Until Ashley awakened me.

I tell him everything.

And I wait for him to disavow me.

For what seems like days, I wait, sitting in the uncomfortable wingback upholstered in burgundy velvet. The color of Syrah. Of my voice.

Finally—

“You have two choices.” Dad’s voice.

“I have no choice,” I say.

Ashley’s words haunt me. You do, Dale. You always have a choice.

I grab a tissue off the table next to me and blow my nose. “It doesn’t go away.”

“You’re right.” Dad nods. “That’s not what I was talking about.”

“What the fuck, then, Dad? I’ve hit bottom. I’ve fucked everything up. What the hell is my choice?”

Dad pauses a moment, rubbing his forehead. “I once had to make a similar choice, Dale.”

He still hasn’t told me what the choice is. “You didn’t lose your orchard.”

“No, I didn’t. Not that autumn, anyway. I’m not talking about losing half the Syrah. I’m not talking about what your father—your birth father—did to you. I’m not even talking about what you think you did to your brother.”

“What I think I did? Are you kidding?”

“You were a child yourself, Dale. They were hurting you. Violating you. You held out longer than anyone else would have.”

“I’ll never forgive myself.”

“I understand,” he says, “but you must. You must, or you’ll never be free.”

“I don’t deserve to be free.”

Dad smiles then. He fucking smiles! And my fists curl. I swear to God I’m about to punch my father in the jaw.

“Easy,” he says. “Let me tell you a story.”

Is he going to finish what he began the night of the reception? Before Dennis had the stroke and everything went to shit?

“First, by telling you this,” he says, “I don’t want you to think I’m belittling your situation. Our situations are different. They have some similarities, but I admit several things make yours harder. I know how much the Syrah means to you, son.”

“Do you?” I shake my head.

“Of course I do. How could I not? Do you think I didn’t seek solace of my own?”

“You joined the military, Dad. You served your country, and while I admire that greatly, it’s hardly seeking solace.”

He lets out a scoffing chuckle. “I didn’t join the military to serve my country.”

I widen my eyes. “Why, then?”

“Dale, I joined the military so I’d get sent to Iraq, and I did.”

“I know. And you were a hero.”

He scoffs again. “Was I? I saved some lives. Lives I wouldn’t have saved if I’d been trying to save my own ass.”

My heart nearly stops. “You mean…”

“That’s exactly what I mean. I went to Iraq to die, son. I didn’t think I was coming back.”

I go numb. Numb and sick. What if…? What if my father hadn’t come back from Iraq? He wouldn’t have been there to save Donny and me. We would have died as someone’s property. Sold into slavery for others’ pleasure, and once we were too old, we’d have either been killed or abandoned.

Diana and Brianna would have never been born.

And Mom…. They never would have met.

I clear my throat. “But you came back.”

“I did. I got a hero’s welcome. I turned down national recognition because I wasn’t a hero, Dale. I went back in to get killed. While I was there, I saved a few lives.”

“Six, Dad. You saved six lives.”

He smiles. “So I did.”

“Those six people sure think you’re a hero. Donny and I think you’re a hero. If you had died in Iraq, no one would have rescued us.”

He nods. “That’s true. For many reasons, I’m very glad I didn’t die in Iraq.”

“I am too.”

“My point is, I had just as hard of a time dealing with what I’d been through as you’re having.”

“Well, your father didn’t start the process.”

Dad sighs. “As a matter of fact, Dale, he did.”

I stare at my father. His countenance is serious. He means what he says. I open my mouth to ask for an explanation, but only silence emerges.

I have no idea what to say to him.

“Your mother and I, along with the rest of the family, decided to keep our history buried as best we could,” Dad says. “We wanted to protect you. Protect your brother, sisters, and cousins. I wonder now if maybe it was the wrong decision, given what you and Donny went through. At the time, though, we thought it best, and if there’s one lesson I’ve learned during my long life, it’s never to second-guess yourself. It only leads to heartache because you can’t change the past anyway.”

I nod. The what-if game. I’m pretty familiar with it.

“At any rate, the decision was made then, and nothing can change it. I don’t talk a lot about my parents, and now you’re probably beginning to understand why. It’s a long and complicated story, but suffice it to say that my father played a significant role in my abduction and abuse.”

“Yeah? I’m sorry about that, Dad. I really am. But did he sell you for five thousand dollars?”

Dad shakes his head. “No. He paid to have it done. And he didn’t pay five thousand. He paid five million.”

My jaw drops.

“Like I said,” he continues, “it’s a long and complicated story. He didn’t realize he was paying to have me abducted and tortured, but that’s what ultimately happened.”

I shake my head, ready to puke. “I can’t hear this.”

“I understand. I don’t like thinking about it. But I can’t change it. And this is where your choice comes in, son.”

I scoff. “What choice is that again?”

“There is a choice, and it’s an important one.”

“I’m listening.”

“You sent Ashley away.”

“Of course I did. She shouldn’t have to deal with any of this shit.”

“But you love her, and she loves you.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“She makes you happy.”