Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Gideon
Light snow was falling. I got out of my pickup and rolled my shoulders. The drive had been long, the roads had been crap for some of the way, but I’d made the haul in one day.
I faced the modern-looking condo buildings. They were single level and zero entry, hooked together and built in three different sections to make a courtyard that would be nice in the summer. Right now, the gazebo was full of snow. Same with the walking paths.
The sounds of distant engines surrounded me, but this neighborhood was quiet. The light in the unit before me glowed through the closed curtains.
I knocked on the door. The shuffle of footsteps was faint on the other side.
The door swept open without hesitation, not even enough time to have looked through the peephole. Dad’s brows lifted. His beard was neatly trimmed, but he wore the same old clothing as before. He was a wealthy man, but he appeared to be living simply still. “Giddy?”
“Hi, Dad.”
He didn’t move. I didn’t move.
He leaned out and looked around. His gaze landed on the brand-new red truck I’d bought the day before last. “You alone?”
So goddamn alone. “Why didn’t you sell to me? I need plain words.”
He sighed and pushed the door open. “Come on in. We’re heating up the neighborhood.”
The inside of his unit was completely different than the house I’d grown up in. He’d bought much-needed new furniture. A simple love seat and recliner. Not much more would fit. A small dining room linked the living room and the kitchen.
One thing was the same. The last family photo we’d taken the summer before Mom died hung on the wall across from the recliner.
He’d have to look at Mom’s smiling face every day.
In the picture, I was grinning. Mom had just teased Dad about his crooked mustache and we’d all laughed. The moment was captured for eternity.
I didn’t sit. I shoved my hands in my coat pockets. It was the same coat I’d used when I was here last time. “I know you said we all have to be free to live our own life. I think I understand, but I’m afraid I don’t. And I have to be sure.” My throat threatened to close up. “I have to be certain.”
He lowered himself onto the edge of the love seat and pressed his fingertips together. “Did you know your mother wanted to be a teacher?”
Shock hit before a slow burn of dawning horror. The back of my neck grew hot as a few comments Dad had made when we’d talked last month crept in. “No.”
“She wasn’t allowed to leave town for college. Her place was the farm. Only child and all.”
The dismay seared worse in my gut. “She loved Percival.”
“Yeah, she was always good at making lemonade out of lemons.” Fondness filled his gaze. “We talked a lot about you, and what would happen when you grew up. She was worried you’d think that this was all there was in life. That her dad would put the same pressure on you that he’d put on her.”
I closed my eyes. He had. “I loved Percival.”
“I think you felt like you had to love Percival, or you were nothing.”
I inhaled sharply. The place had been my home. It’d been the center of all my happy memories. Yet the happiness in those memories came from Mom and Dad. Not the farm.
“Neither of us liked how your grandfather pressured you. He was obsessed with the place, and I think his declining health made him more of a fanatic. He couldn’t be around to control everything.
Your mom wanted you to be free to live your own life.
It was important to her that you had the opportunities she hadn’t.
She once said that she ought to sell the place to put a stop to her dad’s poisonous thinking. ”
I sank my head into my hands. The sale had been Mom’s idea? Blocking me had originated with her? “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t give a shit about the farm or ranch; she wasn’t there and I didn’t care.
I know you hated me for it, but I’d rather have you hate me than her.
Your head was filled so full with your grandpa’s words, I thought it was all or nothing.
Either you’re completely free of Percival and you can figure out what you really want in life, or you’d be anchored to that place and you’d die with nothing but your pride while cursing any future kids to my and your mom’s fate. ”
Dad hadn’t wanted to be nothing but a farmer or rancher. He’d limited his options for Mom and then he’d gotten stuck out there. If he’d tried to sell when Grandpa Percival was still alive, my grandfather would’ve made his life hell.
And mine by proximity. “You should’ve told me. You should’ve trusted me to put the blame where it belonged.” Would it have changed anything?
It didn’t matter.
Dad worked his jaw back and forth. “Maybe I was afraid of you resenting her for leaving you with a mess. I didn’t want that. For either of us.”
We couldn’t go back in time and change our actions. And I was so damn tired of being angry. “I’m sorry,” I said hoarsely.
“No.” Dad shook his head once. “No. You do not have anything to apologize for. By the time I sobered up, I was too late to be a good influence. Too late to tell you that you could do anything you wanted.”
“I wouldn’t have known what I wanted. I would’ve said Percival.”
“It shouldn’t have been an all-or-nothing decision,” he said sadly.
“Grandpa Percival made it that way.”
“You don’t know how relieved I am to hear you acknowledge that. Gives me hope that someday you may not hate me.”
I swallowed hard and tipped my head back to look at the off-white ceiling. The walls were plain, but Dad’s home was brighter than ours had ever been after Mom died. “I don’t hate you.”
“You know, I might start to believe that.”
“Because I’m here?”
He shook his head. “You didn’t bite my head off when I called you Giddy.” A smile tipped up the corner of his mouth. “And you called me Dad tonight.”
“Shit, Dad.” I pushed a hand through my hair. The ball cap I’d worn last was on the passenger seat. “I’ve been awful to you and I was a selfish ass with Autumn.”
“I have to admit I’m glad you’re not just in town for me.” He pointedly looked at my bare ring finger. My ring was in my pocket. “I’ve been worried that you two were no more.”
“I miss home. I found it again with Autumn and I threw it away.” The next part might hurt him, but I had to say it. He’d have the answers. “I’m terrified of losing her. I’m . . .”
“Scared of turning into me?” Sadness filled his gaze. He crossed to me, grabbed both of my shoulders, and hauled me into his arms. I was a few inches taller than him, but I was propelled back in time. He was my old dad, the one from the happy memories I’d never push away again.
When he pulled back, he studied me. “You’re scared of turning into me.” It wasn’t a question.
“I understand, you know. Every time I get upset and want a drink, I think about how much like you I am.” I didn’t say it to be mean.
Regret passed through his expression. “Hell, Giddy, I’m sorry. If someone had told me before your mom died I’d have an alcohol problem, I’d have never believed ’em. You’re aware of the urge. You’re already ahead of me. I’m proud of you, you know. Always have been.”
His words closed a wound deep inside me that I’d been ignoring. “Autumn wants kids.”
“Do you?”
“They petrify me, but . . .” I wanted to be that guy holding all the bags while I took my wife and kids on a trip. “There were several years when my dad was pretty kick-ass. I’ve had a good role model all along.”
His eyes filled with tears and he pulled me into him again. “I needed to hear that, and I didn’t even know it.”
My arms were pinned to my sides. When was the last time I’d hugged my dad? So many years we’d missed. I embraced him back, awkward as hell, but I did it.
After a minute he pulled away, blinking back his tears. “You left town and then weeks went by. I thought if that girl can’t keep you in town, this old man won’t bring you back.” Hope lit his eyes. I knew what he’d been afraid of.
The urge to tell him everything was strong. Yeah, Dad. I married Autumn to fool you into selling to me. But there had been more reasons for walking into that posh chapel with her. She’d captivated me from the very beginning. “The important thing is, now I’m back.”
Autumn
The company Christmas party at Copper Summit was both winding down and livening up.
Chance, Brinley, and Darin had gone home with Mama an hour ago.
They were sleeping over at her place. Same with Elsa.
Myles and Wynter had driven her over, then returned a few minutes ago.
They were at a table with Jonah and Summer.
Tenor and Teller were standing around another table, chatting with the distillers and our delivery drivers. Each of my brothers had a glass of bourbon and was gesturing with it like Daddy used to do.
Junie had gone back to Nashville to spend the holiday writing songs with some friends.
She rarely stayed in town long, and with her growing popularity, she usually snuck in and out of city limits.
She claimed she never wanted coming home to be a story.
Summer, Wynter, and I thought she didn’t want to run across the high school sweetheart she’d left behind and his adorable daughters.
Tate looked like he was trying to pick up Scarlett, their heads tipped together, both of them smiling and laughing. Tate used to work the crowd when he was the boss, but since he’d taken over the ranch, he’d chat a little, then dote on his wife.
I gulped down my jealousy. Could I use the diarrhea excuse to leave early?
No. No leaving before the party was done. Whenever I heard back from the company I’d hired to do the divorce, I’d be single. I would not wallow in self-pity.
I would not wallow as much.
Maybe one day I would have what Tate, Wynter, and Summer had. Maybe. One day, one year, a long time from now.
I stretched out the fingers of my left hand. Don’t look.
I was behind the bar. In my safe place. I had on a green Christmas sweater with puffy balls for tree ornaments, a thick brown skirt, and knee-high boots. I looked festive.
I wasn’t.