The Wrong Bridesmaid

My worries that the house would be a mess or possibly even burning down when I get back are eased as I pull up and see that the lights are on, no windows are broken, and things are quiet when I close the door on my truck.

A bit too quiet, and I suspect Mom’s upstairs as I go inside and find Dad in his office, stone sober but looking like he could use a drink.

“Dad.”

He looks up, his thumb tracing the stitching of the leather chair in a repetitive pattern that feels like he’s been doing it for a while. “If you could answer one thing for me. What were you thinking?”

He’s not raging, more confused than anything else. Calmly, I sit down on the leather couch, propping my elbows on my knees. “Jed had to be stopped. For Cold Springs’ sake and the people who live here, which is something you should’ve been thinking too.”

Dad gets up and paces around the room, his usually tidy hair standing on end from his hands. “I know!”

I’m confused at his outburst. “You know what? That Jed needed to be stopped? Then why didn’t you?”

“I couldn’t.” Dad stops and shakes his head, his eyes unseeing, as if he’s looking into the past. “It happened so fast. He was talking about how we’d usher in the next phase of Cold Springs, and how good the growth and progress would be for everyone. It sounded like a legacy I could be proud of. He conveniently left out the farms and families, and I’m ashamed to say that once I found out, it seemed like they could just move, you know? For the greater good?”

“He’s good like that. Master manipulator extraordinaire.”

Dad snorts. “You can say that again.” He’s quiet for a moment, contemplative, and then meets my eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you before.”

I lean forward more, tilting my head. “You do now?”

Dad nods. “He made paying for your schooling seem like a kind thing for an uncle to do. And a business degree is generic enough to help no matter what you wanted to do. I didn’t see the long game, not then and not now. Until it was too late.”

“He came to see me after I left. Told me I would never amount to anything without him.”

Dad flinches, his eyes beseeching me. “I didn’t know he did that. Didn’t know where you were or I would’ve come.”

I believe him. He might not have come in with apologies the way he is now, but if he knew I was only a short drive away, he would’ve tried to talk me into coming back. In the long run, I’m glad he didn’t, though, because I’m better for it, having had enough distance to recognize and appreciate the things I did learn from Dad. And also realize that maybe my leaving everything and everyone behind was a bit of an overreaction, like setting fire to the whole house when there was just one spider.

“Jed was wrong. I didn’t need him,” I tell Dad, standing up. “I’d already had a role model, already seen what a good man did, and knew success wasn’t achieved with threats and manipulations.”

Dad’s shoulders slump, and he shakes his head at my comment. “Thank you for that, but I’m not sure I qualify as a good role model these days.”

It feels weird putting my hands on my father’s shoulders, giving him a pep talk . . . but that’s what I do now, looking into his eyes. “You made a mistake. It happens. The truth of your character will be in how you recover from that, how you make amends, how you serve Cold Springs. You said you wanted to leave a legacy, but don’t you see? You already have.”

“Pretty sure Ford is synonymous with asshole,” Dad says, still dejected. “Probably in the dictionary and everything. Not quite the history I wanted.”

I shrug a shoulder dismissively. “Nah, just Jed Ford. Bill Ford has always been a good man, a good leader, a good father. Even if he’s a bit blind to his brother’s shortcomings.”

Dad chuckles and gives me a hug. “Definitely got twenty-twenty now.”

I pat him on the back. Everything’s not okay between us. There’s a lot of years of hurt and anger to sift through, but it’s a start we can build on. Most importantly, one I want to build on again. Not only because it’s what I should do, some family expectation of the son forgiving the father, but because I want to.

Dad steps back after a moment and looks out the window. “How’s Winston doing?”

I shake my head, grinning. “Surprisingly great. He feels good about doing the right thing, and when I asked about the wedding expenses, he was chill about it. Said that was a gift, and he feels no obligation to follow Jed into the fires of hell because of it.”

Dad blinks several times, letting that sink in. “Wow. I’m impressed.”

“Me too. I should’ve thought about that with my college degree.” I laugh, not regretting dropping out of school when my business is doing so well. I learned from the School of Life. “Guess you did something right.”

I’m talking about Winston, but Dad gives me a knowing look. “Hopefully more than one thing.”

“What’s Jed going to do?”

Dad sighs. “I’m sure he has a backup plan, and a backup for the backup. He’ll probably just pick up the plans and move them to a different site, hopefully outside of Cold Springs.”

He could be right, and the smack on the ass might do Jed some good. But Jed’s not who I’m worried about. “What about you?”

He shrugs. “Don’t really know. I’ve been thinking that I’ve done my service to Cold Springs for a lot of years. I’ve done a lot of good, but tonight showed me one thing clearly. It’s a changed game, and I’m not strong enough to handle it. I’m not saying I’m ready to retire tomorrow, but public service might not be it for me anymore. I think it’s time to lower my stress levels, maybe do a little day-trading, and spend some time with my grandkids soon.”

I hold my hands up, shaking them to wave off that energy. “Have to talk to Avery and Winston about that.”

“We’ll see . . .” More seriously, he asks, “What are you going to do?”

There’s really only one answer that makes sense. “Talk to Hazel. I don’t know other than that.”

Dad nods. “That sounds like a good idea.”

We look at each other for a moment, saying so much but also leaving so much unsaid. I appreciate that he’s not trying to plan things for me anymore, but rather is letting me lead with no expectation of what I’m going to do. And also, I can see that he was simply trying to do what was best for me before, and that, as my dad, he had a life of knowledge and experience I was rejecting by thinking I knew everything. This is a first for us, meeting as adults with thoughts, plans, and ideas of our own that are equally important and valid.

“I think I’ll head up to bed,” Dad says after a moment. “Your mother was exhausted after all the excitement tonight. As much as I’ve put her through lately, she deserves a good night’s rest.”

“She’s been worried about you.”

He sighs. “I’ve been worried about me too. But I feel better now than I have in ages. I’ve got some apologizing and making up to do with her too.”

I wish I could leave it there, but there’s one more issue we need to discuss. “Dad, about that . . . do you need some help? There are programs—”

He cuts me off. “Thank you. Truly. But I’m okay, or I will be. I’ve been trying to escape this situation, or pretend it didn’t exist. Now that it’s handled, and I can look at the future with a clearer conscious, I don’t need that crutch.” I give him a look of uncertainty. “If not, I promise to talk to someone about it—Mom, one of you kids, or a professional.”

That helps me feel better, or it’s at least a start in the right direction.

Dad and I walk to the doorway, where I give him another look. “Good night, Dad.”

He turns, and suddenly hugs me, harder than ever before. “Thank you, son.”

It’s not an instant fix, but things feel more right between us than they have in a long time. Dad leaves, and in the quiet, I enjoy the feeling of relief that rises within me. Dad wasn’t so far gone after all, just a bit lost. But he can find his way back to his true self, the man who inspired me as a child, whom I looked up to as a role model. If anyone can do it, he can.

I take a seat to gather myself, and Mr. Puddles comes trotting in, jumping up on the couch and putting his head in my lap. Chuckling, I reach down and scratch him in his favorite spot, just on the edge of his jaw. “Yeah, it’s good to be home, buddy. I’ve missed you too.”