Wow. I did not expect this level of introspection. I always considered Mrs. Delaney as clueless and insensitive. I mean, she’s a nice woman and all, but she never seems to have much regard for anyone she might be hurting with that blabbermouth of hers. This is the woman who posted thirty-seven photos of the McCoy-Thompson chili incident. Who started the hashtag #GoatGate. Who turned our family feud into entertainment content.
“Why?” I ask. “Why my dad?”
She smiles, and it transforms her face. “Because he makes me laugh. Because he’s kind under all that grumbling. Because he looks at me like I’m more than just the town busybody. Because when I’m with him, I don’t need to fill the silence with other people’s stories.”
“And he knows you’re... you?”
“He knows exactly who I am. What I’ve done. The stories I’ve spread.” She looks down. “I’ve apologized. Many times. I’m trying to be better.”
“By secretly dating him?”
“By keeping something private for once in my life. By having something that’s just ours, not the town’s entertainment.”
“Seems like he likes you,” I say, remembering the humming, the flowers, the smile he tries to hide when he’s texting.
“I like him too,” she says.
The thought of Mrs. Delaney with my father is kind of horrifying. But there’s something about the way she says it, vulnerable and honest, that makes it sweet.
“This is weird,” I tell her.
“Incredibly weird.”
“The town’s going to lose their minds when they find out.”
“They certainly will.”
“You know you’ll have to stop gossiping about the McCoys and me if you’re dating my father. Conflict of interest and all that.”
“I’ve already stopped. Haven’t you noticed? No posts about you and the McCoy boys in weeks.”
Now that she mentions it, she’s right. The usual flood of speculation and photos has dried up.
Dad’s truck reappears at the end of the street, moving slowly like he’s not sure if he should come back or keep running.
“I should go,” I say.
“Callie?” Mrs. Delaney touches my arm through the window. “Give him a chance? He’s happier than I’ve seen him since your mother died.”
She trots back to her house and a minute later, Dad’struck pulls into her driveway, properly this time. He gets out and goes inside. Doesn’t even knock. It must be serious.
I drive away, leaving my father and the town gossip to their secret romance. As I go, I can’t help but think that if Hank Thompson can fall for Mrs. Delaney, anything’s possible.
Maybe even three cowboys and a Thompson girl.
But that’s tomorrow’s problem. Tonight, I need to process the fact that my father’s dating the woman who once did not look kindly on the Thompson family.
How things change.
Or don’t.
The next evening,my phone buzzes with multiple texts.
Jesse: Roping competition tonight. You should come.
Boone: There will be nachos. Quality nachos. With real cheese.
Wyatt: We’d like to see you.
