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It is the first time I have ever heard him talk about his past. I am sure the rest of the story is going to come pouring out. I’m excited. But then Joel gets back in the truck, and he stops talking. I wait for my father to say something more, but nothing comes out. I know I’ve hit a nerve, but I don’t like being in the dark, either. I have nothing to go on but his reputation—and that isn’t great. He becomes quiet again. It is as though he has said something he regrets. I don’t know why, but I feel bad for him.
We drive straightthrough at Joel's insistence, something or other about a work emergency. I get the impression that he doesn't have the funds for a motel, but then, neither do Daddy and I, so I can't really say much. More than likely, he's simply frugal, but all things can be worked out.
Joel seems frustrated every time Daddy has to stop and go to the bathroom, which seems like more than normal, not that I really pay much attention to his usual restroom habits. It doesn't bother me so much because it means Joel and I get to be alone, if just for a few moments.
“Again?” Joel asks, watching Daddy hobble into the filling station. “At this rate, we'll never get home.”
I like the way he calls his place home, and I smile. “He's old.”
I am surprised when Joel doesn't say anything. He usually has some kind of quip or smart comment, but this time he just sits there with a funny look on his face. It doesn't last long. As soon as Daddy gets back in the truck, he puts the pedal to the metal and we are off again.
Pine Lake,Texas, is everything and nothing like I thought it would be. It is a small town, much smaller than Franklin. Basically, there's nothing here. Even so, I try to look on the bright side: it’s a quaint and charming little place, and I tell myself it's not forever. It's just a stepping stone. Joel is on the road a lot, which means I will be too. Soon, I can head west. I’ll land an acting gig, and all this will be but a distant memory.
Speaking of, I get the impression that Joel doesn't like his job very much. Maybe he's just burned out. Maybe I can get him out of that rut. I bring the thought up with him, and he makes a face. I ask if he likes his job, and he says he can't imagine doing anything else.
I ask if he likes Pine Lake, and he says as much as he can like a place that has no amenities. I can't tell whether he's joking, but I get the sense he is. He says he doesn't have time to enjoy himself. He's always working, and when he's not, then he's thinking about work.
I say, “We'll change that, won't we?”
He says, “People never stop dying.”
Joel practically dumpsus at his lake house and takes off for work. The property is large, and there's a lot to get acquainted with. There are three main structures: the big house, the tiny house, and a barn. The big house is actually quite nice, nicer than I thought it would be, considering Joel’s jalopy of a pickup truck. The house has multiple gabled ends, with a wraparound porch overlooking the lake. It's painted blue and white with a picket fence enclosing a yard. The entire area smells of wood smoke and fresh cut pine.
The smaller house has just two rooms, with a small loft, a lofted bed, and a bookcase that hangs all the way to the rafters. There’s just something so timelessly hopeful about it.
Joel says Daddy is welcome to the tiny house, but my father countermands him and says that we are not married yet, so Daddy and I willbothbe sleeping in the tiny house. Joel offers to take the guest cabin himself and unloads our bags into the main house. “We'll get our marriage license first thing in the morning,” he says. “We'll have to wait three days to marry, but the sooner the better. I hate the guest cabin.”
I almost ask why, but he seems preoccupied, and then he's gone.
We unpack, and Daddy catches me taking a peek at Joel's things. I am curious if there are any clues as to his past, but everything is pretty standard. When my father accuses me of snooping, I pretend like I am just looking at the view.
Later, I make eggs for dinner because there's not much else in the house. Joel has chickens, lots of chickens, a half-dozen cows, two horses, and a pig named Dunby. The main house faces the lake, but up the hill and around the bend, that’s where the animals live. When I ask who takes care of them while he’s away, he says, “Fred usually. But now you.”
When I told him I didn’t have much experience with farm animals, he says everything can be learned. He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s going to eat those words.
“You're not thinking of going through with this thing, are you?” Daddy says over our paltry dinner of scrambled eggs and toast. I managed to find old bread in the icebox, but tomorrow shopping will have to be done.
This is not the dinner conversation I really want to have. My father is as salt of the earth as you can get, and I know that he only has my best interest at heart, but I have already made up my mind. I am doing this. I am going to be Mrs. Joel Miller.
“We'll see,” I say.
“You haven't even gotten to know him,” Daddy says. “I think it's premature.”
“I know him.” I move the eggs around on my plate and then look up at my father. “We've been writing to each other every day.”
“Letters,” Daddy says. “That's not the same thing at all.”
“He seems like a good man. I know he’ll make a good husband.”
“Then there's still time to back out,” Daddy says.
“No,” I say, laying my fork down. “This is happening.”
My father shrugs. “Suit yourself.”
I watch my father eat, and I feel thankful his appetite is back. “Did Joel seem like he was in a bad mood to you?”
“I don't know why he would be,” Daddy says. “He's getting what he wants.”
“What's that?”
“You.”
I toss my napkin onto my plate. “You don’t think he’s marrying me because he’s in love?”
“I don't think that's why he's doing it, no,” Daddy says. “I think his reasons are a little more complicated.”
“You don't know him.”
“Oh, Gina,” he says, bringing a forkful of eggs to his mouth. “Neither do you. And besides, all men are the same.”
