Chapter 22 #2
An easy silence fell between us. When we’d been replacing the fence, he’d filled in the silence with chatter about who was doing what, where my old classmates had moved to and what marriage they were on, and what businesses had come and gone in the time since I’d moved.
Before, when he’d been sick, he used to rage about the market price for grains, the diminishing returns for ranching, and the expense of equipment and repairs.
Without his resentment or the work around the place, what did he have to talk about?
“You doing any more work on the shop or fencing?” I asked because speaking was better than realizing how little I knew my dad these days. He wasn’t the same hurt and angry man I’d left behind.
“I’m replacing a few posts here and there.”
I waited as he took a few more bites and made a delighted noise. The question burning on my tongue spilled out. “Are you the one keeping up the memorial where Mom died?”
He stalled chewing, then swallowed hard. “Yeah,” he said gruffly and wiped off his mouth. “Yeah, I figured I’d better get out there one more time, you know, before the snow flies.”
Before he’d be considered a trespasser.
“After the closing, I’ll continue sprucing up her grave. You should see how big the trees at the cemetery have gotten.”
I didn’t give a fuck about the trees. I wouldn’t be going to the cemetery. My only memory of that place was Mom’s burial. My grandparents hadn’t had a service, so there’d been no need for me to return for that.
Time for a subject change. “Tate said you help at the food pantry.”
He paused briefly while sawing a chunk of his pork chop. “Yeah. I had to use it enough, thought it was time to give back.”
“You had to use it?”
He shrugged. “Happens when you mismanage your business.” He stuffed a bite in his mouth and chewed, his expression introspective.
“I’m glad I made it until your grandfather passed.
He would’ve been delighted to see me in line for some canned goods.
Just another way to point out how I’d ruined everything. ”
The sympathy that rose was surprising. “You two talked after I left?”
“I wouldn’t call it talking. He wheezed and I listened, like always. Out of respect for your mother. Like always.” He studied his food, his brow furrowed and his expression heavy. “Ya know, I was never cut out for this life.”
“You were born and raised on a farm.”
His smile was understanding. “A small one. My parents never took on more than they could handle and they were never interested in expanding. They each liked their jobs in town. I had to work for the farm, but I also got to do my own thing. Then I met Jenni.” The corners of his eyes crinkled with his smile.
“This was her place. The whole operation was her family’s, and it was either jump in with both feet or leave her behind.
She couldn’t leave.” His smile faded. “Well. You know which I chose.”
And then when she’d passed, he’d been left with a business that included both farming and ranching. Percival was more than a hobby. This place had to become his life.
“Why didn’t you ramp down?” Surprisingly, there was no judgment in my voice. “You could’ve sold off the herd, leased the pastures, even the farmland, and then you could’ve gotten work in town.”
He rewrapped the plate. Only half the food had been eaten. “In the end, it was my decision.” He spoke deliberately, like acknowledging his role in everything was critical to the conversation. “At the time, I got a lot of pressure from your grandparents.”
“Mom’s parents?”
He nodded. “Percival was everything to them. Your grandpa grew up hearing the story and getting told about legacies. Their pride was strong. So damn strong.” His gaze fell to the laminate of the table surface, sadness and regret in his eyes.
“I was already panicking about how I would do all this on my own. Jenni and I could barely handle everything when her parents had to step down.”
“You were struggling?” I had never thought to ask these questions before, but then he’d never seemed ready to answer them before.
His features pinched. “You’d never know it from how she acted, but yes. We were struggling.”
My hackles rose. “Are you blaming Mom?”
A long sigh left him. “After all this time, maybe a little.” He put a hand up. My building ire must’ve shown on my face. “I take plenty of blame, but back then, the two of us should’ve been more of a team. I was treated like the hired man instead.”
I recoiled. I’d felt the same from him after Mom had died. Yet he couldn’t put this all on Mom when she wasn’t here to defend herself. “Why didn’t you hire someone?”
“I wasn’t fit to be a boss. I followed Jenni’s lead. And when she was gone . . .” A heavy sigh left him. “I wasn’t fit for much.”
He acknowledged all the troubles so easily now. “I went to Vegas to earn enough money to buy Percival.”
“Your grandpa told you to.”
Astonished, I gawked at him. “How do you know that?”
“He told me.” The muscles at the corners of his jaw clenched. “Several times. He boasted about it.”
Dismay settled across my shoulders, heavy and dark. “That’s why you’re not selling to me.”
“No, Giddy. I’m selling because we all should get to live our own lives.”
He said it so simply, as if I should understand. “Nothing about that answer explains why you wouldn’t let me even make an offer. Percival should be mine. It’s my life. It’s my family legacy.”
“That’s your grandfather talking.”
“Mom wanted me to have it.”
“She wanted you to have choices. She wanted the world for you.”
“Percival is my world and you’re locking me out of it!”
Solemnity lined his face. “Your world is that amazing wife of yours, but all I hear is you putting some old blathering of your grandpa’s before her.”
“Autumn is none of your business,” I growled. Fuck this. Dad refused to hear me, and I was done. I rose. “You have two weeks to understand that you’re severing everything between us. Again.”
I stormed out of the house. He didn’t run after me. Or call my name. He sat at the table and let me leave, just like he had all those years ago.
Autumn
It was another quiet Wednesday night at the bar. Gideon had helped move cattle for the last three days. He’d dropped the car off for me and said Tenor would give him a ride to the bar after they were done.
Last night, he’d returned home with a dark cloud over his head.
I had seen it in his eyes and the way he’d moved his body.
I’d asked if everything was okay, but he’d just said the day was fine, fun even, and that he was tired.
Then he’d fucked me into oblivion before we’d made it to the bedroom.
After we’d been in bed, he’d sunk deep into contemplation and hadn’t shared his thoughts with me.
We were just over the halfway point of our short time together.
A couple of guys waved to me as they walked out. The whole distillery had been quiet this week with all the bosses out except for Summer. She covered for Teller and Tenor, and Wynter’s team was used to her working out of the office much of the time.
I peered out the window.
Summer tapped on the bar top. “Are you seriously that lonely without him for three nights?”
I scowled at her. “I haven’t been without him for three nights. Besides, you’re just as bad.”
“My marriage is real though.”
“Ouch.”
She lifted a shoulder. Her verbal hit had been intentional. She was testing me. “I heard about Halloween.”
“I’m sorry, I should’ve called and invited you and Jonah over. I was panicking about dressing in my Pinocchio costume around Gideon.”
“Don’t worry about the invite. We were at his parents’ new place. I swear they acted as if they’d never met the Jonah who hands out candy.”
“Has he ever?”
“Good point. Probably not. Anyway, was Gideon horrified about the long nose?”
“It was the suspenders he was fascinated with.” To distract from my blush, I took out my notebook and wrote down some ideas I’d had for new cocktails. We had frozen huckleberries on hand, and I wanted to make more syrup for flavoring.
Summer leaned over and spied on my writing. “So it’s like that.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I couldn’t meet her eyes.
“You’re obsessed with him.” She sat back on her stool. “I’m worried about you. Hank shows no signs of hitting pause.”
“I know.”
“The marriage arrangement hasn’t changed yet?”
“No reason to.” I continued scribbling. I needed to make more candied cherries and lemon wedges. I’d gotten behind on the stock since I’d been wrapped up in Gideon.
“Remember when you told me to talk to Jonah?” she said quietly. “I think you should do the same. You care for him.”
“What would I talk to him about? He married me as a last-ditch effort. Yes, he’s helped his dad and the guys, but nothing’s changed.”
“You don’t know that. A lot might have changed for him.”
“What if it’s like cosplaying to him? I’m nothing but a distraction, and you know what? I’m okay with that.” I was a way for him to pass the time and get laid while we were pretending to be married for a month. I was fine with that. Whenever I dreamed of more, I pictured the divorce papers.
“What if you’re not just a distraction?”
Then what? “And he’ll live happily ever after with me while my family works what he thinks should’ve been his? While they till up the memories he has of his parents when they were happy? When he has to ask permission to pay his respects at the place where his mom died?”
She winced and sympathy filled her expression. “You know he’ll be able to go out there whenever he wants for that.”
“For that, Summer. The place where he grew up. The home he thought would be his forever, to pass down to his kids.”
“Which you said he doesn’t want.”
She wasn’t taking it easy on me. “I said he’s weird about them.” I sighed. “Why would he want to stay married to me when I’m nothing but a reminder of why he doesn’t have anything?”
“You know you’re not.”
I knew that. Would Gideon think that way? “Did you come here to shit on my time with him? I know you don’t like him.”