We walked outside into the last of the sunshine. We had some daylight left, but the sun was dropping out of the sky in a hurry. Mr. Flowers was standing with his back to us, standing over a charcoal grill. I could smell the barbecuing meat the minute I stepped out of the house.
“He’s here, Daddy!” Kasey cried, letting go of Emma. She ran to join her daddy at the grill, bouncing across the back lawn on the balls of her bare feet, her light hair flying in every direction.
Emma took me by the arm, leading me the way she would her prom date. “Relax,” she whispered. “He won’t bite.”
Mr. Flowers set his tongs down and turned from the grill to face us. He didn’t look much older than sixty, with a tanned, weathered face, light blue eyes, and a nose that looked like Emma’s, only bigger. He looked ready to jump right onto the back of a horse, in jeans, boots, a button up shirt that looked a lot like the one I had on, and a worn cowboy hat.
“Daddy, this is Pete Gains,” Emma said, her hands sliding away from my arm. “Pete, this is my daddy, John Flowers.”
I held out my hand, and he took it in a tight grip. “I’m pleased to meet you, Sir,” I said.
He nodded once, the way Emma always did. “I’ve heard plenty about you over the last few weeks, son,” he said in a low, gruff voice. “Chicken’s done.” He turned to start putting it on the plate.
“Can I help with anything, Sir?”
“Just by eating it,” he replied.
We walked over to the table, me sticking as close as I could to Emma. We sat down, Kasey and Mr. Flowers on one side and me and Emma on the other. The table was laid with all manner of sides — baked beans, potato salad, macaroni salad, corn on the cob — and glasses of iced tea that were sweating all over the checkered tablecloth.
“As you can see, the girls were busy this morning,” Mr. Flowers said.
Smiling as a pretty blush colored her cheeks, Emma took the plate of chicken from the center of the table, serving me a piece and then herself before handing it to her sister. She did the same with the rest of the sides. I found, staring at all this food, that I was starving half to death. I hadn’t eaten a damned thing since the night before.
“Emma tells me you raise horses,” Mr. Flowers said.
I nodded. “Yes, Sir. I have quite a few on the ranch. We raise them, train them to race, and sell them. I only have two that I’d never sell off.”
“Did you really get that big old farm at eighteen?” Kasey asked, her light eyes shining. She had on a lot of makeup. Not that it looked bad, it was just hard to get used to because she looked so much like her sister and Emma didn’t wear a stitch of the stuff. I liked that about her. She and Lacey had that much in common. They liked to be dirty and sweaty at the end of a long day, and makeup just didn’t fit in with that.
“I did,” I said, relaxing some more. Talking about things I cared about helped. “My daddy passed, and I took over from there. I had some help, of course.”
We all dug into our food, keeping up the conversation, so it felt natural. I tried to keep from sneaking glances at Emma, but I could see her smiling at the edge of my vision. Kasey kept bringing up funny stories about her adventures as a waitress in Austin, at one point I nearly spit out a mouthful of tea. Mr. Flowers just watched his daughters laughing and talking, a calm, pleased look in his eye. He didn’t talk much and only asked a few questions. Even Emma was mostly quiet. I talked to Kasey the most out of everyone. She kept the table smiling and laughing, me included.
At the end of the meal, I rose to help the girls clear the dishes. “You gotta hand wash in this damned house,” Kasey grumbled.
Emma laughed. “She acts like we just laid out the last supper.”
“I’m happy to help with the washing up,” I said.
Emma lifted a dark eyebrow to cap off a surprised expression.
“What? My mama died when I was young. My daddy and I split the chores inside, same as we did outside. I did my fair share of dishes.” I rolled up my sleeves. “Tell me what you want me to do, wash or dry.”
“You got yourself a good one, Em, if he’s willing to clean up!” Kasey turned to leave the kitchen, nearly running into her father in the process. She shrieked, and everyone in the kitchen jumped. “Daddy, you scared me!”
“You help your sister wash up,” he said, completely unaffected by her outburst. “Pete, can we have a word out back?”
I turned to look at Emma, but she only smiled and shrugged. I followed Mr. Flowers from the kitchen to the backyard. He closed the door behind us and motioned for us to sit down in a pair of wooden chairs on the back patio. He stared out at the rear of his property, not looking over at me, which helped me to calm down a little. I felt like some kid trying to take out my sixteen-year-old girlfriend, not a grown man who owned his own business and several hundred acres of land.
“I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how special my girls are to me,” he said.
“No, Sir.”
“It’s been just the three of us for a long time. I worry that the girls think they can’t move on with their lives and leave me behind.”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
“Emma likes to make everybody happy before thinking of herself. Her mother was the same.” He was quiet for a moment, but it was a casual, comfortable silence. “That’s why I’m glad she’s found a place for herself and someone she cares about.”