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I stomped down the hallway until I found the corridor that led to the courtyard. It was a large, wide-open space in the middle of the building. Sun streamed overhead, and there were picnic tables and benches dotted throughout the sunny courtyard. Small flower beds had been planted, and there were several bird feeders hanging from shepherd hooks. I spotted Dad in the far corner, sitting on a bench and tossing birdseed onto the brick pavers.
When I approached, he offered a friendly, if not slightly distant, smile.
“Hey, Dad. Can I sit?”
He made room for me on the bench, and I settled in next to him.
I didn’t know where to start. “Duke came up yesterday. He told me you had a great day. He’s working hard on the farm, keeping it afloat for us.”
I recalled the doctors and nurses telling us that it might be helpful to anchor the conversation with cues or names and memories we once shared. Apparently it was important to show him that I knew who he was, even if he had trouble recalling his own son.
Dad nodded. “Got his hands full.” Dad squinted up at the sun. “What day is it?”
“June twenty-eighth.”
“U-pick will keep him busy. Out of trouble.”
I laughed at that. “It’s Lee who needs to stay out of trouble.”
Dad tossed a few seeds, and the timid birds poked and hopped around us. “He’s always been a wild one. Just like his mother.”
For a moment I let myself imagine that Dad’s mind wasn’t fractured. None of this was his fault, and it was exhausting to carry around the anger that this had happened to him—to all of us—when we’d all been through so much after losing Mom.
“Katie’s coming home. She’s not looking forward to moving in with Aunt Tootie, but she’s going to be helping to fix up the house.”
Dad turned to me. “What’s wrong with the house?”
The way his voice deepened and he scowled, he looked so much like his old, hard self, but I didn’t want to upset or confuse him.
“Uh... just some repairs that need to get done. We’re taking care of it.”
Placated, he nodded. “You’re good kids. I don’t think I tell you that enough.”
My throat was thick. “Thanks, Dad.”
“You deserved more. More than the hand you were dealt.”
Emotion burned behind my eyelids. I rarely let myself think of the scared little boy I’d been when Mom died. It all hit us differently. Dad focused on me and my potential playing ball. Duke closed himself off. Lee and Katie practically raised themselves in those years, and after he chose the service, she was alone too.
He wasn’t wrong. It was a shitty hand, but I could see how it wasn’t his fault. He’d been dealt it too, and he’d done what he could before he got sick.
Dad turned, and his eyes moved over me. “The little one, with the freckles on her nose. She’s yours, right?”
I swallowed past the lump that had formed in my throat. “Penny. She’s my daughter.”
He continued to stare at the birds. “Ah, this damn mind.” Dad rapped a finger against his temple. “I get mixed up sometimes. She looks like you though. Same goofy grin and wild look in her eyes.”
I laughed. “She’s a good kid.”
“You are too.”
“Is she her mother? Not the mean-looking one but the happy one.”
I smiled, realizing his very accurate descriptions of Bethany and Lark.
“Lark is special to us, but not Penny’s mom. The mean-looking one is actually her mother.”
Dad considered that information. “That’s too bad. I like the dark-haired one.”
