Page 101 of Crashing the Altar
I reached into my back pocket to retrieve my wallet. Flipping it open, I pulled out one of the ultrasound pictures and slid it across to my dad.
There was a beat of hesitation before he grasped the edge of the photo paper, tracing one fingertip over the image set right in the middle.
Voice gruff, he mused, “They didn’t have anything quite this clear thirty years ago.” Then he chuckled. “You two don’t do anything by half measures, do you?”
I bit back a smile. “It wasn’t planned.” Shaking my head, I corrected, “Well, in a way, I suppose it was, but not sure you really want the specifics on that.”
“No, son. You can keep that part to yourself.”
Good, because I wasn’t too inclined to share my wife’s kinks with my father. That crossed more lines than I could count.
With his eyes fixed on the ultrasound photo, Dad’s lips turned down in a frown. “Why’s it say Topeka General?”
The memories of that curtained cubicle rushed over me, and my fists clenched, my nails biting into the palm of my hand.
Clearing my throat, I laid all my cards on the table.
“We, um . . .” I swallowed roughly. “We thought we were losing it.”
All the air in my father’s lungs rushed out, and at the end of his exhale came a muttered, “Jesus.”
I tugged at the back of my neck. “Scariest damn day of my life.”
“Penny. She okay?”
My lips folded inward as I nodded. “She’s rattled, as you would expect, and so exhausted she’s been asleep more than awake these past few days.”
“When your mama catches wind of this, she’s gonna take up permanent residence at the cabin to smother that girl. Caroline, too.”
“Kinda counting on it.” I ducked my head. “The road’s no place for her, Dad. And I can’t—I won’t—go back out there without her. Ricky can handle the team. He’s hardworking and loyal. He deserves the promotion.”
Without another word, my father stood. Walking to the fridge, he lifted the magnet holding a picture of Reagan in place before repositioning it so that it could pin both images of his grandchildren to the stainless-steel surface.
Guess I was letting him keep that one.
Turning around, he leaned against the counter and shoved both hands in his pockets. “I’ve already got a foreman, Tripp. A good one who’s been doin’ the job a long time.”
He’d misunderstood me. “I would never ask you to push Wade out for me. I’ll do whatever needs doing around here. Ranch hand work is just fine so long as I can stay with Penny and the baby.”
Dad let out a pleased hum. “I was thinking more along the lines of an apprenticeship.”
Intrigued, I arched an eyebrow. “What kind of apprenticeship?”
“One where I teach you the ropes. Show you what it takes to run a ranch of this size—how to keep it thriving, and better yet, how to keep it growing.”
Certain my jaw was on the floor, I stared at my father wide-eyed. “You want to train me to take over?”
He shrugged. “Know someone else better suited?”
“It’s not that.” How did I say this without offending him? “I just didn’t think—”
“I’m not foolish enough to believe I’ll live forever, son. I’ve already gotten fifteen more years than my own father did, so I don’t take a single one God decides to give me for granted. It’s long past time I prepared you to take over your birthright in hopes that someday—when I’m long gone from this earth—you’ll be able to pass it on to the next generation, and they can hand the reins to the next, and so on.”
Stunned, I didn’t know what to say. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined my father offering to teach me how to run the ranch I’d grown up on—the only place I ever wanted to call home.
“Am I to take your silence for a yes?” Dad prompted.
“Uh, yeah.” I cleared my throat. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
