“Did what onpurpose?”
“Drinking. I thought that if he loved me enough, he’d stop bringing booze home. But it was more than that for him. It was a sickness, an addiction. He tried to stop, but hecouldn’t.”
“Oh, sweetie.” Logan scooped her into his arms. “Alcoholism is a disease. Even people who stop drinking can hear the siren’s song of oblivioncalling.”
“He served in Vietnam during the war. Two tours. My mom said that when he came back, he wasn’t the same manwho’dleft.”
“I can’t imagine what he saw overthere.”
“He called it hell on earth. He fought in the Cambodian jungles too. Most of his company died. Daddy used to call them the lucky ones.” She swiped at a falling tear. “I want to read more. I feel like I’m finally getting to understand him for the first time inmylife.”
“Do you want to take a break first, maybe get some air?” heasked.
“No.”
“What can I dotohelp?”
“Justholdme.”
As Logan wrapped an arm around her shoulder, she opened the second journal. This one started the day she’d left homeforgood.
I’m all alone.Wife’s dead. Daughter hates me. Why didn’t God just kill me back before I became a burden to my family? I hate what I done all these years. Katie won’t speak to me now. I don’t blame her. She got stuck with a good-for-nothing father. I know why she left. Dammed booze. I hate what I’vebecome.
“He hated himself.”Kate closed the journal and looked at Logan, who had been reading over her shoulder. “I never knew. I thought hedidn’tcare.”
“It sounds like he cared a lot but didn’t know how to stopdrinking.”
“I wish I could have talked to him when he wasalive.”
“What would you have said?” heasked.
“I would have forgiven him. I would have tried harder to help him, and now it’stoolate.”
She sobbed as Logan tucked her head under his chin. The weight of a lifetime of anger drained from her as sadness claimed her heart. If only she’d known how he’d felt when he was alive. Maybe she could have been a betterdaughter.
“Shh,” Logan murmured as he rubbedherback.
She sat like that long enough to let her tears dry up. As she pulled away from Logan, he looked at her with both love and concern inhiseyes.
“How are you doing?” heasked.
“I want to go to his grave… will youtakeme?”
“Of course.” He helped her stand and guided her through boxes full ofmemories.
When they reached his house, he ran around to the passenger side of his truck and held the door open. He helped her up then jumped into the driver’s seat. Daylight waned as sunset approached. A pink haze frosted the underbelly of rain-heavyclouds.
While Logan drove through the woods then onto Highway 20 toward West Yellowstone, she took in the beauty of the sky. They had sunsets like this in Idaho too, but somehow, this one seemed sent fromheaven.
As they approached the edge of town, Logan turned onto a side road which ended at alockedgate.
“We’re going to have to walk from here,”hesaid.
“I don’t even know where he’s buried.” She rubbed the back of her right shoulder in an attempt to ease the tensioninit.
“I know where his grave is. My brothers and I attended thefuneral.”
“I didn’t even bother,”shesaid.
