Dedicated to the One I Love, page 20
“No.”
“What do you mean no?”
“I’m not giving you a doughnut.” Abbie moved one of the white paper bags away from Joe. “Not after the way you treated Kylie.”
“Then let me have a Pepsi.”
“Nope. Drink your water.”
Joe crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re being a brat, Abbie.”
“Me?” She pulled a doughnut covered with a layer of white icing and neon blue sprinkles out of the bag. “Let’s talk about you, big brother.”
“Don’t start with me—”
“Oh, I know. You just had surgery.” She motioned to his leg. “Poor baby. That doesn’t give you the right to beat up Kylie.”
“I didn’t beat up Kylie.”
“You accused her of planning that interview. And she explained she found out about it at five o’clock this morning after she’d spent all of yesterday with you here, at the hospital.”
“I didn’t ask her—”
“Don’t interrupt me.” Abbie plowed right past him. “Yes, she stayed because she’s your friend. She cares about you.”
“She cares about her story and getting credit for my book.”
“Do you hear yourself? I would like to think it’s because you’re less than twenty-four hours post-surgery, but I know what’s wrong with you.”
“You do?” Joe pulled the hospital blanket up over his chest and settled back as if waiting for a bedtime story. “Go ahead, then. Tell me what’s wrong with me.”
Abbie was pacing his room, as serious as some professional counselor, not the personal trainer she was. She’d eaten that doughnut and most likely hadn’t tasted a bite. Abbie was his little sister, not this all-wise woman ranting at him, but he’d just invited her to continue talking.
Abbie stopped. Pointed a finger at him. “You’re not mad at Kylie.”
“Yes, I am—”
“I’m talking here.”
“Sorry.”
“The person you’re really upset with?” Abbie paused and locked eyes with him. “It’s Dad.”
“Dad? He’s not even here.”
“Joe, you act like Dad is looking over your shoulder. All. The. Time.”
He didn’t do that. But he wasn’t going to say anything because Abbie had already corrected him once for interrupting her. If he stopped arguing with her, she’d be done with her little tirade sooner. He refocused on his sister’s words.
“ … Dad has never approved of you leaving the military. He’s never approved of you choosing to write novels, even though you’re so successful.” Abbie gripped the hospital bed railing. “But Joe, you’re not sixteen anymore. You’re not twenty-five anymore. Just live your life. Who cares what Dad thinks?”
“I do.”
His admission burned his throat like he’d swallowed a boiling cup of coffee. He hadn’t even known he was going to answer Abbie’s rhetorical question.
His sister’s eyes narrowed. “What did you say?”
She’d heard him.
“You’re right, Abbie. I care about what Dad thinks.”
The admission surprised him—but it also relieved him to say it. Maybe there was some truth serum in the pain medication the nurses were giving him. Or maybe they could give him something that would finally dull the ache he carried around in his heart—the persistent longing he tried to ignore.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I wish I could stop hoping he’d look at me once and be proud of me.” Joe shifted in the bed, his right leg an uncomfortable weight. “This is not a conversation I want to have today.”
“Joe, you’re such a great guy … ”
“Dad will never say that. He never has.”
“I hate to admit it, but you’re probably right.” Abbie offered him the bag of doughnuts, waiting while he retrieved a jelly-filled one coated with a thin layer of white confectioner’s sugar. “And that’s Dad’s problem—he won’t say it. But I believe he’s proud of you, even though he still wants you to live your life his way—”
“I’m not holding my breath.”
“Yes, you are. And at his age, Dad’s not going to change, short of a miracle.”
“You’re saying I give him a pass?”
“I’m saying you should let it go. Be proud of yourself and the life you’ve made. It’s a good one. Realize there are a lot of other people who think you’re amazing. Maybe think about trying to forgive him, which may take some time.”
Why hadn’t he noticed his little sister was so smart? So caring? Her blue eyes, the same color as his, glimmered with unshed tears. For so many years, she’d been his tagalong little sister. Today, she’d dared to confront him as an equal. To put him in his place.
“Thank you. Thank you for talking some sense into me.”
“Will you apologize to Kylie?”
“If I do, will you give me another doughnut?”
“Joe!”
“Yes, I’m going to apologize to Kylie. I was way out of line today.”
“You’re going to ruin any chance you have to date her.”
Best to ignore that comment.
“Nothing to say?” Abbie handed Joe her phone. “Let me show you this photo of you and Kylie—”
“Yeah, Liza mentioned that.” Joe enlarged it. “That’s us leaving the surgeon’s office yesterday. Never saw anyone taking our photo.”
“Some of the comments are funny. People are debating whether you two are dating.”
“Why is that so funny? I could date Kylie.”
“You’d be lucky if she’d even talk to you right now.”
“You’re right.”
“Easier topic, then. What are you going to do about Dad?”
“Hope he doesn’t see the TV interview?”
“Joe!”
“To be honest, I’m not going to think about it right now. I’m going to finish my doughnuts, drink a Pepsi, and ask you to change the channel back to ESPN.”
He hadn’t expected the day after surgery—his second surgery in less than a week—to be easy, but today was becoming way too complicated. He should ask Abbie to turn off the TV. Take his phone. Try and nap. The first bite of doughnut lodged in his throat. He couldn’t enjoy the sweet bite of confection, not after how he’d treated Kylie.
He’d skip the Pepsi for now too. He needed to think. Maybe figure out a better prayer this time. Something more than “Help me, God.” He needed help, but he also needed to change. To grow up and accept his relationship with his dad for what it was.
…
Kylie: Trivia for today: Did you know that Shakespeare was the first person to use the word apology to mean “I’m sorry”? I didn’t. But I am sorry for how I acted earlier today about your TV interview with Chelsea. I hope you can forgive me and that we can get back to Team Joe and Kylie. Rumor is, I’m getting out of the hospital tomorrow. Joe
Joe: Apology accepted. Did you know that two of Shakespeare’s plays, Hamlet and Much Ado About Nothing, have been translated into Klingon? (Of course, this may only be of interest to you if you’re a Star Trek fan.) Hoping you’re relaxing at home now. Kylie
CHAPTER 19
Joe almost had his life back to normal now that he’d been home from the hospital for three days. Tomorrow morning Abbie would drive Mom and Dad to the Denver airport and they’d return to Arizona, which meant in less than twenty-four hours he’d have the house—and control of the remote—back to himself. Tucker would drive him to his follow-up appointment on Monday, but in a few days, he wouldn’t need a chauffeur. He’d emailed Kylie and apologized, even including a bit of trivia for fun. Her response had been brief—but she had responded. There’d be time to talk more in the next few days.
For now, he needed to find Dad and tell him dinner was ready. Joe would miss Mom’s cooking, but at least she’d put some meals in the freezer.
“Dad? Where are you?” He maneuvered down the hallway on his crutches. “Mom says the lemon chicken will be ready in ten minutes.”
“In your office.”
Joe leaned against the doorjamb, easing his weight off his right leg. “Looking for something in particular?”
“I wanted to find something to read for the flight back.” Dad held up a book. “Wasn’t expecting to find this.”
Huh. One of Kylie’s—Veronica Hollins’s—romance novels.
“You plan on reading that?” Might as well go with humor.
“Very funny, Joe.” Dad looked at the back cover, where Kylie’s pro photo, one when her hair was much longer and styled in curls, took up the lower left corner. “This confirms it.”
“Confirms what?”
He pushed his glasses back up his nose. “You are writing with this Veronica Hollins now.”
Joe stood straighter, ignoring the ache in his knee. “She’s writing with me, yes.”
“She was at the cookout back in May.”
“Yes. We were still working out the details of the project with our agents.”
“I see.” Dad flipped back to the front cover. “You write good military suspense. Why are you adding romance? Your readers don’t want that.”
Should Joe say thank you for the straightforward compliment or deal with the question?
“Romance is a natural part of life.” Was he really defending romance novels? “Just about everyone experiences love at some point in their life. Love is important to people in the military. You ever watch any of those post-deployment videos?”
“But if you do this, you’ll lose your focus on military suspense.”
“My agent and editors are concerned about my overall numbers—”
“What do you mean?”
“In publishing, it’s always a balance of writing what you love and writing what sells, Dad. My numbers haven’t been great—”
“But you’ve won awards.”
“Awards don’t always equal sales. I’ve never managed to hit the bestseller list.” Joe shifted his crutches. “And since when do you know about my awards?”
“You may not bother to tell me about your achievements, but your mother does.”
It almost sounded as if what he did mattered to his father. But Joe knew that wasn’t true. Hadn’t been true for years.
Dad still held Kylie’s romance novel. If Joe could have foreseen the series of events this past week, he would have hidden the book before Mom and Dad made their impromptu trip to Colorado.
“Let’s be honest, Dad. You’ve never agreed with my decision to become a novelist. You told me it was a waste of time when I was selected to be editor of my high school paper.”
Dad set the book on the desk and tucked his glasses in the pocket of his polo shirt. “Why are we talking about something that happened when you were sixteen?”
“Because it matters.”
“You were a kid—”
“Who was excited about something, but his dad didn’t care. And here we are—eighteen years later—and you still don’t care about what’s important to me.”
“That’s what you think?”
“It’s the truth. Why do you think I don’t talk to you about my writing? Do you ever wonder why I use a pen name?”
“It’s your choice.”
“I’m Joseph Edwards Jr. I knew you wouldn’t want your namesake to put his name out there on a novel. Nothing to be proud of, right?”
Dad shook his head. “That was your decision—”
“Just like it was my decision not to stay in the Army.”
“You know I never understood why you didn’t stick with the military. It’s a good career field.”
“I know. For you. For Grandad.” Joe moved into the room, the rubber tips of the crutches making soft taps on the wood floor. He wished he could sit down, but for this conversation he needed to be eye to eye with his father. “It was irresponsible of me to not stay in until retirement, right?”
“There’s a lot of stability in a military career, son.”
“I wanted something different.”
“To write stories. I never understood that. I followed in my father’s footsteps. I just expected my son would follow in mine.”
“It was no disrespect for you, Dad. I know how much you loved being in the military. And I enjoyed the eight years I was in.”
“You were good at your job, and I was proud of you.”
The words meant nothing. His father was proud of him only if Joe did what made sense to him. This conversation was a waste of time.
“But that doesn’t mean I’m not proud of you now.”
Those words kept Joe from turning and leaving the room.
“My dad wasn’t a big talker and that’s the kind of relationship I have with you. I grew up and did what he did, and yes, I expected you to do the same. It’s a reason—not an excuse. I’m sorry, Joe.” Dad’s words seemed sincere. “Your mom’s tried to tell me to accept we’re not the same.”
“Thank you. It would mean a lot if you could respect my choice even if you don’t understand it.”
“That’s a fair request. One I can honor. Like I said, you write good books, son.” His dad paused. “I’m sorry you felt you had to use a pen name.”
“I should have talked to you about it, Dad.”
“I can understand why you didn’t. I’m glad we talked now.”
“I am too.” Joe tapped the floor with one of the crutches. “So … you’re telling me that you’ve read my books?”
“Every single one of them. I like to tell my golf buddies about them.”
“Your golf buddies?”
“I’ve got to have something to talk about when we’re walking the course.” His dad grinned. “But if you add romance, I don’t know.”
“Give Kylie a chance. She’s writing a great character for Lethal Strike.”
“Lethal Strike, huh? That’s the title of the next book?”
“Yes. I don’t think you’ll be at a loss for things to discuss with your buddies. It’s still focused on military suspense.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Joe’s attempt to shake his dad’s hand was hindered by the crutches.
He was pulled off balance and into a brief hug, Dad adding a quick pat on his back. “Your mom will be glad to know about this.”
Joe regained his balance, positioning the crutches on either side of his body. “You’re going to tell her?”
“She’s been asking me to have this conversation with you for years. You bet I am.”
Joe remained behind in his office for a few moments after his dad left, sifting through their words. A single conversation had caused something to shift in their relationship. For the first time in years, he had hope for more.
Whatever just happened, God, keep it up.
…
It was good to be at Dylan’s for a quiet Sunday afternoon. To get out of her house and away from the computer for a few hours. Now they sat by a card table in Dylan’s family room, working on a colorful puzzle of hot air balloons. Kylie raised her glass of iced tea to her friend. “Thanks for inviting me over. Lunch was great.”
“I’m glad you said yes.” Dylan sorted through edge pieces. “Miles decided to go to that movie with his friends, so it’s nice for us to have some time together.”
“I needed a break. I’ve been writing every minute I can.”
“Have you talked to Joe since—”
“No. I mean, he emailed me and apologized, which I appreciated. And I emailed him back.”
“But you haven’t talked.”
Kylie added some red puzzle pieces to the pile Dylan had collected. “I heard from Abbie today.”
“And?”
“He went home from the hospital last Wednesday. And his parents left for Arizona today. Joe sees the surgeon tomorrow for his follow-up appointment.”
“So now the two of you get back to writing together, right?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I’m not following.” Dylan’s mouth twisted. “You said he apologized. I assume when you said you emailed back that meant you forgave him.”
“I did. I do.” Kylie paused. Lifted her hair off her neck. Exhaled. “I’ve decided to let it go.”
“You’ve decided … ”
“Right. I’ve also decided I’m going to be okay.”
“What does that mean?”
“I walked out of Joe’s hospital room last Tuesday.” She paused and counted her fingers. “That’s been five days.”
“Long time.”
“Long enough for me to think about some things, in between writing a lot of words.”
“And?” Dylan paused with a puzzle piece in her hand.
“If I’m being brutally honest, I’m also not sleeping at night, so I’ve had a lot of time to think … and to pray.”
“Not thinking about that kiss?” Dylan grinned.
“No. Not anymore.” Kylie shrugged. “I was right when I told you that Joe wasn’t going to be that guy—the one I fell in love with.”
“I remember you saying that a few weeks back.”
“But Joe showed me that I could love someone again. Some day. That my hope for love didn’t die with Andrew.”
“That was a powerful kiss.”
“Dylan, I’m being serious here.”
“And you think I’m not?” Her friend was no longer smiling. “When you kept thinking about Joe after he kissed you? That was a hint that you’re ready to fall in love again, even if it’s not with him.”
“I know Joe Edwards is a handsome guy.”
“You admit this now, when you tell me that you’re not falling in love with him?”
Kylie shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I haven’t noticed his blue eyes and the muscles he’s gotten from CrossFit classes.”
“Kylie!” Dylan just stared at her. “You’re sure you’re not falling in love with him?”
