He let loose with a laugh. “You always were a smart cookie. Irene and I are also going to start working in a lot closer quarters pretty soon, if this darn injury doesn’t hold me up.”
I quirked an eyebrow at him. “What does that mean?”
“We have decided to team up to drive routes,” he said.
Irene glanced at my face and registered my confusion, so she explained. “Some people partner up to drive. Some folks love it, others don’t. You are in a confined space, so you need to get along. You can sleep while the other person drives, then switch. We get paid for the distance we travel, so this allows us to get a bit farther in a shorter amount of time. We get paid by the mile and split the money down the middle. And as a female, it feels safer for a lot of reasons. Tom and I have been talking about it for a while, so we figured we’d give it a go.”
I hadn’t ever thought about the difficulties a female truck driver might face, but I knew the type of asshats that were out there. I liked the thought of my dad being less lonely too. “I think that sounds terrific.” I looked from Irene to my dad. “So, how long have you two been a thing?”
Sully laughed outright while Dad and Irene just looked at each other. They looked so happy, I felt a lightness fill me up. Growing up, my dad had never dated anyone. It made me sad. I wanted him to be happy. However, I knew it would take a long time to get over the loss of my mom, as if that was even possible. Also, now that I was actually looking back with some clarity, I don’t know when he would have had the time anyway.
My dad spoke. “It happened gradually. Irene lives here in the city and our company is based out of here. She’s friends with a few people from work that I’d stay with when I was in town. I got to know her when she was still a nurse, took her on a few routes when she was considering getting her CDL, and then I realized we’d been in a relationship for a while and I hadn’t even noticed.”
Good grief. “Dad, one, you do not tell your girlfriend that you didn’t realize you were in a relationship. And two, you’ve been dating for over five years and didn’t tell me?” If I wasn’t so amused at my clueless father, I might have been mad. As it was, I just wanted to give him a shit ton of grief.
Irene, luckily, was laughing too. She scored some points with me there. You need a sense of humor around us. “Maggie, don’t be too hard on your dad. I made sure that this thing went slow and under the radar for him. He sure loved your mama, and I knew he was going to struggle moving on, even though I’d never ask him to leave her behind. Once I got him to see that I was okay with him caring about me while a part of him still loved Ellen, it all went much easier.”
My dad interrupted. “Irene taught me that we don’t let go of the people we’ve loved. We just make room for more people. I can love her and Ellen too.” Then he looked at me with a sheepish grin. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Irene. Our schedules are so insane. We’d go for months without seeing each other. It made it seem like we just started dating yesterday, when it hasn’t been. That’s one reason I was excited to switch over to team driving. And it will give us a taste of the future.”
“Future?” I asked.
“Yep. We figure we have about three to five more years of driving in us, max. Then we’re hanging up our trucker keys for the keys to an RV and hitting the road on our own schedules.”
Watching my dad tell me about his dreams, I was struck by the relaxed look to him, one that I don’t remember ever seeing before. I leaned forward and grasped his hand, then Irene’s. “I think this is fabulous, and am thrilled for you both.” Squeezing their hands, I released them and leaned back in my chair and into Sully, who had rested his arm across the back of mine.
“So, when you all coming down for a visit?” Sully asked, and the room relaxed into chatter about future visits and their favorite routes around the country. Watching my dad talk to Sully and Irene about his plans for recuperating, Irene fussing over him, and Sully and my dad joking about stories from our childhood, I felt a sense of peace descend as I realized just how blessed I was.
After being cooped up in the hospital all morning, Sully finally convinced me to take a walk around outside for a few hours. I was good-natured for a while—he clearly had a plan—but then I began to tire. “Are we almost to wherever you’re taking me?” I’ll admit it. I whined a bit.
“It’s just here, right around the corner.” Sully dragged me through a mass of people milling around on the sidewalks in the August afternoon heat.
“Sully, it is an August day in Illinois. It is far too hot to be outside unless we’re going swimming. What could you possibly have to share with me?” I grumbled. Being honest, I needed something to eat. I needed a breeze. And quite possibly, I needed another nap.
“Ahh, here it is. Little Bean, meet the Bean.” Sully gestured from my stomach to the giant metal sculpture sitting in the open space in front of us. The metal acted as a mirror, reflecting back the people standing around it, taking pictures of themselves in the reflection.
Grinning at him, I moved forward and ran my hand over the stainless steel. “I believe this is actually calledCloud Gate, Sully. And I wouldn’t have taken you for something so touristy.”
“Isn’t that what dads do?” He asked, grinning. “I need a fanny pack and some tall socks with cargo shorts, right?” He kissed me on my nose before continuing. “Seriously, I felt like it would be fun to take our first family photo of us with our bean at the Bean.” Pulling out his phone, he wrapped an arm around my waist and said, “Smile!” as he aimed his camera to take the picture of our reflection looking back at us.
Laughing at him, I dropped my head to rest against him and smiled up at the sculpture above us. Our first family picture. Wow, that hit me harder than I thought. Looking over at Sully, I intertwined my fingers with his. “Want to walk along the lake for a bit? There’s likely a breeze over there.”
Sully leaned over, kissed my temple. “You bet.”
We headed over to Lakefront Trail and meandered along the path, staying out of the way for the serious folks squeezing in some exercise near the water. As we walked, Sully didn’t try to pull me out of my thoughts, for which I was grateful. I needed some time to marinate in the realization that I was the one who needed to get over my humble beginnings and not be ashamed of them. Truly, my dad was someone to be celebrated. What was it about our society that led to me feeling bad for the fact that we struggled instead of being proud of the man he was and how hard he worked to provide for his family?
After a mile or so, Sully tugged my hand, pulling me off the path to come to the edge of the lake. Looking out over the water, I was struck by the beauty of Lake Michigan, just as I had been as a child.
“Do you remember coming here with my family when you were in junior high?” he asked, standing behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist. His hands, of course, rested on my belly.
I closed my eyes, lost in memories. “Yeah. I remember coming to the aquarium and standing outside it to look at the water with you.”
Sully’s head nodded behind me. “Yeah, my parents went in to get tickets, and Emma was practically dancing because she wanted to see a dolphin. Max went with her, and you asked me to come out here with you. I remember you standing still, looking at the lake, and whispering that it was just as beautiful as you imagined an ocean would be.”
I laughed a little. “I hadn’t seen much by that point in my life, certainly never an ocean. Looking at Lake Michigan, not being able to see the other side, it seemed immense.”
Sully’s lips trailed down the side of my face, settling into the crook of my neck. Propping his chin there, he looked out at the lake and spoke in a soft voice that enveloped me. “You told me that day that you’d never stay in Highland, that you wanted to travel around the world, that the world would be your home.”
My heart tugged for that lost girl as tears welled up in memory. I had wanted so badly to flee a place that made me feel like I was trapped, on display, with no way to find any anonymity.
