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Though I hear him mumble my name, he doesn’t look at me. I cradle his hand in mine and say, “Dad” again.
Urick finally responds to my voice. He looks at me and blinks a few times. I can tell he doesn’t trust his mind’s clarity. I squeeze his hand and scoot closer.
“Mack said you’d like to see me.”
Frowning, Urick reaches out and touches my face with his free hand. Once he realizes his mind isn’t playing tricks, my dad goes still. He seems to wake up. I notice a shift in his breathing. His blue eyes sharpen.
Squeezing my hand, Urick says my name. When I nod, he surprises me by breaking into sobs. I wrap my arms around him as he whimpers for my forgiveness. I offer it to him for my sake as much as his.
Crying with him, I let the past wrap around us. We were good once. He was my beloved daddy. I was his golden child. For eighteen years, he was one of my favorite people.
I don’t know what happens next or how much time we have left. I can only hold Urick and watch Walla Walla through my tear-filled eyes as my past and future collide.
MARTIN
Austen’s tears cut me deep. I want to sweep her up in my arms and leave this place. Urick Halvorson means nothing to me. His age and poor health can’t change how I view him.
However, Austen just sees her dad. I can’t wrap my head around their relationship. He wronged her. She’s spent a dozen years ghosting him. That was a smart move. Now, she’s sobbing over how he doesn’t have much time left. She pities him. Her heart is breaking. Yet, I see a man who deserves to suffer.
Several walls are covered in family photos. I focus on them rather than Urick soaking in affection he doesn’t deserve. Austen is in a majority of the pictures. She was such a pretty little girl. I smile at her various cowboy hats. There’s one photo of a tiny version of her on a huge horse. She looks so fearless as she waves at the camera.
Based on these pictures, Austen never went through a gawky phase. She got curvier, yet her beauty never faltered. I see zero fear in any of the pictures. Austen once believed in herself. Now, she tries to sabotage her happiness as penance for what happened.
Nearby, Austen sits next to her father and explains about her business. I don’t want to like Urick. I can’t forgive him for failing his daughter. She tortures herself every damn day despite the guilt belonging to him.
However, Urick hangs on her every word. The man’s fascinated by his youngest child. Austen is obviously more interesting than Peter and Erik. His sons are shallow versions of their father while his daughter is more like Suzanne.
“I’m in love, and I plan to build a life with him in McMurdo Valley,” Austen tells Urick after their tears end and they hold hands in the late afternoon sun. “I’ll be able to visit you.”
“When?”
Austen glances at me before gripping her father’s hand. “I’ll come back tomorrow. You seem tired, so we should keep this visit short. But I’ll be back tomorrow. Next time, we can sit outside if you’d like.”
Urick holds onto her hand. “I don’t want you to leave.”
“I know, but you seem so tired. If I wear you out today, I won’t be able to see you tomorrow.”
“Stay here at the ranch. The ranch hands are all gone. No one will hurt you.”
My entire body clenches with irritation. I want to spell shit out to Urick about his idiot son and how Austen owes these people nothing.
Before I can speak up, Austen explains, “I’m staying with Walla Walla at the Pigsty until we can build our own house.”
Urick blinks rapidly as if trying to remember the meaning of certain words. I think “Walla Walla” and “Pigsty” are tripping him up. Either way, he doesn’t seem to understand.
“I love you,” Austen says, getting him focused again. “I’m going to be close by, and I’ll visit you. We can talk each day. But you need to rest right now. Can you promise you won’t stress yourself tonight?”
Urick is hard to read. Sometimes, he seems like a shriveled-up version of the sharp man he once was. Other times, he gets overly confused about simple things.
Whether he truly understands, Urick wants to please Austen. Once she promises to return, he swears he’ll rest tonight.
“Things have changed,” Austen explains in a tender voice. “I’m living so close now. The past isn’t important. I’m here now.”
Urick’s caregiver wheels him out of the room while we follow behind. As they head to his bedroom with Mack, Austen and I peel off toward the house’s main entry. I wrap an arm around her shoulders as she looks around.
Austen nods when I ask if she’s okay. Her eyes are red from crying, yet she’s currently calm. However, she tenses when we turn a corner to find Peter Halvorson waiting for us.
Her brother doesn’t hide his anger over seeing Austen. His blue eyes rage. His expression drips with disdain. The only reason I don’t immediately punch his face is because I know his feelings come from jealousy.
