“Yes, there’s a… a social at the community center in Buckholt for us oldies.” He smiles self-deprecatingly before continuing, “A tea dance. I thought I might go.”
I try to school my expression into something that doesn’t resemble complete shock. A tea dance? My dad has gone to his PT willingly enough, but he hasn’t engaged too much in the social activities available for ‘oldies’ in Buckholt, although to be fair, he has gone to the bridge group a few times. Still, adance. I’m pleased, of course, but like with Bethany, I’m a little… taken aback. Life is moving on in all sorts of ways, it seems.
“Um, sure,” I say, a few seconds too late, but I smile to make up for my delayed response. “I’m sure someone can drive you.” It will have to be either me or Bethany since Josh still isn’t driving, and William isn’t taking his test until May. My dad decided to stop driving awhile back after his Parkinson’s diagnosis. It made sense, but I know he feels the loss of freedom keenly. “When is it?”
“Four to six.” He grimaces slightly. “I hope it’s not too inconvenient.”
“No, no,” I say quickly. I am still reeling a little that my dad wants to go to a dance, but then I tell myself to stop reacting to everything so much and just enjoy the fact that he’s making friends. “I’ll go to the feed store and Kroger, stock up on a few things. It’ll be great.”
“Great.” My dad smiles, drinks the rest of the tea, then rises carefully from his chair. “Time to start season seventeen,” he tells me with a wink, and he goes out with a spring in his step, whistlingLa Vie en Rose.
Hmm.
Later that night, as we’re getting ready for bed, I mention the tea dance to Josh.
“I’m happy for him, of course,” I say quickly, in case my tone conveyed that it wasn’t. “It just seems a little… strange.”
“Why? Your dad’s always liked dancing.”
“He’s not super steady on his feet,” I remind him.
“Abby, no one at this thing is going to be all that steady on their feet. Some of them will probably be dancing with Zimmer frames. I wouldn’t worry.”
“I’m notworried,” I say on something of a huff. I slide into bed and fold my arms. I don’t know what’s got me into such a tizz about this; it must be the pregnancy hormones. Even I can see I’m being unreasonable.
Josh, however, gives me a knowing smile. “Are you worried he’s met someone?” he asks, his tone managing to be both playful and gentle.
“Metsomeone—”
“A woman.”
“A woman!” I practically yelp. I stare at Josh as I realize that is what has been sticking to the back of my mind like a burr. “Do you think he has?” I ask in a hushed voice.
Josh chuckles. “Who knows? Maybe he just wants to kick up his feet. But if he did… that would be no bad thing, surely?” He raises his eyebrows. “It’s been six years since your mom died, Abby.”
“I know.” I still miss my mom’s calm, capable demeanor and brisk, ready smile just about every day. I rest one hand on my bump as it occurs to me that this will be the first baby I’ve hadwhere my mom didn’t swoop in the day after to make a million casseroles and deep clean all the bathrooms. She was always much better at that kind of thing than rocking a newborn or changing diapers. That was my dad’s domain, funnily enough. They were different in so many ways, but they loved each other deeply.
Could my dad really have met a woman?
Or, like with my spiraling thoughts about Bethany, Ben, and babies, am I overreacting?
“I guess it’s just something I’d have to get used to.”
He reaches over to pull me against him, my back against his chest, his hand resting over mine on the bump of our baby.
“There are a lot of things we’ve had to get used to,” he murmurs against my hair. “But we’ve done okay so far. We’ll manage this.”
“He might not have met someone,” I protest and feel Josh’s laugh reverberate through his chest as he pulls me a little closer.
“You keep telling yourself that, Abby,” he says, then reaches across me to click off the light.
Chapter seven
“So, Dad.”
My voice is super casual as I pull out onto the main road that runs along the top of Wildflower Valley to Buckholt. It’s Sunday afternoon, and my dad is in the passenger seat, wearing a pink button-down shirt, gray suit trousers, and a gray silk bowtie. It’s quite an outfit.
“Tell me about this tea dance,” I invite.
