“I get that. But this is my boss we’re talking about, Dad. In the four years I’ve worked for her, she never once mentioned knowing you. Why?”
“Because I wouldn’t let her tell you.”
Georgia frowned. She thought back to her conversations with Stephanie. About the odds of getting assigned a job in Sundance, Wyoming. So what were the odds that Barbara, a business owner from Dallas who just happened to be a friend of her father’s, just happened to be one of the employer interviewers in Laramie, Wyoming, four years ago?
Astronomically slim.
Then she knew. Her father had set up the entire thing. He’d always run her life with a heavy hand and it seemed no matter how far away she moved, she’d never be out of his reach.
She stood and paced angrily, kicking up dust that reeked like pig manure. “I always believed I’d nailed that interview with Barbara on my own merits. But now I find out you…” Her entire body burned with humiliation.
“You did get hired on your own merits, Georgie. Yes, I asked Barbara to do the official interview at UW, but she does that all the time. And she wouldn’t have hired you as a favor to me—she’s too shrewd a businesswoman for that. Barbara liked what she saw in you—that’s why she offered the job. And I’ve not meddled in your life since.”
Her head spun. “Did Mom know about this?”
“No one but me’n Barbara knew.”
“Didn’t you think it was wrong if you had to keep it a secret? From everyone? Especially me?”
“What would you have done, Georgie, if I’d told you that I’d asked an old friend to interview you? You would’ve refused the meeting out of anger and resentment, just because that option came from me.”
She opened her mouth. Closed it. That wasn’t true. Was it?
“I’ll agree some of your anger toward me is justified. But you are my daughter. I care what happens to you. As your father, you can’t fault me for tryin’ to help you secure a job so you could provide for yourself. I’ll repeat, the only part I had in this process was getting you the first interview. The rest you did on your own. And you should be proud of that. God knows I am.”
Georgia was too mad to acknowledge his pride in her. “And what part did you have in convincing Barbara to assign me to a job in Sundance?” she demanded.
He looked away.
“Not meddling in my life anymore? Bullshit.”
“I know what it looks like. But Larry and Kim Pradst, who own L bar K, are friends of mine. They’ve stuck by me when no one else did. When they hit tough times because of Larry’s cancer, I gave them Barbara’s name for a possible buyout since rodeo promotion is part of her business. Barbara handled it from there, but the Pradsts knew you worked for her.”
“How?” she demanded.
“Because I told ’em.” His voice dropped. “They got a promise from Barbara that you’d take over their events in Wyoming, if only for this season.”
Throughout her realizations and recriminations, one question kept repeating in her head: had her life ever been her own? Had she ever been allowed to make her own decisions?
Her father’s gruff voice roused her. “Georgia Lou. Please. Stop cryin’. You’re gonna make yourself sick.”
She reached up to find her cheeks were wet. And although the sun beat down, she was cold. So cold. She shivered.
“I’ve gotta go. I’ve gotta…” What? Where did she go when her life was in shambles?
Then her dad did the strangest thing. He hauled her into his arms, hugged her tightly, patted her back awkwardly and released her abruptly. “I know you’re upset. But that was the last thing hanging between us. Now that everything is out in the open, we can start fresh. I don’t wanna lose you, now that there’s a chance we can fix this.”
Georgia nodded numbly, trying to ignore the pleading tone. The only thing she wanted to fix right now—was a drink.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
At the Golden Boot, Georgia poured her heart out to Stephanie.
Stephanie made sympathetic noises, patted her hand, handed her tissues, ordered her another drink. “G, you know I love you, right?”
“Yes. And can I just say the day we became college roommates was one of the luckiest days of my life?”
“Such a suck-up,” Stephanie said dryly. “But that sweet sentiment doesn’t mean I’ll sugarcoat my observations.”
“I know.” Georgia wiped her eyes. “Which is why I had to tell someone who’d have an unbiased opinion.”
Stephanie thoughtfully stirred her drink. “I’m usually the first to point out there’s no wrong way to grieve, but the way your father handled RJ’s death? Was the wrong way. Many families implode after that type of event. Yours is no exception. It’s always seemed to you that your dad chose Deck over you. I can’t speak to the logic of that, except to point out that if your father had kicked Deck to the curb, would you have pitched in and helped him with the hog farm?”
Georgia wrinkled her nose. “No.”
“Your dad, who was grieving, threw himself into a new enterprise to take his mind off his loss and pain. He needed help, but he didn’t get it from his wife or his daughter. Who was the one person that did support him?”
“Deck.”
“Yes, Deck. His son-in-law, the man you married, the guy he considered part of his family. That’s natural, Georgia. Maybe it wasn’t natural for you to leave and Deck to stay, but that’s how it played out. And wishing it was different won’t change anything.”
“Never crossed my mind to ask Deck to come with me, because it was him I wanted to get away from.” She winced. “I wasn’t exactly a good wife.”
“You were too young to be saddled with the responsibility of marriage. Add in the other stuff… I’m surprised you lasted two years. You bailed only a few months after your mother. Didn’t change the fact your dad still needed help. Deck stood by him. I highly doubt your father agreed with Deck’s treatment of you.”
Hadn’t her father tried to explain, in his gruff way, that a woman leaving a man makes the man do stupid things? Strange to think her dad hadn’t been talking about Deck and her. He’d meant that he hadn’t been thinking straight when his wife had left him.
How could Stephanie be turning this issue on its head and making Georgia sympathetic toward her father?
Maybe you’re finally growing up and putting those perceived slights in the proper context. Seeing it from your dad’s point of view. Seeing that the tragedy of RJ’s death made everyone act irrationally. Including you.