His praise embarrasses me. Anyone can string up lights and bunting.
“How’s work going?” he asks.
I’m about to brush him off and say that it’s fine, which is my usual response to him asking me anything personal, but this time I stop myself. I’m halfway into my holiday and we haven’t talked about anything meaningful. We rarely do. I knew he would be busy with the farm when I chose these dates and that didn’t concern me, but I’m going home in a week and who knows when we’ll see each other again. Am I really destined to only ever have a surface relationship with my dad? Is that what I want?
I think of Bailey and how she’s more open and welcoming of his care and attention. Maybe Icouldbe a bit more like that.
On impulse, I find myself opening up about my job, telling him about how much I miss my old practice and how trapped and uninspired I’ve been feeling lately.
“It’s not surprising you’ve been feeling uninspired,” he says, hammering in a nail. “You’ve been through a lot.”
“I was feeling uninspired before that,” I confess, passing him the festoon lights to hang.
“You’re not thinking about a change of career, are you? There seems to be a lot of that going on these days.”
“Not after seven years of training.” Not to mention my student loans that I’ll probably be paying off until I’m seventy. “I’m not about to throw that away anytime soon.”
“I remember when you used to draw all the time,” Dad says with a smile, handing me the hammer before climbing back down the ladder. “You were always doodling away in your sketch pad. While other kids were drawing ponies, you were drawing houses.” He reaches the bottom of the ladder and turns around to look at me. “Remember when our neighbors in Bloomington brought over that bagful of LEGOs? You sat there for hours every day, building houses and shops and even a three-story hotel,” he says with amazement. “You were only about eight. I always knew you’d grow up to do something creative.”
I smile at him as I grab a couple of nails from the box and climb the ladder. We’ve been taking turns.
“I’ll tell you what, if that boss of yours doesn’t realize how lucky he is, you should stick it to him and get another job.”
I snort and hold the nail steady as I tap it with the hammer, lightly at first, then with more purpose. “Architectural jobs at cool practices aren’t exactly falling out of the sky at the moment. Not where I live, anyway.”
“Could you move to another area? Have a change of scenery?”
“Iamhaving a change of scenery. I needed to get away because I kept bumping into Scott and his new girlfriend. But despite him living in the same town as me, I like where we settled. I’m not ready to pack up and move yet. I’d feel too bitter, as though I’d been forced to leave whenhe’sthe one who leftme.”
Dad makes a noise of compassion as he passes up the lights. I hook the cable over the nail, adjusting it so it hangs at around the same height as the last couple of lengths we’ve strung up.
“These drawings you’ve been asked to do... Would you have to visit the site much?” Dad asks.
“No, not at all. We have all the surveys and loads of pictures.”
“Could you do this work from anywhere?” Dad asks as I come down the ladder.
I turn to face him, tucking my hair behind my ears. “Theoretically, yes.”
“Why don’t you ask your boss if you can stay here for the summer? Two weeks isn’t nearly long enough for a real break.”
I stare into his hazel eyes, the same shade as mine, and realize that Graham would probably agree to it if I made this suggestion. I could easily do the drawings remotely and it would soften the blow of having Lucinda Beale bump me off her job.
But does Dad mean it? Would he like me to stay? The idea of spending the summer here in Indiana is extremely tempting, but then reality kicks in.
“I wouldn’t want to encroach on your space,” I say awkwardly, picking up the ladder.
Not just his space, but Sheryl’s.EspeciallySheryl’s.
“You wouldn’t be encroaching,” he claims as he follows me to the far corner of the barn, a kind of nervous energy radiating from him. “You’re my daughter! Maybe some more time away would have you feeling inspired again. You could get a new pad, do some sketching. At the very least, you could tackle these drawings in a nice setting.” He carries on talking as Iclimb the ladder. “We could put a desk upstairs in front of one of your dormer windows so you’d have a view out over the farmland.”
Would I see Anders again? I chide myself for wondering. I don’t need another man to be taking up any more of my mental headspace.
But Iwouldhave time to renovate the Airstream.Thatthought fills me with joy. I forgot to close it up when I got back from the Fredrickson farm on Sunday, but even with the extra airing out, it still stank the following morning. What I wouldn’t give to be able to rip out all that rotten stuff and start again...
Mum would be okay. She has a new boyfriend, Keith, and things seem to be going well with them. I’m sure she’d encourage me to take the extra time.
“I think you’d better speak to Sheryl before you make any promises,” I say as I come back down the ladder.
