“Who knows?” Rebecca said. “Old and warped, I think.”
Dad smiled a little. “That ol’ dog doesn’t know old and warped.” He dropped the paper onto his lap, lifted his baseball cap, and ran his palm over the top of his head. His hair had come back coarse and gray and thin after the chemo. He’d been in remission for six months now, so she was surprised it hadn’t grown in more than it had.
Dad put his cap back on, smiled at her. “So how’s that campaign going for you? What’s he running for, again?”
“Lieutenant governor.”
“Ah,” Dad said, nodding thoughtfully. “A big gun. Too bad he’s a Democrat. I might actually be interested otherwise. So how’s it going?”
“Pretty well,” she said cautiously. “I’m learning a lot and meeting new people.”
“Learning anything useful? Or is this all about meeting new people?”
The tone in his voice quashed her hope for a pleasant conversation—she knew damn well questions like that never had a correct response. “I’m doing this for a lot of reasons. Mostly to experience new things and learn where my talents lie.”
“Your talents lie in raising my grandson,” Dad said, and in the dark, Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Don’t forget he’s been through a lot.”
Like she hadn’t? “I know he has been through a lot,” she said wearily, feeling like she’d had this conversation a million times before. “But so have I, Dad.”
“I know you have, and I’m not criticizing. But you’re my daughter and I have been trying to get through to all you girls that you need to learn what’s important—”
“Yes, Dad, I know—that’s what I am trying to do.”
“Come on,” he scoffed. “You’re trying to find a feel-good fix. But these are precious years for Grayson, Rebecca. Don’t do what I did and squander them, because trust me, you can’t get them back.”
“I am not squandering them,” she said, with equal exasperation. “Just because I don’t do it your way—”
“You think you aren’t, but I know that of all my girls, you are the one afraid of . . . of life. So afraid that you won’t stand out there on your own. You think you have to have a man do it for you—”
“What in God’s name are you talking about?” Rebecca exploded. “I am standing out there on my own. I am living alone with my son—”
“You got another nanny.”
“She’s not a nanny! She helps me out a few hours each week so I have a little free time to explore who I am. You may not care, but I sort of lost me in all that mess!”
“So you’re just doing all this to find Rebecca?” he asked, taunting her, then opened the paper, turned several pages. “So you’re not looking for some man to take care of you, is that right?” Rebecca jerked her gaze to him Dad pointed at the paper. “Because you sure look like you’re involved with this clown.”
Confused, she leaned over to see what Dad was seeing in the paper, and he was more than happy to show her—he held it up, pointed to the three pictures. They were all of Tom at the bingo bash, with the whole crew in the background. But there was one of Tom, holding up a bingo sheet, and directly behind him were her and Matt, looking at each other. No—gazing at each other. Rebecca grabbed the paper from his hand and stared at it. Impossible. Impossible! That picture looked like there was something between them, something—
“I don’t care what it looks like,” she said angrily.
“I don’t care, either,” Dad said, and uncharacteristically patted her knee. “I don’t care if you get yourself a boyfriend, Rebecca. You’re only human, and a woman like you? I imagine you can’t beat ‘em off with a stick. All I am trying to say is, don’t make the same mistakes again.”
She lowered the paper and glared at him. “You think I want to make mistakes? You think I haven’t learned a thing or two?”
“I don’t want you to latch on to some guy you think is going to save you. Or keep you. I never really understood what it was with Bud, frankly.”
“Give me a little credit, Dad. I don’t latch on to men who are going to save me or keep me. I was with Bud because in the beginning I loved him.”
“I give you more credit than you could possibly know.” he said, infuriatingly calm. “But I know you, honey, and I know you married Bud out of some perverse fear. It was obvious to the entire state of Texas what he was after, but you just couldn’t or wouldn’t see it. ‘Oh no, we’re in love,’ you said.” Dad shook his head. “The sad truth is men are dogs. And there are a whole lot of them out there who see a woman like you and they want only one thing, whatever the cost. But only you can decide what the price is.”
This was nothing new, really. What was new was that she was sick to death of his criticism and visualized stuffing a sock down his throat. “Is that all you think anyone sees? Just the outside of me?”