Rock, Paper, Scissors by Shannon M. Kirkland

Author:Shannon M. Kirkland [Kirkland, Shannon M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Carter Seagrove Project LLC
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight - Our Family

When Rick came back to the house with Dad, he seemed a lot more relaxed. I’d quickly realized that he hadn’t come back from the bathroom. When I’d started to get up to go look for him, Mom had told me he’d gone out with Dad. I’d intentionally tried to distract Claudia and Steve so that they hadn’t started to bombard him with questions the minute he’d walked through the door. I could appreciate his nerves but he was so different when he was alone with me and Brandon, and different still when I’d overheard him on the phone, talking about a project with someone at work. Then he was so sure and confident, authoritative even, but when we were out with other people, he seemed to withdraw like a snail back into its shell.

Over dinner, I was happy to see him laughing and joining in on the conversation. I noticed Dad observing him at various times and wondered what he was thinking. Dad was often quiet, not prone to voice his opinion, always encouraging us to think for ourselves.

After dinner and clearing up, everyone retreated into the family room. The kids put on a movie while we sat on the sectional, drinking coffee and chatting.

Dad got up after a while and I knew he was going outside to sit in his favorite spot on the veranda. Rick was deep in a conversation with Claudia about the advertising business. She still hadn’t decided what she wanted to do for a living, drifting from job to job.

“I figured I’d find you out here,” I said, settling in a chair next to Dad. He gave me a nod and we both just sat, enjoying the peace and quiet as we gazed at the stars. “Settles the mind,” he’d always say when asked why he liked to just sit and look at the sky.

“Beautiful night,” he finally said, breaking our silent reverie.

“Yes, it is,” I replied, and then I just had to ask, “Dad… what do you think of Rick?”

“The question is, son, what do you think of him?”

“I love him, Dad, more than I ever thought it was possible to love someone else. He’s the man I want to spend the rest of my life with; it’s like we were made for each other.”

“That’s how I’ve always felt about your mother.”

“I guess it won’t all be plain sailing though, will it?”

“Some folks don’t like my work, some love it… Those that don’t like it go away empty-handed, and those that love it always leave with a smile on their face. Can never tell when they walk through that door… stopped worryin’ about it a long time ago…”

That was a typical kind of response from my dad. I could take it however I wanted to but I knew what he was saying.

“Thanks, Dad. I better get inside before Rick thinks I’ve gotten lost.”

“Night, son.”

I went back inside, settling in beside Rick, who was now listening to Mom tell stories about us kids growing up.

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