As I turned down the long drive to home, my stomach lurched and rolled. The last time I had been this afraid to face my father was when I was seventeen. That was the night I'd lost my virginity in a hayloft on my boyfriend's farm. We'd fallen asleep, and our wake-up call came in the form of an old rooster. After throwing on my clothes, I had dared to look at my cell phone. The sheer number of calls from my father sent dread pulsing through me. I don't think the drive home had ever felt so long.
After turning on the gravel road, the sight of the house in the distance had caused me to fling open the door and throw up. Once I recovered, I didn't get far before I saw my father's figure in the distance. He stood ramrod straight at the top of the porch steps. I couldn't help wondering if he had
