“Oh, that was a Boone Hawkins compliment. Pay attention, they are few and far between, and oftentimes nonsensical,” I offer.
“You said Hannah was beautiful…and I look nothing like her.”
I grasp her shoulders, positioning her so she’s facing me. “He’s saying I’m making better choices. But he can’t come right out and say that because?—”
“Ah, yes. Country boys don’t trash-talk their baby mamas.”
“And country men don’t talk smack about their granddaughter’s mom.” I tap the tip of her nose. “Just so you know, I can count the number of people Dad’s ever hugged on one hand. High honor. He likes you.”
“Good,” she coos. “I like him too.”
I wink at her. “It’s still early and he’s on his best behavior. The grump is coming. Prepare yourself.”
She chuckles as Dad calls out to us.
“Daylight’s burning. Let’s get on with it, you two,” he says while helping Dakota climb into a car seat in the back of the truck.
I load our luggage into the truck bed, then point Sora to the back seat. She climbs in beside Dakota. I hoist myself into the front passenger seat, and Dad scowls at me from the driver’s side.
“Hold up now,” he says, his frown deepening. “You’re putting the lady in the back? Didn’t I raise you better than that?”
“The buckle’s still loose up front, Dad,” I explain, barely tapping my seat belt clasp, which releases without protest. This seat belt is mostly for show. Wouldn’t protect me against an ill-mannered kitten, let alone a head-on collision. “I’d rather have Sora and Dakota where it’s safest.”
He considers this, then nods, apparently satisfied with my reasoning. “Attaboy.” Then, to Sora: “Sorry about that. Truck’s seen better days, lil lady.”
“It has character,” she replies with a genuine smile. “And I’m happy to be back here with Dakota. We’re going to count cows on the drive.”
The engine roars to life with a rumbling growl that vibrates through the floorboards. Dad peels away from his parking spot, the truck’s suspension groaning in protest.
“Sounds like a dinosaur!” Dakota exclaims delightedly from the back seat.
“Sounds like you’ve been neglecting repairs,” I murmur to Dad.
“She’s fine. Bessie’s got some miles on her,” my dad agrees, patting the dashboard affectionately. “But she’s reliable. And plus it’s the cold season, every spare penny I have is going tofeed. Prices keep climbing. If Deacon keeps robbing me blind, I’m going to start making the trek to Cheyenne for better prices,” he grumbles bitterly.
“Then you’ll need a better truck,” I note, mentally calculating what I can afford to help him with. Obviously the money I send home every month is barely putting a dent toward his needs.
As we pull away from the airport, I notice my father glancing in the rearview mirror more often than necessary, his eyes finding Sora each time. Not checking up on her—more like reassuring himself that she’s really there. That we’re all really here.
“So,” he says, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over us, “how was the flight? Always did hate those tin cans myself. Haven’t been on a plane since?—”
“Since Grandma’s funeral,” I finish quietly. “My mom’s mom,” I quickly explain to Sora through the rearview mirror.
“Once and never again,” Dad adds.
“If you’d hop in a tin can every now and then, you’d get more time with Dakota,” I reason.
He nods, a shadow crossing his features before he deliberately brightens again. “Pumpkin, how’d you like flying? Scary?”
“It was thebest!” she announces. “My ears went pop. And I got pretzels and apple juice and the clouds looked like vanilla cotton candy and I could see tiny cars from the window!”
My dad chuckles, a rusty sound that suggests it doesn’t happen often. “Is that right? Sounds like quite an adventure.”
“It was! And Daddy let me have the window seat, and Sora told me stories about sky dragons that live in the clouds, and?—”
She’s off, chattering away about every detail of the flight as if it were an epic journey rather than a four-hour trip in economy class. My dad listens attentively, asking questions at just the right moments, drawing out more excited descriptions from her.
For a man who typically communicates in grunts and nods, it’s an impressive display. I catch Sora watching him with a mix of surprise and appreciation, also recognizing the effort he’s making.
