Chapter 2: The Man Who Never Needed an Invitation
The next morning, I waited until Mason left for school before calling my father.
I stood in our kitchen, staring at the coffee Travis had poured into his travel mug before leaving for work.
He'd said nothing about Kaylee that morning.
Not a word.
He'd asked whether I had seen his warehouse paperwork, reminded Mason to bring home his spelling test, and kissed me goodbye.
Ordinary things.
The kind of ordinary things that made it harder to understand how he could be so blind to something that mattered so much.
When Dad answered, I could hear the familiar sounds of his farm in the background.
A gate creaked.
Something clanked against metal.
Then came his voice.
“Morning, sweetheart.””
“Morning, Dad.””
“You all right?””
That was my father.
He could hear trouble in a single syllable.
I tried to explain what had happened at dinner without making Travis sound worse than he'd been.
I told him about the ceremony.
About Kaylee's request.
About Travis's refusal.
I explained that her biological father hadn't contacted her in six years and that Thursday's event was supposed to honor the graduating volleyball players.
Dad listened without interrupting.
He didn't curse Travis.
He didn't ask why I hadn't stopped the argument.
He didn't tell me that stepfathers had rights or that biological fathers had obligations.
He simply let me talk.
When I finished, there was a long silence.
Then he asked, “What time should I be there, sweetheart?””
I pressed my free hand against my mouth.
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
“Dad, your hip—”
“My hip's been giving me trouble since before you learned to drive.””
“I know, but the gym is big, and you'll have to cross the court.””
“Then I'll cross it slowly.””
“You don't have to prove anything to anybody.””
“I know that.””
His voice softened.
“Is Kaylee asking me because she wants me there?””
“Yes.””
“Then I'll be there.””
I closed my eyes.
There was no speech.
No grand declaration.
No complaint about the inconvenience.
Just a simple answer from a man who had spent his entire life making sure the people he loved didn't have to wonder whether he would show up.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“Don't thank me yet. I need to find my good jacket.””
I laughed through my tears.
Dad chuckled.
“Tell that girl her grandpa will be there Thursday.””
After we hung up, I went upstairs to tell Kaylee.
She was sitting at her desk, working on a school assignment.
When I told her Dad had agreed, she covered her face with both hands.
“Oh, Mom.””
I sat beside her.
“He wants to be there.””
She nodded, wiping her eyes.
“Can you tell him to wear his green cap?””
“His seed-company cap?””
“Yeah. The one he always wears to my games.””
I smiled.
“I think he was planning on it.””
She laughed softly.
Then she said something that stayed with me for the rest of the day.
“Grandpa never makes me feel like I'm asking for too much.””
I hugged her.
And I wondered how many times my daughter had felt that way in our own house without telling me.
That evening, Travis came home around six.
He smelled faintly of dust and grain from the warehouse.
He asked what we'd eaten, complained about a delivery that had arrived late, and sat down to watch the local news.
I waited until Mason was busy with his homework before approaching him.
“Kaylee asked my father to walk with her Thursday.””
Travis lowered the volume.
“Duane?””
“Yes.””
He looked at me for a moment.
“Is he even able to do that?””
“He says he can.””
“He's had hip surgery, Jodi.””
“I know.””
“Walking across a gym floor isn't the same as walking around his farm.””
“I know that, too.””
He rubbed his jaw.
“Did you tell him what happened?””
“Yes.””
His eyebrows rose.
“So now your father thinks I'm some kind of villain?””
I felt my patience thinning.
“I didn't call to ask him to judge you. I called because our daughter needed someone to walk with her.””
“She has a father.””
“Not one who's been there for six years.””
Travis stood.
“That's not fair.””
“Neither was what you said to her.””
He looked away.
For a moment, I thought he might finally acknowledge it.
Instead, he picked up the remote.
“I told her I didn't want to replace anybody. I don't see why that's so terrible.””
“Because she wasn't asking you to replace anybody.””
“Then what was she asking?””
I stared at him.
“After nine years, you really don't know?””
He didn't answer.
The television continued playing behind us.
A weather reporter pointed at a map of our county, talking about a cold front expected later in the week.
Finally, Travis said, “If your dad wants to do it, fine.””
The words sounded less like permission than surrender.
“Fine?”” I repeated.
“What do you want me to say?””
“I want you to understand why this matters.””
He shook his head.
“I can't make this into something it isn't.””
I wanted to scream that he was the one who had made it something it wasn't.
Instead, I walked away.
Later, I checked on Kaylee.
She was messaging Grandpa, sending him details about the ceremony and reminding him that her number was seventeen.
When I asked what he had said, she showed me his reply.
Wouldn't miss it for the world, kiddo.
I sat on the edge of her bed.
“You know Grandpa might need to take his time crossing the court.””
“I don't care how long it takes.””
“And if he has to stop?””
“Then we'll stop.””
She said it so naturally that I felt tears prick my eyes again.
For Kaylee, the important thing wasn't how impressive the walk looked.
It was that someone wanted to make it with her.
Thursday arrived beneath a gray October sky.
All day, I kept checking the clock at work, counting down the hours until the ceremony.
At home, Kaylee carefully hung her uniform in the closet and laid out her shoes.
She brushed her hair twice.
She checked her phone every few minutes to see whether Grandpa had sent another message.
Travis, meanwhile, behaved as though the evening were any other school event.
He put on his work vest.
He checked the weather.
He asked whether we needed to leave early to find parking.
Not once did he ask Kaylee how she felt.
Not once did he tell her she looked beautiful.
At five o'clock, Dad called me.
“I'm heading out now.””
“Take your time,” I told him.
“Please don't rush.””
“Jodi, I've been driving tractors longer than you've been alive. I know how to take my time.””
I smiled despite my nerves.
“Do you have your cane?””
He gave an offended snort.
“I'm seventy-nine, not nineteen.””
“Dad.””
“Yes, sweetheart. I have the cane.””
“And your jacket?””
“On the passenger seat.””
“Your cap?””
“On my head.””
I laughed.
Then his voice grew quieter.
“Tell Kaylee I'll see her soon.””
When I hung up, I found my daughter standing in the hallway in her uniform.
She looked beautiful.
Nervous.
Hopeful.
And a little afraid to let herself believe the night would go well.
I took her hands.
“Grandpa's on his way.””
She exhaled slowly.
“Okay.””
Downstairs, Travis called that we needed to leave.
Kaylee glanced toward him.
He looked back at her, and for one fleeting second, I thought he might say something meaningful.
Instead, he opened the front door.
We drove to the school in silence.
The gym lights were already glowing against the darkening sky when we arrived.
Cars filled the parking lot.
Families carried flowers through the entrance.
Students in maroon-and-gold warm-ups hurried between the doors, laughing and calling to one another.
Inside, the smell of popcorn hung in the air.
Streamers decorated the railings.
The basketball court gleamed beneath the lights.
I found seats near the front, where I could see the players waiting along the far sideline.
Travis sat beside me.
He crossed his arms and leaned forward, watching the activity on the court.
He had no idea what was about to happen.
Because at that moment, my father was still on the road.
And neither Travis nor I knew whether the old man would make it across that gym without pain.
May you like
I only knew that my daughter had finally found someone who had promised to walk beside her.
And this time, she believed him.
