“It sounds good in theory, but—”
“No buts, honey. It’s not a theory. It’s a fact. Today. This very moment you, me, your sister, Susan, we are alive. This is our time.”
“Excuse me?” she said, bristling.
“I’ll let you two have a father and daughter chat and go check on lunch,” Susan said, leaving the room.
“How can you mock my plans, my goals and dreams? Not everyone can jump in a van and roam the country looking at birds.”
“Honey.” Dad pushed himself up, wincing and rubbing his shoulder.
“Hey, we don’t need to talk about it. You should rest.”
“I’m fine. My shoulder will heal back to normal. Or it won’t. But what’s the point of me worrying? And I’m not making fun of you or your goals. You impress the hell out of me. You always have. But sometimes I worry about you, honey.”
“Me?” Pepper stared. “When have I ever given you cause to worry about me?” She never caused anyone to worry. Mostly because she spent so much of her time worrying about everyone else.
“You lived in New York, the most exciting city on earth. Did I ever hear you once talk about visiting the Met, or taking in a show on Broadway—”
“Do you know how much it costs to—”
“Honey, the specifics don’t matter. What I’m trying to say is that you always were focusing on the future, the castle on the clouds.”
“Because it’s good to make a goal, and work toward it.”
“Of course it is. Of course. But what happens if the goal becomes the excuse? You get so busy planning that you stop living.”
“And you think I do that?”
“Do you?”
“Maybe.” Another hiccup.
“Stop looking at the life you’re busy planning and see the life you’re living. Or could be living.”
She shook her head and walked to the window. “I feel silly.”
“Why?”
“Because I have spent my adulthood worrying about my dad, who is apparently one of the smarter people I know.”
“What would make you happy?”
“Not being a lawyer,” she whispered. And once she said the words they climbed off her chest and she could breathe again. “I don’t think I ever wanted to be one, but it was a stable choice. It felt safe.”
Dad wiped his eyes. “I’m sorry if I ever gave you cause not to feel safe or stable, sweetheart.”
“It wasn’t you, Dad.” Blood pulsed through her ears as something warm and wet trickled from the corner of her eye. “It was Mom,” she sputtered. “Mom, when she abandoned all of us to chase a better life.” The wordbettertasted bitter, stung her tongue like nettles.
Her father held her gaze with his deep-set, unruffled expression. The kindly one that always made her feel anchored during life’s coldest, howling winds. “What if that wasn’t the reason, honey?”
“But she as good as told me that was the reason. We weren’t enough. You weren’t enough.” A ripple of pain spread over her chest. “How can you possibly think of defending her?”
Dad didn’t blink. “Your mother may have convinced herself of that reason, but it doesn’t make it true, Chili Pepper.” He shrugged. “There is always the story we tell ourselves, and then the truth. From where I sit, you look like enough. You—you look like plenty. Every day I wake up and the first thing out of my mouth is thanks. I’m a lucky man to have such fine daughters. A damn lucky man.” Dad’s eyes darkened with intensity. “What’s your truth, honey? The one no one can take away?”
Pepper closed her eyes and a face appeared, not the deeply chisled man from her old fantasies. No. None of them wore glasses, or had a steady blue gaze hinting at a dry sense of humor, a down-to-earth demeanor, and an intelligent mouth. An intelligent mouth that could do some seriously dirty tricks.
“Rhett.”
