Page 48 of Artfully Wild
SKYLAR
“Dad, it’s freezing out here.” He’s sitting at the head of the table outside looking completely unbothered by the freshly fallen snow. He’d probably burrow into one of the mountain caves and live his life in the snow if given the chance. As much as people love the warm weather during the summer season, he probably loves the cold even more. He takes a deep inhale of the brisk air and settles further into his chair. Definitely more.
“Ahh.” He shrugs his shoulders. “This isn’t too bad.”
I pull on the chair to his left, trying to think about anything other than how cold I am. I’d have been fine if I didn’t just spend the last ten minutes outside in the front of the house with Mom.
The silence stretches between us and my mind dwells on the idea that this conversation is going to be very similar to the one I just had on the front porch. Maybe they had some kind of talk beforehand about the years Sarah was sick and how they both could have done better by their youngest daughter. Or they decided to make more of an effort with me, realizing they haven’t recently. I don’t know what their thinking is, but I thinkit’s a good thing. I have avoided confrontation for far too long and the fact they are trying to make amends means something.
They could allow our relationship to remain on the surface like they have over the years. Just Sunday brunch. Asking about my daily life out of obligation rather than actual interest in anything I do. They ask about the store and how sales are. They ask about my friends. And then their attention gets diverted elsewhere. Ethan and his cookies or his science project. Elias and his newest bitchfest about Charlotte. Hudson and Avery and their wedding plans. There’s always something else that takes precedence. So, I make it easier and fade into the background noise until next week when we’ll all play our roles once again. It’s different now. I think they’re ready to start trying. I might be too.
I can see it in how uncomfortable Dad looks right now. He’s wringing his hands together in his lap, his gloves creating a soft friction between his palms. Small puffs of air burst from between his lips as he breathes faster than is needed for someone who is sitting.
“Are you okay?” I ask, placing a gentle hand on his arm. He takes another breath, this time through his nose, holds it for a few seconds, and it comes out in a slow, steady stream, the air looking like smoke tendrils rising from a dying campfire.
“Yeah, just nervous.”
“You? Nervous?” I furrow my brow. George Waters is a lot of things. He’s courageous. He’s funny. He’s loving. But he’s never scared. He’s never boisterous. And he’s definitely never nervous.
“There are few times in my life that I have been truly nervous. I’ve been terrified a lot. But nervous? Not much.”
We will have to come back to the terrified bit later.
“I was nervous when I proposed to your mother,” he continues. “I was nervous when I found out I was going to be a father and damn, if I wasn’t nervous the day I signed the paperwork to buy the store. And…well, I’m nervous now too.”
“I’ve never known you to be a nervous person.”
“I’m always nervous when I am afraid I might fail at something. Or that I might just not be good enough for something.” He looks down at his hands, clasped together firmly in his lap and up at me, meeting my eyes. I offer him a small smile.
“What do you mean?”
“I wasn’t sure I was good enough for your mother. Hell, I know I’m not good enough for her. I don’t know if I ever will be. And I didn’t know if I’d ever be cut out to be a father. A good one, at least. And I sure as hell didn’t think I’d see the day the store thrives. But, here I am sitting next to the person who made that happen and I’m not even sure she wants it.”
My heart plummets and I am pretty sure I hear the splash of stomach acid as it reaches the bottom. How could he possibly know? I haven’t told anyone besides Jacob about the idea of selling the store unless Camp let on about trying to get on my good side.
A soft smile stretches across his lips. “Do you have any idea how proud I am of you, Skylar?”
“I—what?” I didn’t know where he was taking this conversation, but this wasn’t the path I was expecting.
“It’s okay to say you don’t,” he admits. “I haven’t said it to you in a long time and I’m sorry for that. You’ve always been so strong. My little fighter since the beginning and I think sometimes your mom and I forget that even fighters need help. Often fighters are the ones who need it the most.”
I don’t even try to stop the tears that start to shed. They fall on my cheeks as the icy wind chills them, leaving behind the frozen feeling I’ve tried to escape so many times.
“I don’t know what to say here, Dad.”
“I just—” he raises his head and closes his eyes, taking another deep breath before looking at me. And this time when I meet his eyes, I don’t just see my dad. I see a man who has been broken over the years and is trying to put himself back together.A man who has labored for years for his family only to lose one through no fault of his own, but who has blamed himself for it anyway. I see someone who wants so badly to be the rock for everyone else around him, he forgets that some rocks have cracks in them—and those are the ones that are usually the most beautiful, the most weathered, but the most complex.
“I just don’t want you to waste your life. I know about Camp’s offer. I figured that old bastard would come after the store again eventually. But if you want to take him up on it, do it. Don’t worry about me. Your old man will be fine, Sky.”
Just when I thought I couldn’t feel any lower, my feet touch the sand at the bottom of the deepest part of the ocean—The Challenger Deep is what it’s called apparently. Ethan started his aquatic phase a couple of weeks ago—but that’s not the focus here.
Leaning forward, I take his hands in mine and still them from their fidgeting. I copy his deep breath from earlier and summon any kind of courage I have in me to talk about this with him. Movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention and I see Jacob looking my way from the kitchen island where everyone is gathered around, decorating Christmas cookies.
They’re in a circle, elbows on the counter, knives in one hand and cookies in the other. Ethan’s tongue is sticking out in concentration while Hudson and Avery playfully bump into each other, legs intertwined beneath the countertop, and Mom chatters on about the upcoming festival no doubt. But Jacob’s body is fully turned to me, one elbow against the island, the side of his body leaned against it, with his legs kicked out to the side, one crossed over the other. Green icing drips from the knife onto his finger, but his eyes don’t leave mine. One side of his lip curls into a smile, a dimple making an appearance on his left cheek. The smile that is just for me. And I can feel the courage I was looking for knowing I am not alone. No matter what I do,Jacob is always going to be with me, and it’s that thought that gives me the courage to say what I need to.
“Dad, I am in no way wasting my life here,” I start. He makes a poor attempt at masking the relief that melts across his features at my words. I let it slide for now, because I’m not too sure how he’s going to take what I have to say next.
“I love the store and I’ve loved turning it into what it is now, but it’s not mine. It’s neverbeenmine and if I’m being honest, I never really planned for it to be mine in the future. I know you named the store for me, but this isn’t something that feels like me.”
