The Beast of Brookville

Chapter 4

John Kelley loved feeding people, the man was no chef but comfort classics were his specialty. Having his daughter home he was excited to revisit some of her favorites; pancakes, french toast, egg bakes - the girl loved her breakfast food and her father loved making it for her.

After the last few days John was determined to start their week off right, this was a french toast morning if ever there was one. After a disastrous attempt at brunch together on Sunday, Opal spent most of the day out of the house. He wasn't dense, he knew that Ann and Opal knew each other before and it was during a dark period in Ann's life, but John hoped that Opal would get to know Ann for who she was now.

Opal descended the stairs right as the last piece of bread was going into the frying pan.

"Hey dad gonna go-" she had been in such a rush to get out of the house she hadn't noticed the sweet syrupy smell radiating from the kitchen.

"Is that for me??" hell yes she thought. Her dad made the eggiest, fluffiest, butteriest french toast and it was a far cry from the dry cinnamon bread her school's cafeteria claimed to be of the same name.

Shit. Opal Checked her phone, 10:12AM, barely enough time to get the hell out of here before Ann came over. Her dad had informed her that not only was Ann now sober, but that she regularly attends AA meetings at the church nearby. Eye roll. The absolute irony of that demon woman going to church.

"Freeeeeench toaaaaaast just for youuuuu" John sang.Opal's struggle between staying and running was obvious, but John was determined. He gestured for her to take a seat at the place settings he put out hoping it would pressure her into sitting down.

"I know it's been a nutty few days, sweetheart, I'm so thankful we finally have some time together".

The man was not above using a little guilt.

Opal smiled, the pull of breakfast and her dad's sad, hopeful eyes was too much; she conceded, and slid into her usual chair at the kitchen island.

Success John thought, as he fought a celebratory fist pump.

Opal snuck another phone check, 17 minutes until Ann was headed their way; definitely enough time to shove down some French Toast. She loved spending time with her dad but more Ann Collins was not something she currently had the energy for.

When Opal's mom passed away, John worked parenting overtime to make sure his daughter never wanted for any attention or love, when she went to college he kept that up with daily phone calls. This, unfortunately, meant that there was little small talk standing in the way of the proverbial elephant in the room. Waiting until Opal over committed to a particularly large forkful of French toast to guarantee himself an uninterrupted platform:

"Sweetheart, I know my revelation on Friday was... less than ideal, I had a whole dinner plan where we'd get the chance to talk first but I wanted to tell you I have so enjoyed my time with Ann these last few months. I know during high school you knew her as Forrest's mom-"

"Forrest's alcoholic mom" Opal forced through her mouthful, penned with a glare, a reaction more than a statement. Opal believed in second chances but she was too familiar with Ann the monster to trust the supposed new version of the woman.

"Look" he was leveling with her now "I know she wasn't great to be around when she was drinking but she's been working very hard and at the end of the day, Ann makes me happy, and it's been a long time since I've had that"

A pang of regret struck Opal's chest. Her father had always focused on making sure she was ok. Through divorce and the death of her mom, he made Opal his everything and she got to live her life, have a high school crush, sneak out with her best friend, go off to college, and through it all her father was there, in that little farm house, without a partner of his own.