“Whoa, young lady. What’s got you all fired up?” He held his hands in front of him.
She jabbed a finger toward her father. “He’s gone and done it. He’s dead. Left us. What’re we gonna do now?”
Granddad furrowed his brow and stepped closer. Tilting his head, he placed a hand on her shoulder.
The touch melted the edges of her fury.
“I don’t know for sure if he’s dead, Whit. Why don’t you let me check?” His soft words washed over her, cooling the fire in her heart.
Her shoulders slumped, and she dove toward him, wrapping her arms around his waist. She didn’t want her dad to be dead. She didn’t! But he made her so mad. How could he do this to them?
A long sigh escaped her grandfather as he embraced her. “I’m sorry, Whit. You should never have to see anything like this.” His arms tightened around her, and then he pulled back, his hands on her shoulders. “Let me check on him, and then we’ll talk about it, all right?”
She sniffed and lifted her chin to give a slight nod.
Granddad put a hand over her dad’s mouth and nose for several moments. He turned back to her. “Your dad’s not dead, honey. He’s still breathing.”
Thank You, God.
But as soon as the prayer whipped through her mind, she shook her head and pressed her lips together. She’d have to deal with this again. What about poor Mama?
“Let’s get him home.” Granddad grunted as he picked up her father and tossed him over his shoulder like a sack of grain.
They walked in silence for several minutes.
“Wanna tell me why you were out there in the middle of the night?” His tone wasn’t scolding, but she could tell by the way his eyebrows drew together that he’d been unhappy to find her there. Would she get in trouble for going to the saloons?
“Mama was crying because Daddy wasn’t home.”
“Ah, I see. So you thought you should just wander out into the middle of town looking for him?”
The truth was the best way to go. “I’ve gone to get Daddy a few times. I don’t see why I should get in trouble for that.He’sthe one who causes all the problems.” She dared a look up at her grandfather.
His eyebrows raised. “Young lady, that’s no way to talk about your father....” His face pinched and he clenched his jaw several times. A long breath came out before his next words. “And I wasn’t saying you were in trouble, though you should never leave the house unaccompanied—especially in the middle of the night.” The words were hushed. Sad.
“But ... what else was I supposed to do?” She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned. “Besides, I’ve heard what you’ve said about him to Mama—”
“What were you doing listening in on our conversations? Those words weren’t meant for your ears. And besides, that’s no excuse for you talking about him that way.”
Nowhe was scolding.
She bit her lip. Caught. Heat rose into her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Granddad. But someone has to take care of Mama. That’s why I was up. If Daddy isn’t home, I always listen for her ... to make sure she’s all right.”
His lips pinched together. Several moments passed before he continued. “Your mother would be heartbroken to hear you say those things about your father. And to find out that you’ve been sneaking out in the middle of the night to bring your dad home.” He huffed and shifted her dad’s limp form on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Whitney. So sorry that you’ve had to do this. This is all my fault.”
She had to strain to hear his last faint words. “Why is ityourfault, Granddad?”
He shook his head as they trudged up the hill to their little house, and his breaths came faster. “I should have taken care of this long ago.”
“Taken care of what?” Her heart pounded in her chest. “Could you have stopped Daddy from drinking? From it making him sick all the time?”
Then why hadn’t he done so? Why had he let them be hurt this way?
“No. I’ve tried to get him to stop, but to no avail. Your mother has tried too. This is something only your dad can stop.”
“So what shouldyouhave taken care of?” It made little sense.
Granddad turned to her and stopped. He took several moments to catch his breath. He smiled, but not really. It wasn’t a smile that warmed her or made her want to smile back. Instead, she wanted to cry. “It doesn’t matter now, Whitney. Your dad drinks until he’s sick—”
