My One and Only(41)

As soon as he left, BeverLee came over, her Cinnabar so thick that I nearly choked.

“Have you had a chance for a sit-down with your daddy?” BeverLee asked, automatically reaching out to plump up my hair.

“BeverLee, I thought we agreed that I wasn’t the best one to interrogate Dad about…you know,” I said, resecuring my hair in its twist.

“Well. Sure, now. That’s fine and all.” She sat there, looking like a large, ungainly chick with that butter-colored hair and blue-mascaraed eyes.

“But I’ll…I’ll say something to him. Sure.” How’s that for a random act of kindness, Father Bruce? That should hold me for a month.

“Oh, thank you, sweet knees! That’s just so…! Oh! Thanks, darlin’! He’s right over there. No time like the present!”

“Okay.” I sighed, patted Bev’s freckled shoulder, then made my way through the dancing crowd. There was my ever-elusive father, handsome and solitary, sitting at a small table with a beer. “So, Dad,” I said.

“Harper.” He gave me a half nod.

“Having fun?”

“Sure. You?”

“Oh, yeah.”

It was turning into one of our longer conversations. After my mother had left, he’d ask such searching questions as “You okay?” to which I’d answer (in a sullen, resentful tone), “No,” which would fail to elicit further conversation and served only to make us both feel worse.

I sighed. “So, Dad, how are things with BeverLee these days?”

He slid his eyes over to me. “Why’d you ask?”

“Um…just because?”

He took another sip of his drink. “Actually, I think we may be…heading our separate ways.”

“Really?” A prickle of alarm ran up my spine. “Why’s that?”

“Just…growing apart.”

I sat rigidly. “Does that mean you’ve found someone else?” It often did, let me assure you.

“Oh, no. No, there’s no one else. I’m not the cheating type. We just…you know.” I didn’t know. BeverLee and Dad had been together for twenty years. Dad was sixty-two. Not that older people didn’t divorce. Still, I couldn’t help feeling…weird. With a sigh, I asked my dad if there was anything I could do.

“Maybe you could handle the divorce when it rolls around,” he suggested quietly.

“Absolutely not, Dad.”

“I’ll take care of her, don’t worry.”

“I’ll recommend someone for both of you. It doesn’t have to get ugly.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

We sat in silence for a few minutes. My father finished his beer. “Dad,” I said eventually, “have you talked to BeverLee about this? I don’t get the impression that she knows you’re thinking divorce.”

He glanced at me and looked away. “I will. Soon.”

I started to say something else, then reconsidered. If a person thought he wanted a divorce, well, it wasn’t my place to convince him otherwise. Besides conversations about emotions and feelings and love were not something I ever had with my father. Willa and he had always had a much easier time…she’d plop herself down on his lap and tease him and make him laugh. Much more normal than the Mexican standoff I myself had with dear old Dad. After all, I’d always been Mommy’s girl. Right up until she left.

I thought again of the envelope, sitting like a tumor in my suitcase.

BeverLee was looking at me anxiously. I gave her a shrug and a smile—Men, who knows?—and she nodded back. Sadly. Ah, poor Bev. She loved my father, though I did have to wonder if she really knew him, even after all their time together. According to her, the man practically invented air. Maybe that was the problem. The guy she had in her head bore little resemblance to the person who actually existed. It was a common enough problem.

Suddenly exhausted, I decided to call it a day. My sister and Christopher were locked together on the dance floor, playing tonsil hockey by the looks of it. I went over, tapped Willa on the shoulder and slapped on a smile. “I’m beat, guys,” I said. “See you tomorrow at breakfast, right?”

“Actually, we’re leaving early,” Chris said. “Heading up to Two Medicine for some camping.”

I looked at Willa, and my chest tightened. “Well, call me when you can. When do you think you’ll be heading back East?”

The happy couple exchanged a glance. “We’re kind of playing it by ear, Harper,” my sister said.

Great. That always worked out, especially when traipsing around the wilderness with grizzlies and wolves and potential snowstorms. But I held my tongue, and Willa gave me a huge hug. “Thanks for everything, Harper,” she said, smooching my cheek.

“Oh, sure,” I murmured. Not that I’d done anything other than voice doubt, of course. “Mazel tov, okay?” Lame. “Listen…I hope you’ll be very happy.” Still lame, but better. I hugged Willa back, always a little awkward where physical affection was concerned. I nodded to my new brother-in-law then headed to my room. Just before I started up the stairs, someone said my name.

“Hey.” It was Chris. “Listen, Harper. I know this must’ve been awkward, seeing Nick and all, me marrying your sister, and I know you don’t really approve. I just wanted to say thanks for coming out here. It meant a lot to your sister. And to me, too.” He smiled. Not without his brother’s charm, this guy.