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I study him for a moment, wondering how much to tell him. We look very similar, I think; he’s tall, too, and we have the same build. I won’t be disappointed if my hair ends up the same shade of silver as his. We’re both more likely to listen than speak, and we share the same dry sense of humor.
I just wish I was more like him in personality.
His expression softens. “What’s up, son? I can tell something’s bothering you.”
Trying to think what to say, I take the Frisbee from Pinky’s mouth—or it might be Perky Nana, as they’re identical—and flick it so it spins across the field. The two dogs go racing off through the grass and daisies, their tongues lolling.
“Women trouble?” Dad teases.
“Isn’t it always?”
He laughs. “Who is it this time? Please tell me that this time she doesn’t come with baggage.”
He means he hopes she isn’t married, but for some reason his words make me bristle.
“She’s single, if that’s what you mean,” I say stiffly.
His smile fades, and he purses his lips. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”
I put my hands on my hips and exhale. Then I massage the bridge of my nose, above my glasses. “No, I’m sorry. I’m short tempered at the moment. It’s been a helluva few days.”
“Because of Joel?”
“Partly. But…” I look away, down to the river and the forest beyond. Suddenly, I don’t want to tell him. I don’t think I can bear the weight of his disappointment.
To my surprise, he rests a hand on my shoulder and says, “Come and sit down, and tell me all about it.”
I swallow hard and follow him out of the field and down the path toward the river. It’s more like a brook here, filling the air with a musical jingle as it tumbles over the rocks. Dad leads me to the bench not far from the house, in the shade of the nearby trees, and we sink onto it, the dogs running past us to dig for stones.
“I’ve fucked up,” I say, running my hand through my hair.
He used to scold us for swearing when we were young, but now he just says, “In what area?”
“In all areas.” I glance at him, then back at the river. “I kinda don’t want to tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ll be disappointed in me.”
He sighs and leans forward, elbows on his knees, and studies his hands. “You’re right, it has been a shocking few days,” he says. “Nearly losing Joel… Your mother and I were out of our minds with worry. And then finding out he’d survived, and seeing him this morning… and then meeting Linc… that was a shock, I can tell you.”
“I bet.”
“Not in the way you think,” he says. “I was stunned with how he’d turned out. For some reason, he’d remained eighteen in my head, skinny and sulky and resentful. But he’s turned into a fine man. I didn’t think he’d come to anything. But I was so wrong. He’s obviously worked hard to make something of himself. And he loves Elora. I knew it then, and I can see it now. It still doesn’t come easy to me to give them my blessing. I know he’s going to corrupt my little girl.” He gives a twisted smile. “But I have to set her free. What I’m trying to say is that seeing him again, it’s made me realize how wrong I’ve been. I had all these rules and regulations for you all—for my kids, for Linc, for all the students at the school. But they’ve always been a one-size-fits-all. I thought I knew what young people need, and I’ve tried to use that to mold everyone… in my image, I guess. Like God.” He gives a short, ironic laugh.
I frown. “You can’t criticize yourself for that. So many young people have benefited from your support and care.”
He inhales deeply and exhales. Then he smiles. “This isn’t about me. What I’m trying to say is that I’ve tried to force you to be a copy of me, and that hasn’t been fair to you.”
“I’ll never be a copy of you, Dad. You’re… more than me. More honorable. More compassionate. Braver. Smarter. It doesn’t matter how much I try, I’ll never be able to come closeto being the man you are.” I stop, my throat tightening with emotion, shocked to find tears pricking my eyes.
He stares at me, astonished. “Fraser! You’re kidding me? You’re twice the man I am.”
I give a short laugh, rubbing my nose. “Yeah, right.”
“Top of your cohort at university? Running a whole museum at twenty-five? You’re far smarter than I am, son. Much more forgiving. Much less proud. You have a lot to teach me.”
I can’t reply for a moment, and I struggle to stop the tears spilling over. He watches me, concerned, a hand on my back.