Lillian looked from Brandon to me and back again.

“Lil,” he said. “This is my daughter, Billy.”

Outside the store, in the back, there was a small cement courtyard occupied by an iron table painted mint-green and a overabundance of flowers and plants.

“Lillian loves gardening,” my father said. He gestured to the table.

I nodded. I was still having trouble finding words. I hadn’t expected him to be so welcoming. I didn’t think I would have the odd desire to fall into his arms and ask why he left. The courtyard was shaded and cool, the sky sunny and bright blue above us. The place was calming, and that made the entire experience come into sharper focus-this is my father, my dad, he’s right here.

We both sat. I pushed my chair back from the table a few inches. At last, my mind started working again. “How did you recognize me?”

He smiled. It was a rueful smile that sent deep creases from his eyes, down his tanned cheeks. “I wish I could tell you I’d always know one of my girls.”

I bristled at the term “my girls.” How dare he?

“But,” he continued, “the truth is that I’ve kept my eyes on you all.”

“Your eyes?” I crossed my legs, and wrapped my arms tight around my body.

“Years ago, I paid someone to find you.”

“Do you mean you had someone watch us? Like a detective or something?”

He nodded.

I huffed. “I can’t believe you. You take off, you don’t give my mother a cent of money, and yet you had us watched?”

His eyes roamed my face. He opened his mouth to speak, but right then Lillian came outside with two teacups on saucers. They were mismatched, and one of the saucers was chipped. The saucer rattled as she placed one cup in front of me.

“Do you take sugar?” Lillian said. Her voice seemed a little high, and I realized she was nervous for her husband.

“No, thank you.”

Lillian sent my father a tight, optimistic smile.

He met her eyes. “Thanks, Lil.”

“I’ll just be in the shop.” She gestured toward the store.

The screened door slapped as she went inside, a summer sound. I took a sip of the tea. Soothing Chamomile, it said on the tag attached to the tea bag. I hoped it worked like gangbusters.

“I really had no right to keep tabs on you girls,” my father said.

“No, you didn’t.”

He grimaced. “It wasn’t until about eight years ago that I did it. I’d just married Lillian, and she had changed my life.” He smiled a little now. “She changed me for the better. But I knew I couldn’t contact you three. I’d given up that chance a long time ago. I felt like I had no right. And yet I had to know if you were okay. So I had someone find you and let me know. And I got to see how you looked now that you’d grown up.”

“You had them take pictures of us?”

He gave a short, chagrined nod. He leaned back as if afraid of a blow.

I shuddered a little and looked away from him. I couldn’t help but wonder where such pictures had been taken. Eight years ago, I was spending most of my time trolling the bars and nursing hangovers. Possibly, there was a photo of me coming out of a drugstore with a massive bottle of Advil. Or maybe later, one of Chris and me. I got a pang of regret with the thought. I wished desperately that he was here with me now, helping me navigate this conversation with this strange man who was responsible for my existence.

“I apologize,” my father said. “I shouldn’t have invaded your privacy. It’s unforgivable, but I just needed to make sure you were all right. I knew I didn’t deserve to ever talk to you girls or be a part of your life, but I had to know. Can you understand that?”

Like I had to know about you, I thought. But I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “Not when you didn’t care whether we were all right for so long,” I said.

“I always cared.”

I barked out a disbelieving laugh.

“Billy, it’s true. I was an ungrateful shit. I was a lousy husband and father, but I always, always cared.”

I opened my mouth, ready to let him have it.

He held up his hand as if to stop my protests. “Please. I know it didn’t seem like it, but that’s really true.”

I crossed my arms. “You have a very odd way of showing it.”

My father pushed his teacup away, and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. His eyes searched my face again. “You’ve grown up beautifully. Your mother did an excellent job.”

Something about the softness of his voice put a hard feeling in my throat that I had to swallow down. “Why did you leave?” I said, my tone just as soft.

He sighed. He looked down. After a long moment, he spoke again. “I was having a very difficult time after your mother and I got married. We hadn’t planned to get married, but she was pregnant.” He paused and sat back. “I’m sorry, did you know that?”

“Did I know that you got married because she was pregnant with Dustin? Yes, I did. And if you think I’m going to feel sorry for you…” I trailed off, shaking my head.

“No, absolutely not, but you asked, so I want to tell you why I did what I did.” He took a deep breath. “I wasn’t ready to get married. I was just starting out in my family’s business, and I was living in downtown Chicago and enjoying it tremendously. When your mom got pregnant with Dustin, that all screeched to a halt. I wanted to embrace our new life in the suburbs, but being the shallow person I was, I was always wishing I was somewhere else.”

“Then why did you have more kids?”

“Your mother wanted to. And I did, too. I loved Dustin, and I thought if we had more kids, maybe I would get used to being a family man and become content.”

I thought of the male names he’d given us all. “You were hoping for boys.”

He nodded. “I was a ridiculous fool, but yes. I was.”

“So you got two more girls, and then you decided to take off.”

He shook his head. “It wasn’t like that. I felt like I was doing nothing but making everyone miserable. Your mother wasn’t happy because I wasn’t happy. One day, I snapped. I just really snapped. I’d started drinking too much, and your mother complained about it, and…” He shook his head as if reliving the situation and still finding it hard to believe. “I was on my fifth whiskey of the night. Your mother asked me to stop. She was always very polite.” He made a wry laugh. “She was standing over me while I sat in front of the TV.”

I thought of the blue recliner that no one used but my father. It had sat there after he left, reminding us all of him. Finally, when we moved to the apartment by the hospital my mother gave it away.

“I was so angry at her,” my father continued. “I knew she was right, but I wanted the whiskey to take away the hard edges. I just wanted her to get away from me. So I stood and grabbed her. I screamed at her. I shook her. I wanted to hit her.” His words had been coming faster, but now he paused, and his shoulders dropped. “I knew that night that I had to leave. I thought if I left, she could be happy with someone else. She could move on.”

“You left her with no money!” I said this loudly, breaking the calm of the courtyard. I thought of my mother peering out windows, waiting for my father’s car. I thought of our move from the white house with the columns to that crappy apartment.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” he said. “I went to L.A.” He waved a hand, as if that part of his life was hard to explain. “I always meant to support you girls, but I lost a lot of money and led too high a lifestyle. There were other women. A lot of them.”

“You abandoned us. That’s nice. You were…what? Maybe doing drugs and partying with the gals, while we were scraping pennies together?”

He nodded again. “I-” his voice seemed to break. He cleared his throat. “It’s inconceivable to me now, that I acted how I did. I was such a mess. And after a while, I just erased the thoughts of my old life. I would hardly let myself think of you girls or your mom.”