My gladiator sandals were suddenlythe most interesting thing in the room. I’d come back from Europe to be withhim. If Dad hadn’t gotten sick, I didn’t know that I would have ever returned.I would have cooked my life away with cash under the table in ancient, greasykitchens where nobody recognized my ex-boyfriend’s name.
“I came back from Europe to settledown.”
“You were settled down,” he remindedme. “Isn’t that what you were doing with that stuck-up boyfriend?”
I shivered at the memory of Derrek,a sickly feeling rolling over my spine and curdling in my stomach. “Derrek wasa mistake.”
“And what was Europe?”
My salvation. But I didn’t say thatout loud.
Dad had never given me a hard timeabout Europe before. He’d barely said anything about Derrek, even though I knewhe didn’t like him. So, what was this all about?
I held onto my patience, but barely.“Europe was an effort to expand my craft.”
“So you could open a food truck? Ilove you, Vera, but I’m not going to be around forever. I just...” Hisexpression changed, twisting with grief and regret and something that hurt tolook at. When my heart squeezed, and it became hard to swallow, I realized itwas fear. My dad was afraid for me. “I just want to know that you’re going tobe okay.”
“I’m fine.” And I tried to soundfine. I thought I might have even pulled it off.
But dad’s pained expression onlydarkened and the pang in my chest only sharpened. “No, you’re not, baby girl. Idon’t know what you’re keeping to yourself, but those demons must be prettyevil for you to have run all the way across an ocean to get away from them. I’msorry I made you come back.”
“You didn’t make me,” I whispered,but neither of us was convinced. “I wouldn’t give up this time with you for anything.”
That didn’t appease him. Before wecould continue our conversation, though, Leanne stopped by to check on him.When she asked how he was doing, he asked for a blanket. “And one for mydaughter too. She’s bound and determined to see this through with me, but sheshouldn’t have to turn into a popsicle.”
Leanne smiled at me, kindnessshining through for my commitment to my dad. “I’ll be right back.”
When she’d walked away again, Isurprised myself by admitting, “I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time.” Dadfocused on me, searching my face for the truth. “And when Derrek and I ended…or even before we ended, I wasn’t sure that I would ever be happy again. Europehelped. I won’t ever regret going. I can’t regret it, not when it did so muchto help me move on. But I’m glad that I’m back. I’m glad I get to spend so muchtime with you and Vann. I’m glad that Molly and I are in the same city again.And I love my food truck. Honestly, Dad. I’m not as much of a tragedy as youthink I am.”
My confession helped him relax. Hisshoulders lost their rigid lines, and his barrel of a chest breathed easier. “Ilove you, Vera. More than anything in this world. I’m fighting this damndisease the best I can, but if I can’t win, I just need you to know that youdeserve all the great things in this life. You don’t ever need to settle, babygirl. Not ever.”
Hot tears pricked at my eyes,quickly spilling over my lashes to my cheeks. I tried discretely to brush themaway, but they just kept falling. “I love you too, Daddy,” I sniffled. “You’ve alreadygiven me great things. You should never worry about that. I have them. Andbecause of you, I have my truck too. If you’re worried about me being preparedto be on my own, I am. You made sure of that.”
And as I said the words, I realizedthey were true. I had been stupid with Derrek, but not because my dad hadn’ttaught me better. He had. He’d made sure I knew how to be a successful adult.
I just hadn’t listened.
Dad finally dozed off, filling thequiet space with light snuffling. Leanne stopped back over when dad had reachedREM and I was getting bored with my phone. Derrek’s message still lit up mymessage box, but I refused to open it… refused to acknowledge its existence.There were more messages now. I’d lost count how many time a new notificationpopped up on my phone. Apparently, he’d decided that I was the Vera he waslooking for. But I wouldn’t read them.
I couldn’t read them.
“Is he still doing okay?” she asked,checking him out.
I inclined my head toward him. “He’sbasically Rip Van Winkle.”
She smiled fondly at him. “I’m alwaysimpressed with how quickly he can fall asleep. It always takes me forever towind down.”
“He’s always been like this. Mybrother is the same way. They just pass out.”
“Men,” she murmured with a tilt ofher head. “They don’t worry about things like we do.” I laughed politely, butshe wasn’t exactly right. My dad worried better than anyone I knew. And maybesometimes he was justified in it. She turned to me. “Can I get you a paper ormagazine?”
“Sure. I’d love a paper. Thank you.”
She returned with the Herald-Sun afew minutes later. Most industry gossip was found online, with food bloggersand online magazines. But newspapers could always be counted on to printreviews. I flipped straight to the Living section, anxious to see if there wasanything new in the Durham area and maybe, possibly, see if something had beenwritten about Foodie. It was a long shot, and nobody had contacted me about itor anything, but a girl could hope.
Instead of local news, a familiarface stared at me from the flat pages. It was a write up for a newishrestaurant in Charlotte making a splash in the southeast.
I tried to swallow around the grittylump in my throat, but I couldn’t seem to manage.
