It was about time I got to know him. I studied the paper sack sitting next to me.
What was my father bringing his brother for his fortieth birthday? I picked it up.
It wasn’t a painting—it was much too light for that. Plus, it made a strange, muted rattling noise when I shook it.
I was just unrolling the top to peek inside when my father came back through the front door.
I dropped the sack and straightened up, and when he slid behind the wheel, I said, “It’s okay with you, isn’t it?”
He just looked at me, his hand on the key in the ignition. “I… I’m not ruining your day with him or anything, am I?”
He cranked the motor and said, “No, sweetheart. I’m glad you’re coming.”
We didn’t say much to each other on the drive over to Greenhaven.
He seemed to want to look at the scenery and I, well, I had a lot of questions, but none I wanted to ask.
It was nice, though, riding with my father. It was like the silence connected us in a way that explanations never could.
When we arrived at Greenhaven, my father parked the truck, but we didn’t get out right away.
“It takes some getting used to, Julianna, but it does grow on you. They grow on you. They’re all good people.”
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