Page 105 of Free Heart
But for the first time in my whole life, I have an idea of what folks mean when they talk about “the spirit of the season.” In this moment, here with these people…
All is right with the world.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Sejin
Itake theafternoon off from Papa Bear to show my dad around Yosemite. It’s no skin off Pete’s nose since, in this weather, most everyone who can has chosen to stay cozy and warm inside at home.
“This is the campground where Dan was living when I met him,” I say, driving carefully on the slushy roads. They’ve been plowed and salted a few times this season already, but the skies keep blessing us with more downpours of snowflakes.
“Home, sweet home,” Dad says, raising a brow at the bareness of it with a rare sardonic display.
I grip the wheel a little tighter. “He’s not exactly the kind of guy who settles down in a job and buys a house, you know?”
“I see that, son. The message has come through bright and clear.”
I fiddle with the engagement ring on my finger and leave it at that, not sure if he’s implying something negative or not. Turning the steering wheel around a bend, I head toward Papa Bear. Dad said earlier that he wants to see everywhere I work, and I know he’ll get a look at Tater Tots tomorrow before we go to the Yosemite High School’s theater for the kids’ Christmas show.
I hope the snow lets up and the plows do their jobs again overnight so the weather doesn’t keep the audience or my tiny performers from showing. They’ve been working so hard on their dances and costumes. They’re committed to every single part of the acts, and it’s so adorable. Letting them have theirmoment to shine is more important to me now than the money. Though the money is still very much needed.
I clear my throat, feeling grateful that Dan’s not with us. He and Lowell are out in Peggy Jo’s garage working out on the bouldering wall and doing some additional “physical therapy” today. He’s preparing for January and planning climbs of some boulders and small walls. “The rock is stickier in the winter,” he’d told me enthusiastically this morning over breakfast in the van. “A big plus to offset the finger-numbing cold.”
For the last week, I’ve tried not to think too much about what it means that he’s taking these next steps or that the doctor keeps clearing him to do more and more. We have a wedding to plan once the Christmas show is done, and I’m trying to focus on that, rather than worrying about what comes after.
But thereisa worry I’m determined to meet head on, scary as it is. I take a breath, tap the steering wheel, and then glance over at my dad. “So, whatdoyou think of Dan?”
Dad frowns and doesn’t speak right away.
My stomach knots, and I adjust my hold on the wheel again, bracing myself, because I know my dad isn’t going to lie. If he doesn’t like Dan, he’s going to tell me so—but in the softest, kindest, most Appalachian way possible.
“Y’all are a good match. I don’t know what your mama would have thought of him. She’d probably have liked him. She liked most people. But I have no doubt that what he does out there on those walls? She’d have seen all that as foolish. I admit, I think so too.”
“I know.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” Dad says. “He’s an impressive athlete. I gotta admire his determination to achieve a goal. Can’t say he’s not ambitious.”
“No.”
“Peggy Jo explained to me the appeal of the sport somewhat.”
Just the mention of her name lights him up, and I worry he’s going to confess to me what’s going on between them instead of answering my questions. But he doesn’t.
“Another thing I like is the way that boy challenges you. He wants more for you than you want for yourself, and sometimes that’s the best kind of partner to have. He’ll push you when you need it.” Dad nods thoughtfully. “Sometimes everybody needs a good shove in the right direction. But he’s gentle with you too. He takes care of you in his own ways. I think I can trust him with you.” He clucks his tongue and shakes his head a little. “Trusting him with himself? That’s another matter altogether, though likely one between him and God.”
He thinks real hard again before chuckling and adding, “Good luck, kid.”
My hands relax on the steering wheel as he speaks. “I was so nervous you’d hate him. He’s a pill.”
Dad shrugs, leaning forward to look out the window as Papa Bear comes into view around the bend. “He’s straightforward. Honest. Smart. And he loves you like crazy. A blind man can see that.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “Yeah, he is, and he does.”
Dad clears his throat. “So, I guess you’ve noticed that I like your friend Peggy Jo.”
My knuckles go white on the steering wheel again. “I have. Yes.”
“She’s somethin’ else.”
