I wanted to ask whether he was having trouble keeping up with the place. Of course, my dad would have a coronary if I even implied he needed help. He had always been the epitome of a cowboy. Strong, silent, tough.
My senior year in high school, just before I’d left for boot camp, my dad had a heart attack. We were at the end of a week long trip, pushing cattle. I looked at his face as we were riding back, his grey pallor unsettling. It was only when we were a couple hours away from home he admitted he'd been having having chest pain and numbness in his arm for the last half a day. When I suggested he get to the doctor, he’d told me he’d be just fine. It was my mother who’d insisted he go to the hospital when we got back. The doctor told him he was having a heart attack, and he’d told the doctor the heart attack would just have to wait.
The fact that he didn’t die only reinforced what I’d grown up believing about my dad - that he was invincible. Part of me believed the man would never die, which was probably what made it easier to leave West Bend when I did, and the way I did. I figured there would always be time to make amends.
"Alright, now," my father said. "I need to send someone to town for a couple things before dinner, and I'd like to take a look at your work on the fence, Cade, see if you remember your fence building skills." The edges of his mouth turned up.
"That's funny, Pop," I said. "I think I remember how to build a fence."
"Can I go to the store?" MacKenzie asked, throwing herself against April. "Can I get some finger paints?"
"I don't know that there's a toy store here, baby," April said. She turned to Crunch. "Do you think we can go into town? There's a couple of things I want to get, too, actually."
Crunch looked at me. "What do you think, Axe? You think it's safe?"
"I think it's probably okay," I said.
MacKenzie squealed. "He said I could get a new stuffed animal!" She spun in circles on the deck.
"Wait, wait," April said. "No one said you could get a new anything. Uncle Axe only said we could go into town."
"That means toys!"
"Wait -" I said, turning toward Crunch and April. "Lie low, in and out of the store. This is just a vacation, spending time with my father. That's it."
Crunch nodded. "Yeah, it's no problem, man." He kissed April on the cheek. "Let me clean up here and we'll go."
"Oh, and Crunch?" I asked.
"Yeah, man."
"Try not to look like a biker," I said. "Dress like a civilian."
Crunch laughed. "I'll try to look like an accountant."
My dad and I walked out along the edge of the property, following the fence line in the opposite direction from June's house. The meadow rolled out for acres, the grass fallen in haphazard piles where we'd cut it earlier this morning, before dawn. I tried to take it all in as we walked, imprint it on my brain so I could revisit it later, the way I'd always done with this place. This place had always been my solace.
The hills swelled up on the edges of the property all around us, the same hills I'd ride out on as a kid, for days at a time, where I'd just disappear to live off the land. Back then, I'd felt free. But that was before what happened with June's sister. Before June's parents died. Before June moved away and everything changed.
Joining the Marines was some kind of misguided attempt at penance. That hadn't worked out so well.
I walked slowly, my leisurely pace not consistent at all with the nervousness I felt about this time alone with my dad. We hadn't had a conversation about the details of what I was doing here yet, and I knew it was coming.
My dad was silent for a while as we walked, leaning over to inspect the fence posts, first one, then another. He grunted, but said nothing. It threw me right back into feeling like a kid again, watching him, waiting to see if what I'd done passed muster.
I don't know why I still cared what my dad thought, especially about something like this. It was fixing a fence, for chrissakes. Why I wanted his approval was beyond me. Especially since I didn't have it anywhere else in my life. At this point, what the hell difference did a fence make?
He bent over, turning toward me after examining the fourth post. "You boys did a nice job with this fence," he said.
"I still remember something you taught me."
He was silent, considering what I said. "Not everything."
Fuck. Here we go, I thought. "What, dad?" I turned to face him. "I can see you're itching to say something. Why don't you go ahead and say it?"
"Alright," he said. "You, this motorcycle club? What are you protecting that family from? What are you involved in?"
I sighed. "It's complicated, dad."
"Not from where I stand. From where I stand it's pretty simple."
"For you it is."
"It should be just as clear to you," he said. "Right is right, and wrong is wrong, Cade. And you, this motorcycle gang, it's not right."
"What do you know about it, dad?" I asked. But I knew he was right, didn't I? This shit with Mad Dog had just confirmed it. "Have you ever tried to understand it?"