Perfect Bastard (Mason Creek)

“You need shoes and a coat. at least.”

He grumbled, but went back in. I grabbed his phone he didn’t use and turned off the TV. I also went in his closet to get a few things and put them in a duffle.

“Let’s go, boy. I told you to leave that stuff. I have what I need at home.”

I’d explained to the administrator about relocating Dad back home. The paperwork had been done, and I’d already paid through the year. I figured I’d know in a few days if this was going to work out or not.

“Driving my truck, are you, boy?” he asked when we made it to the parking lot. He’d yet to say my name, but at least he hadn’t said I wasn’t his son. Progress.

“I assumed you’d be more comfortable in your truck and not my car,” I answered.

“You’re damn right. Fancy-schmancy cars aren’t made for Montana winters.”

Instead of fighting with him, I said, “Merry Christmas, Dad.”

“You too, kid. Your mom always loved this time of year.”

“I know. I miss her.”

“Me too, son. Me too.”

And just like that, I was his son again. Overcome with emotion, I scrubbed a hand over my face and followed the road home. It wasn’t until we neared that I broached the subject of the changes he was walking into.

I cleared my throat. “I, um—I did some repairs around the house. Made a few changes I hope you like.”

He sort of grimaced, or maybe that was a growl, but he said nothing intelligible.

I didn’t park in the garage but out front. I wanted Dad’s first view inside to be from the front. When I went to help him out, he warned, “I’m not dead yet, boy.” I was back to ‘boy’ and sighed.

He made it to the door first and sort of stood there with it open. “Changes. You redid the whole damn house.”

“New furniture,” I said.

He shuffled forward and looked at everything, grumbling to himself. “Did you change my room, too?”

“About that,” I said.

The way he turned to face me; it was like he was his old self. “What did you do?”

“I moved your room down here. You won’t have to walk up and down the stairs.” I headed toward the back left of the house, assuming he’d follow. “The old guest room has been redone. I had the wall removed between this and the study, so you’d have your own space.” I’d left the furniture the same, though I’d gotten him a new mattress and linens.

“Your mom always talked about doing this.”

“I know. Most of the things I did in the house were inspired by what she talked about.”

He moved to the post on the bed. “I kept putting off the renovation, and she never got what she wanted.”

“She knew you would, eventually.”

He turned and sat on the bed. “New mattress.”

I nodded. “There’s something else. I got us some help.”

He leaned back as if waiting for the final blow. I held up a finger. “Give me a minute.”

Sunshine hadn’t been downstairs. As I rounded the corner to the stairwell, I found her coming down. “He’s here?” she asked.

“Yep. Let’s go meet him.”

She followed me to the back of the house where Dad still sat. His focus was the picture of him and Mom on the bedside table until we entered the room. It was a twin to the one that I’d brought from the retirement community.

When Dad spotted us just inside the doorway, his frown flipped into a grand smile. “Well, who do we have here?”

“Dad, this is Sunshine. Sunshine, this is my dad, James Bowmen.”

“Nice to meet you, Sunshine. Are you dating my son?”

I nearly choked, and not because I was his son again. “No, Dad. She’s here to help. She’s a registered nurse.”

“I don’t need a nurse. Those doctors are wrong. I’m not losing my mind. I forgot a few things, and you and your brother took things to the extreme.”

“Dad, you didn’t pay the bills. Money was missing from the business account, and you couldn’t tell me where it went. You wandered off and let the horses’ pen open. And the cattle…” I hadn’t meant to mention all these things in front of Sunshine, but it was good for her to know.

“Ah.” He slapped his hand in the air as if to dismiss me. “You won’t listen to a thing I say. At least you brought me home.”

“Sunshine will be here now and when I’m not, to make sure you get your meds, eat, and whatever else.”

He turned to Sunshine. “Will you give me a sponge bath?”

She laughed as I admonished him. “She’s not here for that.” I faced her. “He can shower by himself or maybe he needs to go back.”

“You’re no fun,” Dad said to me. “Sunshine, you can stay. Nate, get out of here.”

Sunshine nodded. Dad was flirting, which was odd to see, but he was harmless. He lived by a code and taught us the same. One of the very first things he’d said after explaining the birds and the bees was that no meant no, every damn time.