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Chapter Thirty-One
Gina
Everything has been so out of sorts. First, Chad Hensley’s death, and then the men, my potential suitors, started dropping out. Men who had written to me suddenly stopped writing back. I didn’t understand why. Maybe I’d chosen the wrong men. Maybe they were too scared to come and see me. Or maybe they didn't like the idea of an arranged marriage, after all.
I couldn't help but notice that my father had been reading through the letters, just as he had been with all the others. But then something happened that I wasn't expecting: he started writing back to these men. I overheard him talking on the phone to one of the men, a man I'd written to. I didn't understand what was going on. I only knew my father was being sneaky.
Maybe he liked Joel more than he let on. My father has a reputation for being difficult.
I decide to use the drive down to Texas to have a serious talk with him. I want to know what is going on. He is too old to play games, and I want to get to the bottom of it. When Joel stops to make a phone call, I turn to Daddy, and say, “It’s time to talk.”
He looks tired, like the drive is taking a lot out of him. “What is it now?”
“You've written back to some of the men that responded to the ad. What gives?”
“What’s it to you?” he says. “You’re otherwise engaged, it seems.”
“I like Joel. He’s a good man.”
“What’s not to like?”
I don’t know how to answer him. Joel doesn’t put in that much effort, he doesn’t try too hard, and I like that about him. It means he won’t expect too much.
“I don't know,” I say. “But I guess I'll find out.” I reach over and pat his hand. “That's what this trip is all about.”
“Look at this old truck,” Daddy huffs. “It's a piece of junk. I doubt it'll even make it from here to Texas. And look at the way he dresses. He is not a man of means. What does he have to offer you?”
“He has a house on a lake.”
“It takes more than a roof over your head to make it in life, honey. Just think about it—you could have businessmen, men of industry. Politicians. Men with power and money. And you want a guy that digs holes for a living?”
“I am thinking about it,” I say. “I love him.”
“You don’t even know him. You might be feeling something, but it ain’t love, honey.”
“I know how I feel, and I feel Joel is the one.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, brushing me off. “Who can tell things about the heart—especially young and inexperienced hearts?”
“You’re the one always saying I have a gift! That I can use my mind however I want. That I can read people.”
“Even gifts can be wrong.”
“I don’t understand why you’re so against this—you’re the one who wanted me married. You’re the one who placed that ad!”
“I want the best for you, love. And he’s not it. It’s a short life, but marriage is a long road. It takes more than feelings.”
My father looks so fragile, and I can see the weariness in his eyes. I also see his point, but I don't agree. Joel may not be the wealthiest man to answer the ad, not by a long shot, but he'll give me something those other men won't. Freedom. Eventually, he'll feel guilty for not giving me what I deserve, what I could so easily get elsewhere, and he'll help me fulfill my dreams. He said so himself. He travels west often. “What do you want me to say?”
“I want you to be smart, honey. I want you to hold out for a man that can give you the world—someone who can offer you all the things you desire—someone who can give you the things I couldn’t.”
“I can make my own way, Daddy. I’m going to be an actress.”
My father shakes his head in disappointment. “You can’t tell people the stove is hot. They have to find out for themselves.”
I’m sick of arguing, so I try sulking instead.
Then he says, “I was engaged once.”
