~Chapter 2~

Instead of going straight to Walsh's apartment, they decided to talk in the little café slash restaurant. Out of habit, Walsh put on a pot of coffee.

"So, where did you go?" Walsh asked as he took a seat next to Izabelle.

"Everywhere." Izabelle replied with a faint bittersweet smile on her face.

Izabelle reached for her bag, the one she carried with her everywhere. She pulled out a stack of postcards.

"Here. I bought one from every city I stayed in." she said and slid the stack over to her father.

Walsh flipped through the postcards. They were from all over Europe and even some from Asia.

"You better have some pretty amazing stories to tell me." Walsh joked.

Izabelle chuckled. "Of course!" Then she paused. "Listen, daddy. I truly am sorry for running away. I never meant to hurt you. It's just that after mama died… I felt like I was lost. I needed to get away."

Walsh pulled his daughter into a tight embrace. "It's okay baby girl. I just wish you would have called or sent me a post card or something. Words can't describe how worried I was about you."

"I'm really, really sorry. Well, I'm here to stay now!" Izabelle said with a small smile on her face.

Walsh smirked. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Izabelle giggled and took a sip of coffee. She immediately made a disgusted face. "You still can't make a decent pot of coffee? What is wrong with you?"

"I'd like to see you try it sometime!" Walsh sassed, jokingly.

"Are you forgetting who was in charge of making coffee before? I am the coffee wizard!"

Meanwhile at Beaumont's apartment, she was fuming. How could Jason not tell her that he had a daughter? She thought they were extremely close; like almost ready for marriage close. Apparently she was wrong.

Beaumont furiously paced back and forth in her apartment, trying to figure out what to do. Should she confront Jason? Break up with him on the spot? Not say anything about it?

She let out a sound of pure frustration and stalked to her bedroom. This was too much to process in one day. She needed sleep. Everything can be dealt with tomorrow.

"Did you really stay at a Buddhist temple?" Walsh asked in disbelief.

"Yup! I actually learned a lot about meditation and emotional health. That's where I truly accepted mama's death." Izabelle said with a smile on her face. "That's also where I got my first tattoo."

"What? You have a tattoo? Of what?"

Izabelle pushed the bracelets on her right wrist out of the way, revealing her tattoo.

"I celebrate myself? What's that mean?" Walsh asked

"It's a quote from Walt Whitman's poem 'Song of Myself.' It basically means to celebrate that fact that you are alive. And to enjoy life."

"That's actually really cool. But shame on you for getting a tattoo underage!"

Izabelle just laughed and pushed her bracelets back down.

"What's with all the bracelets anyway?" Walsh asked as he looked at the numerous bracelets that covered Izabelle's arms.

"Each one was a gift from a friend I made. Every one has a story behind. Maybe I'll tell you sometime." She replied.

"Just like your mother, making friends with everyone." Walsh said with a smile on his face.