I stayed with him, listening, while my ears strained for the sound of the doorbell. While Trey juggled DJ and a conversation with AuntPhee, and old Mr. Laurence got on the floor with Daisy, and John cornered Meg for a kiss in the hallway. Amy flitted around with a platter of crudités.
“Let me get that,” Beth said, taking a bowl from Mom and setting it on the table.
And still Eric didn’t come.
“I spoke with your mother,” my father said, recalling my attention. “You’re... all right?”
Our entire relationship was in the question and in the silence between. My father cared about me. He just couldn’t get involved in the messy emotional details.
But my first stories were letters I had written for him. He was the one who had encouraged me to read, who took me to the bookstore to buyHarry Potter and the Deathly Hallowsat midnight. Who urged me to apply to grad school. Who taught me to stick up for what I believed in.
“I’m fine, Daddy.”
He looked relieved. “Good.” He cleared his throat as if he might say something more. Patted my shoulder instead. “Good.”
I blinked back tears. It was all he could offer. It was enough.
I found my sisters in the kitchen and took my turn at the sink, looking out on the empty pasture. The sun was sinking into the trees, taking the temperature down with it. The sky was stained pink. Slowly, the days were getting longer.
Eric was late.
Maybe his son’s game had been delayed. Or he’d changed his mind. Or there was traffic, an accident on the highway, maybe. My heart jerked. Oh God, what if Eric had been in an accident? What if...
I took a deep breath, scrubbing a pan with renewed vigor.
“I will be there,”he had promised.
“Did you know Beth’s song got, like, a million hits on YouTube?” Amy asked.
I smiled over my shoulder at Beth. “Because she’s amazing.”
Beth blushed. “Not because of me. Because of Colt.”
“But it’s your song,” I said. “You wrote it.”
“You’ll be a celebrity when you go back to school,” Amy said.
Beth focused on drying a pot. “I’m not going back to school this semester.”
“What?” Meg asked.
“Of course you’re going back,” I said.
“Why?” asked Amy.
Beth raised her chin, anxious and defiant. “Colt asked me to go on tour with him, and I said yes.”
“I thought you threw up every time you went on stage,” Meg said.
I looked at her sharply. Beth hadn’t toldmethat.
“Colt says I’ll get over it. I want to be stronger. To be more... To bemore, like Momma said.” Beth’s gaze sought mine. “Be happy for me. Please?”
Amy was right. As much as I wanted to protect Beth, we couldn’t stay in our little pigeonholes forever. Let Beth follow her heart.
And I would follow mine.
“Of course we’re happy for you,” I said staunchly.
