“He hasn’t gone anywhere.”
“Not yet,” I scoff. “But isn’t the past the best indicator of the future? Isn’t that what you used to drive into my head growing up?”
“You know what I loved most about your mama?”
“Absolutely. Her pot roas
t. Everyone knows that.”
He cracks a smile, but stays focused. “What I loved the most was that she let me . . . evolve. Try new things. Remember the time I had that ponytail?”
“Those pictures will never be shown to your some-day grandkids,” I say, making a face. “That was horrible!”
“It wasn’t the best,” he laughs. “But your mother didn’t say a word. She let me pick mushrooms when I really should’ve been mowing the lawn and she didn’t say a peep when I wanted to switch careers from the railroad to truck driving. Then I got hurt and that was over before it started,” he notes. “But the fact of the matter is, she let me grow.”
“So what you’re saying is, I should just let Ford do what he wants because I’m the girl?”
“Hell, no,” he laughs. “The rest of my speech goes a little something like this: she let me evolve, yes, but I always listened to her. I always heard her feelings out and we compromised. I didn’t always get what I wanted, but I got the chance to be heard. Marriage is a delicate balance, Ellie Dawn.”
“Whoa,” I say, holding my hands out. “Let’s not start talking about the m-word.”
He flicks the mute button on the television and pushes the remote a little off to the side. “Do you have an inkling that you want to see someone else?”
I don’t. Not a bit. But the look on his face, the severity of his features, keeps me from replying.
“There’s nothing guaranteed in this life, pumpkin. I’ve lived a long one, seen a lot of stuff. There’s not a thing you can say for sure you’ll have in the morning. Not even another breath. That can be paralyzing when you think about it.”
“That’s true,” I say softly. “It’s a weakness of mine, actually. I get to thinking about what tomorrow will be like and I just get scared. I’m afraid to make the wrong choices. I’m afraid of being hurt.” I look at the table, cuts from knives and dinners and burns from pots and pans over the years scuffing the surface. “I fear regret.”
“You can’t do that. You can’t let fear of the unknown make you stop living.” He begins to blink rapidly as a wet sheen sweeps across his eyes. “Don’t turn into me, Ellie.”
“That wouldn’t be a terrible thing,” I say over the lump in my throat.
“If you do one thing for me in your whole life, I want you to do everything. All the things you’re scared of, all the things I wish I did.”
“Like date four men at once?” I tease.
He chuckles. “No, like not getting stuck at a nine-to-five. Take vacations. Get sunshine . . . and get your mail.” His voice cracks and I fight tears but they come anyway. I have no idea what’s sparked this from him, this sort of life manifesto or whatever it is, but it’s killing me to see him in this way.
I reach to pull him into a hug but he bats my hand away. “What I’m saying is for you to figure out what puts a smile on your face and give that a try. Try new things. Let Ford try them too. If it’s a mistake, then you’ll know and you don’t have to wonder. Besides, life is entirely too short to live with so much caution you’re frozen.”
Considering his words, the truth literally hurts. It stings my chest, makes tears well up in my eyes. “I think Ford does that, Daddy. He puts a smile on my face.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” he whispers. He moves the cloth from his arm and I see that it’s stopped bleeding.
“Let’s go to dinner,” I offer. “Let’s do something outside of this house.”
“Thank you, pumpkin, but I’ll stay here.”
“But you just said . . .”
“Go on,” he grins. “Have a good dinner and tell that boy I said hi.”
“You’re more than welcome to come,” I insist. “We can go get a barbecue sandwich at Porter’s.”
“I’m tired. My back is starting to hurt a little bit so I’m going to go to bed.”
I stand and kiss him on the head. “I’ll come check on you tomorrow.”