"You're more than welcome, Daddy," Jimmy said. Then Daddy stared at him, a slight smile on his lips.
"A sight better than the meals I used to provide."
"We made do with what we had, Daddy," Jimmy said.
"We had no choice," Daddy added. "But that's all behind us now. We gotta be happy, gotta try to be happy. Good night, son," he said, shaking Jimmy's hand.
"Good night, Daddy," Jimmy said, tears in his eyes. "Good night, Jimmy," Edwina said, and she kissed him. Daddy stopped in front of me.
"Dawn. Thank you, honey. Thank you for making this old heart sing."
He kissed me and gathered me tightly in his arms again. I could barely speak. Then he turned and walked out quickly with Edwina. A melancholy such as I had never known clamped down over my heart.
Jimmy smiled at me, and I rushed into his arms so I could cry against his shoulder. His arm around me, Jimmy turned me toward the doorway, and we went upstairs to fall asleep securely in each other's arms, as we had done so many nights before.
Daddy and Edwina rose early in the morning to say their good-byes to Fern. I was hoping, as was Daddy, that she would finally relent and plant a kiss on his cheek; however, she would only shake his hand again. Edwina kissed her, but Fern looked uncomfortable in her arms and couldn't wait to squirm free. She did kiss Gavin good-bye. Daddy walked out with the children and me to watch them get into the limousine to go to school.
"Good-bye, Fern," he said. "I'll try to come back soon to see you again. Your mother would have been pleased as punch to see how well you've grown."
She barely glanced back at him before she got into the car. He waved as they pulled away, but Fern was looking out the other side.
"I guess her bad time with those people must've clamped her up tight like a clam," Daddy muttered as the limousine disappeared.
"I guess so, Daddy."
"Well, I guess I'm quite a sight for her, this old gent from down Texas way. Can't blame her for not sucking up to me," he added.
As soon as Edwina completed packing their things we went over to the hotel for breakfast. Betty Ann and Philip were already at our table. We all had a good chat, and then Julius, who had returned from taking the children to school, picked up Daddy and Edwina's things and waited for them in front of the hotel. Jimmy and I escorted them out to the car, where we said our good-byes.
"Thank you so much for your hospitality," Edwina said. "I really enjoyed our little holiday. Maybe someday you can come see us."
"I hope so," I said. We kissed. Daddy shook Jimmy's hand for one last time, and Jimmy hugged Gavin. I hugged him, too, and then I stepped forward to kiss Daddy goodbye.
"One of these days," Daddy said, "I plan on visiting Sally Jean's grave, and when I do, I'm going to blabber like some old fool about you, I'm sure. She always knew you'd be something special, honey," he said.
"Oh, Daddy, I'm not anyone special. Circumstances just put me here," I said.
"Yeah, but you've lived up to your chores and then some, and that takes someone special," he insisted. "Bye, baby." He kissed me on the cheek. "Sorry I made such a mess of things," he said, and he began to get into the limousine.
"Daddy."
He turned.
"I love you," I said. He smiled, and for a moment I saw him young and strong again, that charming smile on his face. I remembered him as he was to me when I was a very little girl—the strongest, handsomest man in the world.
Then he got into the limousine, and they were off. Jimmy and I remained on the steps watching them disappear down the street. When I looked at Jimmy I saw the tears in his eyes. The cool autumn breeze lifted the strands of hair from his forehead. It seemed to be growing colder and grayer with every passing moment.
"I've got to get back to work," he muttered, and he hurried off.
Jimmy was right—only work could keep us from thinking of the sorrow we had left behind. I went to my office and dived into book work, not thinking about anything else until the phone rang. The voice on the other end took me by surprise—it was Leslie Osborne.
"Clayton would be furious if he knew I had called you," she began, "but I couldn't help myself. How is she doing?"
"She's enjoying life at the hotel," I said, "and I think she's adjusting well to her new school, although I haven't seen any of her grades yet, nor spoken with any of her teachers."
"That's good," Leslie said, her voice growing smaller.
"She was having a lot of trouble at the Marion Lewis School recently. I never told Clayton all of it."