by Wes Brummer
Gerald touched the brim of his derby. “Good night, ladies.”
Katherine dried her hands. “I’ll walk out with you.” She turned to Sara. “Will you stay with your father until I get back?”
Sam McGurk still sat unmoving, seemingly asleep. “Sure, Mom.”
“Goodbye, Sara,” said Lois.
Katherine, Wendell, and the Biggers left the kitchen, going out the front door to the La Salle parked in front.
Since his stroke, she hadn’t been alone with her father. There were hints that he was a changed man because of his memory loss. But his physical handicap could just as easily be masking the same obstinate person inside. It was hard to know. Should she dare talk to him? Sara sat down in her mother’s chair. Her father’s head bowed down, but his eyes were open. Did he play ’possum?
She patted her father’s arm. “Would you like a piece of cake? It’s lemon.”
His head slowly rose, wobbling. No. He raised his left hand and pointed a finger at her abdomen. “When?” His voice was explosive, whether from anger or the effort to speak, Sara didn’t know.
“November.”
“Marry?” Her father pointed to the front of the house.
Daddy was listening the whole time. Sara looked down, avoiding his sidelong gaze. “Yes.”
“When?” That same explosive question.
“Wendell and I haven’t set a date yet. Soon.”
His eyes narrowed. “Runaway,” he said. It sounded like an accusation.
What did that mean? A chill went down Sara’s back. Her father was getting upset. He was about to split the family again. If only she could keep that from happening.
She touched his arm. “I haven’t been the best daughter for you. You and I lived like strangers under the same roof, going our separate ways. Mom held the family together. It must have been tough for her. I’ve made mistakes and became,” she paused, “a disgrace to you and Mom. I’m sorry for that. I can’t change the past. But I vow to be a better daughter in the future. I love you, Daddy.”
His expression didn’t change, but his left arm twitched. Slowly, he raised it, letting his large hand fall on her wrist. She gasped. Any second now, he would tighten his grip, crushing her. He leaned in close. She felt his breath on her cheek. His frame trembled. Shaking with anger? Had to be.
Four words came with effort—a whole sentence.
“Love…you too…Sara.”
A word from the author…
Born and raised in Kingman, Kansas, a small agricultural town not far from Wichita, I grew up with three brothers, two sisters, and many relatives who loved to tell stories of the Depression and life on the farm. I soaked up a lot of background for this story from many family reunions.
I went on to Emporia State University, where I got a degree in Rehabilitation Counseling, and worked as a supervisor in sheltered workshops and as a Rehabilitation Counselor for the State of Kansas. I also worked with cerebral palsy kids at the Capper Foundation in Topeka and spinal cord injured at Rusk Rehabilitation Hospital in Columbia, Missouri.
For the last few years, I’ve worked with my wife in our snack shop at the Sedgwick County Courthouse.
Dust and Roses is my first novel. I’m currently working on a second historical—about a German soldier in a Kansas POW camp during WWII.
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