Outside of his own family, maybe. Between my father and hisdaughters there was always a thin, palpable barrier, like a plate glass window. I swallowed. I couldn’t be mad at our father. My sisters got to be angry. Our mother got to act.Somebodyin our family had to be the one to keep the peace, to make nice, to understand. To forgive. “Didyouever try talking to him?”
Dan nodded. “Your father saved my life. Your dad and your ma both.”
Had he served with Dad? But my father was a chaplain—a noncombatant. And Mom... “I don’t understand.”
Dan picked up a rake. Put it down again. I figured he wasn’t going to say any more. The smell of hay and goats wrapped around us, dust motes dancing in the light.
“We were part of the initial force to go into Iraq,” he said after I’d given up on him speaking at all. “I was eighteen. It was crazy. Like some shoot-’em-up video game. Only it’s for real. Craters everywhere. Body parts. Tanks smoldering in the road. We could get blown up any minute, and we just keep pushing forward, under orders, and I’ve got no control over any of it.”
“I’m sorry.” I couldn’t begin to understand the stress, the horror of what he’d been through. But that feeling of not being in control... I could sympathize with that. “Was... Was my father with you?”
Dan shook his head. “Not then. But I talked to him about it. Our convoy is trying to get through, and I see this guy, this herdsman, walking his damn goats along the road. Like, it doesn’t matter that there’s a war on or who’s in charge or who’s not in charge. He could get shot, and he doesn’t care, because he’s got to feed his animals. I told him that story. Your dad. And he brought me here.”
“That’s why you let him stay with you.” Three weeks after the wedding, my father was still living in the trailer behind the barn with Dan.
“That’s your ma’s decision.”
Salsa nibbled on my chin. I scratched between her horn buds. I smiled, a little sadly. “Momma’s never been able to say no to Daddy.”
“I reckon you underestimate them both.” His eyes were grayish green, like lichen. His gaze was soft and steady above the beard. I wondered idly how old he was. “You good now?”
I was. Still sweaty, my heart still jerking in my chest, but I could breathe again. I couldn’t talk to Jo, I wasn’t ready to talk with my mother, and I never talked to Dad. But somehow, with Dan, I felt heard without having to say anything at all. “Yes. Thanks.”
“Anytime.” He smiled, making my heart quicken in a different rhythm. “The goats and I are always here.”
CHAPTER 12
Amy
The city, bustling and hustling and full of energy, felt different when I got back from Jo’s wedding. Harder. Dirtier. Less friendly. Less like home. The clank and heat of the dry cleaner’s downstairs rose to my apartment. The smell of chemicals, the roar of giant fans, seeped into my dreams.
I had hired a new stitcher, a former club band musician named Kyle, who was good with leather.
“He can help you with assembly and packing orders,” I told Flo the morning before I left New York. “But I want you to take over the cutting.”
I made die cuts, metal templates, for all my designs so they could be replicated in different colors and materials. Every piece was hand-cut and -finished. I prided myself that customization was part of the appeal of a Baggage bag, though I got plenty of clients who simply wanted something “just like Meghan Markle has.” Or whatever influencer I’d gifted, begged, or bribed into displaying my brand that month.
I traced a geometric sunburst vaguely inspired by the Chrysler Building onto ocher vinyl. I no longer had to make every piece myself from start to finish. I could reuse our most popular patterns—the bold,bright graphics Baggage was becoming known for—in a different color palette each season.
But maybe being away would spark some fresh ideas. Give me a chance to play with new designs.
“Don’t worry.”
“I hate leaving you with all this.”
Flo pressed a sweating can of Mountain Dew to her substantial cleavage. “At least you’re getting out of the city.”
“Bunyan, North Carolina, isn’t exactly the Hamptons. Anyway, I’ll be working for my great-aunt.”
She nodded. “Sucking up for the loan.”
“That’s the plan.”
“You going to see him again?”
My craft knife bobbled. “Who?”
“Please. That guy. The one you haven’t mentioned since you got back.”
