Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 49000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 245(@200wpm)___ 196(@250wpm)___ 163(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 245(@200wpm)___ 196(@250wpm)___ 163(@300wpm)
He stared at his dad’s shocked face, his heart racketing around behind his ribs like a rat trapped in a cage. Nick was shocked too. He hadn’t realised the full extent of his anger until he’d unleashed it. Now he’d got it out of his system, all the fight had left him in a rush and he felt weak and shaky.
“Nick,” his dad’s voice was hoarse. “I didn’t know… I never meant….” He drew a harsh breath. “I didn’t realise I made you feel like that. I just wanted what was b—what I thought was best for you.” He gave a sad smile. “Turns out you knew what was best all along.”
Nick snorted, surprised by the admission. “Yeah. I guess I did.”
“And you’re right. I can’t go back and fix it. All I can do is tell you that I’m truly sorry, and that I love you, and that I’d like us to start over if you’re able to forgive me.”
The words hung there. Branches of possibility spread in front of Nick, and his chest felt closed and tight as he considered them. He was so wary of making himself vulnerable again. But he wasn’t a child any longer. He was a grown man who had dealt with a lot of his own shit over the last two years. And if his dad’s open-hearted apology was anything to go by, it seemed Nick wasn’t the only one to have done some soul-searching.
Nick drew in a breath. The cage around his heart creaked open, not fully, but enough for him to take the risk. “I’ll give it a go.” It was the best he could offer.
His dad’s face softened into a hopeful smile. “That’s all I ask.”
They stared at each other and Nick felt the walls of resentment begin to crumble. It would take time for them to fall away completely, but for the first time in years Nick was able to imagine a time when they might. The moment drew out, and Nick began to feel uncomfortable. Should he offer his dad a hug? He didn’t think he was ready for that, so he let his gaze slide away and looked around the study, searching for distraction.
It was very different from the room he remembered. The decor was the same, but the walls were covered with pictures. At first Nick didn’t make the connection until he looked more closely and recognised his mum in a charcoal drawing, a sleeping Seth in a pencil sketch, and his parents’ house and garden brought to life in watercolours.
“These are yours?” he said incredulously.
“Yes.”
Nick studied an acrylic painting of a vase of daffodils. “They’re bloody good,” he said begrudgingly. “I mean, it’s not quite Van Gogh….”
His dad laughed. “Not even close.”
“But seriously. They’re great. How did you keep this talent a secret all this time?”
“I didn’t know I had a talent for it. Not really. I always loved drawing as a child, but I was never encouraged to pursue it. Your grandfather didn’t think it was a suitable hobby.” A twisted smile. “I expect that sounds familiar. They say that patterns repeat through generations. I wish I’d been enlightened enough to break the mould.”
Nick was suddenly shot through with compassion for that younger version of his dad, another boy who wasn’t given permission to follow his dreams.
At least Nick had rebelled early enough that it hadn’t held him back.
“Better late than never?” Nick offered.
This time his dad’s smile was easy and light. He chuckled. “Indeed.”
There was an easel near the window, and Nick moved to look at the unfinished acrylic painting that stood on it. It depicted an ancient oak tree. The huge trunk twisted and spiralled upwards, opening out branches to the sky. There was a hole in the trunk, in a shape and location that Nick recognised immediately. “You’re painting the Pirate Tree!”
“Yes.”
“I love it. You’ve got the texture of the trunk just right. It makes me almost feel it in my fingertips.”
“Thanks.” His ears had turned pink from the praise. “I’m very happy with this one so far.” Then he looked at his watch. “Oh, damn it. Is that the time? I must go and baste the turkey again and get the potatoes boiling. Sorry.”
“No problem. I don’t want to hold up the chef.” Nick grinned.
“Thanks, Nick. I’m glad we talked.”
“Me too.”
Nick stayed behind after his dad had gone, taking his time to look at all the pictures that covered the walls of the study. It was going to take him a while to get used to this new version of his dad, but he reckoned they were going to get along okay.
He returned to the painting of the Pirate Tree last and tried to imagine how it would look when it was finished. He’d have to ask his dad to send him a photo of it. It was such a brilliant place. For a long time it had been Nick’s favourite place in the world. He wished Jackson had had a chance to see it in daylight yesterday.