“You have kids, Ernie?”
“Yep. Two girls and a boy. All quite a bit older than you.”
“Did your time in Vietnam affect your ability to connect with them?”
He pulled out a piece of gum from his pocket and stuck it between his thin lips. “It wrecked my ability to connect with anything except drugs, liquor, and thankfully, my horse.”
“It’s hard to know how much grace to give sometimes.”
His sun-warmed cheeks did a few revolutions as he chewed that gum. “I reckon.” Ernie shot me a put-upon side-eye. “You got something you’re working on in that head of yours, so spit it out so I can go about my day.”
“I was up most of the night dealing with my biological father,” I said, making the call that Ernie would be the man to run this by. “He’s a long story and—”
“I’m begging you to give me the short version.”
“My bio-dad and I have reconnected recently. Buck had childhood trauma, not to mention some blows to the head.” Which were also relevant, to be sure. “Last night he called me to pick him up from the emergency room. He’d been on the losing end of a barroom brawl.”
“And?”
“And…” Why exactly was I processing this in real time in front of the least receptive person I knew? “I’d hoped Buck had tied up his life a little, but the truth is, he’s still a mess.”
“We’re all messes.”
“You seem to have straightened your life out.”
Ernie stuffed his hands into the pockets of his Wranglers and scowled. “I did. But I still jacked those kids’ lives up. One barely talks to me, and usually just when he needs money.”
“If you were my dad, I’d be so proud of you, Ernie—of the work you’ve done on your own life and what you do for others.”
I expected a snappy comeback, but instead Ernie cleared his throat and turned his head westward. “Thanks. I guess.”
Gosh, I loved this guy. He was as friendly as a copperhead, but his heart was the definition of true. “I guess I’m wondering where the line is in giving someone slack for what they’ve been through and walking away to protect your own sanity.”
Removing his sunglasses, Ernie turned his attention back to me. “Here’s what I know. My kids and my ex-wife couldn’t fix me. I had to fall on my face enough to realize I was hurt. Then I had a choice to make—come to terms with my pain and change—or stay stuck where I was.”
“You chose to get help.”
“Yep.”
“I gave my bio-dad a list of job possibilities and contacts of people I know who could steer him in a different career direction. Then I talked to him about some therapies he might consider.” I’d also found his cabin empty of groceries when I’d driven him home, so I’d had two weeks’ worth of food delivered earlier today.
“You can’t fix your dad, Hattie. Just like my family couldn’t suggest and recommend me into healing.” He nodded toward the horses running in the nearby pasture. “Nothing we do in our work is forced. The horses teach us that we have to request what we want and build relationships to gain our ground. If you came in here and forced the tasks on these vets, your program would die within days.”
“You’re saying I need to back off on Buck.”
“Yeah. And you also need to take care of yourself. Your dad’s old habits mean that you have old habits. Your responsibility isn’t to fix his—but your own.”
I watched a black sedan travel the road in the distance, dirt pluming in its wake. “It’s hard to know where to draw the line.”
“I can’t tell you where that line is, but from my own experience, it’s probably nearer than you think it needs to be.”
“Thanks, Ernie.” I threw caution to the Ozark wind and gave my unexpected therapist a hug. “I love you, man.”
“Stop it.” He awkwardly patted my back. “That’s enough, now.”
“You’re my new best friend.”
“I’m starting to feel ill.”
