XI
Wade switched off the 'phone and frowned. That had been awkward.
'That the pretty doctor?'
Wade turned around. Crazy Earl was sprawled out on the sofa, a plate of take-out ribs half-eaten beside him, and three empty beer bottles rolled over on the rug.
'I thought you were asleep,' Wade said, clearing the assorted glasses.
'Just had a power nap. Been busy clearin'. Found a fire ant's nest under the kitchen.'
'Why didn't you call me? I would have come to help.' Wade came over and hunkered down, clearing up the debris.
'You're busy with your bar.' Earl hauled himself upright, wiping some barbecue sauce from his shirt. 'Not to mention your girl.' He twinkled at his son. 'How is the pretty doctor?'
'The pretty doctor is just fine,' Wade answered flatly, picking up the plate and bottles and walking over to the trash. 'It's no wonder you've got ants, Earl. This place is a dump.'
'I'm lookin' after myself fine. Don't change the subject.'
'I'm not changin' anything.' Wade washed two cups from the draining board and poured coffees for the two of them. 'Here.' He passed his father a cup and sat down on the chair arm opposite. Everything in his father's shack smelt of stale, spilt beer. 'She's in New York. At a medical conference,' he said, finally, shifting under his father's half-drunken gaze.
'So that's why you're here?'
'No. You know I pop by when I can.' He looked into his coffee. It had been a while, if he were honest. 'Things have been crazy, with the Rammer Jammer and Zoe an'all,' he apologized.
'Wonder which takes more time…' his father teased.
Wade didn't reply. He didn't want to talk about Zoe. Nor did he want to think about her and Jonah Breeland at some swanky New York 'do'. He should have gone. He wasn't sure why he hadn't, other than the prospect of being a fish out of water and disappointing Zoe. The truth was he would have had nothin' to say to any of those people. Whereas Jonah...He tried to dispel the image of Jonah Breeland and Zoe's father, bonding over doctor-talk. How could he compete with that? He would have nothing to say that Dr Hart could possibly want to hear. Jonah was exactly the kind of guy Ethan Hart would want his daughter to date.
'I said, "things seem to be hottin' up with her",' Earl said, winking broadly.
Wade looked up. He shrugged.
'Oh, you know.'
'Yes, I do.'
'Earl…'
'Son.' Earl grinned at him. Even though Earl was a drunk, he wasn't stupid. 'You might be able to fool everyone else, son, but you're not foolin' me.'
'I'm not tryin' to .' Wade took a swig of coffee. 'I like her.' He hesitated, voice dropping in spite of himself. 'I like her a lot,' he admitted, staring at the rug.
'So, what are you gonna do about it? Am I goin' to have to get out my suit?'
'Don't be crazy, Dad.' He stood up. 'We've only just started datin' again.'
He walked over to the sink and turned on the water. Earl was drunk, but he had inadvertently stumbled on the issue. What was he going to do about her? It had been days since Zoe had said she loved him….He smiled, because he still found it amazin' to even think about what she'd said. But…he frowned. He also knew that the fact he'd not said anything to her was becoming a problem. Their 'phone call had been awkward. He could hear it in her voice - she was anxious about what he'd not said. But what was he supposed to do? He wasn't going to say something like that on the telephone, especially with Jonah Breeland standing right next to her, no doubt listening in. And he could hardly leave her a message or send a text. He stared into the dishwater and wondered again whether he should have gone after her. He could have got on the next plane and surprised her...He looked down. Even the thought of doin' somethin' like that made him uncomfortable. Wouldn't it just have been embarrassin'? Did girls really like that stuff? He frowned, running a hand through his hair, only realizing afterwards that it was covered in soap suds. And what about her father? How would he explain why he had suddenly showed up at a medical conference? And Jonah? What on earth was Jonah doin' there?
'Son.' Earl waited. 'Son?'
Wade turned around. Earl was standing next to him, a little unsteady.
'I said, for the third time: How about the doctor?'
'What about her?' Wade frowned, wondering exactly what his father was asking. He noticed his father's eyes were slightly bloodshot. Just how much was Crazy Earl drinking these days?
'I mean, I know how you feel. But what about Zoe?'
For a drunk, Wade thought, Crazy Earl was surprisingly acute. He shrugged again, noncommittal.
'I dunno. I guess she likes me.' But he couldn't prevent the smile which played at the corners of his mouth.
'I see which way the wind blows, son. Well, well. My son and the pretty doctor.' Earl hesitated for a minute, then placed a hand awkwardly on his shoulder. 'Your Mother would have been proud,' he said, voice catching in his throat.
Wade thrust his hands into the hot water and studied the dishes.
'Hardly my accomplishment, Dad,' he said repressively. 'It's not as though I went to medical school.'
'No, but you are a bar-owner now.' Earl gripped his son's shoulder tightly. 'You should call Jesse. Tell him.'
'Tell him what? There is nothing to tell.' Wade turned away, irritated. Earl was drunk and sentimental. 'We're just datin', Dad. It's no big deal.'
'I meant about the Rammer Jammer,' Earl said, watching his son retreat.
'Oh. Right.' Wade flushed. He wiped the draining board and flicked the tea towel over his shoulder. 'Where is Jesse anyway? Last time I saw him, he was eatin' edible panties.' He folded his arms and leant on the stove.
Earl frowned.
'What are you sayin'?'
'Nothin'. Someone bought them for Lemon Breeland.'
'So what was Jesse doing eatin' Lemon Breeland's underwear?'
'I don't know, Dad. I didn't ask. We haven't spoken for months. Quite frankly, I don't even know where he is.'
'He's in the Gulf. Still workin' on the BP clean up.'
Wade nodded. It figured.
'He should get together with G Tuck.'
'I didn't know George Tucker was interested in wildlife?'
'George Tucker's interests are many and varied,' Wade said darkly.
'What?' Earl frowned.
Wade shook his head, wishing he hadn't sounded so bitter.
'Nothin'.
'Is there somethin'…?'
'It's nothin', Dad, can we not go there?' Wade changed the subject again. 'What are you up to, anyway? Are you eatin' enough?'
'I'm eatin' just fine.'
'Why don't you come into the Rammer Jammer. I'm not servin' you alcohol, but I'll get you somethin' to eat.'
'I'm not takin' charity.'
'Then you can pay for it.' He fished into his pocket. 'But it's not as though I won't end up givin' it you back.'
He proffered a roll of notes, which Earl eyed reluctantly.
'Go on, take it. The bar's doin' fine. Lemon's workin' very hard.'
Earl looked at his son for a moment, then took the money and stashed it in his pocket.
'You and Lemon Breeland, owning a bar!' he said, with something like awe.
'And go and see the Doc. when she comes back,' Wade said, ignoring his father's latest salvo. 'Get a check up. You look a bit pale. I don't think you're eatin' right.'
'There's nothin' wrong with me.'
'Well, it won't do any harm to check.' Wade shook his head at his father.
'I said I'm not takin' charity,' his father responded vehemently.
Wade sighed and shrugged.
'That's between you and Zo'. How much are you drinkin', Dad?' he asked finally, shifting against the oven and folding his arms more tightly across his chest.
'Not so much. Less than I was.'
'Really?' Wade looked at Crazy Earl. His shifty expression told another story. As did the trash.
'Why don't you come over one night? Have dinner with us?' Wade asked.
Earl looked at his son.
'Do you really mean that?'
Wade nodded. Earl hesitated.
'Don't worry, son. You don't have to.'
Wade shrugged, frowning, 'At least I know you'd be havin' some decent food.' He gave another small shrug. 'I'll speak to the Doc. when she gets back.' He levered himself away from the stove and picked up his car keys, patting his father awkwardly. 'Lemon will be wondering where I've got to. I'd better go.'
Earl watched his son walk into the sunlight, listening as crunch of the car tyres on the dirt road disappeared into the distance. It left a deafening silence and a sense of emptiness. Even through the haze of alcohol, Earl could tell Wade was serious about this one. He'd never seen his son like this over a girl. Both of his boys had always been far too charming and far too handsome. Their mother's eyes and the same winning smile. Girls had always been around, like flies around honey. But this, this was new. And about time, too, he thought. He stared around the room, taking in its dilapidation. He needed to sort himself out if his son was goin' down that road. It was one thing Wade having a drunk as a father, but another him having to introduce that drunk to Zoe's parents. He wasn't going to have his son feel ashamed of him. He would sort himself out. He walked heavily into the kitchen. It felt very empty now his son's tall presence no longer filled the tiny room. One last beer, he thought, opening the 'fridge door, and he'd get sober and sort himself out.
'He seems like an intelligent young man,' Ethan Hart said, pleasantly. Zoe turned towards her father, who was still watching Jonah Breeland's tall, retreating form. 'In fact, he reminds me of me when I was younger,' her father went on, thoughtfully.
Zoe smiled tightly. Of course he did. Ten minutes and Jonah Breeland was already on his way to being the son Ethan Hart had never had.
'You say he's the cousin of that girl we dined with?' her father continued, helping himself to champagne from a passing waiter. 'The one who's fiancé…?'
'That's right.' Zoe blushed.
'So he's related to your partner in the practice?' Ethan asked, ignoring her discomfort.
'Yeah.'
'Small world, Alabama,' he added, a twinkle in his eye. He finally turned back towards his daughter. 'So you came here with him?'
Zoe shook head, rather too vehemently.
'No. I told you, he's at Mount Sinai.' She frowned. 'We just happened to run into one another at these drinks.'
Ethan glanced at the throng.
'I guess it is a small world here too, eh?' he smiled.
Zoe eyed him suspiciously.
'Still, nice to meet a friend,' he said, too innocently.
'He's not really a friend,' Zoe began, wondering what her mother had said about their Spring Break flirtation.
'Really? I'd have thought you had a lot in common; his being a surgeon and so on.'
'Yes, he'd be perfect.' She looked at her father mutinously. 'If he weren't a Breeland. If he weren't quite so arrogant. And,' she added defiantly, 'if he were Wade.'
Ethan raised his eyebrows.
'I see. Well, that's hardly his fault.' He smiled easily, sliding his hands into his pockets. 'So what about Wade?' He glanced around the room. 'I take it he isn't here?'
'He's busy with the Rammer Jammer.'
'That's the bar where he works?'
'That's the bar that he owns, Dad.'
'I see.' Ethan said again, continuing to survey the atrium. He was no doubt assessing where bar-ownership put Wade in comparison with the assembled surgeons.
'Well, at least that shows drive,' Ethan said, pleasantly.
Zoe bit her lip.
'Wade is…' Zoe stalled.
How could she possibly explain Wade to Dr Ethan Hart? Wade was so far removed from these people, from the driven, competitive medical world her father inhabited. How could she possibly explain to her father how he made her feel - normal and grounded and at ease with herself? How easy it was just to be with him; not to feel judged and found wanting; not having to strive to begin to measure up. She looked at her father, who had always been so driven. Wade was already proud of her, she realized. Never once had he seemed to mind that she was more educated and had a bigger, more glamorous job. Even that time he had taken her to his friend's hunting lodge, and she had been so insensitive, he hadn't minded her career so much as the fact he hadn't one of his own.
She frowned. She suddenly felt very tired. She wished she hadn't come here. She wished she were at home in Bluebell, curled up on the sofa with Wade. She longed to feel his steady, reassuring heart beat, her hand slipped beneath his shirt front, and feel the small, unconscious caresses made by his hands on her waist. If she had been home, he could have shown her how he felt about her, because he was so much better showing her than telling her, she now realized. She blushed at the thought, longing for him with an insistent, dull wanting; a physical pain, right under her breastbone. Was she really going to have to wait another 48 hours before she would see him? Another 48 hours before she had any kind of response? She closed her eyes briefly, overwhelmed with yearning. It was a physical need, this desire for him. She wanted with all her being to feel what she had felt a few days ago, when in the middle of making love, he had just stopped, and looked at her, then kissed her like she was the last girl on earth. She had been so sure then, but what if she had been mistaken? What if he really didn't feel the way she did? What if he was, right now, trying to work out a way to break it to her gently? She stopped, assailed by sudden fear. Why had she made herself so horribly vulnerable to him? She kept dwelling on his silence. Why had she told him that she loved him? Why had she said it and then run away? Why hadn't she chosen a better time, when he could respond immediately, instead of leaving this long, awkward, festering silence? She couldn't stop thinking, wondering, playing out different scenarios. What if it wasn't just the distance and awkwardness that kept him from saying the same? What if he was, even now, chatting up another Claudette in the Rammer Jammer? She felt physically sick at the thought, and yet she knew that he wasn't. She was certain, and had been certain since that night, of his feelings. And yet, if he did feel the same, why didn't he just say something? The questions were driving her mad.
'What is Wade?' Ethan smiled at his daughter, a surprising tenderness lighting his grey eyes. Zoe gazed at him, then sighed and shrugged.
'He makes me happy,' she admitted, in a small voice. Ethan Hart looked at her and nodded.
'Then perhaps it's time I met him.' He slipped an arm about her shoulder, surprising her. 'Perhaps I ought to come back to Bluebell with you.'
To be continued...
