She crossed the distance to give him a quick hug. “Alice said you were waiting. Why are you here so early on a Friday night?” Her eyes widened. “Did you come up here to start your new job in Lexington?”
“No, but that’s what I want to talk to you about.”
Instead of seating her in the rolling office chair, he gestured for her to take one of the plastic chairs in front of the desk and then squeezed into the second. During this conversation he wanted nothing between them, even a desk.
She looked surprised but sat where he indicated. Creases appeared on her brow. “Is everything okay?” Her hands gripped the arms of her chair. “You didn’t quit your job, did you?”
“No, and I don’t intend to.”
“I don’t understand.”
He clasped his hands and rested them in his lap. He’d rehearsed this speech too, but in the face of Susan’s questioning gaze, the words lodged in his throat. Parenting was never this hard when she was a girl, or even a teenager.
“I’ve decided not to move to Goose Creek.”
Her eyes moved as she studied his face. “The bank wouldn’t let you transfer to Lexington, would they?”
“No, they wouldn’t. They were more than willing to make me the regional manager over central Kentucky, but that is several levels below my position as an officer.”
“So you decided to stay on as a vice president.”
“I accepted the manager’s job.” He flashed a brief smile. “For exactly eighteen hours. Then I withdrew my request and the president graciously ripped up my acceptance letter.”
“It must have been a pretty big pay cut, huh?”
“Yes, but that wasn’t the issue. You were.” Questions sprang into her eyes, but he continued before she could speak. “Susan, when your mother died I felt… ” He swallowed. “So alone. All I had was you. And all you had was me. I made a vow to never let you suffer the loneliness I suffered. That I would be there for you always.”
She leaned forward and covered his hands with hers. “You have been, Daddy. No one could ask for a better father than you.”
“I wish that were true, but I’ve come to realize that I’ve protected you too closely. I haven’t let you learn the things a person can only learn by doing them alone. And especially by failing and suffering the consequences.”
“If you mean this clinic”—she gestured to indicate the building around them—“then you can’t let me fail or you’ll lose your investment.”
He shook his head. “I have every confidence in your abilities to make this business succeed. I’m talking about relationships.” He drew in a breath. “Susan, I’m afraid you’re too dependent on me.” His chest heaved with a rueful laugh. “And I’m definitely too dependent on you. It’s time we both expanded our horizons, and we can’t do that if we’re living under the same roof.”
“This is about Justin, isn’t it?” Her lips trembled while her gaze locked on to his. “Have you decided you approve of him after all?”
“Let’s just say I’ve decided to trust your judgment where Justin is concerned.” There. He’d said the boy’s name, and it didn’t kill him.
She sprang forward and threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you, Daddy. You really are the best father in the world.”
Thomas reveled in the compliment not because it was true, but because his daughter thought it was true. He squeezed her tight, and when she returned to her chair he nearly wept at the emptiness of his arms. Half of his heart had just been ripped out and launched aloft. He had no doubt it would sprout wings and fly—directly into the arms of someone else.
But that was where it should be.
In the empty place in his chest a sense of rightness seeped in, swelling like water rising slowly in a well. His little girl would succeed. Of that he had no doubt.
“Well.” He slapped his hands on his knees and pushed off of the chair. “I need to get back to Lexington. I have some shopping to do.”
She stood too. “Shopping? For what?”
“Shoes.” He extended a foot. “I think my feet are growing. Mine have recently become too tight.”
Chapter Fifteen
Ah, Saturday. Still wearing his pajamas, Al took his coffee to the verandah (He actually thought the word. Millie must be rubbing off on him.) and stood at the railing, gazing at the pond across a small but satisfying stretch of lush, green grass. No weeds marred the area on which he’d focused for the last month. Now that he’d achieved the perfect balance of fertilizer and weed killer, he would expand his area of focus. The front lawn would have to wait until later. A man could only do so much, after all. But before summer’s end not a single weed would be visible from the vantage point of the gazebo.
No weeds, but plenty of squirrels.
They scampered across the yard now, darting between the shepherd’s crooks in an attempt to scrounge any seed they might have missed. The bird feeders remained empty. Why bother, when they’d be empty again within hours and his yard filled with plump, satisfied rodents?
The door behind him opened and Millie came to his side, holding the coffee carafe. She drew in a deep breath. “It smells so much better out here.”
He agreed. “I guess washing the tree trunks diluted the wildcat urine enough. I wasn’t sure it would work.”
“Thank goodness.” She refilled his coffee mug. “What do you have planned for today?”
“Yard work.”
“Again?” She squinted at his forehead, which had begun to peel.
“This yard is a career in itself,” he informed her. “Besides, I have a new plan.”
Doubt stole over her features. “Not more squirrel repellent, I hope.”
“Not this time. I’ve decided on a new approach.” He sipped coffee. It needed more honey. “Want to go to Home Depot with me? They’re having a Fourth of July sale.”
She shook her head. “I can’t. Violet and I are going over to Cindie’s to iron letters on the softball team’s T-shirts.”
Ah, the anticipated T-shirt. “Then maybe I’ll have a surprise waiting when you get home.”
“I’m sure we’ll be there most of the day. I’ll catch up with you at the practice.” She rose on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes. And don’t forget to put on sunscreen.”
“Yes, dear.”
He lingered after she left, contemplating the area before him. If this approach didn’t work, he’d throw in the towel.
The last team practice progressed better than Jerry had dared to hope. The hot July sun beating down unmercifully kept most of the spectators away, which suited him fine. Only a handful of people lined the other side of the fence. Seated in the shade of a beach umbrella, Norman with his bandaged foot and a crutch propped against his chair and Junior with his arm in a sling looked like battle casualties in a hospital ward.
After they’d been working for an hour, Cindie’s car pulled onto the gravel driveway. Jerry called the team in.
“That’s enough for today, everyone,” he shouted as they made their way to home plate. “No sense exhausting ourselves in this heat any more than necessary.”
“How do you think we’ll do on Monday?” Sharon asked as she accepted an icy bottle of water from Al.
“I think we look great.” Justin twisted off the top of his water, gulped half of it down, and poured the rest over his head.
“We’ll do just fine.” Jerry waved Cindie over. “We’ve got a T-shirt for everyone. Some of the ladies have been working to get them ready today.”
Cindie arrived with a stack of maroon shirts draped over her arm. “Some of them might be a little crooked, but I think they turned out well.” She examined the tag on the top one and handed it to Fred.
He held it up for the team’s inspection. White letters spelling out Goose Creek arched over a silhouette of a bird in flight. Privately, Jerry thought the bird looked more like a buzzard than a goose, but the icon had been sketched by Fred’s wife, Wilma, so he kept his
opinion to himself.
Al received his shirt and held it up in front of him. “Mine’s too big.”
“Blame your wife,” Cindie said. “Millie chose that one for you.”
He glanced toward the onlookers. “Where is Millie?”
“Oh, she took my kids to help with an errand.” Alice held her shirt up to her shoulders to test the fit. “I think they might be getting ice cream.”
When the shirts had been distributed and everyone exclaimed over Wilma’s design and the ladies’ efforts, Jerry lifted a hand to get their attention.
“I want to thank you all for your hard work over the last month. I know some of you weren’t enthusiastic about playing.” He glanced at Dr. Susan, who grinned at Justin. “But you did, and I appreciate it.”
Little Norm piped up. “We appreciate you too, Mayor. You and Justin have whipped us into shape.”
A smattering of applause indicated everyone’s agreement, and Jerry ducked his head. “Thanks. Some of you know at times I’ve been a little uptight about this game.” He glanced at Al. “But even if we don’t win, I’m proud of what we’ve done together. You guys are great.” He looked at Justin. “Any final advice from our assistant coach?”
“Just relax and have fun.” Justin projected confidence with a smile around the circle. “We’ll do fine.”
Jerry nodded. “All right then. Let’s all go home and get rested up for Monday. I’ll see you at the ballpark at nine thirty.” They started to move away. “Oh, and don’t forget the water tower unveiling that afternoon.”
“That’s right.” Little Norm’s chest swelled to twice its normal size. “It’s gonna be awesome.”
They sauntered toward the opening in the fence, though Cindie lagged behind. “Good speech,” she told him.
“Thanks.” He bent down and pried home plate out of the ground. Glancing to be sure no one was close enough to hear, he added, “Would it be wrong to say a prayer in church tomorrow that we beat the pants off of Theo’s team?”
She grinned. “I’ve always thought of God as a Creeker.”
Since the practice was shortened, Al showered and changed before Millie arrived home. Reclining in a chair in the shade of the verandah with a glass of iced tea, he watched her get out of the car, her gaze fixed on his handiwork.
“Albert!” Purse slung over her shoulder, she came toward him with wide eyes. “I must say, I never thought I’d see the day.”
“You know what Violet would say.” He lifted a hand in a gesture of defeat. “If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.”
Gone were the useless traps, stored in the attic until he could figure out what to do with them. He’d removed the shepherd’s hooks from the middle of the lawn, leaving the manicured stretch of grass empty and spacious. On the other side of the gazebo a modest four of them stood in a line, the feeders full and well attended by a cluster of wrens. From the eaves of the gazebo hung three planters. Deep pink, brilliant yellow, and dazzling purple blossoms overflowed in a rainbow of beauty.
But what had drawn Millie’s attention, as he knew they would, were the squirrel feeders.
He’d mounted one to the trunk of each of the huge shade trees and filled them with a blend of corn, peanuts, and sunflower seeds specially designed for squirrels. In the past fifteen minutes, he’d identified six distinct individuals among the herd that crowded the yard.
“I’m stunned.” She stepped onto the verandah and stooped to rub Rufus’s ears. “Absolutely stunned.”
“My theory is if I feed them something they like, they’ll leave the bird food alone.” He gestured with his tea glass to the feeders. “So far it seems to be working.”
Tossing her purse on the table, she slid onto the cushioned lawn chair beside his, Rufus settling on the porch between them. “Look. There’s a cardinal.”
Al nodded as a bright red bird winged to a landing on one of the feeders, scattering several of the wrens into flight. “He’s been here a couple of times, and his mate once. And a hummingbird has already found the flowers. I think I’ll pick up one of those nectar feeders next week.”
Millie giggled. “Goodness, look at them squabble.”
Al followed her gaze. Two squirrels had apparently selected the same feeder, and neither was inclined to share. “See the one with the fuller tail? I think he’s the leader. I’ve been watching him boss the rest of them around.”
“Oh, look at the little one. It must be a baby.”
“Here goes the brave one again.” He pointed out a squirrel that had leaped out of the tree and was making his way across the yard, stopping every few feet to rise up and inspect the area. “Watch this.”
The animal headed for the only squirrel feeder that was not attached to a tree. Al had set one of the garden hooks on the opposite side of the yard from the birds’ area and hung a wooden feeder with a short length of chain. As they watched, the rodent he’d come to think of as Gutsy arrived at the base of the hook. With no visible effort, he launched himself forward and grabbed the rod two feet off the ground.
“It isn’t greased?” Millie asked.
“What’s the point? They’d only drop from the branch above it.”
Gutsy scampered upward, halting at a point parallel to the feeder. With a hop he crossed the eight-inch distance and landed on the plastic ledge. The feeder began to spin, Gutsy clinging to the side like a child on a wound-up tire swing, tail twitching.
Millie clapped her hands to her mouth, delighted laughter bubbling from her. “That is hysterical!”
Grinning at the creature’s antics, Al nodded. “Several of them have attempted, but he’s the only one who keeps coming back. I think he enjoys the ride.”
A movement to the right drew their attention. The Boss leaped from the feeder he’d monopolized and darted across the grass.
Al sat upright in his chair “Where does he think he’s going?”
The plucky little fellow paused beside the gazebo, cocked his head toward his audience on the verandah, and then darted toward the bird feeders.
“No!” Al shouted, fluttering his hand in the air in that direction. “You stay away from there.”
Birds scattered and disappeared as the Boss scurried up the ungreased pole.
Utterly defeated, Al sank back in his chair. So much for his last-ditch effort to enjoy the birds. “I give up.”
Millie opened her mouth to say something, but stopped when Rufus perked to attention. The dog launched himself off the gazebo’s deck, barking with fury, and flew toward the offending squirrel. As Al’s jaw dropped, the beagle executed a flying leap toward the feeder. He fell several feet short, of course, but succeeded in startling the Boss. The squirrel flung himself off the feeder and executed a hasty escape toward the nearest tree trunk.
Mission accomplished, Rufus trotted back to them with his head held high.
“Good dog.” Millie swung her feet around and bent to give Rufus an enthusiastic ear rub.
“What happened to snap him out of his funk?”
She beamed up at Al. “I think he’s finally starting to feel at home here.”
When Millie finished her praise, Rufus approached Al’s chair with an expectant air.
Al obliged. “Good job.” He scrubbed the place where Rufus’s tail met his back and the dog’s eyes closed with pleasure. “Maybe you’re not completely worthless after all.”
Chapter Sixteen
On Independence Day Al beat the sun up by several hours. Careful not to wake Millie, he grabbed his slippers and crept out of their bedroom. He tiptoed through the entry hall, mindful that sound magnified as it rose up the huge stairway and not wanting to disturb Justin. To his right lay the formal living room, a space he considered superfluous and Millie adored. He ignored that and instead entered the room on the left.
A peaceful charm imbued the parlor. Passing through the generous wooden doorframe, he sometimes felt as though he’d stepped back to a gentler time. The crystals dangling from the opulent chandelier tinkl
ed gently in a nearly imperceptible breeze from the air conditioner. He glanced toward the magnificent mantel—at the moment barely visible in the darkness—that had been hand-carved before the turn of the last century. Slippers scuffing on the hardwood floor, he crossed to the outrageously expensive bay window and settled himself on the cushioned window seat.
Outside, the moon cast a white light on the front lawn, unbroken by artificial glare. Even in daylight, no houses were visible from this view, their images obscured by the trees and a gentle swell in the land this side of the road. He liked that about this location. Solitude. That was one thing this house offered that the one on Mulberry Avenue hadn’t, crowded as it was on all sides by neighbors.
The air conditioner ceased, and silence deepened around him. It was almost as though the house itself slept, and he was the only one awake in the world.
Never had he pictured himself and Millie in a place like this. If he’d considered their waning days at all, it had been with the assumption that they would live out their lives in the house they’d built together, where their children had grown up. They’d travel, enjoy visiting new places. Spoil their grandchildren together. Mostly he’d focused his efforts on the financial aspect of their retirement. Perhaps a little too much focus?
He leaned his head sideways against the window, soaking in the coolness the glass had gathered during the night. One thing had not changed in almost forty years. He loved the woman sleeping upstairs. At times she drove him crazy, but he loved her. More than money. More than a house. As long as they were together, what did it matter where they lived?
“Happy Fourth of July!”
Al hefted the tote out of his trunk and returned the mayor’s greeting. “You too. Give me a hand with these bats, would you?”
Jerry slung the bag over his shoulder and together they headed for the baseball field. The mayors had agreed on a neutral location, the field behind the high school in the next county over. Judging by the number of cars already occupying parking spaces, the distance was no deterrent to attendance.
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