existed between us. I have fallen in love with Lance Claridge. He accepts me unconditionally, warts and all. We both want to get married.”

Realizing how wide he had dug the gap in their relationship he felt relief at what she expressed as the hopelessness of reconciliation. He doubted that either of them would have had the stamina needed to fill the breach. Stacy though was a different subject.

For years, having been convinced that Stacy was Stu Barr’s daughter, he barely tolerated her existence. He never told anybody that he had been convinced by a relative that she wasn’t his daughter. Having found out differently from his deceased father’s letter, the penance needed to win Stacy’s trust seemed daunting.

“How can I make amends to Stacy?” he asked of Claire.

Through a rueful smile, she said, “You’ve lost so many years, Charles, really important years. You’re still a young man though; you’re only thirty-seven. Stacy’s eighteen. She’s probably more like thirty.” She closed her eyes trying to imagine what it might take. Exhaling a sniff of regret she said, “I don’t think you understand or might ever understand that Stacy, like me, is not a normal female.”

“My mother told me all about that yesterday,” he said. “She gave me a letter my father wrote before he left for Afghanistan ... to save my life.” (Giving a rueful shake of his head) “He was explicit in detailing the circumstances between Mom and her father ... equally so about you and your father, as well as Stacy and her grandfather.”

“Your mother and I are really good friends,” she said, “birds of a feather Charles.” She gave a naughty chuckle. “She told me about your time in the car, tsk, tsk. We had some wild times in on that overlook, didn’t we? I never considered that it could happen with you and her though.”

“Yeah,” Charles said, a rueful shadow crossing his blushing face. “Mom told you about everything?”

With a wry smile, she reached out and gave his face an affectionate touch. “When one has gone through what Marvella, Stacy, and I have, honestly, it is pretty easy. We don’t have any problem with it no matter how brutal. And embarrassment about sexual matters just doesn’t seem to be in our DNA. With a knowing smirk she said, “And I bet she was pretty good.”

He rolled his eyes and blushed, turning bright red. God, she thought, it must be nice to be so naïve. “Like I said Charles, Stacy, and I are not your normal women, neither is your mother.” A wisp of a smile crossed her lips. “It may be embarrassing for you but from early childhood, because of our fathers, sex has just been a way of life for the three of us.”

Clearing his throat he asked, “When Stacy was born, Claire, were you convinced that she was my child?”

“I can’t blame you for accepting the story from whoever it was that told you Stacy was Daddy’s child,” she said. “When she was born, I had hopes that she was yours; there was a fifty/fifty chance, ya know? Within a few months though I was sure she was ours—yours and mine; it was more than intuition.”

Absently caressing her estranged husband’s hand, she went on, “I just didn’t know how to go about convincing you, you were such a straight arrow.” Casting a crooked smile she added, “still are.”

“I wish I could have told you about my relationship with Daddy when we met,” Claire said. “But I had to do it that way. I couldn’t take the chance of losing the only stable male I had ever met.”

Charles arched an eyebrow and asked, “Did you know that my dad killed him?”

Not as surprised at the news as Charles thought she would be she snorted then sucked air back in through her nostrils and asked, “Daddy?” He nodded.

With an understanding but rueful nod of her head she said, “Had I known it when it happened, I might have turned your father into the police. Daddy was a pervert but, as strange as it might seem, I loved him and loved his perversions. I needed them. I was so confused at the time. I was in denial that Daddy and Earline were abusing Stacy the same way they did me. I didn’t know it until a couple of weeks ago. Your father told me. He knew that he would be dead before any law could catch up to him.” With a resigned shake of the head she asked, “And you know what? He hugged me and cried when he told me. I was so blind about Daddy. He was an evil man. Your father had written a long letter to your mother before he left for Afghanistan. I guess he knew that one way or the other he was on his way to meet his maker and needed to go to confession. Marvella read most of the letter to me. He killed your grandfather too.”

Sighing she said, “As painful as life has been, Charles, I finally take comfort in knowing that someone like your dad was there to mete out justice—no matter how much I would have hated him at the time, or how much society condemns that kind of justice.”

Charles asked, “Did my mom tell you that Dad ran tests that gave inconclusive proof that Stacy is my child after all?”

“Yes, “she said, her gaze fixed on his, “neither of them mentioned that Marvella (Charles’ mother) had filched a pair of Stacy’s dirty panties from the clothes hamper that Craig had tested. Your mom told me that too.”

Nothing was said in Charles’s father’s letter about the evidence of another man’s semen being soaked in the panel of the panties. Claire thought about that. Since Lance had moved into the house, he had been masturbating in either Stacy’s or her panties on an almost daily basis. Chuckling inwardly, she thought, my husband-to-be marks his territory like an alpha male wolf. But there’s no reason for Charles to know about such things; he just wouldn’t understand.

“I have so much to make amends for, Claire. Do you have any suggestions about how I should deal with Stacy?”

“For you and Stacy, you mean?”

Gazing into her eyes with such imploring intent he sandwiched her right hand tightly between his and said, “Unless you’ve had a change of heart in the last few minutes, I realize that it’s finished between us. I’m so sorry, Claire.”

She clasped her hand on top of his like a sandwich and shook it. With a tender smile curling her lips she said, “The funny thing is that I still love you, Charles.” She shrugged. “It’s just that there’s no passion in it.”

“I know,” he sighed, “But do you think there might be a chance with Stacy?”

“I don’t know too many daughters who don’t fantasize about their Daddy, Charles. Whether their fathers are in the picture or not or whether they have been tender, harsh, or neglectful. “Daddy” is always stuck in a daughter’s mind. Stacy’s no different. But she’s been so badly hurt by life, Charles, and particularly by you. It’s going to take a consistent, loving effort from you to get any kind of a foothold of trust.”

“How do you think I should begin, Babe?”

“She’s at home getting ready to go to Boulder, to go to college. I suggest that you take a half hour or so, go for a walk to get the numbness out of your butt then come back here. I’ll send her in out in thirty minutes or so. Just start from the beginning, Charles. She doesn’t know the reason you have ignored her all these years. Perhaps it would have been easier if she did. But I wouldn’t try to break that news anytime soon. You’ll just have to play it by ear, Hon.” He nodded. “I have to warn you though, as she gets to know your intentions uh...” She paused, uneasy about how her naïve husband would take what she was going to say. “Stacy is going to come on to you sexually.”

He remembered the times when Stacy was growing up when she put her head in his lap and purposely rubbed her cheek on his penis. Each time it happened he pushed her away and scolded her. Each time he was angry with himself for getting sexually aroused. He blushed as he thought about his mother going down on him in the car yesterday. How can I be caught in such a fucking spider web?

His shocked reaction angered Claire. “For Christ’s sake, Charles, grow up. Daddy made certain that sex became necessary in my life to please him. He did the same to Stacy. You have to accept the way it is and deal with it. I just hope to God that you don’t hurt that girl any further.”

The painful look on her husband’s face caused remorse. “I’m sorry, Charles; it’s just been so hard. Above everything I know, despite what we have gone through in our marriage, you’re an honorable man. That’s why I chose you in the first place. I know you’ll do your best for her. But please try to understand that we are different. Now get out of here for a while so I can talk with Stacy.”

As he left, he remembered how often he had pushed his little daughter away. He could have handled things more kindly like, when she would walk around the house, or watch TV, her hand absently fondling herself, he was harsh when he scolded her. He didn’t know at the time that she was a sexually centered child and was only fondling that special place she had been taught was attractive to men.

As the IHOP came into view he saw Stacy pacing outside the door. For the first time, he realized what a truly beautiful woman she was becoming. Much to his dismay her hot female form, coupled with what Claire had been telling him about her, triggered an erection in his fickle organ. When he was aware of it, he slowed his walk, trying to encourage his engorged member to recede. As he approached, he could see how nervous she was. He smiled. She lowered her head. He opened his arms in a conciliatory manner, but she turned away. “Stacy,” he said, “I don’t expect that you like me very much. But...”

As she looked down and away her response was firm but barely audible. “I hate you, you sonofabitch.”

“I can understand why you’re saying that Stace, I’ve failed you as a father. I-I don’t know how I’m ever going to make up it to you.” He was lost. “Um we can stand out here and talk, we can go inside and have a cup of coffee; or lunch; or maybe we could go for a walk.”

Moving past him she said, “A walk.”

Her tight shorts enhanced her well-defined bottom, and her breasts filled her pink T-top, the back of which was brushed by her swaying ponytail as she walked. On her feet were pink tennis shoes—no socks. When she realized Charles had not followed her, she turned and saw the look she loved getting from other males. But coming from her father it pissed her off and she said, “So just what the hell are you looking at?”

Stung by the rebuke Charles walked faster to the girl who seemed to be running away. Finally turning she fixed him with a killing stare which seemed to freeze him and refused to look away.

“I have so much to apologize for, Stacy,” he said.

The girl’s eyes didn’t move. Her countenance was frozen in a hateful glare. Tears welled and suddenly her fists beat on his chest as she gasped, “Why?” “Why, why, why, why?”

He tried to embrace her, but she pushed herself away, standing with her fists clenched as if she were going to start swinging. “Grandpa Barr loved me; Grandpa Moore loved me, and Lance loves me. Why is it that my own father can’t love me?” Running away she made it about fifty yards before stopping. Leaning forward against a tree she laid her head on her arms and her body quaked with sobs.

Jesus, he thought breaking into a trot, how am I going to make this work? The ravages of failure wrenched at his heart. As put his hand on her shoulder the girl’s body stiffened. “Stacy,” he said, “I’ve failed you as a father. I’m so ashamed. You have every right to feel the way you do about me. But from now on I will do everything in my power to make up for the way I have ignored you and neglected you.”

She started walking. He caught up and walked beside her. They moved forward in silence for close to the length of a football field. “Stacy,” Charles said, “If you don’t want me to be here, we can walk back to the IHOP, and you can go home.” The girl said something that he couldn’t make out. “What did you say,”?

For Stacy, this was unknown territory. She had learned to control males by asserting her sexuality, by making herself available to men’s cravings. To most males, she was like catnip to an aggressive tom. But since childhood her father had rejected her; she never understood why. She had tried to offer him what other men craved, what her grandfather had taught her was her special gift. But her father just scolded her and pushed her away, then ignored her. Now he was trying to make amends. She didn’t know how to deal with her confusion.

She repeated what she said barely loudly enough for him to hear, “I’ve wanted to be with you like this since I was a little girl.”

“No one can change the past, Stacy,” her father said, “I can only tell you that the future will be different. I promise that I will do everything in my power to show you that I’ll treat you the way you should be treated. From the depth of my soul, I want to be a good and loving father to you.”