I look over at him. “What?”
“I don’t want to do it anymore.”
I turn back to face the road. I’m driving his Buick, and I’m not used to all the play in the steering. It takes both hands for me to keep it steady. “You’re just wiped out from the surgery; that’s normal. You can take some time off, get your energy back. We’ll cover things for you while you’re gone.”
From the corner of my eye I can see him shaking his head.
“It’s not about my heart, or maybe it is; I don’t know. I just know I don’t want to do it anymore. I haven’t wanted to do it for a long time.”
I glance over at him again. He’s holding out the seat belt so that it doesn’t rub against the incision on his chest. He’s lost weight, but he looks better than he did right after the surgery. He has good color and he doesn’t appear anxious. “How can you say that?” I ask. “You love that paper. It’s your life.”
He keeps shaking his head. “I don’t want that life anymore. I want something different. I’m ready for a change.”
I watch the road ahead of me. It’s suddenly very clear what my father is talking about.
“Dixie?”
“Yes, Dixie and her boys and . . .” He pauses. “I want to write.”
I glance at him again. This part is not so clear.
“You do write,” I reply. “Every day. You write articles and columns. You write the news. You’ve been writing the news all my life. You are the news. You get to write anything you want.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
I wait.
“I want to write a novel.”
My head is so full of trying to manage the surprises I’ve gotten since I arrived home from New Mexico, I don’t think there’s room for another one.
“A novel?” I ask.
“A novel,” he repeats.
“You don’t even read novels. You read nonfiction. You even said once that the only stories worth reading are the factual ones.”
“I was wrong.”
I blow out a breath. I’m tired. Since I’ve come home I’ve hardly slept. The first night, Phillip and I talked until well past midnight, finishing off two bottles of wine while he filled me in on his marriage and how hard the breakup has been for him. The second and third nights I was up until all hours trying to make sure the paper was ready to run. They called from the hospital before eight this morning and I’m hoping to get Dad home and settled, so that I can finally be able to get to bed early tonight. And I still haven’t figured out how I’m going to get my car back from Texas.
“What do you want to write about?” I ask, deciding not to criticize my father’s new passion.
“I’ve started it already. It’s a mystery.”
“Have you ever even read a mystery?”
“I have been reading more of them lately.”
“Since when?”
And when he doesn’t answer, I figure it out for myself. “Dixie.” This, everything, it’s all about Dixie.
“Al, she’s opened my eyes to an entire genre. It’s fantastic. And she thinks what I have already written is really good.”
I nod, but inside I am shaking my head. “Well, maybe you should give this more thought. You don’t have to leave the paper completely. Maybe take some time off, see what it’s like not having to be at the office every day; maybe you just need a vacation. Or maybe you can scale back, give Ben some extra duties. You don’t need to walk away entirely.”
“I’ve made my decision, Al. And Dixie is supportive.”
“Dixie makes nine dollars an hour; I’m not sure how supportive that’s really going to be for the both of you.”
“I’ve saved some money,” he says, sounding every bit like the child talking to the parent, explaining why he intends to quit college. “I’m ready to retire. I can draw social security soon. I’ve got a good IRA and it’s enough for Dixie and her boys and me to live on. I’ve worked everything out except handing over the reins to the paper; and I’d like to hand them over to you.”
“Well, what makes you think I want the paper?”
And just like that, I landed my own surprise.
“You don’t want it?” My father sounds a little dejected.
“I don’t know, Dad. This is all really more than I can think about right now. You had a heart attack. You and Dixie are a couple. Now you want to quit work. It’s a lot to take in, okay? Just give me a little time.”
“I understand.”
I slow down and take the exit toward Clayton.
“Dixie and I set a date.”
“For what?” I merge onto the highway, heading east.
“The wedding.”
Of course they have.
“Don’t you think you’re moving a bit too fast?”
“It’s like you said. I just had open-heart surgery, Al. I think if anything, I’ve waited too long. But to answer your question, no, I don’t think that. I love her. She loves me. We want to be together and I would really like it if you’d be happy for us.”
“I am happy for you,” I tell him. I glance over and see that he doesn’t really believe me. I reach over and touch his arm. “I am. I’m really glad you found each other; I’m really glad, honestly.”
“I’d like it if you stand with us.”
I pull my hand away. “Where? At the wedding?”
He nods.
“Like a . . . a maid of honor?”
“Like family,” he says, his voice softer. “I’d like you to stand with us, beside me, as my family.”
“What about Sandra?”
“I will tell your sister about the wedding, ask her to join us; but I hardly think she will approve, or even show up.”
I nod and give a slight laugh. “You are right about that.”
I make the turn into our little town and point the car in the direction of Dad’s apartment.
“I don’t live there anymore,” he tells me. “I moved out a week ago.”
“When I left for New Mexico?”
He nods.
And I shake my head and drive toward Dixie’s house on the other side of town. When I pull up in her driveway, she’s standing on the front porch, her smallest boy, Tyler, riding low on her hip.
She seems skittish watching as Dad slowly exits the car. When she turns to see the expression on my face, I pause just for a second and get out. I see her nervousness and then I see my father’s joy and I simply look at her and hold up my hand, in a wave of sorts, a display of my acceptance.
chapter fifty-one
“THIS is not acceptable.”
Ah, the sweet voice of my sister.
“Hello, Sandra,” I say, sticking my frozen dinner in the microwave.
Casserole glances up at me and I swear he shakes his head. He heads into the living room and I set the timer for my dinner.
“Did you know about this?”
“I assume you’re talking about the wedding?” I pour myself a glass of water and sit down at the table.
I know this isn’t going to be a quick conversation. I anticipated a call from her at some point; but I was hoping for a bit more time. I look at the clock on the wall. Dad must have called her not long after he got up from his nap. I sat and talked to Dixie until lunchtime; played with her boys a little bit while she helped my father get settled for rest; and then worked all afternoon, trying to localize the national headlines. A Clayton family was vacationing near the site of the volcano that just erupted and I’ve been trying to get more information about them.
“Of course I am talking about the wedding. What else would I be upset about?”
I’m guessing he hasn’t yet told her that he’s already moved in with Dixie and that he’s giving me the paper.
“What is wrong with him? Is he demented? Did something in his
head come unhinged when they stopped his heart for the surgery?”
“Yes, I’m sure that’s it. I bet that when they put him on the ventilator something in his brain circuit board blew out, causing him to fall in love with the first person he saw when he woke up from surgery. I guess we should be glad Ben or James William wasn’t standing next to his bed.”
“I am trying to be serious.”
“I know you are.”
“He’s marrying Dixie Weston.”
“Yes, it appears that is what is happening.”
“Didn’t you used to babysit her?”
“No, that was you.”
“I never babysat Dixie; she’s my age.”
“I didn’t, either; I’m saying I didn’t babysit anybody else because I spent all my time babysitting you.”
“Oh, not that again.”
I close my eyes and rub my temples. “What do you want, Sandra?”
“What do I want? I want you to talk some sense into our father. I want you to tell him not to marry that teenager.”
“You said it yourself; she’s your age. And if I do my math correctly, your teens are way, way behind you.”
I hear the Giant Sandra Exhale.
I wait.
“Are you saying you approve of this relationship?”
I sit back and think about that.
“Well, do you?”
“To tell you the truth, I don’t know whether I do or not. But it doesn’t really matter because he doesn’t need my approval.”
“Well, he’s making a complete fool of himself and I can’t believe you’re just going to let him do it. Aren’t you worried about our inheritance? Our family things? Don’t you see that she’s just doing this for his money?”
Finally, the truth.
“Sandra, Daddy doesn’t have any money; he runs a small newspaper. He’s lucky if he breaks even every month. Trust me, she is not marrying him for his money.”
And then the timer on the microwave goes off. My dinner is ready. Just at that moment, I have a thought; and I sit up because it’s a good one.
“Besides,” I say to my sister, “don’t you know that Dixie’s the one who’s loaded?”
I hear a sharp intake of air and I know the weight of my surprise hit her.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I’m not sure I should say.”
“Why? What do you know?”
“Well, just between us, Daddy is the one making out here. Dixie’s first husband died, leaving a huge insurance policy for his sons. And he had just made a lot of money selling his software company; we’re talking millions.”
Casserole and Old Joe walk back into the kitchen together. They both know what I’m doing and Old Joe could care less, but I can tell that Cass is more than a little ashamed of me. He just gives me that look and walks back out; but I don’t care because I’m not sure having a dog as your moral compass really means all that much anyway. Old Joe comes over and plops down at my feet. He has never disapproved of taking the lower road.
“I thought she was divorced.”
“No, see, that’s what everybody thinks; but they were only separated and when her husband died, he was in Costa Rica or somewhere. They were technically still married and she got more money than she knows what to do with.”
Even with cellular phone service, I can hear the wheels turning in my sister’s head.
“Well, it’s still unorthodox. The two of them, I mean.”
“Yes, but you know, Daddy’s got a good head for business; so I think he can really help her manage her money.” I pause for a long moment and give my cat a good scratch on his neck. “Wait, maybe J.T. might be able to advise her about her investments.”
J.T. is Sandra’s husband. He’s a financial planner, always on the search for rich people.
She clears her throat. “Well, he’s very busy already; but I can ask him.”
“I am sure that he could be so helpful to the two of them.”
“Well.”
“Anyway, if you think I should say something to Daddy, try to talk him out of this relationship, I’ll go over there tomorrow and let them both know how you feel and how you aren’t planning to attend the wedding.”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t come to the wedding.”
“Oh.” And I say that perfectly, with just the right amount of pleasant surprise attached to it.
“I’ll check our calendars. I’m not sure the kids can come, but maybe J.T. and I can drive down for the day.”
“Really, Sandra? Oh, that would mean so much to the both of them.” I pretend to stick my finger down my throat.
“Well, you know, for him, I mean. We can come and support him.”
“What a lovely thing. I will let them know you’ll be there. Thank you, Sandra.”
“You’re welcome, Al. Okay, then, well, good-bye.”
And as I put down my phone, Old Joe jumps into my lap, rewarding me for my shrewdness.
chapter fifty-two
I can’t believe my eyes.
“Dude, this place is cool!”
Dillon and Blossom are standing at my front door.
“Hey, Al.” Blossom steps forward and gives me a big hug. “We just decided to bring Faramond ourselves.”
I can’t believe they’re here. The last time we talked, we made a plan to ship my car from Texas to North Carolina. I was going to call around and check on prices and then get back to Blossom. But with the wedding coming up and me taking over the paper, I haven’t had time to do any research, and since Dad’s been restricted from driving for a while, I have just been using the Buick. I figured Faramond could wait in Amarillo until the summer was over.
Casserole hears the familiar voices and joins us at the door.
“Hey, buddy,” Dillon drops down to give him a pat. “I missed you.”
“You look good,” Blossom says, and I’m not sure if she’s talking about me or my dog; but I’m so happy to see her, it doesn’t even matter. She looks exactly the same.
“So, this is your house,” she says.
“This is it,” I answer. “Well, come on in.”
And they do.
“What made you drive all this way?” I ask, leading them to the living room.
“We missed the road, dude.” Dillon is grinning. “Hey, a cat.” And he heads over to Old Joe.
“I got a job,” Blossom tells me as she takes a seat on the sofa and invites Casserole up to join her, which he does.
“Yeah?”
“At the Big Texan,” she replies.
“The steak house?” I ask. The Big Texan is the name of the restaurant Phillip told me about over the phone, the place with the giant steak-eating challenge.
“Home of the seventy-two-ouncer,” she answers enthusiastically, pulling her legs under her. “It’s just temporary, though.”
“You got something better on the horizon?” I ask. I’ve taken the seat across from her. I glance over at Dillon. He and Old Joe are getting to know each other.
“I signed up for a couple of classes at the community college.” She smiles like she knows this will please me.
And it does. “That’s great, Blossom, that’s really great.” I have to say, I feel a little proud of my young friend. “What are you planning to study?”
“It’s just the basics for the first semester, English and math. I think I might like to go on for a bachelor’s degree; but I’m not sure just yet. Dad says I can learn carpentry from him and if I like that I can just switch over to the more technical side at the college. So, I’m keeping my options open.”
“Sounds great,” I reply. I glance over at Dillon. “And what about you? Are you staying in Texas?”
“I’m training with Tony’s friend in a couple of weeks,” he says. “The one who drives t
he Jeeps.”
“Clyde?”
“Yep, it’s so cool,” he replies as he leans back against the wall. Old Joe is walking across his legs. “I’ll drive with him for a couple of loads, learn it some, and then take the class, get my license, and have my own work schedule by the fall.”
“Tony worked it out for him,” Blossom adds. “He’s moving to Illinois.”
“What? When?”
“I’m taking the train out of Raleigh tomorrow,” he says. “It’s crazy, right?” Old Joe has by now jumped off Dillon’s legs and is walking around him.
“Wow.” I’m trying to take all this in. Dillon is going to live in Illinois. Blossom is staying in Texas and starting school. And both of them are right now sitting in my house in North Carolina.
“We’re hoping you can drive us to the station in the morning. He’s going to Belvidere, and I’m heading back to Amarillo.”
“Ah. Sure,” I say.
“How’s your dad?” Blossom asks.
“Better than you’d think,” I answer. “He’s getting married this weekend.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know that he was seeing anybody.”
“Neither did I,” I say, shaking my head.
“Is it somebody you know?”
“A girl at work. She’s younger than I am, has two little boys. I don’t know what to think about it.”
“Dixie?”
I forgot that Blossom has spent time on the phone with my father’s fiancée.
“What’s to think?” Blossom asks. “Do they love each other?”
“As far as I can tell.”
Blossom shrugs. “Then who cares about how old they are?” She leans toward me. “Do you care how old they are?”
I think about it. I guess I did at first; but now, I don’t know. Having seen them together now in a new light, it’s clear to me that they care about each other. And it’s clear that he loves the boys and that they love him. He’s really happy with her.
I shake my head. “No, I really don’t.”
“That’s cool,” Dillon says. My cat is now lounging in his lap. “I hope when I get married to a younger babe the second time around that my daughter is like you.”
Traveling Light Page 22
