“Hi, Dad. Welcome back. Um, can I talk to you for a second?” Julianne tried to sound upbeat as she slid down onto one of the huge cushions on the window seat, hoping to lose herself in the crevices. “I’m so sorry, Dad, but I have some things I need to tell you.” Mr. Kahn sat next to his youngest daughter.
“What’s wrong, sweetie? Are you okay?” Dad patted Julianne’s back as she took another deep breath and tried not to cry. He looked so kind and worried that Julianne felt like her heart might break all over again. She tried to steady herself for the words that had to come next. Then she took another deep breath and pulled her mop of hair up off of her neck.
Julianne began slowly. “Um, Dad, while you were gone . . .” She paused and looked into her father’s patient green eyes and felt her nerve begin to waver.
“While you were gone, the living room flooded. Everything is mildewed.”
Her father’s eyes moved furtively around the room, from the window seat to the bookshelves and back. “The place does look a little worse for wear,” he noted. “But it doesn’t even smell like mildew in here.” 200
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Julianne felt her cheeks flush with guilt. “I steam cleaned.” She kept her eyes on the hem of her linen patchwork skirt.
“Jules, sweetie, I sense that you’re not telling me the whole story. Did you and Chloe throw some crazy party while I was gone?” Dad’s brow creased and he cocked his head toward his daughter.
Julianne shook her head mutely, her eyes glued to the floor.
Dad continued, “Because I seem to remember another weekend not so long ago when I returned to find there’d been a Slip ’n’ Slide–related mishap in the living room.” His voice trailed off.
“That was not a party!” Julianne blurted out. “That was performance art!” To this day, Dad had never made his daughters replace any of the vases broken during that ill-fated event, out of respect for their artistic vision.
Julianne felt a small smile creeping onto her face and didn’t try to hold it back. Smiling felt good after a week of being frozen in grief. A few tentative giggles welled up in her throat and escaped her lips.
Then, all of a sudden, the floodgates opened and all of the desperation, guilt, and sadness that Julianne had been pushing down came rushing out of her in a jumble.
“I didn’t mean to betray the family, Dad!”
“Julianne, what are you talking about? Don’t be silly!
You could never betray us.” Dad’s voice was comforting, 201
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but Julianne also heard confusion in it. She heard a clicking noise beyond the living room, but she was too focused on her confession to investigate further.
“No, really, I did. I never meant to, but I did!” Julianne continued.
“Jules, I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about, but I do know that you could never betray us. I know how much you love your sister and me.” The kindness in Dad’s voice sent Julianne over the edge. In between sobs and gasps, the entire story of her summer romance came pouring out.
“I’m so sorry, Dad,” she finished in a great rush of tears. “I wish I could take it all back. I wish I could un-do all of it. I’m sorry for betraying the family and for betraying Mom’s memory and for everything. I’m sorry I fell in love with Remi. I didn’t mean to—I couldn’t help it. It just happened. And I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Her blue eyes were drowning with tears as she peered up into her father’s face waiting for the worst.
Dad smiled and Julianne let out a long breath–it was her first exhale all week that hadn’t been soaked in sobs.
“I wish I could forgive you, kiddo, but I can’t.” Julianne swallowed and felt her heart sink to her feet.
“I can’t forgive someone who doesn’t have anything to be sorry for. You haven’t done anything wrong.” Dad spoke with a quiet resolution. He looked over his daughter’s shoulder, out onto the mangled beach.
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Julianne’s heart zoomed back into place and threatened to tear right through her chest.
“You’re not angry?” She said it slowly, disbelievingly.
“Julianne, I don’t have anything to be angry about.
Do I wish that you didn’t hide things from me? Of course. Every parent wishes that. Do I wish you felt comfortable enough to tell me that you were feeling pressured and conflicted? You know that I do. But you’re old enough to make your own decisions about the kind of support you need from your family.” Dad’s voice remained calm, almost pleasant, as he spoke.
Julianne couldn’t help but wonder if maybe her father hadn’t completely understood her confession.
She had practically been sleeping with the enemy—well, not sleeping with the enemy, but definitely making out with the enemy—for weeks, and he wasn’t even batting an eyelash.
As soon as Julianne opened her mouth, she knew she would regret it, but she just had to ask, “But after everything the Moores have done to you—to us—you’re not angry?” She let her voice trail off, slightly afraid of what was coming next.
Her dad paused, clearly weighing his words before sighing and crossing his arms in front of his chest.
“Look. What the Moores are doing—it’s terrible. It’s greedy, it’s wasteful, and it’s unkind. There’s no doubt that these folks play dirty, and there’s no doubt that I 203
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disagree—I can’t stress enough how strongly—with what they want to do with our property. But this kid isn’t the one doing it. His parents are.”
“But he’s not even trying to stop them!” Julianne was surprised at how easily she moved to attack Remi.
“Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t. I don’t know. That’s not my concern. But Julianne, this Remi isn’t his parents. He’s not his family. He’s not the one doing this.” Dad’s voice remained clear and slow, like he was doing a public service announcement. “Imagine if the situation were turned on its ear, okay? Let’s say that you really wanted us to sell the house . . .”
“But . . .” Julianne tried to cut in, but her father continued with his example, drowning out her feeble protests.
“It’s just an example, okay? Stick with me, here. Let’s say that you really wanted us to sell the house, but Chloe and I didn’t agree.” He looked at Julianne for an indication that she was following the same train of thought.
“Okay . . .” Julianne conceded hesitantly.
“If Chloe and I said to you, ‘Julianne, we know you don’t agree with what we want, but, as a member of our family, we really need your support in not selling the house,’ would you support us?” Dad asked quietly.
“Of course I would. You’re my family.” Julianne was a little bit surprised her father would ask something so obvious.
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“Then why is it so impossible to think that this boy would do the same thing for his family?” Dad pressed gently.
Blood rushed to Julianne’s face. Her head was suddenly swirling with frustration and confusion, thoughts tripping over each other like clowns in a mad rush to get out of their tiny car. “Why are you defending him?” Dad took a few moments’ pause, and Julianne’s stomach started back up with its familiar twisting. “I’m not defending him, Jules—I don’t even know him. But it’s obvious that he’s pretty important to you . . .” Julianne looked down at her feet. The radiant pink polish she had borrowed from Chloe weeks ago was starting to chip.
“And you should certainly know what it feels like to want to support and stand up for your family. It’s what you’ve always done for us.” Dad reached out and tousled Julianne’s hair before getting up and heading for the kitchen, leaving her to sort out her tangled thoughts by herself.
“You know, I had a feeling something was going on all summer.” Dad stopped and turned back toward Jules, his hazel eyes twinkling.