Chapter 11 #2
“That’s what I like to see.” After finishing her green needlepoint row, she drops it into her lap.
She leans forward and places a hand on my knee.
“I know we just met, but I’ve always been told I’m a good judge of character.
I hated my daughter’s husband from the moment I met him.
I know a bad egg when I see one.” I swallow awkwardly, waiting for the other shoe to drop where she tells me to leave her grandson alone.
“You’re a good one. Treat him well, okay? Show him what that’s like.”
I can’t explain why, but her earnestness hits me to the core. I almost cry. I have to blink away the blur that’s formed behind my glasses. I place my hand on top of hers.
“You don’t have to worry about that. I will.”
She squeezes my hand, then turns back to her project.
I stare down at my bumblebee and attempt to regain my composure.
This woman deeply loves the man I have come to care for.
Adding more love to his life can only be a good thing.
I’ll be there for him as long as he lets me. Anyone else’s opinion doesn’t matter.
I finish stitching my bumblebee and move onto a tiny, polka dotted mushroom. An hour zips by quickly, with thoughts of Zander swirling around in my brain. My overalls remain unfinished by the time embroidery club is over. But I don’t mind. More to keep me occupied later.
“Adelaide,” Peggy says as we stand. Her hand gently grasps my freckle covered wrist. “I’d love to know more about you. Come for tea later this week, okay?”
“It’s a date.”
Hopefully an excuse to see Zander as well.
We’ve already made plans to write together on Wednesday.
He didn’t want to force himself on me before I was done digesting his backstory, so he suggested waiting a few days.
Though, I feel like I’d be good with today or tomorrow, or really, any day.
There’s this weird feeling of certainty coursing through my veins about this man, one I’ve never had before.
I wonder if this is what they mean by when you know you know.
I head out in a daze and somehow wind up at my car. I dig for the keys in my tote bag, knowing they’re right at the very bottom. I feel along the outside until I locate the keys, then dig again. I’m just about to grasp them when someone calls my name and I startle.
“Dad!” I yell when he’s a few feet from me. My dad is a big, burly man. Round, but not imposing, kind of like Santa Claus. “You scared me.”
“My bad. I just had to catch you before you left. Didn’t want to have this conversation over text.”
I shift from foot to foot and cross my arms over my chest. My dad exclusively texts me, unless he comes across me somewhere in town or invites me into the small bungalow he bought after he transferred the family home to me. His bushy grey eyebrows raise and his moustache twitches as he smirks.
“You know you can just call me,” I say.
He waves me off. “I like to see your face, my darling daughter.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Okay. What’s up?”
“Are the rumours true?”
“What rumours?” I ask, though I know.
Of course. It’s Beaver Creek. What else would the rumour be right now?
“You and that Browning kid. Maeve Johnstone told me all about him.”
“Did she? What did she have to say about that?”
“Addie, come on. You’re not dating him, are you?”
I bite my lip, then shake my head. “Why does it matter?”
“Because he’s trouble and I don’t want him around you.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not sixteen anymore, isn’t it?
Dad, I can make my own decisions. On this one, I decided to listen to the truth instead of town rumours.
Don’t you remember what happened when mom left?
How crazy the rumours were? Someone said that you probably cheated first and drove her away.
You know there’s more than one side to things here. ”
“It’s a little different when it involves a criminal record.”
“A thirteen-year-old criminal record.”
Dad gives me the slightly downturned chin, pursed lip, narrow-eyed look that is the universal sign of parental disappointment. I get that I sound like a petulant child, but I also know thirteen years is a long time to think about what you’ve done and vow to never do it again.
“Look, I know how it sounds. But will you please meet him first?”
“Addie, no.” He levels me with his fatherly glare. “I respect your ability to make your own decisions, but if you’re making this one, I won’t be meeting him.”
“You can’t be serious. Did Willow get—”
“This isn’t about Willow.” Except it is. I can see in the flicker of his eyes that she’s already gotten to him. “This is about your safety around a dangerous man. I’m worried about you.”
“Can’t you trust that I’m not worried? If you just met him, Dad, you wouldn’t feel—”
“I already know everything I need to. I’m not falling for whatever trick he’s pulling off here.”
“That’s not fair and, frankly, that’s insulting to me and Zander. I promise you he is not the evil person this town insists he is. He’s as much a victim in his own story as—”
“Adelaide.”
I know the conversation is over. My name, in such sharp intonation, is always the telltale sign I’ve lost the argument. I just can’t remember arguing with my dad in the last ten or so years.
I sigh, reach into my bag, and find my keys on the first go.
“Okay, Dad. See you later.”