“No, I’m not sure of anything except I love them and want the best of everything for them.”
“You need to start with that,” Carolina said.
“Wait, so you want me to tell them?” Jace asked.
“We thought you might want to be the one to fill in the gaps for them,” Seamus said. “Are we wrong about that?”
“No, you’re not, it’s just… God, what do I say to them?”
“You tell them the truth, Jace,” Carolina said gently. “What will matter to them is that you love them and want to be in their lives but have no plans to upset their arrangement with us. At least I hope that’s how you feel.”
“It is. I’d never do that to them—or you.” He ran his fingers through his hair as he tried to contemplate coming clean with his young sons. “I just wonder if they’ll hate me after they hear my story.”
“They won’t hate you,” Seamus said.
“You’re sure about that? They’re old enough to remember that their mother had to struggle and work multiple jobs to keep a roof over their heads because I was nowhere to be found. They know that when she was sick and dying, I wasn’t here.”
“I understand your concerns, Jace,” Carolina said, “but one thing I know about the boys is they don’t hate anyone or anything. They don’t have that in them. They’re all love and sunshine and happiness. Do they have their sad moments when they think of Lisa? Yes, they do, and they probably always will. But they won’t hate you. They may have hard questions, and they may be upset by what you tell them, but I’d bet my life they won’t hate you for mistakes you made years ago that you’re sorry about now.”
Carolina’s assurances helped to calm the storm brewing in him when he thought about the reality of telling his sons the truth about where he’d been the past six years. “When do you want to do this?”
“Today,” Seamus said. “As soon as possible.”
“Oh damn. That soon, huh?”
“It’s important to us that they trust us to be straight with them,” Carolina said. “Jackson knows there’s more to the story, and we don’t want to let it fester.”
It was the right thing to do. Jace knew that. But when he tried to picture himself telling the boys his story, he wanted to run and hide. At stressful times like these, addicts needed to be extra careful and protective of their sobriety, and he was no different that way.
“Where are they now?”
“At Ethan’s. They slept over there last night, but Hope says they were out of sorts.”
“Do you think we might pick them up and talk to them soon?” Jace asked. “I have to work at three today, so I want to be sure we have enough time.”
Seamus glanced at Carolina, who nodded.
“Let’s go get them now,” she said. “We’ll meet you at the house in thirty minutes?”
“I’ll be there.” Even if it would be among the most painful things he ever did, he would tell his sons the truth and then hope they still wanted him in their lives. He felt like he was going to be sick as he left the office and stepped outside into a glorious September day, for all he cared about the weather.
Throughout years of recovery, he’d learned to reach out for help when he needed it. As much as he wanted to talk to Cindy about this latest development, he needed someone who understood the sobriety issues that came with a situation like this. He texted Mallory. Do you have a minute?
She responded right away. I’ll call you in five.
Thanks.
He walked to a bench that overlooked the ferry landing, which was all but deserted nearly a week after Labor Day.
True to her word, Mallory called five minutes later. “What’s up?”
“Potential crisis.”
“Oh damn. What’s going on?”
He filled her in on what’d happened with Seamus, Carolina and Jackson, as well as their plans to talk to the boys. “I’m trying not to freak out over this.”
“And how’s that going?”