Leaning back in his own chair, I noticed he was watching me.
“What’s up, Dad?”
Dad nodded, seeming to soak in whatever he was thinking about. Finally he decided to share. “Just thinking how proud I am of you.”
I felt my heart speed up. Damn, I was thirty-two, but sometimes I felt like that fifteen-year-old kid on the football field, just wanting to make my dad proud. Swallowing a lump of emotion, I met his eyes. “Why?”
“Shit, son, there’s so many reasons I’m proud of you I’d take the entire night if I was going to share them all.” He smiled at me.
I looked at him, wondering what brought on the sharing of emotions. Not that Lee Sullivan wouldn’t talk about the way he felt—he absolutely would—but it wasn’t an everyday conversation. Dad sat there, relaxed, as I looked him over. My parents were in their late fifties but still looked a decade younger. My dad had been a high school football player too, and while he was years from that, he’d stayed in shape. Working on the farm had certainly helped him stay active. He had wrinkles around his eyes from being in the sun all the time but from laughing as well. He had a deep belly laugh that he let loose when he was entertained, which was often. Looking at him now, I had both a feeling of gratitude for growing up with such a role model, but also a pang of something like sorrow knowing none of us were getting any younger.
“So what’s up with sharing the love today, Pops?” I asked with a touch of humor. “Getting emotional in your old age?”
Dad shook his head as he looked over to me. “Knock it off, Cole. Just sharing my pride. And since you asked earlier, I’ll say that today I’m feeling grateful that you have a new life, a new branch of our family, coming at the end of this year. Also, I’m beyond thankful that you pulled your head out of your ass and got this canning business off the ground. What were you thinking?”
I looked over at him. “What the hell, Dad? You said I should talk to Maggie, but why didn’t you tell me you thought I was making the wrong choice?” Hell, maybe getting his advice then would have helped me decide earlier.
He shook his head. “You’re an adult now, Sully. I trust you to make the decision that’s best for you. Can’t say I don’t worry at times, but your life is for you to shape, not me to manipulate.” He gave me a narrow look, “And you’re evading the question.”
I smiled. It felt like a conversation from high school or college. Dad was not one to lecture, but sometimes conversations with him began to feel like a tennis match. They kept you on your toes. That was for sure. This one, however, I wasn’t sure how to dive into it. Leaning back, I looked into the early evening sky. A breeze had finally kicked up, bringing with it a needed relief. Ranger came back from wherever he’d been hunting around and collapsed in exhaustion at my feet.
“Well, Dad, Jake and I were ready to dive into canning this spring. But then with Maggie’s announcement that we were having a baby, I got cold feet.”
He nodded, gesturing for me to continue.
“It’s like this. I was worried about making a big investment in the brewery, taking on more debt, when we had finally gotten to some financial stability. I was especially concerned about doing that when I needed to provide for my new family—however that family was defined.” I rubbed my thumb over the label for the bear.
Dad cleared his throat. “Sometimes you have to dream big, take risks, to make your business grow, son. Your mom and I would have been happy to put our investment back into the canning part of the brewery.”
I met his eyes. “I didn’t want you to do that.”
He studied my face. “Why?”
I looked away. “I felt a bit like a failure in asking for that. You were always so stable, such a perfect dad. I felt somewhat like I was already failing at parenting by not having a strong business set up when my child wasn’t even in the world yet.” I hung my head down, looking at the ground and Ranger’s nose nudging a ball toward me even though he was so tired he couldn’t lift his head out of the grass.
“Hey.” My dad looked at me. “I’m not sure what perception you have of me, but know that I’m not worried at all about the type of father you will be, Cole. You will be amazing. We all struggle. I had constant fears about the farm. Mother Nature, the costs of equipment, you name it, I worked a ton of hours because we couldn’t afford to hire on help. I was constantly worried about not being home enough for you, Emma, or your mom.”
I nodded, eyes locked on my beer can.
Dad sighed, leaning his head back. “You’ll learn soon enough. Parenting is a crapshoot. You will never work as hard at anything else in your life while having absolutely no confidence that you’re doing it right.”
My palms began to sweat. “So how do I make sure to do it right?”
Dad’s head turned toward me. “You love the shit out of your kids and their mom. Push them to be their best, and be their loudest cheerleader. Nothing else matters.”
My voice was quiet. “Just love them?” I heard a noise and saw Maggie rushing my way. “I can do that,” I whispered.
“I know you can, son.”
I rose up and took a step toward the woman I loved with everything in me.
* * *
Maggie
Rushing outside, I scanned the yard and saw Sully moving from a grouping of chairs where his dad and Ranger sat, and he was walking toward me. Looking past them, I could see the grain elevators of Highland in the distance. The trail for the creek was behind him to the left. I would bet Emma and Max could be found there. The creek was one of Emma’s favorite places on earth, where she went to think. But Sully, he loved this yard. He and I had stood here so many times over the years. The sunset lighting the grain elevators was a sight to behold. I remember the first time he made me watch it. I had been in fourth grade. He had been in junior high.
Standing beside me back then, he’d whispered, “Watch, Maggie.” As we stood, he’d said, “Sunrises and sunsets are two of my favorite things.”
