My aggravation pushes me through the day and even fuels the completion of some projects I've been putting off for a few weeks, hell, even some I’ve been avoiding for a few months. One of those projects was replacing the hinges on the feed buckets in some of the stalls.
“It’s dinnertime, son,” Dad says behind me.
I don’t turn around or stop what I’m doing. “I’ve got a couple more and I’ll be up, start without me.”
He’s quiet behind me for a moment, and then I hear a sigh. “I’ll let Hallie know to put a plate in the oven for you if we need to.”
The only response he gets is a grunt of agreement.
When I get the last hinge attached, which is in Frost’s stall, I stand up and push my hat back a bit to let in some cool air. The heaters in the stables are set at a lower temperature to keep the inside temperature above freezing, but even in forty plus degrees, I’m still hot.
I’ve had Frost for almost ten years, I fell in love with her when I first saw her. Her shiny gray coat is the reason for her name, it almost shimmers like frost on the rooftops in the fall.
The whole time I’ve been working in her stall, she’s been playfully nipping my coat collar and nudging my neck. Her playful nature always helps to lift my spirits, and today is no exception. I turn to her and give her some attention before I go up to the house, scratching her nose before I take my hat off and set my forehead against hers for a minute.
I glance at the clock on the wall in the tack room. Dinner was over an hour ago, it looks like I’ll be reheating my dinner and eating at the kitchen island.
When I get into the mudroom, I unstrap the spikes from my boots and hang my hat and coat up on the pegs next to the door.
Laughter in the kitchen has me peeking around the corner to see my daughter and Elly at the kitchen island, each with a mug of hot cocoa in their hands. The only light in the room is from the oil lamp sitting on the breakfast nook table.
“Some of the springs are so warm you can get in them even when it’s cold outside. Papa says they help his joints when they get stoved up, sometimes he lets me go with him.”
“I’ve only ever seen the springs at Yellowstone National Park, but no one is allowed to touch them.” Elly pauses and takes a sip of her cocoa. “I think some of them are so hot they can burn.”
Lainey Rai sucks in an excited breath, apparently extremely happy with the conversation. “I read about that, they say they can boil you to death, like boiling an egg or something.”
Elly laughs, and my heart squeezes at the sound. It’s a carefree, happy laugh, and when my daughter’s laugh joins hers, guilt crushes me because I wonder if she misses having her mama around. Of course, she has all the women in the house taking care of her and I know my sisters love her like she’s their own, but it’s not the same.
Not wanting to disrupt their conversation, but still nervous about her being with my daughter alone, I step around the corner. Lainey Rai’s face lifts and her smile lights up the darkened room.
“Hi, daddy.”
I’m daddy again and some of the weight lifts from my shoulders.
I walk to her and squeeze the back of her neck as I kiss the top of her head. “Hey, pumpkin. Hot cocoa?”
The motion is slight, but from the corner of my eye, I see Elly’s body stiffen. My eyes cut to her and the smile is on her face, but the carefree way of it is gone and she is lining up the salt and pepper shakers in front of the napkin holder that sitsin the middle of the island. I’ve noticed she fiddles with things when she’s nervous and I wonder if I make her nervous.
“Yep. Sloane made us some before Uncle Mason made her go upstairs,” she shrugs her shoulders, “since he’s leaving tomorrow.”
I’m glad she’s still young enough I don’t have to explain why.
“Oh yeah? Well, it’s a good night for it.” I look at the clock on the wall. “It’s almost bedtime. Will you check the upstairs fireplaces and let me know if they need anything before you get ready for bed? I’ll be up to check in on you in just a bit.”
“Ugh…” She rolls her eyes as she slides off the stool. “Okay, dad.”
And I’m dad again.
I wait until I hear her footsteps on the stairs before turning back to Elly. “You okay?”
Avoiding my eyes, Elly bobs her head in an exaggerated, but practiced nod, her eyebrows pulling together. It feels like she is used to pretending everything is fine. Her shoulder length waves bounce a little with the motion, they look soft and I want to touch them.
“Oh, yeah. Yeah. I’m fine.” Her voice is chipper, but she keeps her gaze on the cup in her hands, the forced smile is on her face. That smile seems to always be there, like a mask.
Something deep inside me, something I haven’t felt in a long time, bubbles up and I reach out and lightly grasp her chin between my knuckle and thumb. She doesn’t fight me when I tilt her head up and make her look at me. “You okay?”
Her eyes are glassy and she blinks at me. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a good father?”
