Daniel arrived the following Saturday.
He looked older than I remembered, with gray at his temples and deep lines around his eyes.
Logan stood in the living room with his arms folded.
Andrew played on the floor, unaware of the tension.
Daniel tried to hug Logan.
My son stepped back.
"Why didn't you tell me you couldn't afford to help?"
Daniel lowered his arms.
"I didn't want you to worry."
Logan let out a short laugh.
"That's what Mom says."
I felt the truth of it settle over the room.
Daniel admitted that he had been struggling financially and had been ashamed to tell his children.
He said he had intended to make things right once his business recovered.
Logan looked at him.
"How much did you borrow from me?"
Daniel's face changed.
I turned toward my son.
"What?"
Logan went upstairs and returned with his notebook.
He opened it to a page filled with dates and amounts.
Months earlier, Daniel had asked Logan to lend him money from his savings, promising to return it within two weeks.
Logan had agreed.
Then Daniel asked again.
And again.
The amounts were small enough that Logan had never thought to tell me, but together they represented nearly every dollar he had saved from birthday gifts and odd jobs.
Daniel looked ashamed.
"I was going to pay you back."
"When?" Logan asked.
"I don't know."
"Then why did you keep asking?"
Daniel sat down.
He had no convincing answer.
I felt anger rising in my chest, but I looked at Logan first.
"Did you give him that money because you were afraid something bad would happen if you didn't?"
Logan shook his head.
"Not exactly."
He stared at his father.
"I gave it to him because I thought maybe if I helped him, he'd start coming around again."
The room went silent.
Daniel covered his face.
I had known that my son missed his father.
I hadn't known he was trying to buy back his attention with the little money he had.
Click here to continue reading: PART 10: The Apology That Came Three Years Too Late
The Police Officer Was Holding My Three-Year-Old Son
Part 9 of 20
