Kurt glanced out the mini-van's back window as he lifted little Emmy from her car seat. All the windows were rolled in on the ancient trailer that sat a few hundred feet away from the side of the house, and there was no sign of the old man. The baggy-seated lawn chair was empty. The mower was under the lean-to. The fender of the piece of shit pickup was just visible around the edge of the small barn. As Kurt hefted his sleeping daughter to his shoulder, he felt the ticklish itch that he sometimes got on the job. Though everything looked normal, there was something wrong with the picture.

The sense of something being off-kilter nagged at Kurt as he carried Emmy into the house, put her to bed and turned on the baby monitor. Walking back out to get the groceries, Kurt saw the calendar on the kitchen wall and the mystery was solved. A couple of years after he'd married Junior, he'd asked if this was some kind of anniversary for her father. Every year since Kurt had known Ennis del Mar, the old man had been particularly quiet this time of year.

Ennis was an odd duck, as Kurt's mother put it, but he was Junior's daddy and that was that. When the old man had nowhere to go, it was only right to offer him a place. He did a fair bit of drinking, according to contents of his trash, but he did it alone, or in a honky-tonk. Mostly, he kept to himself, kept the grass mowed around the five acres, ate a few dinners at the family table, fresh shirt and hair slicked back, distant but polite, and Kurt could see in the man's eyes that being there was somehow painful for Ennis. The two of them had never had a conversation that went deeper than auto parts or baseball scores, but Kurt could sense Ennis's baffled pain. At least Kurt thought that's what he saw, but maybe the old man's face had just set that way, in permanent stony lines of stoic endurance from working outside all his life.

Kurt glanced at the baby monitor on the kitchen counter as he put the ice cream in the freezer. Emmy was hardly a baby anymore, but when Junior was on call at the veterinary clinic, he was mom, and he took the job as seriously as he did working for the Fire Department. His schedule meant he spent days at a time away from home and when he was here, he did his best to be everything his little family needed. And that family included his father-in-law. Kurt's eyes went to the clock on the stove. Junior would be home soon and until then his options were to wake up Emmy and go looking for Ennis, call Melissa to come over and baby-sit while he checked on Ennis, or he could ignore the baseless anxiety that wouldn't let him settle. With a sigh, he picked up the phone.

"Hi, honey," Junior said. "You need me to bring somethin' home?"

"No, I just got back from the grocery store. Emmy's fine, takin' a nap. I'm just bein' foolish."

"I don't mind you bein' foolish with me." Junior sat back in her office chair and pushed the door closed with her toes. "Are you callin' to give me a preview a comin' attractions for the evenin'?"

"I wish I was. Honestly, June, I ain't callin' about nothin' really. Just had a funny feelin'."

"About what?"

"Didn't see no sign a your daddy around when I pulled up. Wouldn't a thought twice, but all the windows on the trailer are closed and it's pretty warm today for November. His truck's here, but I didn't see him. I'd go knock on his door, but I hate to wake Emmy up for some fool notion, not to mention, I'm kind a scared he'd be mad at me."

Junior smiled at the thought of her six foot two inch two hundred pound firefighter husband being afraid of anything. "If Daddy'd just let us put the phone line in like we wanted to…" Her voice trailed off as a thought struck her. "You know, he's always tended to hide away this time a year."

"Yeah, I thought maybe it had somethin' to do with the divorce, somethin' like that."

"That ain't it. He's only been like this since '82 or '83. Just like a grumpy old bear goin' into hibernation."

"Your dad ain't grumpy. He's just not good with people and he knows it. Ain't his fault."

"He could try harder instead a hidin'."

"Okay, babe," Kurt said, not wanting to get into this discussion again. "So… should I just let sleepin' dogs lie, or should I hunt for him?"

"He's a grown man, Kurt, and he's always liked goin' off to be by himself."

"Just because he goes off to be by himself doesn't mean he likes it. It's wounded animals that do that kind a thing."

"I think I know my own daddy better than you do, Kurt Worrell." Junior paused. "I'm sorry, honey. I didn't mean to be sharp with you. You know I love Daddy, but it's hard to forget all the times he wasn't there when I was a kid. Hard to forget that he looked happiest when he was leaving."

"It ain't always easy for a man to show how much he loves."

"You manage."

"Junie, your daddy loves you."

"I reckon he does in his own way, but it was never enough for me. Or for Mama or Francie. I still can't tell whether he loved fishin' more than us, or there just wasn't any love for us in him."

"I hate to hear you talk this way, but I reckon you got a right to."

Junior sighed. "I'm a grown woman with a kid a my own. You'd think I'd be over any hurt feelin's."

"Come on home soon, baby girl, and I'll rub your neck, make it all better."

"Now there's an offer I can't refuse," she said, glad to steer away from the subject for now. "I've only got one more appointment, but I told Ida Jean I'd stop by her place and have a look at that pregnant mare a hers on my way home. I could call her."

"No, you go ahead and do what you need to do. I don't know why I bothered you at work."

"It ain't never a bother, honey. I'll see you at home in a little bit."

"Love you, Junebug."

"Love you, too."

Kurt hung up and opened the refrigerator. Leaning in the door, he catalogued contents he already knew by heart in the vague hope that something new and tempting would appear. He grabbed a beer and walked down the hall to look in on Emmy. The little girl lay on her back, a chubby fist near her mouth, sleeping soundly. Kurt blew her a kiss and continued down the hall to get the towels out of the dryer. As he set his bottle on the shelf above the washer, he heard a car door slam. Leaning backward, he looked through the small laundry room window and saw Ennis walking away from a dark green pickup truck. The newish vehicle drove away and Ennis headed for his trailer, none too steady on his feet. Kurt left the towels and his beer and went to the door.

"Hey, Ennis!" he called out. "Want a come in for a minute?"

Ennis hesitated and Kurt spoke again.

"Emmy's asleep and I need a hand with somethin'."

Ennis came into the house, removing his hat and holding it in front of him. "I've had a few," he warned Kurt. "Might not be any help to ya."

"I was just havin' a beer. Can I get you one?" \

"Wouldn't mind," Ennis said.

"Come on in the kitchen," Kurt said, as he led the way. He handed a beer to Ennis and fetched his from the laundry room. "Wondered where you were when I got home," he said when he returned. "Windows're all shut up on your trailer."

"Guy I used to know was passin' through. We went out for a couple a drinks and I rolled the windows in 'cause I thought it looked like rain."

"An old friend, huh? That's nice."

"Don was my boss long time ago. Let me use his huntin' cabin now and again."

"Yeah? What'd you hunt?"

"Elk mostly."

"I never hunted anythin' bigger than a turkey."

"What was it you wanted help with?" Ennis derailed the conversation.

"My marriage." Kurt looked as surprised as Ennis when the words popped out of his mouth.

"I don't think I'm the one to talk to." Ennis began peeling the label off his beer bottle.

"You're Junior's daddy, the man she compares every other man to. I think I'm talkin' to the right guy."

"I'm in no fit state to talk about this."

"If you were sober, you wouldn't be talkin' at all."

"Sure enough," Ennis admitted. "What is it ya want from me?"

"I wish I knew. What I do know is that no matter how happy Junior is there's still this sadness in her.

It's always there and I don't know how to make it go away."

"I reckon she was real broke up when her mama divorced me."

"She thinks you didn't love her when she was a kid."

"I did the best I could."

Kurt frowned. "I don't know what you mean by that."

Ennis folded his lips and continued picking at the label.

"Don't want a talk about it, huh? Okay. I just don't understand why a smart gal like Junior would go through life believin' her daddy loved fishin' more than he loved her. I don't mean to be disrespectful, but how did she get that crazy notion in her head?"

"Thanks for the beer," Ennis said, as he rose from his chair.

"I can't stop you from leavin', but what kind a father could hear what I just said and walk away?"

"Didn't know Junior felt like that."

"She ain't that good at hidin' her feelin's. You should a seen."

"Reckon I wasn't around her enough, but a man's got a make a livin'."

"Maybe you could a done somethin' closer to home. I'm wonderin' if I shouldn't quit the department and get me a nine to five job so I can be home every night. Emmy's gettin' big enough to notice when I'm not around."

"Sometimes a man ain't got no choice."

Kurt hesitated before speaking again. He'd been raised to respect his elders, and he didn't want to get into it with his wife's daddy, but maybe it was time they had a real talk. "I don't believe that," he stated.

Ennis glanced up, just a quick flash before his eyes were lowered again. "Then I reckon that's what you believe," he said mildly.

"Ain't there no way to get to you?" Kurt asked in exasperation. "Come on, Ennis. Just give me one little thing that I can tell Junior so she won't think you don't give a shit about her."

Ennis wanted to tell this boy it was none of his damn business, but the boy had married his daughter and that gave him some rights that Ennis couldn't dispute. It was hard to look at handsome, dark-haired Kurt, hard to speak when his throat was so tight. "Was a time…" he began, before taking another drink of his beer. "Was a time I'd a knocked a guy's teeth down his throat for sayin' somethin' like that."

"Well, I hope those times are over, 'cause I sure don't want a tangle with ya."

Ennis shook his head almost imperceptibly. "I know I don't deserve Junior's kindness to me. When her mama married again, she asked to come stay with me and I said no. Wasn't no way I could have a kid livin' with me."

"Were you just bein' selfish?" Kurt didn't want to make his words an accusation.

Ennis's answer was slow in coming. "Truth is, I never wanted a wife and kids, but I didn't know no other way to live."

Kurt nodded. "A family's a big responsibility," he said. "If Alma got pregnant and you felt like you had to get married…"

"Wasn't like that," something like passion entered Ennis's voice. "Me and Alma never… We didn't get up to anythin' before we was married. I should a knowed then."

Kurt turned away and opened the refrigerator on the pretense of getting two more beers, deliberately taking the focus of his attention off the other man.

"I knew I shouldn't've married Alma," Ennis said. "It was the wrong thing to do. I wronged her. Wronged myself. Wronged everybody."

Kurt put a full bottle down in front of Ennis. "You made a mistake," he said. "Maybe you can't fix it, but you can say you're sorry to the folks that got hurt."

"Alma hates my guts and Francie don't care nothin' about me. If you think Junior wants to hear me say I'm sorry, I'll do it."

"I think she'd rather hear that you love her."

Ennis swallowed hard, fingers tightening on the sweating bottle as he set it back down. "I ain't got a good track record with that kind a stuff."

"Just say the words. I do it all the time, because most of the time, it's true. Sure, there's times when Junie makes me crazy enough to chew nails, but she's still the woman I love and I'd sure hate to lose her just because of three itty bitty words." Kurt paused when Ennis's lips moved. "What?"

"I got nothin'," Ennis repeated.

"That's a helluva thing to say. You've got a daughter and a grand-daughter that love you. That's somethin', even if you don't want it."

Ennis shook his head again. "You don't know nothin' about it."

"Then tell me. You got a tell somebody some day, or it's gonna eat ya up like cancer."

Again that swift gleam of eyes raised for just a second, checking for signs of bad weather. "Ain't got to tell nobody."

"Fine, for as long as you can stand it, but you might think about how it affects the folks around you."

"If I ain't welcome here…"

"Sit down," Kurt said wearily. "I'll leave you alone, scout's honor. Just finish your beer and stay 'til Junior gets home. Say hi and ask her how she's doin'. That's all I'm askin'. Just be here."

In the hell of loneliness and regret that he'd built for himself, Ennis saw that he was making the same old mistakes over again. All his life, he'd tried to live the way he was supposed to, denying himself the things that would have made him happy, stealing a few days a year of a pleasure he couldn't resist and feeling guilty about it the rest of the time, so ashamed of how he loved that he'd finally killed it. "I cain't," he said in a choked voice.

"You can't stay and say hi?"

"I cain't forget my mistakes and sayin' I'm sorry ain't gonna make anythin' any better."

"It'll make things better for Junior. God damn it, Ennis! Just show the girl a little love, whether you know what it is or not."

Ennis's lips skinned back tight over his teeth and for a moment, Kurt thought he was going to have to defend himself. A sheen of extra moisture glazed the old man's eyes and was blinked away. After a long moment, Ennis drew a deep, hitching breath and spoke.

"I loved somebody once, so much it hurt. Never said the words and then it was too late. I'll never get to say I'm sorry. The thought a what I had and what I let slip away keeps me up drinkin' most nights 'til I pass out cold."

"Who'd a thought? I'd never figure you for the kind a man that has a woman on the side."

"Wasn't no cheap shack-up. We saw each other for twenty years."

"Holy shit!" Kurt sat back in the kitchen chair. "I can't hardly believe that."

Ennis shrugged.

"You stayed with Alma when you were in love with somebody else?"

Another shrug.

"Maybe it would a been better for everybody if you'd a left Alma sooner."

"Alma left me, and don't ya think I know what a fuck up I am?"

"Easy, Ennis. I think I understand. In your day, men didn't abandon their families for a fling."

"Told ya, it wasn't no fling."

"Then why'd you stay?"

"There was reasons I couldn't be with…" Ennis fell silent.

"Damn, you can't even say her name, can you?"

"That ain't none a your business, and I ain't gonna speak a the dead."

"I'm sorry," Kurt said automatically, as he did a mental calculation. "If you were together twenty years… she was still alive when you and Alma split up. Why couldn't you be with her then?"

"Told ya it ain't none a your business, but there was reasons."

"Okay, I believe you and that's a real sad story. I think you ought a tell it to Junior so she'd understand why you're so far away all the time."

"She'd want a know more than I can tell her."

"I think she'd understand."

"Nope. There's some things kids don't need to know 'bout their daddies."

"Kids can forgive a lot more than you think as long as they know you love 'em."

"You a real smart man there, ain't ya? Reckon it's all them years ya got behind ya makes ya so damn smart."

"When I was nine, my uncle Nate took up with a waitress at the place he ate lunch every day. Course I didn't know that at the time. All I knew was suddenly I wasn't allowed to see my favorite uncle. I went for three miserable years thinkin' it was somethin' I done. Wasn't until I heard my mom and aunt talkin' one day that I figured it out."

"So you figure I ought a tell Junior even if it turns her against me."

"I just can't imagine what you could tell her that would outweigh the relief of knowing you care about her. Your secret's not the important thing here; it's Junior's happiness we're talkin' about. Don't you want your daughter to be happy, Ennis?"

"Ya fight dirty," Ennis said, finally meeting Kurt's eyes.

"I love that little gal. Ain't nothin' I wouldn't do for her or Emma Sue."

"I can see that."

"Was she married too?" Kurt said abruptly. "Is that why you couldn't be together?"

Ennis nodded. It was a good enough reason for Kurt, and it let him off the hook.

"And she died sometime around '83?"

Ennis nodded again. "Was gonna meet up in November, around Armistice Day. Never happened."

Kurt reminded himself that Ennis had been cheating on his wife for years, but his heart still contracted at the depth of loss in the other man's voice. He didn't doubt for a moment that Ennis had loved the mystery woman, loved her deeply and completely. Maybe she'd been the wife of some wealthy rancher, out of Ennis's class, and longing for some romance in her life. Whoever she'd been, she'd kept Ennis coming back for twenty years and left a mark on him that had never healed. "Look, I'm sorry I stirred up old memories."

"Ya didn't. Them memories have kept me company every day and most nights."

Ennis looked as crushed as an empty can of the cheap beer he favored and Kurt didn't know what to say in reply. He'd hoped to bring father and daughter closer together and had uncovered a well of sorrow so deep it had gravity. Carefully, he eased away from the edge.

"I'm sorry you think that memories are all you have."

What Ennis could never explain to Kurt was that the memories of Jack, bright as a new-minted penny, were his real life, the life he wished he could do over again. Only in dreams could he make it right, tell Jack what Jack needed to hear, let him know that he was loved. Only in drunken stupors could he stay with Jack, bravely defying the world and its notions of right and wrong. Only then could he admit the truth: that he needed love as much as Jack did, and he had denied it to both of them, except in small doses when the pain of separation became too great. Out of fear, he had accepted a half-life and condemned Jack to it along with him. Ennis's life now was atonement, suffered in the same silence as he'd endured his father's rages, his brother's bullying, poverty, the time apart from Jack, Jack's death. To share your pain was to show weakness, and when you were weak, you were vulnerable and someone or something would sure enough remind you. Jack had been the brave one, and look what happened.

"Cain't teach an old dog new tricks," Ennis said.

"Yeah? Well I know another sayin'. It ain't the size a the dog in the fight, but the size a the fight in the dog. I think you got some fight left in ya. You ain't that old."

"Yeah, but I been rode hard."

Despite the seriousness of the talk, Kurt had to suppress a smile. "You know somethin', Ennis? You're a pretty smart guy yourself, and I think you'll think about what we said. Alone is no way to go through life, and you got a family here when you decide you want a be part of it."

Ennis nodded as he picked up his hat and put it on. "You're a good man, Kurt," he said, as he went to the kitchen door. "Thanks again for the beers."

"Anytime," Kurt said, distracted by the sounds of Emmy fussing on the speaker. He was already halfway to her room when the door closed behind Ennis.

Kurt hadn't meant to open such a large can of worms, but he was glad Ennis stuck around long enough to get a few things in the open. He felt like he understood the old bear a little better now, and though he didn't expect anything to change overnight, he thought maybe Ennis would eventually make peace with a few things before he died. Kurt sure hoped so because Junior deserved better and so did Ennis.

Bouncing a chuckling Emmy in his arms, Kurt came back into the kitchen. He saw Junior's truck pull off the county road onto the driveway and told Emmy that her mama was home. As Junior brought the pickup to a stop, Ennis paused on the steps of his trailer. He turned as his daughter was getting out of the vehicle and she saw him at the same time. Tentatively, she waved in greeting and then ducked back in the truck to pull out the big sack of carrots, cabbage and onions from Ida Jean's garden. When she turned, Ennis was there, holding out his arms in an offer to carry her burden. He looked a little surprised when Junior threw her arms around him in a fierce hug, but after a brief hesitation, he hugged her back. As Junior lifted a face wet with tears, Kurt went to the counter and got a banana for Emmy. Kissing the top of the little girl's head, he told her that mama might not be in for a few minutes, and then started getting supper together.

The End