Chapter 4 - WHAT MY FATHER NEVER TOLD ME
My father, Thomas Mercer, was not a dramatic man.
He didn’t exaggerate.
He didn’t threaten.
When I was fifteen and totaled his old truck, he stared at the wreck, asked if I was hurt, and said, “Cars can be replaced.”
So when he said, “I wondered when you’d finally ask,” I listened.
“Ask what?”
There was silence.
“Abby, Preston came to me seven years ago.”
My grip tightened around the phone.
“For what?”
“Money.”
“How much?”
“Eighty thousand.”
I sat down.
“What?”
“He said it was temporary. A business opportunity. He asked me not to tell you.”
I felt sick.
“What did you say?”
“I said no.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because he begged me not to create trouble in your marriage.”
I closed my eyes.
My father continued.
“Then he got angry.”
“Dad…”
“He said you were too cautious because of us. Said your mother and I had made you afraid to take chances.”
I almost laughed at the familiarity of it.
“Anything else?”
Another pause.
Then Dad said, “He told me that if we loved you, we’d stop interfering.”
The word interfering burned.
My parents had never told me to leave Preston.
They had never insulted him.
They asked questions.
That was the crime.
Later that afternoon, I drove to their house.
Mom opened the door and pulled me into her arms.
I hadn’t realized how badly I needed that.
Dad was waiting at the kitchen table.
A folder sat in front of him.
“What’s that?”
He pushed it toward me.
“Something else I should have shown you.”
Inside were copies of emails Preston had sent him over the years.
Most looked harmless.
Then I found one from five years earlier.
Thomas, Abigail needs to learn to make decisions without running everything by you. Please stop encouraging this dependence.
Another said:
We are trying to build our own financial future. Your constant questions undermine me as her husband.
I looked at Dad.
“You kept these?”
“I keep records.”
That almost made me smile.
Then I found the final email.
Its tone was different.
If Abigail loses confidence in me because of your involvement, I’ll hold you responsible for whatever happens to our marriage.
My mother sat beside me.
“Sweetheart, we didn’t tell you because we didn’t want to prove his point.”
“Which point?”
“That we were trying to control your marriage.”
I stared at the email until the words blurred.
For seventeen years, Preston had convinced me my relationship with my parents was childish.
But maybe he had never been ashamed of my dependence.
Maybe he had been afraid of my support system.
That night, I drove home and found Preston in the living room.
He didn’t ask where I had been.
He already knew.
“You went to your parents.”
“Yes.”
He laughed bitterly.
“Unbelievable.”
I took off my coat.
“Dad told me you asked him for eighty thousand dollars.”
His face went still.
I continued.
“He showed me your emails.”
For the first time, Preston didn’t have an answer ready.
I looked him directly in the eye.
“Pack a bag.”
His mouth opened.
“This is my house too.”
“Then I’ll pack one.”
“Abby.”
“I’m done for tonight.”
I walked upstairs.
He followed me.
“You walk out that door, don’t expect me to chase you.”
I stopped at the bedroom entrance.
“That might be the first promise you’ve made lately that I believe.”
Thirty minutes later, I left.
The next morning, Preston sent one text.
You’re going to regret humiliating me.
I stared at it.
May you like
Because suddenly this wasn’t about saving my marriage.
It was about protecting myself from the man I had married.
