“I love you too, Daddy.”
The call ended, and Otis slid his phone onto the top of his desk just as OJ rapped lightly on the slightly ajar door.
“Can I come in, Daddy?” he asked, and Otis gestured for him to come in. Georgia followed with a cup of coffee and a square of peanut butter bar.
“How’d it go?” she asked.
“Oh, just fine,” Otis said.
“You think he’s too old for her, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Otis accepted the coffee and then drew Georgia onto his lap. “Heistoo old for her, but they’re both adults. And did you see that picture?”
Georgia smiled at him and ran her fingers throughhis hair. “I saw it,” she said. Over on the stool, OJ started to strum lightly, moving through a C-major scale on his strings. “They were adorable.”
“Yeah, I know,” Otis said with a sigh.
“Don’t sound so happy that your daughter is dating someone she likes,” Georgia said.
“I am happy about it,” Otis said. “It’s just—it feels kind of messy, you know?”
“Because he manages Country Quad?”
“Yes,” Otis said. “I mean, what if they break up? Adam can’t just leave town, which means Joey will.”
“I don’t think Joey wants to leave town,” Georgia said.
“Whether she wants to or not won’t matter,” Otis said. “She’s a runner, and Coral Canyon is small, and Adam is intimately connected to our family now—for the next three years. So either it works out and everything’s fine and great.”
Otis pressed his eyes closed and tried to imagine that future, but nothing would come forward. “Or things end between them, and Joey packs her bags, and we won’t see her again for a year. She’ll become even more distant, more disconnected than she already feels.”
Georgia watched him soberly for several long moments, then she leaned down and pressed her lips to his in a chaste kiss. “I don’t think you’re giving your daughter enough credit,” she said as she stood from his lap. She faced their son, her smile beautiful and bright. “OJ played his song, and he sounded real good. Didn’t you, baby?”
She walked over to OJ and ruffled hishair. “We have that movie at three o’clock, so you’ll need to be done in here pretty soon.”
Otis nodded to acknowledge her, and then she left them alone in the music room. He didn’t feel like continuing the lesson, but he found such hope on his son’s face.
“You want to play it for me, bud?” he asked.
OJ nodded and started into the song. The boy did have talent, even as a ten-year-old, and if he wanted to go into country music, Otis would do anything and everything he could to make it happen.
He wished he knew what he was doing, that there was some manual on how to be a good dad with checklists and questions to ask children of both genders at any age. Since he didn’t have that manual, he simply did the best he could.
He consulted with his brothers and his parents and most of all, his wife. He prayed every morning and every night that he wouldn’t do anything too badly to mess his children up too much or drive them away from him and Georgia.
OJ finished the song, and Otis had barely heard a note of it. But he clapped and said, “That is sounding real good, buddy.”
OJ set his guitar aside and came closer to the desk. Otis already knew what he wanted, and he nodded to his phone, “You can text her,” he said. “But buddy, Thanksgiving is in four days, and we don’t really know what she’s doing.”
“I know,” OJ said.
“You don’t think her parents have invited her?”
“No,” he said. “Grandpa Graham said they did.”
“What else did Grandpa Graham tell you?” Otis asked.
“He said she hadn’t decided,” OJ said, something earnest on his face. “And I just think that I could invite her too, and maybe she’ll feel comfortable coming down. We’ve got those adopted ducks right now, and one of ‘em needs his wing looked at.”
