Page 16 of Finding Yesterday
I smile. “Thanks, Daddy.” I never knew he was proud of me for doing any of those things. I don’t care that much about the rumors, but I’m glad it made Daddy feel protective of me. He stood up for me at the Corner Cuppa, after all!
Jimmy and Cheryl, the owners, run their mouths more than their coffee shop. Something gets caught in my throat when I say, “You have no idea how much I need to hear that right now.”
“Why don’t you get yourself settled?” He points upstairs before unmuting the TV. “I’m missing the morning news wrap-up with Sunny Martinez.”
And the moment is gone.
I stand and approach the screen door. “Sure, but um, speaking of animals…” I trail off, biting my lip. “I need to introduce you to my new friend.” I step outside and unzip Winston’s carrier. I barely get the leash clipped onto his collar before Winston goes flying into the house.
“Ah, Claire! What is that?” Daddy leaps out of his chair.
“It’s a baby pig, Daddy.”
He cocks his head. “I know it’s a baby pig, Daughter. What’s it doing in my house? On a leash, wearing a crochet hat? Did you get that thing from Daisy?”
“Maybe.”
He groans. “I know you’re not planning on eating it, so what is it, exactly, that you’re going to do with it?”
“It’s ahim,not an it.” I clear my throat. “And he’s almost potty trained.”
“Claire.”
“He’ll stay in my room with me. You won’t even know he’s here.”
“That thing’s gonna be fifty, sixty pounds. You can’t just hide him in your purse.”
“I know all about pigs, Daddy. I took care of them on the farm with you, remember?” Letting out a frustrated sigh, I tug Winston’s leash. He’s just about to take out Daddy’s shelf of knickknacks. “I also know plenty of folks who have pet pigs. Why don’t you give Winston a chance? He’s great.”
“Winston.”
I pull Winston close to my side before waving my finger back and forth. “Winston, this is Daddy, Daddy, Winston.” Winston runs over to Daddy and rolls over, poking his pot belly in the air. “He wants a good belly rub,” I say.
Daddy gives him an anemic scratch while shaking his head. When Winston closes his eyes and lays his head back in bliss, a little chuckle slips out of Daddy’s mouth.
“See, people love Winston.” Actually, that’s not true. Emma hated Winston. Jack wanted to eat Winston. Nate just wanted to pull his tail. Daisy didn’t seem so fond of him either. But the thing is, peopleshouldlove Winston. He’s the best.
“And that’s your morning wrap-up with Sunny Martinez,” says the poufy black-haired news anchor on the TV.
“Aw, crap, I missed it.” Daddy powers the TV off. “Now I gotta git.” He points to the door. “I need to prep the side of the field where no vines are going in this year. Might as well use the time to get it good and fertilized.”
“Wait, why aren’t there grapes going in one side of the field?” I shoot him a quizzical look.
He hesitates, wiping a brow. “Ah, bugger. I wasn’t gonna tell you this. But I guess you’re gonna find out living here. I couldn’t afford the grapes for that side because of your wedding.”
My heart stops. “Daddy, I didn’t know that.” If he would’ve told me, I could’ve pitched in some to help.
“There was a reason for that.” He rubs his eyes. “It’s not the end of the world, Claire. It’s my fault for not having enough put aside.”
“But then I didn’t even get married.” I swallow the massive lump in my throat. “I’m so sorry, Daddy.”
“Now don’t get all weepy on me. It’ll be good and fertilized for next year. It’s okay. Hush now.” He turns and heads out the door before I can argue any further.
“No, it’s definitely not okay,” I utter to myself. This is proof that I ruin everything.
Winston and I make our way to my old room to unpack, and I’m feeling beyond defeated. Here I am, back living with Daddy at twenty-five years old. And now on top of everything else, I cost him a section of his vines.
After putting my clothes into my ivory dresser with crystal knobs, I flop down on my old twin bed with a sunflower bedspread, faded and a little scratchy. I’m reminded that this mattress makes my back hurt, so I better get used to it or buy some memory foam, because I’m not going anywhere.
