Only six weeks. Plenty of time to plan a feast, but was it enough time to convince his children to give him the time of day? Luke had always been good with kids. Knew how to talk to them, even when they were little. He’d been a good farmer and a good man, and he would’ve been a great father.
Gerrit needed to check in on Luisa. He had a responsibility to make sure she was okay. She and Luke had never had the chance to have children.
That was Gerrit’s fault.
He looked again at the calendar, the muscles in his neck tightening. “I can’t call them. They hate me.”
His words rippled through the empty house.
“Come on, Daisy.” His voice was gruff and lost and sounded like the past. “Let’s see what’s on TV.”
THE MAIL ARRIVED at 1:51. Gerrit studied the sky with the practiced eye of a farmer. The rain had downgraded to a drizzle.
He hobbled to the back door like a ninety-year-old man, his back stiff and painful. He’d hoped it would get better once he wasn’t working every day, but the opposite seemed to be true. What on earth had he retired for, then? He thought of the cows, the hay, the fields. The smell of iodine on udders and sawdust in pens. He had labored alongside hundreds of pregnant heifers, grunting his approval each time a calf slid headfirst into the world like it was supposed to, but all that life . . . well, he wasn’t sure how much it meant anymore. What kind of life did he have now?
He opened the back door and stuck his hand out to test the dismal gray sky, then turned to his canine shadow. “Might be as good as it gets today.”
Daisy took a step back.
Gerrit gaped. “Are you kidding me? It’s just a little water. Get over here.”
The furry creature refused.
“What’s wrong with you?” He wasn’t above the shaming approach. “Your mother doesn’t mind the rain. She didn’t even take an umbrella.”
At the word umbrella, Daisy perked up. Harrumph. As if she knew what an umbrella was.
She pranced over to the low dresser next to the coatrack and nudged the top drawer with her nose. Gerrit harrumphed again. He knew the umbrella was in there, but there was no way she knew that.
He threw on his coat and glared at her. “Fine. You can stay here.”
She whined at the drawer.
“No. It’s just the mailbox. We don’t need an umbrella. It’s hardly even raining anymore.”
Her eyes grew bigger as she waited.
“I said no.”
It required a certain amount of balance to hold the umbrella over the dog and not break his stride, but by the time they reached the end of the drive, Gerrit had gotten the hang of it. He opened the mailbox and blew out a huff at the three pieces of junk mail.
“What a waste.”
He tucked the mail in his coat pocket, repositioned the umbrella over Daisy, and turned to go back.
A voice stopped him. “Did you already give her a shampoo and shine this morning?”
Gerrit tensed and looked over at George’s place. “What are you talking about?”
George leaned on the fence between their properties and smirked. “Is that why she can’t get rained on?”
Gerrit’s eyes narrowed. He would not be cowed. Instead, he held his head high. “She prefers to remain dry.”
George laughed. “I didn’t know she was such a princess.”
Gerrit happened to believe it was rather ridiculous himself, yet he was loath to let on in front of George. The tips of his ears burned as he glanced up at the red-and-white polka-dotted umbrella, grasping for the last remaining fragment of his dignity. He turned up his nose and took a step toward the house, but George wasn’t finished.
“The gravel in your drive sure looks nice. Don’t know how you keep it so clean and smooth.”
The blood in Gerrit’s veins warmed considerably. What nerve, bringing that up. George’s payback would need to be soon.
“Same way you keep your bushes trimmed, I guess.”
The smile on George’s face never wavered. “How’s retirement treating you, by the way? You keeping busy? Other than dog sitting, I mean.”
“Yes. There’s plenty to do.” Gerrit shifted on his feet, his blood cooling in a hurry. “And I’m, uh, planning a big party.”
“Oh?”
Why had he said that? “For Memorial Day weekend.”
“I see.” George folded his arms. “Evi and Noah coming and everything?”
He did not like hearing their names launching from George’s lips in such a familiar way. Still, he gave a hesitant nod. Surely they would come.
“Well, that’s real nice.” George pushed off the fence. “And Jakob?”
Gerrit stiffened. It was a low blow, bringing up his brother. Especially when Gerrit had spent the last couple of weeks trying to forget he even existed. Trying not to imagine him walking around Greenville with fistfuls of Gerrit’s hard-earned money. “No.”
“I see.”
“No,” Gerrit growled. “You don’t.”
“I suppose you heard about Mallory?” George raised his eyebrows.
What? Gerrit scoured his mind for a clue about what he was supposed to have heard about George’s daughter. Hannie talked about her sometimes. She was the same age as Evi. But he didn’t know anything else.
He shrugged.
“I’m going to be a grandpa in June.” George grinned pointedly at Daisy. “To a child, not a puppy. Don’t that beat all?”
Gerrit’s blood now turned from cool to glacial. The word grandpa was like a heavy chunk of ice falling from the sky and pinning him to the ground. Would he be a grandpa someday? Even if Evi or Noah did have kids at some point, they probably wouldn’t want his influence in their lives. Him? A grandpa? His heart turned inside out, exposed.
“Con—uh—congratulations,” he stammered.
“Thanks, neighbor.” George turned and began strutting back to his house, calling over his shoulder, “Keep up the good work
