Page 48 of Snow Blind
"Morning, Mr. Nelson, care for a cup of coffee?"
"Sure, that would be great," Darnell said, coming to the counter. He pulled out a chair and took a seat. He noticed the touches in the kitchen along with the other homey touches in the home his daughter shared with this man. "So, what's your thing?"
Mustang poured him coffee and passed the cup to him. "My thing?"
"You're up early on a Saturday morning. Are you going for an early run, hunting, you know, your thing?"
"Ah," Mustang said, sipping the black brew. "I like to keep my weekend hours the same as the weekday hours, you know, Circadian rhythm alignment and all. Today, I am making a piece of furniture as a Christmas present for the nursery for Abigail."
"Hmm, you make furniture?"
"Yes, the coffee table, I made. The end tables, Helen and I made together," Mustang said. "You're welcome to join me, take a look about the place."
"In the picture on the wall of you and the boy, it looks like you two were making a desk."
"We were. Oscar wanted a desk for his bedroom where he could play with his Legos and not step on them on the floor," he said. "We found a few pieces of wood and created him a desk with a work stool."
"A man who is good with his hands," Darnell said. "So, may I ask, why do you plan to ask me for her hand if you've already married my Punkin?"
Mustang thought long and hard about this question he'd been expecting from the man. On the drive home from work, he’d imagined how he would answer the request, and from his heart, he gave Darnell Nelson his answer. He even smiled when he delivered the words.
"You see this house? I'm excited to come home each day to see what new touches she's added to our nest," Mustang said. "Initially, I’d planned to wait, but Helen deserved more from me as her man. I saw no logic in her living and operating as the woman of this house without having the documentation to go with the tasks. She is my wife. I come home to my wife."
"Hmm," Darnell said. "You love her a great deal. I can see that. In a couple of years, when you get the hankering to be a father, and she can't deliver, are you going to turn on her?"
Mustang didn't miss a beat, "And what, go ask Abigail to give me a son? No, not my thing; besides, the boy in the painting, he asked me to be his dad."
"What? You're going to just take in some kid and raise him as your own?"
It was official. Mustang didn't like this fucker. In her father's mind, he was delivering sage wisdom. In Mustang's mind, the man was full of shit with no real clue how the world worked. He had no idea he was standing in front of a former Technician and one of the best trackers on the North American continent. He also didn't know, in the other room slobbering on a pillow was a skilled assassin who dropped two men with easy trigger pulls and went on to rescue women held captive by a psycho and rescue that same child in the photo.
This man knew nothing about life.
"Sir, raising kids doesn't seem to be a point of expertise in your life or in your wheelhouse," Mustang said. "Sorry to be so blunt, considering you know nothing about me, my background or even that kid’s. You also know nothing of that kid's relationship with your daughter. So, if we could, this weekend, I ask that you sit back and observe. Spend time with us. Get to know us, and we move from there."
"Honest. Direct. To the point," Darnell said.
"In my line of work, hesitation gets you dead," Mustang added. "She brought you here to spend the weekend with us. Let's just do that. Is that cool? Are you cool?"
"I'm cool," he replied. Darnell paused, making eye contact with Mustang, who didn't blink and didn't flinch at the direct stare. "Do we get breakfast before going to your workshop to make furniture?"
"Sure, I cooked dinner. Helen made the sides, so breakfast is your turn," Mustang said to Darnell's shocked face. "What, this ain't no hotel for my wife to be waiting on you, Daddy or not. Get in here, make some pancakes, waffles, or whatever your cooking repertoire can yield."
Darnell smiled and said, "Oh, it's like that?"
"It's exactly like that," Mustang said, giving him a wink. Darnell watched his son-in-law pour an additional cup of coffee that he carried toward the bedroom for Helen.
There were more gifts to make for the family, and Monday, they would be heading for Louisville for Christmas, arriving in the same vehicle. He and Helen would also stay in her house on his brother's land. The family would also learn he'd taken a new job closer to home, and he'd moved to Indiana and bought a house and land, and also, that he'd gotten married.
"My Mama is going to hang me up by my toenails," he said, waving the coffee under Helen's nose, watching her puffy eyes pop open. “Hey, your Dad’s making breakfast then we’re heading out to my workshop.”
“Have fun; don’t break him,” Helen said, sitting up, and accepting the liquid eye opener.
****
MUSTANG DIDN’T PARTICULARLYenjoy Darnell Nelson’s company, but he’d spent time sitting on back roads in squad cars with men who didn’t understand the purpose of a vagina, outside of poking it with their wieners. He could get through a couple of days of an overdressed dandy who thought he was cool. Halfway through the first setting of wood screws for the bookshelves he was making for Helen for Christmas, Darnell, turned out to be, kind of okay.
They talked about life and choices. They talked about fatherhood in which Darnell asked about Mustang’s father. He spoke highly of Mark.
